#though its high key fucking typical that i get sick just as i was starting to lose weight again

[nordfjording]

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[celestial-fucking-weeb]

NAGĀ!SERO

Hey y’all! This is a part of the Citrus Server Hybrid!AU Collab! The masterlist is HERE, please please please go check everyone’s pieces out!

A/N: I am fully aware that this is all over the place, ya girl is off her meds and will edit later. Please don’t tell me it sucks, I already know and I hate it, too.

SERO HANTA X F!READER

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, smut, double penetration, aphrodisiac, interspecies miscommunication, size kink, breeding kink, mating, idk tell me if i missed anything

You had always heard stories about creatures in the forest; ones that eat humans, ones kidnap children, ones that would hurt you if you ever ran off by yourself. You didn’t believe them… Or maybe you did, but either way, the creatures could never be as scary as the life you already lived.

You had been taken prisoner when your coastal village was raided by pirates. Your clan’s viking warriors were off on a journey, leaving all of you oh so vulnerable with depleted numbers. They were going to kill you, like they did most of the others, but the pirate setting fire to everything in his path halted when he found you trembling under the rubble.

“Tomura, come see the new toy I found. Don’t you wanna keep her?”

“You sadistic bastard, how you get off to them crying like that never fails to make me sick. I don’t care what you do with her, Dabi, but I’m not cleaning up after you this time.”

They hauled you back to their ship, stripped you of everything and chained you in the hull. People came in and out, always different but always vile. You never spoke, you knew they wanted your screams. Overhaul, the captain, was the worst. You never knew when he was coming, and once he was there, you wondered what he wanted from you at all. Chained up, never touching you with anything but knives and his boots, not looking for your reactions… You wondered if he’d even notice if you stopped breathing. You dissociated for most of it, choosing instead to safeguard your mind, plan an escape.

About a year later, you found an opportunity in the carelessness of one of your captors. You docked someplace warm, someplace humid, maybe tropical? Toga had left your chains too loose after your last “date”, and had tossed the keys just a bit too close. As soon as she left, you had slipped your wrists out of the restraints, strained for the keys, and unlocked the shackles around your ankles. Not taking a moment to revel in the surreal feeling of being unchained, you listened until the heavy footsteps above you all faded into nothing, leaving the ship and most importantly: leaving you alone.

You ran. You ran so steadily, somehow comforted by the sounds of destruction getting further and further away. You found yourself blindly sprinting into a forest that looked nothing like your own, so damp and bright and warm. You kept running until you heard shuffling behind you, causing you to find the first thick vine hanging in your vicinity and clung to it as you climbed. Looking back, you see a simple boar grazing the forest floor. Sighing in relief, you relaxed a bit too soon, as the vine you had wrapped yourself around began to move.

Before you could react, you were wrapped up tightly in bands of muscle and brought towards the head of the- wait…- man? You had heard of nagā before, but the ones from your village’s stories were never described as so… tan, muscular, handsome. He didn’t look all that mean from the waist up, just the black, orange, and yellow scales trailing down his massive, strong tail seemed intimidating. He looked confused, concerned even, by your nakedness and panic stricken silence. Forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, smelling the blood and the abuse on your skin, seeing your quickly defeated body give up, and your mind resign itself to the comfort that at least you died free of your captors.

“Are you… okay?” The giant snake rumbles, human hand reaching towards your face and recoiling when you flinch.

You haven't spoken in months, your silence having been a security blanket, and you’re not ready to give that up. You do nothing, just look into his eyes and search for any sort of indication as to what he’s going to do. He loosens his grip a bit, just enough to slip down from his tree and head towards his hide- an old cave covered in ivy, moss, and little orange blossoms. He brings you in, and places you down on the ground before turning away to rummage through his things. He brings out water and bandages, along with some kind of salve that looks like a mixture of plants. You don’t reach for the water when he sets it near you, so he resorts to using the tip of his tail to bring it to your lips while his hands are busy tending to your wounds and gently rubbing the salve over your poorly healed scars. He offers you food, very confused when you don't seem to know what to do with the forest rodent he’s brought you, and decides on fruits he’s found. You don’t seem to want to do anything, not even going to sunbathe even though you’re obviously shivering.

THAT’S IT!!! SHE’S COLD! He thinks to himself, before wrapping his tail around you once more and bringing you outside to the rock where he typically warms himself. He gently places you down, uncoils you from his grasp, and gives you enough space to move as you please. You blink a few times, slowly realizing you’re free. He helped you? For no reason? He doesn’t know you…

“H-Hi… Thank… Thank you.” You mutter, looking away and blushing.

Cute… He thinks. “YOU TALK!!! What’s your name? I’m Sero, but you can call me Hanta! I was worried about you! Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The line of questioning makes your head spin, and you try your best to answer before looking down and realizing you never found clothes. Blushing once again, you meekly gesture to your body and ask, “C-Clothes. I need clothes.” Hanta looks confused, but retreats to the cave and returns, bringing you a large piece of cloth that somewhat resembles a hemp blanket. It smells like oranges and spice, and you unconsciously snuggle into its comfort. Sero notices your calmed reaction to his scent and approaches you, gingerly grasps your ankle and picks up your leg, never having been so close to a human, and explores the strange angles your appendages bend.

“What are you doing?” You seem embarrassed, despite the number of people who've touched you before. This is too familiar, too intimate, almost too gentle.

“Tiny… Humans are… Small…”

You let him bend your limbs and play with your squish, strangely calm and trusting in his presence. He seems so enthralled by your body and how you move, so intrigued. That is, until he makes his way to massaging your plush thighs, causing a rush of arousal you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He prys opens your legs to continue his ministrations, not knowing the smell of your lust would have him flicking his tongue out and his eyes turning to hyper-focused slits. He suddenly releases your legs, slithers around your back, and presses against you. He taps the top of your head with his chin and waits for your response. Not knowing what this means, but wanting him to continue his exploration, you lean back into him and whine quietly.

You have no idea what you’ve started.

Hanta leans down, pressing sweet kisses down the column of your throat and leaving scathing bites in all the right places. Aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins, you don’t even register his muscular arms wrapping around your body and lifting you, carrying you back into his cave and up into his hammock. He wraps his strong tail completely around your torso and takes his time kissing and groping your soft body, mumbling “mate, mate, mate” into your heated flesh. He finally makes his way down to your mound, prying your thighs apart and diving straight in before you could question his reverent gaze.

“HANTAAA~” You practically screamed as his long tongue slipped between your folds, running along your clit and down to your clenching hole, his saliva increasing the heat coursing through your core. “M-More, please… More~”

“More, what?” He smirks against your heat. “Say it. Tell me I’m your mate and I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb, yeah? My pretty little mate.”

You stutter for a moment, getting more desperate the longer his fingers drag along your wetness. “Mate… Please! I need you… I’m yours!”

“Good mate~” His tongue wriggles back into your cunt, and his fingers slowly move further down to stretch your tight ass, making you squeal in surprise. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, all thoughts abandoning your mind as you ride out your high on his face and fingers.

“Are you ready, little one?” He growls lowly, lining up two long, thick cocks with each hole. Your eyes widen in surprise, head clearing for a moment after your climax.

“T-two?! Wait wait wait, I’ve never… I can’t! Two?!”

“Oh, little mate, but you can and you will!” He punctuates his statement by spitting down onto your cunt, thick venom slipping down to your tight rim. You moan and grind against his cocks, aphrodisiac leading your body into a blissed out state of submission. “Gonna fill you up so good. I promise you’ll be so full, feel so good, little mate. Trust me?”

“Y-yes! Wanna be full, want my mate!” You beg and plead for him to push into you, hips bucking against him, trying to get him to satiate the burning want he’d created. It isn’t until you thread your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist that he thrusts into you completely.

“That’s it, wrap around me like that. So tight, so warm… Fuuuck!~” Sero pants, chest pressed tightly to yours and face tucked into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking deep marks over your pulse point.

You’ve never felt so full, your body strangely welcoming the pleasurable stretch of your holes, pulling him deeper and deeper until you can feel him in your belly with every roll of his powerful hips. Your whimpers and tears only seem to spur him on, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your body.

“S-Shit, keep squeezing around me like that. Come on, little one, I know you have one more for me. Cum with me, I wanna feel you cum one more time. Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so good. Come on, pretty mate- fuck- cum for me~” He reaches down and pinches your overstimulated clit between two fingers and bites down on your neck one last time, sending you over the edge with a cry of “breed me, breed me, breed me!” and nails digging into his back.

“Mine! My mate, pretty little mate. Breed mate, all mine!! Gonna- gonna… Ah~” Hanta’s words steadily fell from his lips as he released deep inside your holes, belly bulging from the sheer amount of seed he spilled into you.

Utterly exhausted and dreamily floating off, you cling to him. Sero wraps you up in his tail and lays back into his hammock, keeping you as close as he can. When you snuggle into him, he whispers little praises into your hairline, a constant stream of “so good, pretty mate, all mine, i love you, so perfect, did so well, took me so well, such a good mate”.

The next day, you wake up surrounded by soft cloth, feathers, fruits, fluffy furs, a dozen shiny objects and pretty dried flowers. You sit up, looking around frantically for your mate before your eyes settle on a sheepish-looking Sero, wiggling nervously around the cave.

“Um… Do you… like it? I made it for you… I just- please tell me you like it!” He shrinks himself a bit, arm coming up to palm the back of his neck.

“Oh, is this a… nest? It’s- It’s very nice. Thank you, Hanta!” You smile softly at him, curling up into your nest and reaching out for him.

“MATE!!! I’m so happy you like it, I was so nervous!!! My mate. You can stay here all the time, so I can protect you, forever! My pretty little mate.~” He climbs into the nest and coils himself around you, content to guard you.

Maybe this time, being kept isn’t so bad.

[todorokibois]

Brat - Katsuki Bakugo X Reader {M}

Disclaimer: Katsuki is aged up to about 21, as are all characters in my fics.

Genre: Smut (Dom/Sub themes, slight humiliation, Mistress, Bakugo is a brat)

Pairing: Katsuki X Reader

Words: 3,966

A/n: Came up with this idea while I was rewatching some bnha the other day, and I thought to myself, I think it’s time for someone to put Bakugo in his place. Thus, this idea was born. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

Summary: The one in which you’ve had enough of Bakugo’s shit and decide to teach him some respect.

He’s been pushing your buttons all day. Every time you would suggest a plan to capture the criminals you’ve been chasing, he would counter your ideas, or go off and do his own thing. The worst was when he stormed into the building by himself, yelling at the villains to ‘stop being such little bitches’ and fight him head on. To say you’re frustrated would be an understatement.

Due to his attitude in the past, many other agencies refuse to work with him, leaving only a select few you can count on. You’re just lucky you have friends in those agencies, otherwise hero work might be a little bit more difficult to come by, especially when he goes off on his own like this, ignoring your direct orders.

It takes you all twice as long to capture the goons this time due to him nearly collapsing the building they were hiding in, completely ignoring the fact that you told him to wait for backup. Eventually, you managed to catch up to him and apprehend the villains you’ve been after, giving them to the authorities shortly after capture. 

However, not only are you beyond frustrated, but you’re also embarrassed by how Katsuki has been acting lately. Given that you’re one of the top heroes working at your agency, your team is supposed to listen to your orders and follow them, especially when it comes to tasks like this. Katsuki, on the other hand, directly refuses to even acknowledge how you run things, which only makes you believe he has no respect for the agency’s code of conduct, nor you, especially when the two of you are at work. 

You’re sick and tired of it, especially since the two of you are supposed to be partners, in more ways than one. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve overheard people commenting on your relationship because of this. Enough is enough, and you’ve decided you’re going to do something about this. It’s like he doesn’t have any respect for your authority.

This won’t be for long, though. Not if you have anything to say about it. Someone is going to have to put him in his place, and you know just the person to do it. You.

When the both of you get back to the agency building, your superior gave you both a massive scolding. Katsuki received a larger one than you, but you were still told to get him under control, lest the two of you want to be out of a job. The last thing the agency wants is their approval rating to go down in the eyes of the public, and Katsuki is already dangerously treading the edge.

“It’s your job to keep him under control, (Y/n),” your boss scolds you once the two of you are alone in their office.

“Yes, boss,” you reply, a sigh nearly escaping your lips for the umpteenth time that evening.

“Now go home and get some rest, tomorrow’s another day!” They say, sending you a tight smile as you nod politely and leave their office.

You say nothing as you pass Katsuki, expression remaining blank as your eyes blaze in anger. If anyone saw you, they’d think you look quite normal, but one look into your eyes and they’d know how pissed off you really are.

He huffs and rolls his eyes as you walk passed him, arms crossed as he follows you out to the car, “what? I got the job done, didn’t I?”

The only response he gets out of you is a glance at him out of the corner of your already narrowed eyes, only causing him to click his tongue in annoyance, “what?”

Sliding into the drivers side of the car, you remain silent. Turning the keys, you register him sliding in the passenger’s seat, teeth gritting against one another as he clenches his jaw. He tilts his head slightly upwards, his nose in the air as he looks over at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Are you really going to ignore me now, dumbass?” He scoffs as you remain silent. “Fine, I didn’t want to talk anyways.”

Usually, you’d be cussing him out by now, voices raised as you argue your whole drive back to your shared house about what has transpired this evening. To say your silence is slightly unnerving to him would not be an exaggeration. He has a feeling that you’ll probably lay into him as soon as you get home, and that anticipation alone is eating away at him. Believe it or not, he can’t stand you actually being upset at him, and he can tell you’re furious.

Your grip is tight on the steering wheel the whole ride home. Every so often, you can feel Katsuki’s gaze drift over to look at you, though he still defiantly holds his head high. Each time you let out a tense sigh, he tenses slightly, waiting for you to blow up at him like he knows you can. 

The longer this goes on, the more nervous he gets. Did he finally go overboard? Will you forgive him this time like you have all the other times he’s disobeyed your orders? It’s not like anyone got hurt this time, so he doesn’t understand why you’re so upset. In fact, you should be used to this by now.

Each second that goes by with this tense silence lingering in the air feels like an eternity to him, and by the time you’re pulling into the driveway he nearly breathes a sigh of relief. As you’re unlocking the front door, he figures he’ll attempt to talk to you again, wanting at least some sense of normalcy to come back to the two of you.

Stepping inside, he lets out an irritated huff, “look, if you’re saving the big lecture for when we get inside, you should just-“

His voice dies in his throat as you push him against the wall, the front door clicking shut beside you.

“You never know when to keep that big mouth of yours shut, huh, Katsuki?” You tut, shaking your head in disappointment. “You know, if you actually put it to good use, instead of spewing your typical bullshit…”

“The fuck are you talking about, (Y/n)?” He counters, brows furrowed.

“I’m talking about how this is the last time you’re going to disrespect me like that, you fucking brat,” you spit, pushing him harder into the wall with your arm across his chest.

“Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “if I hadn’t gone ahead-“

“Enough, Katsuki,” you cut him off, eyes hard as your gaze meets his. “This is the last time you pull something like this. I’ve put up with it for this long because I care about you, and it usually all works out in the end, but not anymore. It’s time you learned some respect.”

He scoffs, “and I suppose you’re going to teach me?”

“Damn right I am,” comes your immediate reply, and you can tell he isn’t expecting it. “It’s time someone knocked you down a few pegs, brat, and I’ll be happy to do it.”

A humourless puff of air escapes him, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, baby,” you grin, “I’ve already started.”

At your words, his brow furrows further in confusion until he feels you arm shift slightly, allowing for your hand to rest at the base of his throat. His eyes go wide as he feels your fingers gently brushing over his skin, almost teasingly against his throat, your body now pushing into his fully.

“Like I said, you’ve always had such a loud mouth, Katsuki,” you stare into his eyes, and you know he’s watching you, waiting to see what your next move will be. “You’ve always needed someone to discipline you properly, to tell you ‘no’ and actually mean it. To bring you to your knees and make you beg-”

Before you can say another word, he cuts you off, “like hell I’d ever beg for anything.”

Your eyes flash, grip squeezing slightly at the base of his throat in warning as he gasps, “don’t interrupt me again.” 

You notice his eyebrow quirk slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your hand as he swallows subtly, yet he nods once in understanding. 

“As I was saying,” you sigh, “you will beg by the time I’m done with you tonight. After I’m done teaching you some respect. Though, I don’t think I’ll need to try very hard.”

To emphasize your point, you bring your free hand to his crotch, cupping his semi-hard cock in your hands and squeezing. He inhales sharply, gritting his teeth as he feels you gently caressing his growing erection, both loving and hating how much this is actually turning him on at the moment. You smirk.

“After all, I’ve barely done anything to you, and you’re already this turned on,” your voice is low as you lean in to whisper into his ear. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels your breath ghost over his neck, “pathetic.”

A small moan escapes his lips, immediately causing his eyes to widen, face turning red as you chuckle at his reaction. He attempts to get words out, but all he can do is splutter as you release your hold on him with a quirked brow, nails trailing down his chest teasingly until all he’s left with is the faintest ghost of your touch over his skin.

“Seems to me like you’re already begging for me to have my way with you,” you say as you take a few steps backwards and away from him. 

He catches himself as he takes a small step towards you, gritting his teeth in frustration at what you’re doing to him. You watch as his fists clench at his sides, a fire igniting behind his irises. He’s putting up a front, and you can tell, one that’s close to cracking.

“Like hell I would,” he’s still, spine rigid as he watches you with defiance still shining in his eyes, along with something else. Something you’ve never seen before.

“Oh?” You quirk your brow once more, now taking small steps towards him as if you’re a cat stalking its prey, “you mean you don’t want to feel my hands all over your body, leaving marks for everyone to see? You don’t want to know what it’s like to be rewarded for being my good boy? You’d rather me not take care of that little situation you’ve got going on down there?” You trail your eyes over his body, gaze focusing on the tent now visible in his pants as he shifts slightly at the feeling of having your eyes on him like this. “Damn, Katsuki, I knew you were masochistic, but you shouldn’t let your pride get in the way all of the time.” You’re close enough to him now to trail a teasing finger across his chest. “Especially not at a time like this.”

He scowls, but you can see it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. He’s intrigued by your whole demeanour tonight, for he’s never really seen you act this way before. He always knew you could be demanding, a true leader that he honestly wouldn’t mind following anywhere you told him to, but he’s never had this directed towards him. Well, he’s never felt you mean it like this before.

Maybe he wanted this to happen. Maybe he wanted to see how far he could push you before you snapped and put him in his place. Maybe he’s been desperate for you to use him like he’s used you. The countless times throughout your relationship where he’s made you weak for him, made you beg him for more has made him want the same from you. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to it. Maybe he just wants to see how far you’re willing to go. Maybe, he just wants you to make him beg.

“I don’t let my pride get in the way,” he grumbles, as you take a step back to distance yourself from him once more. His gaze darts to the side as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, just waiting for you to do something to him.

“Sure you don’t,” you chuckle, now standing right in front of him. 

The two of you stare at one another for a few moments, the tension of anticipation lingering in the air between you. He can’t help but hold his breath as he watches your one hand come back up to cup his face, patting his cheek affectionately in the next moment.

“Once you’ve swallowed that pride of yours, brat, I’ll be waiting in the bedroom,” with a final smile that simply screams nothing but trouble for him, you’re turning around and heading up the stairs, leaving him standing there, stunned, in the front entranceway.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he shakes his head. No way in hell is he leaving things like this. There’s a part of him that wants to march right into your shared room and show you who you belong to. To put you in your place for teasing him like that. However, there’s another part of him that cannot help the way his heart races in excitement as he thinks of what you might have in store for him once he makes it upstairs.

The fire behind his eyes is still burning once he throws open the door, only for his steps to falter as he sees you casually changing your shirt. His gaze trails down your torso, swallowing slightly as he watches you turn around, you not wearing anything at all on your upper half.

“Took you long enough, brat,” you tut, shaking your head as you walk over to him, now frozen in the doorway. He’s seen you plenty of times without a shirt on, hell, even without a bra for that matter, but there’s something about your aura this time that makes whatever retort he’s about to say die in his throat. This time, you look serious, and he just knows he’s in for a long night. “What, no smart-ass remark?”

Your lips tugs upwards into a grin, arms crossing across your chest, only serving to emphasize the curve of your breasts. His mouth practically salivates at the thought of finally getting to touch you after what you did to him downstairs. He’s never gotten this worked up like this in such a short period of time before, and he wants to see what you’ll do to him next.

“Are you finally going to listen to me for once?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you continue to stare at him expectantly.

“I always listen to you,” he responds grumpily.

“There’s that smart mouth of yours again,” you shake your head in mock disappointment. “Now, see, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now if that were the case. So, we’re going to start at lesson one: do exactly what I say, without question.”

He laughs in disbelief despite feeling the way his cock twitches in excitement in his pants at your words, “like hell I’ll do that.”

“Did I fucking stutter, Katsuki?” Your hands are on your hips now as you stare him down. “Now, I want you to get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, not believing what you’ve just told him to do.

“I said,” you breathe, closing your eyes briefly as you walk towards him, grabbing him harshly by the back of his hair and pushing him down onto the floor beneath you, “on your fucking knees.”

A gasp escapes him as he feels his knees make contact with the floor, loving the way your hand feels harshly gripping his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Tugging at his hair causes a low groan to escape his lips, causing him to flush red in embarrassment once more.

“What did I say?” You hum, “you’re practically begging to be put in your place.”

“That’s not-“ he begins to protest, but a strangled moan escapes his throat as you tug on his hair once more.

“You were saying?” You smirk, only receiving another scowl in response. “Lesson two: right here, right now, you will address me as your Mistress. Do I make myself clear?”

“What? Like hell I’m calling you tha-“

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Another tug at his hair has him biting his lip before conceding, “yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” you release the hold your hand has on his hair in order to bring your hand down to cup his face gently. He stares up at you defiantly, but you can see the excitement growing in his eyes. He’s wanted this for a while now, and he can feel his cock straining against his jeans, practically begging for your touch. “Now, I think you should make it up to me, given the way you’ve acted today, don’t you?”

“Yeah, right-“

“What was that?” Your hand grips his chin, forcing him to stare directly into your eyes as a sadistic smile rests on your face.

He huffs slightly, eyes avoiding yours now as he grumbles out, “yes, Mistress.”

“Glad you agree,” you hum, releasing you grip on him in order to undo your pants. “We’re going to put that mouth of yours to good use, and maybe by then I’ll have thought of a suitable punishment for a brat such as yourself.”

At this, it’s his turn to quirk a brow at you, watching as you strip yourself of the rest of your clothes in front of him. He smirks, drinking in your figure before him and admiring every curve you have to offer. If this is his punishment, he’ll gladly take it. After all, he can’t wait to have you begging for him later tonight.

“Lesson three:” you begin to say, positioning yourself right in front of him, your hips in his line of sight. His mouth salivates at the thought of getting to taste you as your one leg comes to rest over his shoulder, hand now back in his hair. Just as he’s about to bring his hands up to help steady your figure more, your voice is halting his movements, “no touching me if you still want to come tonight.”

“Huh?” He recoils slightly, eyes wide as his cock throbs, reminding him of how painfully hard he’s become already, and once again he’s reminded how you have still yet to touch him.

“You heard me, baby,” you smirk down at him, fingers tightening their hold slightly in his hair. “Hands behind your back; no touching unless I say so. Now, put that mouth to good use.”

Without waiting for a response, you push his head down. Putting his hands behind his back, his eyes flick briefly to yours before he’s attaching his mouth to you, sucking your clit into your mouth before flicking it a few times with his tongue. 

One thing you can always count on Katsuki for is his need to be the best. No matter what he does, he’s always proving to everyone that he can do anything better than anyone else. No one compares to him, and even if he’d rather you be sucking his cock first right now, he’ll prove to you that he does in fact, deserve to come tonight. That, and he can listen. He wants to make you feel good, always, and seeing this side of you has sparked a new flame of desire for you in him. He’ll be your good boy, but he’s going to make you work for it.

Throwing your head back, you let out a moan, feeling him lick at your entrance with his tongue before moving it back up to flick at your clit. Your sounds are music to his ears, and he never grows tired of hearing his name fall from your lips, especially during these times. He only wishes he could touch you back, to tease you like you’ve been teasing him. However, he’ll do what he can for now, eating you out like a man starved, moving his tongue just how you like.

By now, your hand is gently stroking the top of his hair, brushing it out of his face so he can maintain eye contact with you as you grind your pussy on his mouth. You can feel the rumble of approval he lets out from his chest as you tug on his hair every now and then, only causing you to smirk.

“See, baby,” you comb your fingers through his hair for emphasis, “you do know how to properly use that mouth of yours.” His eyes flash and he renews his efforts tenfold. Again, he wants to prove to you that he can do it, to please you in a way that only he can. A low groan escapes your lips, “that’s it, baby boy, just like that.”

The nails of his right hand dig harshly into the skin of his left wrist, wanting nothing more than to grip your thighs and pull you into him so you cannot escape the pleasure he’s giving you. He can feel his chest swelling with pride with each jolt of your hips into his face, letting him know you’re enjoying this, too. Except, he can feel himself becoming greedy; he wants more.

“You gonna make me come?” A growl is all you get in response. “Come on, baby, make me come all over that pretty mouth of yours.”

His chest is heaving as a feral look takes over his eyes. Seeing you above him like this has awakened some part of him he never knew he had, and he loves the control you have over him right now. All he wants to do is please you, to make you feel good and be your good little boy until you can’t take it anymore. This is what he deserves, what you deserve.

With a few more sucks of your clit into his mouth, you can feel yourself tipping over the edge. Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging harshly at the roots as you anchor yourself to him, his tongue continuing to work you through your orgasm as your eyes flutter closed. 

A breathless moan of his name slips passed your lips, and his whole body twitches, gut clenching in ecstasy. His eyes watch your every movement as you still above him, your head thrown back as you attempt to catch your breath.

“That’s my good boy,” you breathe, removing your leg from his shoulder as you steady yourself onto your own two feet. He smirks subtly as he watches you sway slightly, knowing that he’s the one who’s done that to you. “Now, on your feet, baby.”

As soon as he goes to move, the smirk is falling right off his face. His pants are no longer uncomfortably tight, but instead, he can feel stickiness pooling against his skin as the material rubs against his sensitive cock.

“What’s the matter, baby boy?” You tilt your head mockingly as your eyes glance down to see the dark wet patch on his jeans. A sadistic smile spreads itself across your lips, eyes glinting darkly. “How cute,” you hum, “was the thought of my wet cunt on your lips that tempting to make you come untouched?”

“Shut up,” he growls, cheeks flaring once more as he avoids you gaze.

“How sweet,” you purr, walking over to the bed and kneeling on it. You notice him starting to head towards the bathroom to clean himself up before your voice has him halting in his tracks, “where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

[captaindodson]

7AM confessions (t.h oneshot)

Synopsis: You just finished working a graveyard shift at your summer job. Just as you’re about to get into your car to leave to sleep the weekend away, a familiar face appears to confront you on what happened. 

Paring: Tom Holland x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k+ 

Warnings: Angsty (?), Swearings??

Once your apple watch displayed 7 AM you knew the long week you had was finally over. The assembly line filled with car parts ready for inspection remain still and untouched as everyone switches off with the next group of shift workers who are already coming onto the floor. Luckly, its Friday, so you get to sleep the weekend away and reset your sleep schedule for your last week of shifts before the fall semester starts. You tidy up your small station and when you think you’ve done enough you turn around to leave and then you see your co-worker/work friend Raj approaching. You both wear matching white hard hats, blue gloves, white jackets, dark blue work pants, and brown steal toed boots.

“Hey, how was this morning,” Raj stops a few feet away and raises his hand to fist bump and you happily reciprocate before sliding your hands into your jacket pockets.

“It wasn’t a bad night, Lauren didn’t come in tonight cause she was sick with a stomach bug. Oh I did finally registered for my university courses during my break, and I got so lucky with my extra circulars.The moment I went to register there was only one spot left for the ones I wanted.”

Raj just nods and glances around the work station, inspecting to see you cleaned it to his standard. You notice his wandering eyes but you aren’t bothered by it. You’ve been in that position where you have to work a long eight hours on your feet and the person before you at your assigned station leaves it a mess and you’re stuck cleaning it for the first hour of your shift. So after he finishes inspecting he meets your eyes and nods in approval.

“Oh shit really? I should probably do that sooner rather than later. I’ve been going to university for three years and I almost always forget every time  to register on time,” He replies.

“Don’t you have your final research seminar and reading seminar this year? I thought certain classes had a small capacity?”

“Oh. Well guess what I’m doing during my lunch break,”

You lightly laugh at him as the sound of a warning buzzer echoing through the factory floor goes off. You look around and see that most, if not all of your night shift people are already off the floor and you take this as your cue to leave.

“Anyway, talk to you later Raj,” he gives you small smile in response and steps around you to get started. You make your way off the floor and to your designated locker, providing some of the people from dayshift a warm smile as you walk past them.

You walk through a pair of white double doors which leads into a a bright baby blue hallway which eventually guides you to where the designated bathrooms are with the lockers. When you get to the end of the hall you turn left and head into the female washroom where the you’re met with an empty room. Usually, when everyone’s shift ends they’re rushing to get out (and you’re no exception). You would normally find yourself squeezing by people and dodging elbows trying to get to your locker but today is different. Staying behind for an extra few minutes to talk actually lets you take your time for once. By taking your time it also means the parking lot won’t be backed up as usual and you can drive home without any major delay to sleep your weekend away. That’s the only thing you have to look foreward to, your bed because there is no one at home, no roomates, no pets, no boyfriends, no nothing. The place you were at two months ago was totally different from where you are now. You lived abroad in London with your then boyfriend for six months until you broke it off because you were lost. 

You had to get out because your identity slowly became tightly intertwined with the person you were with. Everything revolved around them and their job and you were going no where in life. Your dreams were pushed to the back of your mind as you stayed in fancy hotel suites, alone waiting for your ex-boyfriend to come back from an exhausted day on set to only desperately try to keep his eyes open when you two watched a movie or went out for a night on the town.

He really did try his best to make your time with him exciting even if he was burn out from working all day. He made small dates in your hotel room feel magical. He had your hotel room decorated in fairy lights and planned a romantic dinner looking over the city you two stayed in. He made love to you in the early hours of the morning to the organy rays of the morning sun. Or another time, when he wasn’t allowed to leave the hotel at all, he took you to the hotel roof to slow dance under the stars to music playing from that headphones you two shared. You’d pay a million dollars to experience these small moments over and over again.

Over a weekend back in London by yourself while Tom had to catch a flight last minute to do film re-shoots in LA, you decided to have a self-care night.  After lighting some candles, ordering take-out, dimming the lights, and scrolling through Netflix to finally find a good-feel show, you finally sit comfortably on the couch and relax. You found a generic rom-com from the 2000’s that looked mildly interesting and even if the plot wasn’t any good you could still get a good laugh about it.

As the movie progresses and the main character struggles to choose between a boy and her dream job you find your mind slowly loosing focus with what is happening on the screen and  reflecting it back into your own life. After a few seconds pondering you realize something,  had no idea what you wanted to do. You were in your early twenties, you were doing school part-time online with a program you liked but you spent most of your time with Tom. Traveling to country to country to join him while he filmed, staying in hotel rooms waiting for him, sometime visiting set when you were allowed too, it was truly an exciting and calming lifestyle.

Even though you believed you finally found the guy that you could spend the rest of your life with, a second family you got along with, a place you could see yourself settling down in, you didn’t have anything for yourself. When you thought you of trying to return to in-class schooling with a larger course load and renting a place for the semester and trying to sustain a long-distant relationship with someone in the limelight, it just stressed you out. You knew it wouldn’t be easy and just seeing how deflated Tom looked when he returned to you after working, you knew the relationship would push him to his limits.

Even after initiate moments you realized how tired and over worked he was. The look in his eyes when he had to leave for work the next morning couldn’t go unnoticed.  You felt your heart squeezing itself and your breathing became heavier. You would never want to cause Tom any pain on your behalf, and you can’t continue to drag your feet with your education because you felt like you . So, you did what you did best, shut someone out and leave. You made up lie about how this relationship wasn’t working on your end, broke it off and flew back to the town where you had been attending school online. Scrambling enough money together to buy a used car and a small studio apartment and apply to as many jobs as you could. You got lucky, that when you were applying that a car factory needed more summer students and they were paying their workers a decent living wage and you just jumped on it. The job helped you get settled but it also helped ignore the small amount of regret you felt. It is too late to turn around now and now you must live with your choices. 

You shake yourself out of a daze you didn’t realize clouded your mind, and it seems your feet have carried you to the front of your small grey locker. It looks like what all typical high school lockers look except half the size. You raise your hand to the lock to do one full twist to the right, one full twist to the left, and half a twist to the right again and my the lock pops off with a light pull.

You reach in to collect your phone, black spring jacket, dark blue water bottle, then you reach into your jacket pocket to fish out your car keys. You hum in satisfaction when you feel the cool metal of your keys in your pocket. You drape your jacket over your arm as you shut the locker quietly and slide the lock over the hook and push it shut. You proceed to continue to follow the baby blue hallways until you’ve reached the double glass doors of the exit. You push open the glass door and is met with a cool morning breeze also paired with a peach colored sky.

You make your way across the concrete of the parking lot, following the line of different coloured cars parked next to each other, eyes wandering at the different licence plates, soaking up the calmness of the morning sun until you stop dead in your tracks. You look up to see someone leaning on the hood of your car. This person is dressed in some blue jeans, a black hoodie, dark red hat, and it seems they’re just casually looking down and scrolling through their phone unaware of your presence a couple feet away. You think for a minute before speaking, should you just walk back inside and get someone to confront this guy or should you just do it yourself? I mean it is your car in a private parking lot, someone will hear you scream right? After a few seconds go by you just say fuck as the longer you stand here the less time you get to spend sleeping. 

“Ah hem, excuse me you’re leaning on my car. Can you please get off,”

You keep your distance and tightly grip your waterbottle. Just so you have a head start if you need run back into the factory or even defend yourself. Their fingers stop scrolling, but their gaze is still facing downwards, hood and hat hiding their features.

“Uh hello, you need to get out of this parking lot its a private. Ill call security if you don’t move, ”

You shallow nervously as the figure stays still, unresponsive. When it seems like this figure is just going to continue to ignore you they stand up abruptly causing you to jump.

“Hi Y/N,’ An english accent comes out from the hood and your expression changes from fear to dread in seconds. Heart still pumping fast in your chest and you feel yourself getting even more nervous. 

“What are you doing here, Tom”, You cross your arms the best you can and start staring at your feet to avoid eye contact.

“Can’t I come visit my girlfriend after she finishes work,” Tom questions as his foots steps get louder as they get closer.

“I am not your girlfriend remember.  Besides the point, how do you even know where to find me. I haven’t talked to you in two months.”

‘You left without a much of explanation. You said when I came home from LA that this was over because you couldn’t handle this relationship, it stressed you out to much. I thought everything was going good mutually good in all aspects of the relationship, but I guess I was wrong. After months of trying to unravel what I could have possible done wrong, I just had to find you and get the truth of why you left,”

He ignores your question as he bends his knees to try and get a look at your face. Your mind almost speeds up, unable to come up with a good enough half-assed response, you mouth blurts out the truth without much thought.

“I love that you’re able to pursue your dreams, and god Tom I wouldn’t want you to do anything to compromise that. But I want to be able to pursue my dreams too Tom. The only way I can do that is if I leave and doing a long-distant relationship hardly ever works out for anybody! I don’t want you wearing yourself out because of me and being long-distance was going to tear you apart,”

You sniffle away the tears building up in your eyes while focusing on the curves on the concrete.

“Darling, why didn’t you just talk to me? I would and do understand if you want to pursue something on your own. I would never want to settle for anything less.  “

He reaches out a finger to find a place under your chin to lift your head gently so your eyes will meet. You glossy eyes meet his soft, gentle brown eyes and that alone makes you want to cry. You never meant to cause pain to reach those eyes, you just thought you were doing yourselves a favour.

“Baby, we could’ve done this together you know that. We would’ve never survived our first year together if we didn’t talk stuff out. Trying to make a relationship work with a person I’ve loved since our first date is worth the endless amount of stress life causes. Y/N, my darling, I would do anything to make you happy but also stay in my arms forever,”

His soft tone makes your knees weak and that is when the dam of tears breaks from your eyes and they flow down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I-I just thought I was doing the right thing for both of us. I was watching a movie and I started stressing my sell-out and just thinking for myself .I’m sorry I put you through this, I know I can’t turn back time, but please forgive me for causing you any pain because my love for you got me all fucked up, “ You say trying wipe away the salty tears dripping down your face. 

“I’m not mad nor am I upset with you. I’m just glad I can have you back in my life again.”

Tom smiles even bright as he pulls lightly on the hand he has a hold of to drag your body over to his. He embraces you into his warmth and your body curls into him and all you can think is there is no place you’d rather be.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your place and catch up on some sleep huh? Then you can give me tour around your new place and make up for lost time,”

He hums into your hair as you pull back from his embrace to look up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve to look at Tom more clearly.

“Yeah, I’d like that”.

[mattbflatt-loves-starset]

The Progression of Failed Love - A STARSET Playlist

Y’all ever make a playlist before? That shit is so much fun. Using the music by your favorite artists and ordering them in such a way that portrays your own idea or story... I love it, and I’ve only just started doing it. It’s a very unique way to creatively express yourself. Now that I’ve hyped my audience up, it’s time to break all of your hearts by sharing my playlist of STARSET songs called “The Progression of Failed Love” which follows the story of a typical young couple who just couldn’t make it work. Yes I know, this is a dumb movie trope told a million times and blah blah blah, but this is my blog so deal with it ya fuckin’ dorks… of course I’m kidding, and in all seriousness, this was the most genuine playlist I was able to make. I have my own personal connection to it, and if you’ve had a relationship before, you’ll most likely find a way to connect to it. I enjoy it, and I hope you do as well.

The playlist’s first three songs in order are “Satellite”, “DIE FOR YOU”, and “Starlight”, and they encompass the honeymoon stage of a budding relationship. Let’s call these songs Act I of this story. “Satellite” to me really embodies the feeling one gets when they first fall for someone. The energy is high and all you can think about is what you would do for this individual, with lyrics that support this idea greatly:

“Satellite! Shine on me tonight!

I will be your gravity, I will stay and never leave…

My satellite! Are you here tonight?

Shine your light and set me free.

Take the darkness out of me.

Shine on me!”

The relationship hasn’t started yet, but the interest is growing like crazy. These lyrics hit hard, check out the rest of them here:

STARSET – Satellite Lyrics 

“DIE FOR YOU” is just a more intense version of “Satellite” within the context of this story, but it makes sense because this song represents when the relationship is now official. Both parties have fallen for each other, and the love is starting to run deep. The whole vibe of the song is much more intimate, with a calmer kit part (hot damn Adam Gilbert you are smart with writing your kit parts), but yet the same exact key and even a similar tempo. The songs are so similar, yet so different, and it’s really smart. Kudos to STARSET for this, and as a personal benefit, it makes the story of this playlist flow really well.

Starset - Die For You (Official Audio) 

“Starlight” is a very specific moment in time, and marks the end of the honeymoon phase. The couple is stargazing, and the sky is just beautiful. I see many colors and galaxies in the night sky when listening to this song. The only thing is, they aren’t physically together. Their lives have picked up, and while they can’t be with each other at the moment, they still love each other very much, so they stargazed on a phone call. They are sad that they have to spend less time together, but they reassure each other that they love the other person very much, and that they are inseparable. This song has a very special place in my heart, as it’s just a beautiful song that makes me think a lot. I get a little heartsick listening to it, as it makes me think about memories that are dear to me, but it fits this spot perfectly in my playlist story.

Starset - Starlight (Official Lyric Video)

The honeymoon period has now concluded and we are moving into Act II of this story, where problems arise. This act starts with the song “Telepathic”, which has a frustrating feel to me. The song is from the perspective of only one of the characters, as they feel their significant other expects them to be a mind reader and won’t share emotions by just talking about them. As I’m sure a lot of people understand, this is infuriating to deal with, as it just makes people typically want to slam their head through a fuckin’ brick wall. At the same time, this character is very easily read by their significant other, as they wear their heart on their sleeve, making it seem like their lover is… well… “Telepathic”. This brings up insecurity, and arguments ensue. The lyrics support this idea well, for example:

“But you can read my mind

I feel it all the time.

Felt it all around you…

You had me under spell right from the start

I don’t have a telepathic heart.”

STARSET – Telepathic Lyrics 

The arguments get worse as we progress into the song “FAULTLINE”. This song has a lot to do with pointing fingers and blaming, as now both lovers in this story are outright arguing with each other a lot, and over stupid shit too. They aren’t handling being apart from each other well and are having a hard time with communication due to insecurity and distance. The vibe of this song fits this mood, as it’s got a sparse but tense groove, and the accompanying guitar/synth parts are rough and a bit grungy. Out of all the songs in this playlist, this one takes 3nd place for the lyrics fitting well into the story, with such snippets as:

“First you gotta know, how to play the victim

Hate to tell ya so, but you repeat the symptoms like an aftershock

And I only wanna make it stop…”

And also:

“Caught me shaking at the site, oh

Caught me quaking in my mind, oh

You’re tripping over every fault of mine

You’re breaking open every single time

It’s never black and white, no

Going seismic out of spite, oh

I never know if it’s your fault or mine

You’re breaking open every single time

Faultline.”

STARSET - FAULTLINE (Official Audio)

 Like damn, that entire second snippet is the whole ass chorus. This song fits super well here.

The last song in Act II has some intense, even lustful feelings tied to it, this song being “PERFECT MACHINE”. The couple is desperate to make things work, as they still love each other very much but are really struggling. When they see each other, they engage constantly in what people called “hate-fucking” which ultimately solves nothing, and then fighting after they are done. Yes I know this was a WILD turn out of left field, but this is the story I envision with this playlist, very intense and potentially very real. The song I feel is the entire progression of one… erm… let’s call it a “session” of what was described above. It starts with the lustful feelings I mentioned before, then about one third of the way through the song, the entire feeling changes, becoming very angry and desperate. This song takes 2nd place for lyrics best fitting the story, with the lyrics changing from this:

“Show me your insides, show me your secrets

Show me what you desire… I can fake it”

To this:

“Even you know… even you know, this was all for nothing…”

STARSET - PERFECT MACHINE (Official Audio)

STARSET – PERFECT MACHINE Lyrics 

Again, damn bro. I relate to this part of the story the least, as I’ve never experienced something like this, but holy shit that still cuts deep.

Finally, we reach Act III of this story, the end and the aftermath. This act opens up with “Let It Die”, which is the song that marks the inevitable end of this relationship. This song talks a lot about “breathing back life” into something and I feel that marks the end of a relationship very well. The feelings have been lost and it’s very possible that at least one party has moved on, so it needs to end. There’s not much to say about this song, except the one lyric that really made this song claim its spot on this playlist:

“But you told me, if you loved me, let it die”

Starset - Let It Die (Official Audio)

The relationship is now over, and one of the characters has left the narrative. We now enter the mind of the one who was still holding on to feelings. With this, the penultimate song to this playlist is the iconic “My Demons”. This song paints the image of inner demons attacking someone, and how they once had a significant other that would save them from these demons. The song references sickness, demons, needing help, and other color words that really paint the picture of someone mourning the death of love they once had. It is one of STARSET’s most emotionally impactful songs, and every single OG STARSET fan knows this song. This part of the story is the perfect spot for this song, and though I don’t want to copy another batch of lyrics for the purpose of finishing this story, I strongly encourage you to just listen to the song and pay attention to these lyrics. They’re very audible and very emotionally charged.

Starset - My Demons (Official Music Video)

We have finally reached the end, and the song that ends this whole story is “Ricochet”, another one of STARSET’s best songs. I know what I said about not copying another batch of lyrics to this post, but this song wins 1st place for lyrics relating to the story on this playlist, because this song is literally about reflection on a failed relationship and just wanting to see the other person:

“We were one in the same,

Running like moths to the flames,

You’d hang on every word I’d say 

But now they only ricochet…

We were falling away,

You left me with a bittersweet taste,

But when I send my heart your way,

It bounces off the walls you made,

Ricochet”

COME. ON. You CANNOT tell me this isn’t the best way to conclude this really sad story. This isn’t the only set of lyrics in the song that paints this picture well, THE WHOLE SONG DOES. Back to the story, time has passed and the remaining character still misses their ex-lover. They’ve tried really hard to rebuild some sort of relationship with them, but it just didn’t work. This song is the final stage of their mourning, and while they know very deep down that it will get better, they need this time to grieve.

Starset - Ricochet (Official Music Video)

STARSET – Ricochet Lyrics

I don't relate to this entire story, but it was sure as hell fun to write. I apologize for any emotional pain that I have caused during the telling of this story, but this is what came to mind when I was creating the playlist. You’re a real one if you made it to the end, this being my longest post yet. I really hope you enjoyed.

Links Used (In Order):

https://genius.com/Starset-satellite-lyrics 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJxSNbAer9M 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tiCEp3K3Rs 

https://genius.com/Starset-telepathic-lyrics 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfqVlwetWfY 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keMBtyjYUPQ 

https://genius.com/Starset-perfect-machine-lyrics 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJtBYAKBByk 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkll0StZJLA 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaC0YVaIMno

https://genius.com/Starset-ricochet-lyrics

[spinel-is-adorable]

The Beach Party

SPINEL!GREASER X FEMALE READER Okay so uh-this one might be a bit of a mix bag? I tried to make it 1950′s themes but I think i just went all over the place. Either way I think this is as good as its going to get so have fun! @knifebean @spinelxreader (Yes Hello I’m the mysterious anon : D hope you two like this!)  1,131 words (oh dear lord I wrote it long again) Heated kissing near the end!  -------- The smell of the beach was overwhelming as you stepped out of the car with  Steven and Connie, the salty smell making you take a deep breath with a smile as you stared out into the night. You had only been in beach city for about two years but you wonder how you could have ever lived in Empire City before your parents uprooted you and themselves to Beach City. “ Y/N! Come on the party’s down here!” Breaking from your trance you nearly tripped over your own feet trying to get around the back car door, at the sound of Steven’s voice beckoning you over. You looked over the  beach to see it had been set up to allow a dance floor and a stage for the performers to sing on, it looked swell if you did say so yourself. But if you had to be honest you weren’t quite the party type. The only real reason you were here was because of Steven if he was going you were being invited. The boy’s been trying to break you out of your social awkwardness since he’s met you but from what you’ve heard you aren’t surprised. Apparently the kid is friends with just about everyone-like some sort of super friend magnet. And being an opposite you were pulled right in.

Walking down the board walk you caught up with the two who were happily chatting about how much fun you three were going to have. Some were dressed in fancy dresses and others went more casual, the party being hosted by the Pizza’s to try and strum up some business with their pizza parlor.

“ So what do we do at these par-ties?” You asked feigning like you had no idea what a party even was. 

“ Well first you gotta get some food!” Connie said reaching over and taking your wrist to pull you over to the food table. There were several types of pizza’s among other food on the tables, taking the girls advice you grab a plate and a slice of your favorite-snagging a drink on the way. The three of you took your seats as you ate, talking about random topics until the sound of a motorcycle caught some attention.

 Well. That wasn’t a surprise they would show up. 

Looking up to the parking lot you saw a black Ford pull in with one blue occupant hanging out the window and a motorcycle right behind it and only with one passenger. Crybaby. Or Spinel-as it’s her actual name but good luck calling her that without her permission. You haven’t met the girl but you’ve heard the rumors. It was actually a bit intimidating for you, you had avoided the group altogether when you first transferred over. Hearing about all the fights and mischief the group gets into. Typical greaser group.

You pretty much avoided them since you transferred.

“ Oh it’s Spinel!” Why were you not surprised when Steven of all people said her name with a big smile and quickly handed Connie her food, telling her he was going to say ‘Hi!’ to the gang for a moment. You looked to the girl obviously asking questions mentally as your mouth was currently stuffed with some pizza.

 “ Steven’s known Crybaby for a while, think he accidentally dented her bike but offered to fix it himself and they just started talking.” Connie shrugged before taking another sip of her drink. “ Sometimes she’s over at his house and they just play board games all day! You didn’t hear that from me though.” 

Now that had you stifle a laugh, “ Heard what?”, you had no intention to get onto Spinel’s bad side so that little secret would stay locked with the key thrown out into the ocean.

 Steven soon rejoined your group just as a song that had everyone hopping out of their seats and running to the dance floor. 

Good golly,Miss Molly, sure like to ball!

 You couldn’t help but dance in your chair as it was one of your favorites too but seeing all those people out of the floor made your stomach feel like bricks. Dancing wasn’t one of your strong suits which is why you kept it to your room and avoided parties in the first place. But Steven just wouldn’t let you sit down and enjoy from afar, he along with Connie jumped up and dragged you along when she pulled you up from your chair.  “ W-wait no I really-”  “ Come on Y/N!”  “ Yeah you need to have a little fun!”  The two pulled you into a three-way circle dance, your hands locking together as you tried to keep up with their feet. Once you got into the rhythm you began to move in sync with the two, a smile lighting up your face as you began to actually have some fun.  Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball. Good golly, Miss Molly, sure like to ball. When you're rockin' and a rollin' can't hear your momma call.

Others had made room for you three on the dance floor as you twisted and turned, lost in your own little head as you felt your feet move for you. You didn’t notice when the other two broke off, they sure didn’t either as the song changed and they were swallowed into the crowd separating the three of you. Once you opened your eyes you realized that you were left alone in a crowd of people you don’t know all of who weren’t paying a smidgen of attention to you. 

Well except one. 

Suddenly your hand was seized by a much larger one, twirling you around until you were flush against his chest staring up into his shining greedy smile. 

Kevin. 

Well fuck. 

“ Hey there, toots. Fancy a dance?” You ain't nothin' but a hound dog Cryin' all the time You ain't nothin' but a hound dog Cryin' all the time Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine He didn’t give you much chance as you stammered out a mutter of words that sounded more like you were choking on something. Kevin pulled you along the dance floor his hand on your hip before he grips your hands and twirls you around, you had no choice but to be his ragdoll. Kevin was a special guy, he’s always hitting on every girl he could get too and he’s tried several times with you which you’ve turned down every time. But he just didn’t learn.  Becoming a bit more aware of the situation you finally tried to break from the guy, “ Let me go, Kevin. I need to find-” “ Don’t think so, sweetheart. You know I’ve asked nicely before but I think I need to show you the kind of guy I am!”  Well they said you was high-classed Well, that was just a lie Ya know they said you was high-classed Well, that was just a lie Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine A quick twirl had you seeing stars and feeling sick when he dipped you only to snap you back up and twirl you again, “ Kevin! I’m serious!” Oh jeez-where was Steven? Usually he’d pawn the guy off of you, “ I don’t want to dance anymore.” This time you managed to get your hands out of his but he quickly grabbed you around the waist just to pull you back in.  “ Come on, Baby. Why don’t you just give me a chance?” “ Maybe because the girl just ain’t interested ya mook.”  That had the both of you looking up only to see the one person you didn’t think you’d ever get too close to, Spinel. The girl was wearing her signature spiked jacket, leather pants with the heart belt buckle and her steel toed pointed boots.  And she wasn’t alone either, her crew were right behind her, the crowd has broken up forming a circle around you as the music continued. It seemed she and her crew had been dancing as well before she caught sight of your little predicament. Steven and Connie soon joined along side them, Steven going to say something before Kevin spoke up. “ And just what do you want?”  “The girl said she didn’t want ta’ dance anymore. “ Spinel was obviously agitated, looked like she was ready to throw the first punch if he didn’t let go soon.   “ She just needs a bit of convincing. Most girls do.”  “ Ya know I just looove that part were guys like you think ya can do whateva you want. If ya don’t let go you’re cruising for a bruisin.” “ Don’t you know who I am?”  “Does it look like I give a damn!?” You took the opportunity to break free of his grasp when Kevin was distracted, the boy looking distraught then annoyed as you sauntered on over next to Spinel with a grateful little smile intending to hide behind her. What you didn’t expect was for her to pull you in close by throwing her arm over your shoulder, you could feel your heartbeat spike as she growled. Your cheeks growing warm.  “ Scram!” With that one word Kevin finally gave up, even though he knew not to mess with the one person who was known to be unpredictable. Hunching his shoulders and swore under his breath as he walked off the dance floor and hopefully back home. A wave of relief comes over you as you relax your muscles. “ Ya okay, Babydoll?” The tall girl looked at you with a glint of worry in her eyes, the arm becoming tighter for a moment before finally letting you go.  “ Y-yeah I’m fine..” You stammered out the words rubbing your arm, “ You uh-didn’t have to do that.”  “ Yeah I did. I don’t like it when I see mooks like him causing trouble. Well trouble that ain’t fun for no one. And I just hate that guy.” Her tone suggested the two might of had a history but you weren’t about to ask questions. Plus Steven practically tackled you in a hug. “Y/N I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to lose you in that crowd we just kinda-” “Steven!....Steeevveenn! Steven!” Oh man did your heart break seeing your curly haired friend just worry over you. While Steven was telling you his woes Spinel looked you up and down, a small smile on her lips as she decided to walk away while you were distracted-going back to her group.  “ It’s okay just calm down there buddy.” Patting him on the head he finally quieted down as you looked back up to thank Spinel but she was nowhere to be seen. You were going to thank her but it seems she left before you could.  “ Hey Steven I think i just want to go home.”  The weekend came and went like it usually did and while you didn’t exactly like school but you didn’t hate it either. Sure some subjects were annoying but you quite like others.  But you also had a mission, someone needed to be thanked. Though that was becoming much harder than you think it would be as somehow Spinel was a rather hard person to find! You didn’t have any classes with her, you did have one with Bismuth but you weren’t exactly comfortable to ask her about her friend. At least not yet. It wasn’t until around lunch time when you spotted the pink haired girl cut back around the school, you had plans with Steven and Connie but they would understand.  Following her you tried to be quiet as you didn’t want to startle her, she turned a corner and as you did you opened your mouth to say a greeting only to get snatched and smacked into the wall! You looked into the pink eyes of an equally confused Spinel who immediately backed off, “ Whoa-sorry about that. Thought ya were one of the rowdy boys from the city.” Her eyes looked over you like she did the other night, worried she might have hurt you.  “ It’s uh-its okay.” You shrugged it off ignoring the slight twinge of pain from your back, “ But uh-I wanted to talk to you.”  “ You wanted ta talk to me?” “ Yeah I just...wanted to thank you for the other night. You know-with Kevin? You walked off before I could.”  Her expression turned to one of surprise as she looked you over putting her hands in her leather jacket pockets looking away, was she being shy? “ Ey’ no big deal. Just trying to keep jerks like him in his place.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “ And you're okay right? I know I asked before but-” “Oh nono! I’m okay! I uh went home after that...just wanted to sleep it off.”  “Hasn’t bothered you since right?”  “Nope.”  “Cool.” Spinel looked off to the side, seemingly not sure what to say.   Oh no it's getting awkward.! Quick think of something! “ I’m Y/N!” You thrust your hand out for a shake and smile wide.  Like an idiot. Spinel looked at your hand for a moment before she let out a chuckle and took it giving your hand a hearty shake.  “ Crybaby. But you know what? Call me Spinel.” Ever since that lunch period you’re finding yourself around Spinel much more, she just pops up in the hallways checking in on you or she meets you just as your leaving campus-even a few times in the bathroom! Heck even the other members of the gang began to say things to you, Bismuth began helping you in class and even Peridot showed you some cool gadget she’s working on. Lapis has stayed distant but you get a smile from her every once in a while.  It didn’t take long for the few of you to began hanging out after school, your parents were of course worried about you hanging out with a hooligan like Spinel and the others but once you reassured them they backed off. Letting you have your fun of kicking the can or dancing at the diner with the jukebox.  And during all this you couldn’t help but find yourself starting to..fall for the rough n’ tough girl. Spinel under her tough exterior was rather sweet-tooth rotting sweet! She would never admit it but she had a heart of gold underneath that spiked leather jacket she always wore.  But one night she invites you up to the hills, usually a make-out point for the teens of Beach City, just the thought of being there with Spinel made your heart thump hard in your chest. You hadn’t told her anything about the growing feelings you had and you weren’t sure if you were going too. Would she even like you back? It would ruin everything if she didn’t.  You didn’t want to lose her.  But there was no way she was going to confess to you on the hill right? She probably uses it to just get away from life. And how could she love someone like you? You were a giant dork who just got lucky with knowing one of the coolest girls in school. Everything was just going to be normal and okay and fine.  Everything was not fine. No. Nope. No way in hell-why did you agree to this?  Spinel had been the only one to show up to your home, she had been the only one to pick you up with her motorcycle (you had to ride on the back, hugging her the whole way up the hill) and you two were the only ones on the hill tonight.  Fuck. She’d been quiet for a little while, just standing there and looking over the city. What was she thinking? Why was she thinking so hard?  “ Ya know I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately.”  Her voice drew you out of your thoughts as you looked at her, you still sitting sideways on her bike that was now parked and Spinel leaning on the fence of the hill. “ About what?” You asked, hoping it wasn’t about anything specific.  “ You.” Oh no-your heart began to pound in your chest, “ What about me?” “ How you’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve eva seen.” Spinel pulled away from the fence beginning to walk towards you, letting out a small chuckle at your stunned red colored expression.  “O-oh uh...” “ And about how I’ll probably never find anyone else like you.” She was now standing before you, her hands pulling out of her pockets only for her to lean down close to you as they rest on the seat to either side of you. “ You feel it to don’t cha?”  You couldn’t get a word out with her so close to you, feeling her breath on your lips as she looked straight into your eyes. You managed to get out a little nod, she smiled as if she knew that would be the answer. Spinel looked at your for a second more before she broke the bridge between you two, locking your lips together. It took you a moment but you returned it, the kiss soon turned into a heavy heated make-out as Spinel cupped your face and gave your lip a gentle bite. She began to push more leaning you back to a point where you could have fallen but a hand to your back kept you steady.  But the both of you needed air, she pulled back her face just as red as yours.  “ There ya go, Babydoll. Ain’t good to hold up those feelin’s is it?” Her thumb caressed your cheek before she let go and gripped your hands.  “ ...How long?”  “ A few weeks.Kinda hard to miss those heart eyes of yours.“ Spinel pecked your lips once again briefly, you trying to follow after her. “ Okay okay-hang on, Doll. Come’er I got something for ya.”  Spinel pulled you off the seat and directed you to stand beside the motorcycle. “ You got me something?”  Curious you leaned in to see what she was doing. She leaned down towards her bike, “ Well if you’re gonna be my gal..” pulling open the compartment on her bike to pull out what looked like a leather jacket. It didn’t have the usual spikes or band patches like the others had but as she turned it around...you gasped.  On the back of the jacket was the name “BabyDoll” stitched into the letter in gold and pink lettering, roses and forget-me-not patches were ironed on all over the place. It looked absolutely beautiful to you.  “ So whaddya say? Be my gal?”  You looked at her for a moment before you walked up to her and took the jacket, slipping it on getting a feel for it. “Yes.” 

[albyfm]

˙✫*ﾟ YUNGBLUD  ,  DEMIBOY  ,  HE/THEY  :･ did  you  hear  alby miller  is  joining  the  cast  of  exposed  after  their habit of facilitating drugs at events, festivals & awards shows  was  revealed  ?  the  twenty-three  year  old  bass guitarist  with 500k followers is  trying  to  clear  their  name  .  they've  become  known  as  the  resident  juvenile  in  the  mansion  ,  and  it's  clear  that's  spot  on  because  they're  quite -  recalcitrant & -  stuck in their ways ,  but  also +  charismatic &  +  outspoken .  you  know  they're  heading  to  the  confession  booth  if  you  hear  lonely boy  by  the black keys  blasting  ,  most  likely  talking  about  how  they're  more  than disheveled outfits of black leather & denim, talking way too candidly to the press, smashed lenses of paparazzi cameras that got too close, an unmistakable mischievous grin & an inability to express real feelings.

hey !! finally getting around to posting this. you can call me aries, i’m 23 and in the bst ( uk ) timezone. my pronouns are she / her. i’m a little lost art school grad with a lot of student debt, a taste for red wine and an unhealthy obsession with arctic monkeys. not gonna lie, i whipped this kiddo up specifically for this rp so i’m still getting used to them, but hopefully with this intro you’ll get a feel for what they’re about. without further ado, here’s alby—

trigger warnings & disclaimer: mentions of hard drugs, alcohol, anger issues, destructive tendencies. my intention writing this intro was not to glamorize or romanticize these things in any way but if anything i have written comes across that way, please lmk!

smash that ♡ to plot or hit me up on discord @ chaotic aries#5793 !!

‘and this is how it starts...’ ( the basics )

name: alby fox miller age: twenty-three gender: non-binary ( demi-boy ) pronouns: he / him & they / them date of birth: may 24th 1997 zodiac: gemini sun, pisces moon, aries rising orientation: pansexual occupation: bassist for drive like i do career claim: ross macdonald ( the 1975 ) genre: alt-pop, pop-rock

‘it’s the way we are, we were smoking by eleven & knocking ‘round town...’ ( background )

you’re born in 1997, in the north west of england. wilmslow, to be exact. a quaint and affluent town, just south of manchester. the family you’re born into is a comfortable one. not quite living lavishly, but not at all struggling, either. your parents both work in business out in the city. you go to a good school. but... all is not how you exactly want it to be.

see, your parents are quite pushy. they expect you to live how they want, rather than how you do. at the all boy’s academy they enroll you in as a teenager, they expect you to pick what they deem as intellectual subjects, such as foreign languages, further mathematics and computer science. there’s a focus on you becoming someone that makes a lot of money, rather than someone who is happy.

but you’re... not the kind of person that can be molded so easily. you’re a fairly happy-go-lucky kid, but also a rebellious one. your parents’ strict ways of trying to force you down their chosen path, only encourages you more heavily to choose your own. 

at fourteen, you meet the guys. lennox, jovi & jasper. they’re some of the only kids at school who can be bothered to be around you, with your high energy and bolshy attitude. really, they’re the only people who embrace you for who you are. they encourage your weirdness and outspokenness. it’s not long before you find yourself wanting to do everything together. it’s not long before the four of you are inseparable.

from there, you fully detach from everything your parents want you to be. you embrace your individuality. you also find the courage and bravery to come out to your parents as non-binary at the age of sixteen. there’s not a single person’s opinion that you’re afraid of, or even care about. 

it’s not all rainbows & sunshine, though. you struggle somewhat with anger issues, and a bit of depression. you’re also practically addicted to getting into trouble: picking fights with bullies at school, selling weed & pills to your friends around town, underaged drinking... you get the gist. though you keep your fears internal, you sometimes worry you’ll get nowhere in life.

so of course, the second the boys are talking about starting a band, you’re all in. imagine if you made it big someday? wouldn’t that be sick? you’re immediately drawn to bass guitar, and use a month’s worth of saved up pocket money to pick one up from the big music store in the city. thankfully, you pick it up quite quickly, because before you can even realize it, things are getting so... real. by sixteen, you don’t feel you have the option to stick around at school for sixth form, because drive like i do is already playing local venues and working on its first album.

you’re just seventeen when the album is released. somehow, the climb to fame is faster than you could have ever imagined. it seems like yesterday you were still watching bass tutorials on youtube in your bedroom and practicing in your friend’s garage after school. first is some notoriety across the uk, but before you know it — boom! global stardom. the fame is a heavy weight for someone so young to carry... but fuck it, it’s gonna be fun, and you know it.

you’re twenty-three now, and days are gone of pipedreams formed in your parent’s shoebox room. you split your time between manchester, london, and LA — and that’s just during rare moments of downtime from your world tours. your band is 4 albums in, and whoever hasn’t heard of you might as well have been living under a rock. is it narcissistic to think like that? maybe, but you don’t care. this is rock n’ roll, baby. this is the life.

naturally, all eyes are mostly on your very outspoken frontman. he’s controversial, but the media can’t get enough of him. as for you? to them, you’re... the band’s problem child. while you argue that your behavior is no different than that of your friend, he’s got the lead singer charm. they don’t seem to like you as much. why? well...

‘drink, fall, spew...’ ( troublesome tendencies & exposed secret )

you never really coped as well as you acted like you did, did you? while you were grateful for the fame, everything was... a lot, and it was all at once. you didn’t even get the chance to process it. 

take four twenty-somethings and add constant prying journalists, paparazzi, and constantly full schedules into the mix. and why not pepper in some typical rockstar vices, too? alcohol, drugs, parties, throwaway sex. things are destined to get a little rocky. though you tried at first not to show it to your fans, your destructive behavior soon got the better of you, and you became known to drunkenly lash out at paps, smash cameras and storm out of interviews when the questions got too personal. 

this all came to a head when you were caught on camera several times distributing acid tabs, cocaine and mdma at events, music festivals & awards shows. the press gave the band a pretty bad time over this, and given the other members’ controversies and lennon’s similar link to drugs, it wasn’t a good look for any of you. 

it didn’t matter that you had a side to you that was good, pure. that you were always kind and loving and down-to-earth towards your fans and friends. you were a bad seed, and you wound up on exposed with the rest of your bandmates. hopefully you can prove there’s more to you than what the media shows...

‘oh & you say, i’m such a cliche...’ ( personality )

immm gonna rush thru this section & write less formally bc those other parts too me WAY too long

basically a literal toddler. loves a laugh, loves a good time, but get on his bad side and he WILL throw a tantrum

it’s mainly people like press & paps he lets his anger out on. the band’s fans and people he’s close with on a personal level know he’s a good person underneath it all

loves a bit of mischief / rebellion / drama

king of hiding insecurities....

literal softie.... like... who allowed this binch to be so soft. he’s so open about how much he loves his friends (particularly his bandmates) and will platonically kiss and hug and love people all the time, particularly on the show bc he’s trying to show the cameras his softer side dfjghdfdfg

so excitable like WHERE does this kid get all his energy...

( tw drugs ) will probably struggle a bit on the show without access to drugs, but ( tw addiction mention ) he has never really been addicted or dependent on them, just a frequent user.

outspoken as fuck, has no filter sometimes oops

very flamboyant, in line with the general aesthetic of his band but also on a personal level. sports a kind of soft gothic/punk/early 2000s emo look. always paints his nails and wears makeup etc

sleeps around a lot but has never really been able to find a lasting relationship, has just had a bunch of short-lived flings???? but lowkey develops crushes at the drop of a hat and would love to properly fall in love with someone who could be with him forever & accept him for all his flaws, but he highly doubts that will ever happen fgjdhsfg

‘why don’t you figure my heart out?...’ ( wanted connections )

exes on good terms

exes on bad terms ( maybe someone who actually really wanted to stay with him but couldnt deal with his bullshit and now resents him? )

 someone who loves the band’s music & inflates his ego ab it

 someone he hasn’t seen for years that he’s reunited on the show & maybe they’re revisiting old feelings for each other??? and he wants it to be DIFFERENT this time but also theres shit tons of fucking cameras and shit which... makes things difficult...

first friend he made in LA or in the states in general, someone who showed him the ropes

someone who hates him / hates the band like PLEASE

and also just a straight up enemy maybe?? someone who finds him annoying as fuck??

FRIENDS!!!

literally anything just hmu and lay an idea on me and theres 90% chance ill be down

[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Joel Porter Nycroft Nicknames: No nicknames, but he goes by the name Joel Winters professionally. Age: 40 Birthday: May 25th Zodiac Sign: Gemini Birthplace: Liverpool, England Current Location: He is constantly touring, but he has two homes– one just outside of London, and one in LA. His London-ish (as he calls it) home is where he spends his time off, and his LA home (which is a condo) is where he lives while the band works on recording new albums, since that is where their current label is based. Speaks: English and French (not fluently, but decently well). Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous Education: High school dropout, never bothered to get his GED or anything since he never really needed to. No college education, obviously. He is very smart though, and reasonably well-educated. Occupation: Lead singer and guitarist of internationally famous band No Rest for the Londoners, often shortened to simply The Londoners. Vehicle: It’s been a very long time since he’s had to drive himself anywhere– and that’s probably for the best, given the fact that he is under the influence more often than not. He has drivers that take him anywhere he needs to go, or, if the place is within walking distance, he’ll just walk over. Worldly Possessions: Though he’s quite wealthy, he doesn’t live too ostentatiously. He does tend to buy expensive/high quality things that will last him a long time, especially if it’s an instrument or anything to do with music, but he doesn’t spend excessively. He has some artwork on his walls that he splurged on, a shelf for his various awards (which he keeps hidden in a closet in his home studio because he feels weird having them out on display for all to see), nice (but not ridiculously expensive) clothes and bedding and such, furniture he had custom made by a local carpenter, etc. Then he has all his instruments and music equipment, which make up the majority of his possessions. Pet(s): He can barely take care of himself, so he has never even considered owning a pet, but he does like animals a lot. In the future, once he has his shit together, he would be totally open to having pets.

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 6’0” Hair: Dark with a few flecks of grey. Long-ish and usually a bit of a mess unless he’s going somewhere fancy, in which case he will slick it back. Facial Hair: He usually keeps his beard quite full. He trims it now and then, but it’s rare for him to actually shave it all off. Eye Colour: Brown Skin Tone: He doesn’t spend a lot of time outdoors, so he’s pasty. Clothing: For the most part, he looks pulled together– jeans and t-shirts, the occasional cardigan, peacoats in colder weather, classic black suits when he attends special events. He doesn’t exactly dress like a “rock star” and has never cared to try and be edgy or fit a certain persona. Distinguishing Marks: Faded track marks on both his arms from his past heroin abuse– he makes no effort to hide or cover them, since he figures everyone knows about his drug problem anyway. Face Claim: Jim Sturgess

H E A L T H Physical Health: It could be better. What with the fact that he’s constantly high or drunk (or both), his health is not great. He is constantly exhausted, often feels sick, has a weak immune system, and is pretty much just a mess. There’s been more than one occasion throughout his career when he’s passed out from sheer exhaustion, or had to reschedule shows due to illness (though he considers that a last resort). Physical Abilities/Limitations: Joel is an extremely talented musician. On top of the fact that he has a lovely singing voice, he can play guitar, piano, drums, and bass. He can’t read music at all, but has a knack for playing by ear, which drives the rest of his band absolutely nuts because anytime they try to ask Joel what key he’s singing/playing in, he just shrugs. Addictions: It would be faster to list the things he’s not addicted to. But mainly, he’s addicted to alcohol and cocaine. He used to have a serious heroin addiction, but hasn’t touched heroin since his late twenties. He also abuses Xanax, though he doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing– he figures that since his doctor prescribed it, it’s fine to use it on a regular basis, but it’s really doing more harm than good. Allergies: None Mental Health: Terrible. Like, catastrophically bad. Joel is pretty much always on the verge of a mental breakdown– he has had several over the past few years, but has not gotten the help he so desperately needs in order to get his mental health back in order. He has gone to rehab many times, but wasn’t really given much help in the mental health department; he was just told he needed to relax and that once he was off the drugs he would feel much better. Turned out that wasn’t true, so he has always gone back to the drugs after leaving rehab. He is constantly considering suicide, and has attempted it twice; once when he was fourteen, and once when he was thirty-two. The second attempt was passed off as an accidental drug overdose to the media, though it was not accidental at all.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Joel was born and raised in Liverpool. His father left when he was just a baby, so Joel never knew him. Unfortunately, his mother was neglectful and uncaring– she was addicted to drugs and ran with a bad crowd, and her only real concern was where her next fix would come from. Joel was often left with neighbors or other family members for long periods of time before his mother would remember to come and get him. More than once, authorities were alerted to the fact that Joel’s mother was not taking care of him, but nothing ever really came of it. From an early age, Joel was interested in music, and began teaching himself to play guitar when he was ten years old. He always had a knack for playing by ear, so he never bothered to learn to read music. He spent a lot of time in a local music shop playing around with various instruments, and the staff let him hang around since he didn’t bother anyone and they kind of felt sorry for him. It was there that Joel taught himself to play both piano and bass. At the age of 14, Joel was pressured by some of his mom’s friends into getting high with them. Although Joel didn’t want to, he was made to feel that saying no wasn’t an option, so he did heroin with them. He doesn’t remember much of what happened that night– just that he went with them somewhere, Joel was absolutely scared out of his mind, and then he woke up the next morning on a park bench. From then on, Joel began to get high regularly, and did favors for his mom’s “friends,” mostly running drugs and bringing back money. It was around this time that he attempted suicide by purposely overdosing, but he woke up the next morning– still in his bedroom, intensely sick and much worse for wear, but alive. Joel dropped out of high school at 16– he would have failed his classes anyway since he’d been skipping school so much and his grades had plummeted. At 17, his friend Michael invited him to London– Michael was moving there and saw an opportunity to get Joel away from all the bad influences in his life. They moved in with Michael’s aunt for a while, and Joel took a job in a record shop to save up money. Eventually they struck out on their own and decided to put a band together, something they had talked about for years. After finding the perfect band members (something they still insist was fate), they began writing songs and recorded an EP in Joel and Michael’s basement. After playing a few local shows, word of mouth begin to spread, and before they knew it, they were approached by a manager offering them a contract with a major label. They took the deal, and the rest is history. Job History: His first “job” was as an errand boy for a shady group of drug dealers. He then worked in a record store for almost three years, and during that time, helped form the band and started playing the occasional show. Obviously that worked out because he is a very famous, successful musician now. Fondest Memories: His first rock concert when he was ten years old. Running away from Liverpool– he’ll never forget the feeling of freedom as they drove past the city limits. Performing in small venues and getting such an unexpectedly good response. And, of course, the first time they ever performed in a sold-out arena; the first time he heard the audience singing his own lyrics back at him, Joel almost cried. Worst Experiences: The majority of his childhood. And… a lot of his adulthood, actually.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: Though Joel can be very charming, he’s not exactly smooth. He’s kind of a dork, and most of his charm comes from the fact that people find it endearing how weird and awkward he can be. Depending on whatever drugs are in his system, he can either talk a mile a minute, or he might speak slowly, possibly slurring his words (though the slurring isn’t always noticeable with his accent). Accent: Very, very English with a distinctive Scouse accent. When he speaks, there is absolutely no doubt about where he’s from. Favorite Phrases or Words: He uses a lot of typical Scouse slang, such as “made up” for “happy,” or “cob on” for “bad mood.” His bandmates tease him about his weird accent/dialect all the time, though it’s all in good fun, of course. Usual Curse Words: Fuck, and any of its derivatives.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: ENFP-T Sense of Humor: Joel is charismatic and funny– he loves to make people laugh and can be quite a goofball when the mood strikes him. He often uses humor as a way to deflect or distract from his issues, so a lot of people who don’t know him well are surprised to find out that he’s as depressed as he is. When it comes to entertaining people, he will do just about anything to get a laugh, as long as it’s not offensive in some way– self-deprecating humor is his go-to, though. Habits: He tends to fidget a lot– wringing his hands, scratching at his arms, bouncing his leg when he’s sitting, especially during interviews or before a performance. Fears/Phobias: His biggest fear is ending up alone. He doesn’t even like being alone in his house, so the idea of being abandoned or rejected by the people he cares about is what really scares him. Loneliness is his worst enemy, and honestly, anytime when Joel is left alone with his own thoughts is just not going to end well. Strengths: Joel is a creative, kind, and thoughtful person who genuinely likes being around others and getting to know them. He loves doing nice things for people, making people laugh, and is charismatic as hell. People seem to naturally flock to him and enjoy his company– he’s kind of the life of the party. Joel always does his best to be kind to his fans as well, especially kids, and would never deny anyone a picture or autograph, even if he secretly would rather be doing anything else. Flaws: As lovely as Joel can be, when he’s deep under the influence of drugs, it’s like he’s a completely different person. Selfish, combative, and a chronic liar. When he starts spiralling into depression, it’s impossible for him to pull himself out of that tailspin, and that is how he’s ended up in this vicious cycle of getting depressed, doing drugs, getting more depressed, drinking the pain away, getting even more depressed, etc, etc. Hopes/Desires: He really, really wants to get clean and sober, but doesn’t know if it’s really possible for him. He hates that he’s so reliant on drugs and alcohol to even get through the day, but he’s felt so awful and depressed (more than usual) every time he’s gotten clean that he doesn’t see how he can live like that. Self-Esteem: It could not possibly be any lower. Joel considers himself to be a burden on everyone he knows and pretty much thinks he’s a waste of space. It would only take the tiniest nudge for him to attempt suicide (again). Religion: He doesn’t believe in any kind of god or higher power. In fact, he really hopes there isn’t any such thing, because he’s pretty sure that if there is a god or any kind of afterlife, he won’t end up going anywhere pleasant when he dies.

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: Curled up in a ball on his side. Boxers or Briefs?: Boxers Day or Night?: He doesn’t have a preference– it really just depends on whether he has something to do or not. Top or Bottom?: He can go either way. Partying or Relaxing?: Usually partying, unless he has someone to relax with.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: He is close to all of his bandmates: Michael (Joe Anderson), Dawn (Sofia Boutella), Holly (Devon Aoki), and their newest/youngest bandmate who replaced their former rhythm guitarist, Ryan (Justin Nozuka). Out of all of them, he is definitely closest with Michael since they grew up together. Relationship History: Not a lot of long-term relationships. He briefly dated Dawn back when they first met, before the band blew up, but they quickly decided they weren’t compatible. He has dated around a bit, some men and some women, mostly people who are also in the public eye (actors, models, musicians, etc), but none of those relationships lasted longer than a few months. Sexual Partners: A lot. He was definitely promiscuous when he was younger, lots of flings and one-night stands. As he got older, he lost interest in having a new partner every night and started getting into more actual relationships, though none of them lasted longer than a year. Thoughts About Sex: He enjoys it. He especially enjoys it when his partner doesn’t leave immediately afterward. Joel really likes to cuddle after sex, so it’s always disappointing to him when it turns out his partner isn’t interested in cuddling.

P A R E N T S Name(s): Donna Nycroft Age(s): She died at the age of 57 Social Standing: Not good. She was widely known to be an addict, and ran with a shady crowd to help fuel her addiction. Occupation(s): Drug dealer, occasionally traded sex for drugs or money, occasionally took part-time jobs if she was really desperate, though she could never hold down a legitimate job for very long. Religion: Nope. Quality of Relationship With His Children: Horrible. She never cared much for Joel, and only kept him because she got child support money from his father every month. She paid as little attention to him as possible and didn’t care at all what he did or where he went. When he first got famous, she tried to sell her “story” to a bunch of tabloids and started trashing him in the media, but the drama died down quickly because Joel refused to address anything she said and pretended he didn’t know who she was. Joel was honestly not sad at all when he got the news about her death. He pretty much said “oh… okay” and moved on immediately. Living/Deceased: Dead

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Joel has two homes– one moderately large home on the outskirts of London, and a condo in LA. His London home is a bit secluded and private, and is where he likes to go during his off times, as he can escape the press for the most part. His band mates will often come and stay with him as well, partly because they don’t want him to be alone, and partly because they all have a great time together, especially when there’s not the pressure of recording or a tour. His LA home is where he lives while they work on recording, since their label is based in LA. The house in London is fairly large, but not a mansion by any means– it has four bedrooms, one of which Joel has converted into a music studio where he can practice, write songs, mess around with instruments, etc. Two bedrooms are currently guest rooms, and then there is the master bedroom, of course. The place is decorated with custom furniture Joel had designed and made by a local carpenter, and it is all very nice-looking and comfortable. His condo is decorated in a very minimalist, functional way, which suits Joel just fine. Lots of open space and windows, furniture with clean, modern lines, a few splashes of color here and there, and not much else.

[angelcorebabyowo]

Title: Honeydew

Warnings: Brief mention of suicidal thoughts

Summary: Lydia, Johann and edward get ready for a party and it's all OOC because yeah

"I don't even want to go!" Johann complains adjusting his poet's shirt and flopping down into the window bench with a huff as Lydia just as quickly starts to brush through his unkempt hair, he even closed his eyes whenever the strokes got gentler. He typically didn't go to parties unless he was performing and he, sadly, wasn't invited to do that this time. Honestly, the only reason he agreed to go was that it was considered rude to ignore an invitation from the mayor so he felt as if there wasn't really even a choice. Maybe he should just fake sick to get out of it, that wouldn't be all that bad, just a simple little head cold.

He sighs softly and leans back into his sister so that he wasn't jerked around as much, he was a bit tender-headed so it made it easier on both of them now that he wasn't wincing every three seconds. "It'll be perfectly fine babes, don't stress so much. You'll get gray hairs if you do it too much." Lydia warned with a small grin, her unnaturally sharp canine teeth looking unnatural amongst the normal ones. A few years ago she dragged everyone into sharping them but she continues to do it every time they run down even slightly. It would be weird if she didn't make it look so damn good " Although I bet you'd love that, huh?"

"Oh, you better believe it" Johann joked sticking just the tip of his tongue out of his mouth by habit. That wasn't a lie, he always fantasized about the thought of having grayish-silver hair at a young age and everyone in the family knew it and would make fun of him at every chance they could. He knew it wouldn't be a good look or actually enjoy it but it still made him laugh every time so he didn't really think that far ahead on the subject. His dad had gone completely grey by the time he was 30 and Edward, his brother, was starting to already so signs of it at the ripe age of 16 so it was possible that he could develop early on as well. "Could you imagine me being completely grey by my 20th birthday? You'd have to start calling me sir in a sign of respect!"

"You get no respect, none" Lydia laughs and stops brushing Johann's hair for a quick second before starting to do the very loose twist with her fingers. It was one of the easiest hairstyles she knew that could be done in half an hour or less. "Put it in a bun or just leave it down? Either way, it's getting twisted because I've already started."

"Maybe in a bun? " He mumbles leaning more onto the window and looking out at the city the setting sun was hitting just perfect to cast a somewhat orange and pink glow on the tops of certain buildings.  He assumed his apartment complex was one of them do to the height alone. He sometimes wanted to just sit on the ledge and watch the sunset that way, one false mood and he would plummet ten stories down before landing in the pool below. He wondered if he'd still be alive by that point. 

"A buns always a safe option." She whispers interrupting his thoughts and gently putting his hair in a bun before taking a step back to look at her handiwork "Its a little high but I think you should be good. That way it's nearly a safe bet, not one person would recognize you." 

"Do you think Avi would still recognize me though?" Johann questions as he looks into the vanity mirror and puts on a fix inspired mask. He forgot why he picked a fox, maybe do to their cunning abilities or something along those lines. He'd picked it out when he first got the invitation weeks ago so all memories seemed to just fade from him. 

"Avi would recognize you even if you didn't have a face or hair, now stop being a love-stuck puppy and both of you finish getting ready. " Edward interrupts walking into the room. How no one heard him walking down the hall with the obnoxiously loud heels was beyond everyone. He was also wearing his mask already. A cream scaled one with a few black scales mixed into it as it added ' Flavor '

'Snake' was the first thing that came to Johann's mind whenever he first saw it all those weeks ago, and even today his mind couldn't stop from going to that place no matter how many times Edward insisted it was a dragon inspired one. Johann still wondered what kind of snake it would even be, maybe just a simple corn snake. Edward wasn't that mean, after all, he wouldn't pick something venomous after all. 

"I am ready." Johann insists pointing to his outfit, the only thing he had to do was change into some dress pants and he'd be off to go.

"I was talking about both of you. More specifically Miss. "I'll do it later" over there," Edward says, he had a point after all. Lydia wasn't even remotely ready to go at that point. Her hair was pulled into an over-the-top and eye-drawing hairstyle and her nails were done to perfection, but other than that her clothes were just basic pajamas "go get dressed before we leave you at home." 

Lydia smirks before patting Edward on the cheek in a taunting manner. "Talking mad shit for someone who got his license suspended."

"Johann can! Right, you can still drive?" Edward questions flopping down onto Johann's bed with a loud sigh as the bed creaks under the new weight. He winced at the sound but overall didn't say anything about it. 

"I'm 15 years old and haven't even taken the exam yet" 

"Didn't ask how old or if it was legal just asked if you knew how."

"I refuse to let either one of you drive my car," Lydia says before walking out of the room to actually go get ready knowing that the other two would actually leave her behind. 

"Our car!" Edward calls before leaning over and closing the door fully and sighs loudly again before laying up against the headboard already messing up his golden capelet and neon blue shirt. He really couldn't stand not being the center of attention for a single second, he always dressed like that so it wasn't that far of a bet after all. "We have ten minutes before it starts but you know the saying-"

"Arriving fashionably late is better than arriving on time, shows how little you care."  Both of them say at the same time although while Edward sounds cheerful Johann just sounds even more tired then he always does as if he was trying to drag it out for as much as he possibly could. Johann sat at the vanity trying to figure out how he was going to cover up the bags under his eyes that, even with the mask, were extremely prominent. he eventually just settled on leaving them there as it seemed to add character to the entire look. (He was going for a renaissance era poet who just lost his husband due to some mysterious illness. He seemed to actually be hitting all of the points except for the crying but no way was he going to cry in front of people.)

They sat in silence now, it wasn't awkward, in fact, it was more comfortable than anything. Edward was doing something on his phone and Johann was trying not to have a panic attack because he was actually going through with this while struggling to fit pants that were a little too tight on. Alright, so maybe it wasn't all that comfortable but it was close enough to it. 

After about 20 minutes Lydia rushed in with a smile wearing bother her outfit and mask on. It was a multi-colored short yet puffy dress that fell off the shoulders and a mask that looked suspiciously like a peacock with the number of feathers that seemed to be hastily glued on. "All they had at the store was the plain ones so I had to glue the feathers and sequins on myself so now it looks as if a 3-year-old designed it!" she complained before going over to Edward and promptly laying down on top of him with an over the top sigh. "Woe is me."

"Well whose fault is that L? We offered you to come with us weeks ago but Noooo, you needed to wait till the last second like some sort of troublemaker," Edward says pushing her off and then promptly standing up and rubbing his eyes slightly and throws the keys he had been hiding in his pockets to Lydia with a pout. 

"Off we go come along little children!" Lydia says before walking out the door again, the sound of her boots echoing through the mostly empty hall. The only thing in them was a few paintings of fruit painted in over the top and crazy colors and a single statue at the end of the hall that they won at an auction a few years ago for like a thousand dollars,

It wasn't worth it.

"We're the same age!" Johann argues running after her trying to put on some of his slip-on shoes as he walked. It didn't fit the look but no way was he also going to wear heels, that was pushing it too far for him at best. 

"Stairs or Elevator?" Edward askes whenever all three make it out of their apartment building and into the main hallway "I'm taking the stair because no way am I getting Vored by an elevator"

"Stop being so mean to me!"Edward whines but gets in the elevator anyway with a pout and it started to go down, Lydia was babbling about how much fun tonight would be and her brothers both groaned in unison. 

"That's baby talk. Grown-men take getting eaten like a champ." Lydia says with a small laugh before hitting the button to take them to the main lobby "Johann baby, what are you taking?"

"I'm already in pain so I'll just take the elevator, fuck walking down 10 flights of stairs. "Johann says pushing his way into the elevator and gently holds on to the railing. "Ed gets in here, I refuse to sit next to you if you walk down down disgusting!"

If this was going to happen all night then what a fun one it would be. 

[harryseyebrows]

Yeah I am. Okay, so would Harry maybe roll over and be like ‘you get him this time/your turn’ to Jeff, who is obviously super confused. But follows the sound of a baby crying and rocks it back to sleep or changes it’s diaper? Or would Harry get the baby and leave Jeff to wonder wtf is going on?

okay so this is gonna be a choose your own adventure-collaborative effort alskdjfkasjdf SO, two options:

1. as you suggested, jeff slowly comes to, realizes he isn’t in his own bed because he’s used to his automatic room-darkening blinds being down to keep the sun out of his eyes, which..is clearly not the situation here because he thinks he’s being blinded??? he opens his eyes fully, blearily looks around, and instantly sits up quickly enough to give himself a head rush because what the fuck. he last night was a little weird after the cab ride from hell but he doesn’t remember going home with anyone?????? because that is most definitely another person in bed with him. jeff is panicking. he’s trying to think of ways to sneak out but when he looks for his phone, he can’t find it anywhere. then, just as he’s about to swing his legs off the bed, the person next to him speaks.

“the baby is crying.”

jeff freezes, clutching the unfamiliar duvet with sweating palms in a death grip. is that...no, it can’t be. 

the mystery person, who’s been mostly obscured by a mountain of pillows they’ve buried their head in, unearths themselves, revealing a thick head of dark hair and a pouty mouth that jeff couldn’t forget if he tried. 

“harry?” jeff splutters.

with a clumsy knuckle, harry rubs the sleep from one of his eyes, face covered in pink lines from the wrinkles in his pillow. his shoulders are bare--or rather, his whole torso is, which becomes increasingly obvious the further the duvet slips down. 

jeff’s mouth is dry. his whole body feels like it’s made of cement, anchoring him in place. his cheeks are blazing, likely cherry red. 

“the baby,” harry repeats, voice like tumbled rocks. he’s always been extra croaky in the morning. “it’s your turn to get him.”

“baby?” jeff practically squeaks. 

harry’s eyebrows form a little crease in the middle. “are you sick? you’re acting even weirder than you did when you had that super high fever last year.”

jeff doesn’t recall being fevered last year. perhaps, more importantly though, jeff doesn’t recall speaking to harry last year, or even the year before that. maybe this is a dream. a startlingly realistic one--and he’d like to thank his subconscious for its attention to detail on the freckles dusting harry’s shoulders--but a dream nonetheless. he drops his grip on the blanket and pinches his own thigh, hard, but all it seems to do is leave him with a dull ache. 

harry’s still eyeing him, traces of amusement clear on his face. “well, i have to get ready for work. so if you could stop acting deranged and attend to your son, that would be great.” with a sigh and a graceless flourish, harry flings the covers off himself and swans out of bed, and jeff is immediately assaulted by his pale, tan-lined ass as he rounds the bed and slips through a doorway. 

jeff feels dizzy. this can’t be happening. there’s just--there’s no way. he tries slapping his own cheek, once lightly, and then again, with more force, but it’s no use. he doesn’t wake up. he doesn’t get magically transported back to his own bed, in his own apartment. he doesn’t even know where he is right now. 

he scrambles out of bed, briefly and duly noting his questionable taste of bed attire (plaid boxer shorts and a lord of the rings t-shirt), and checks the window, only to reveal a street with houses all of similar sizes and styles. a neighborhood, straight out of some idolized suburban fantasy. all that’s missing is a white picket fence. 

he goes back over to the bed, checking under it, in the sheets, and on the table next to it, looking for his phone again. maybe his keys are around here somewhere, or his wallet. but there’s nothing on the floor either, except for a singular discarded sock. 

the door harry disappeared behind is shut, and jeff doesn’t dare knock. he’s still not convinced that harry is even real, like he’s the Other Mother from Coraline or something equally terrifying, despite his relatively unchanged and still handsome appearance. 

jeff is on his hands and knees, searching for...well, he isn’t sure what he’s looking for anymore, but just something that might be able to help him, when a little voice gives him pause. 

“daddy?”

jeff sits up slowly. in the doorway of the bedroom, is a little girl who has harry’s mess of curls, wearing purple and blue striped pajamas. he swallows, shakily pointing in the direction harry went. “he’s in there,” he says. 

the little girl shakes her head. she has big brown eyes, ones that instantly remind jeff of his nephews, and his own, from baby pictures his mom has hung up in his parents’ house. 

his stomach instantly falls somewhere between his knees. she--she looks like harry, but she looks like himself, too, jeff realizes with a startling amount of clarity. 

he doesn’t get to panic or dwell for long. the little girl is walking over to him, and before he can do anything other than stop moving entirely, she presses her small hand against his forehead. “hmm. you don’t feel warm.”

jeff chokes on a laugh. of course harry’s kid would be exactly like him. but then jeff looks at her, up close like this, and more of the pieces start to fall together: her small slightly curved nose, her full round face, the tilt of her mouth--confused but not unhappy. 

she’s...his. undeniably. he knows that. and he has to sit down, right on the floor, because otherwise he thinks he’d fall over. 

“jesus christ,” he mutters to himself, his whole body tingly and warm, like all of his nerve endings are just as frazzled as he is. 

the expression her face morphs into is all harry, though. heavy brows and narrowed eyes. “don’t say that, it’s not nice,” she says decisively. 

“i--sorry. just, yeah. sorry.”

she visibly softens, considering him for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful and wary. it’s a little funny; she can’t be any older than six or seven, but she looks wise beyond her years. 

“it’s okay,” she finally says. “but [baby’s name] is still crying. and i think you should go get him, because he woke me up.”

that’s right. jeff’s been distracted, but now that he starts to pay attention again, he can hear the baby who’s presumably down the hall. his son, harry had said. jeff went to bed last night, blissfully single, and woke up today with two kids. fuck. 

“right,” jeff says. he wants to ask her what he name is, but that’s wrong, isn’t it? if she’s his daughter? typically parents shouldn’t have to be reminded of their own kids’ names. 

he stands, wobbling only for a second, and sets off into unfamiliar territory, both metaphorically and literally. 

TA DAAAAAAAAAAA

or, 2. i suppose we could do something very similar but maybe harry just kinda huffs and gets up once he realizes that jeff isnt gonna cooperate, and collects the baby, only to bring him back to the bedroom and immediately hand him to jeff before going into the bathroom. but then we probs shouldnt do nakey harry because..kids dont wanna see that asjdflkasjdf

[ill-skillsgard]

Smoke & Money, Part 1 - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Smoke & Money

Warning: 100% NSFW,  some drug use, swearing, sex/fetish/kink type situations.

Description: A young sex worker gets tangled in the dangerous web of a wealthy entrepreneur whose tastes push her past all of her known limits. 

A/N: This is the very first multi-chapter fic I ever did with Bill in it. I’ll be re-posting all of the parts again so I can re-do my masterlist. None of the reposted parts will not have Author’s Notes on it from here on. Thanks!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

I let a thick plume of smoke leave my lungs and sank back into the sofa in my small living room. The material of my cotton cardigan made a soft noise against the grey velour as I relaxed. It was my day off and I had chosen to spend it smoking weed and tidying my apartment until I grew tired of cleaning and decided to sit down.

My phone was on silent but I could see the screen flashing to life every couple of minutes with incoming e-mails. It had to have been a mixture of loyalty e-mails from boutiques, clients, and potential clients. It was my day off. I was not supposed to be looking at my phone at all. After having been accused of being a workaholic or a ‘phone-zombie’ I decided to take just one day out of the week to keep to myself. No clients. However, the more my phone flashed to life the more curious I started to get. After all, each client was more money in my pocket and ignoring that felt sacrilegious to my profession.

“Just let it slip from your mind,” I whispered to myself. I started to descend into a heavy haze, the marijuana taking its slow effect. It only took a few minutes before I forgot about my phone in favor of an old friend of mine- video games. My guilty pleasure. For a reason unknown to myself, I could never get enough video games. Trying to fit a gaming session into my schedule was a rarity, especially an uninterrupted one. I felt the slightest pang of shame whenever I really got into it. I imagined being an outsider, looking at myself- an adult woman screaming at a television screen, controller in hand. Whatever, I thought. Plenty of older people played video games. Sometimes I couldn’t escape the thought that I could be doing much more productive things but hey, it was my day off, like I said.

I let myself get lost in my game for at least an hour before I finally threw a glance over to my cell phone, just in time to see the screen light up once more with an e-mail notification. Sighing with defeat, I snatched up the phone and unlocked it to see what sort of mess of incoming messages I had been ignoring. Over 20 e-mails, a dozen texts from existing clients and even a missed call. I checked the missed call to make sure it wasn’t someone of importance. The number was unknown. I never answered unknown numbers. New clients always reached out via e-mail so I chalked it up to a telemarketing call. As I was going through my e-mails another one came in from an address I had never seen before. The subject line said, “1000 tonight.”

I snickered as I tapped the e-mail to open it. Often I had clients really play up their annual income. They made all sorts of promises of luxurious vacations, expensive nights out on the town, lots of money for many salacious acts but it was rare that I actually connected with someone who had real money to back their claims. My clients were typically middle-aged men with decent bank accounts, though nothing to fly out the door for. I had a few top-priority clients but they were usually just dinners and blowjobs. I forgave myself for being intrigued by the promise of a grand for one night. There was usually no harm in entertaining the wannabe high-rollers.

Below the concise subject line, the e-mail read,

I am offering a thousand dollars for a house call, tonight.

- B. S.

I couldn’t help but smirk. Such a bluntly worded e-mail with no details usually warranted a response.

A thousand dollars for one night? I assume you have a special request and dare I ask what that may be at such a steep price?

J.

I sent the e-mail off and leaned back against the back of the sofa. It wasn’t but five minutes later that I received a response from my new mysterious benefactor.

Just a submissive demeanor, please. Interested?

-B. S.

I did not hesitate to answer right away. Fuck a day off. If I could pull in a grand in one night I wouldn’t have to work again for another two weeks, however unlikely that would be.

I am interested. What is the address?

J.

Again there was hardly a wait time before I received another e-mail.

What is your address? I’ll send a car.

-B. S.

My mouth twisted in contemplation. This exchange could go one of two ways; If I disclosed my location to an unknown potential client I could get stalked by a psycho and it would be my own doing. I wouldn’t be able to go to the police because of my own shady circumstances and I couldn’t afford the protection from a bodyguard at this time. On the other hand, I could land myself a wealthy client and the risk would not outweigh the monetary gain. Between all of my thoughts and potential scenarios that mostly involved my death, I decided I would take the risk. I owned a few weapons that could be used in self-defense if it did come down to it. My line of work did come with certain workplace hazards. If not, score for me.

I sent one last e-mail containing my address and then sat back to wait.

If you have a dress, black stockings, and knee-length jacket, please wear it and no excessive jewelry. See you soon…

- B. S.

“Well… How very specific of you.” I said to myself.

I glanced at the TV screen and sighed once more. A day off, my ass. After turning off all of my electronics I went to my bedroom to begin changing while stealing peeks out of my bedroom window to see if a car pulled up. The street was quiet and slick with moisture. It had been trying to rain all day but only produced a fine mist which was just enough to coat the concrete. I slipped on a black dress that ended halfway down my upper thigh. I was in luck when it came to the client’s request because I had just bought a new jacket the previous Autumn. It was a trench-coat style jacket that buttoned up and had a matching belt to cinch the waist. It wasn’t precisely knee-length, but my petite stature never allowed for clothing to fit the way it was intended. The hem reached just above my shin, covering my knees entirely. Underneath the dress, I wore a sheer black garter belt that clipped on my matching stockings. It was a lingerie set I had splurged on recently instead of my go-to sex shop attire. The whole getup was probably everything expensive I owned which was not a lot. I had never been too keen on spending my money on clothing seeing as it usually ended up on someone’s floor anyway.

After getting dressed I looked out the window again but saw no car besides my neighbors’ vehicles which were parked along the street. I looked at my cellphone and saw that half an hour had passed. I cocked my head and considered that perhaps this was all just a ruse and nobody was actually coming to pick me up. With that thought now implanted in my head, I let out a puff of air that had been stifled in my lungs for far too long. If I wasted my time getting dressed just to be toyed with I would have some choice words for this Mr. B. S.

The more time ticked away the more I convinced myself that it had been too good to be true. I checked my makeup a dozen times, changed 4 different pairs of shoes and deeply considered whether I should bring a purse or not. By the time I made a decision I heard a car pull up. Shifting the curtain aside, I peered out towards the street and saw a sleek black BMW. The driver must have seen me looking out because the lights flashed to signal my attention.

“Oh shit.”

I suddenly felt rushed and everything that I had decided on was all of a sudden not good enough. I flitted about from room to room turning off the lights, checking my hair and makeup once more and making sure I had my keys with me. I stepped outside into the cool breeze, my heels making a distinct noise against the stone porch. I promptly locked the door and made my way down the steps toward the shiny black car. The driver’s side door opened and a man stepped out. He was tall and lean but with shoulders almost the size of a football players. The suit he wore was charcoal, fitted and expensive looking, exactly what you would expect someone’s chauffeur to look like these days.

“Ma'am,” he nodded his head and swung around to open the door to the backseat.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, returning the friendly nod.

The interior of the car was immaculate, almost as if nobody had ever been in it before. It smelled like money. I liked money but I also really liked being whisked away in luxury cars to unknown locations. I could only imagine it would be a beautiful house in the Northern end of town. By the direction the driver started off in, I felt I was right. Wordlessly I was driven further away from my quaint apartment through the districts and up towards the rich side of town. Finally, somebody with money wanted to meet with me. There was a certain sick, sexual prowess I felt knowing that a rich old man wanted to give me all sorts of money just to get him off.

Before I felt too cocky, I wondered to myself, what would it be that this man wants? What specific act did he want me to perform for him? Nine times out of ten the clients just wanted a strip-tease and a blowjob or just to fuck me from behind or have me ride them. It wasn’t the most glamorous of times either. I specifically hated when men insisted we do our business in their car. They were usually dirty, smelly, full of garbage or had a generally creepy vibe to it. I wondered what a man could want if he could offer a thousand dollars to a woman he had never met before and had only viewed a few select images online.

My head became clouded with thoughts and possibilities and before I knew it we were pulling onto a huge arc-shaped driveway that led up to a huge house with the biggest white double doors I had ever witnessed. Dark green pines jutted up all around, forming a shield that obscured a good look at the estate from the street. A lot of the houses around this area were similar in that way. All of the rich people wanted to live in the same neighborhood but none of them wanted to see each other’s wealth, at least not that close up. I suppose if I had made it my life’s work to collect cars, I wouldn’t want to see the person across the street with better ones than I had. I snickered to myself and earned a glance in the rear-view mirror by the driver.

“Here we are, Miss.”

I nodded, mouth contorting downwards in mock contempt. He and I both knew this was ridiculous, I could tell. The suited driver got out and opened the door for me. I thanked him again and stepped out of the car, heels crunching on gravel beneath me. I clutched my purse to my waist and waited, not wanting to waltz right in the front door. I half expected a butler to greet me but instead, the driver jogged up the long steps and opened the door for me.

“Oh okay guess I’m just going right on in then, huh?” I asked.

“Yes, ma'am. You’ll want the second door to your left, up the stairs.”

As I entered I marveled at the sheer size of the foyer however dimly lit it was. The rugs were all lush, foreign and perfectly suited to the colour of the walls which looked like a deep red. Paintings taller than me hung everywhere, all of lavishly dressed people looking well-groomed and scathingly debonair. It was nearly comical to me. Was this guy a member of royalty or did he just want his house to look like he was?

“Second door on the left.” I recited to myself as I went up the spiraling stairs. “Second door to your left at Hogwarts, don’t let the paintings misdirect you.”

Before I could stop tittering to myself I had reached the first landing that branched off east and west. Down the west wing was a corridor almost too long to see the end of with wall sconces illuminating the way. I counted six doors on one side and didn’t catch a good look at the other. Down the east wing, which was where I had been directed, the corridor was almost the same but took a turn instead. There was the first door and then I glanced further on to see the second. The door was open and a faint light cast a pyramid of light into the shadowy hall. I could see light curls of smoke floating out of the room only by the light as if the smell wasn’t obvious enough. It was a cigar and an expensive smelling one at that.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous when I started down the hall and stopped in front of the open door. Inside the ceilings cascaded upwards and a chandelier that could crush me twinkled sweetly in the night’s pale light. A huge canopy bed was staged on the farthest wall in between two towering windows. The drapes were drawn over one, huge swaths of royal blue cloth that hung from what looked to be wrought iron bars. The other window had the drapes drawn away so that the light of the moon came filtering through, setting a palpable atmosphere of mystery and dare I say, enchantment? The smoke was coming from the canopy bed but I could not see who the smoke was being produced by. All I could see was a pair of men’s shoes, a jar and a rag sitting in the middle of a carpet that was roughly the size of my entire apartment. I cocked my head at the scene before me.

“Hello.” A rather young sounding voice said to me.

“Um, hello, whoever you are? I’m J. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

The combustion of a match illuminated his face very briefly as he relit his cigar. Before I could get a good look at his face, he waved the flame out. I heard him puffing away on the cigar and then a long white hand reached from the shadow to drop the burnt out match amongst a pile of others in a crystal ashtray. The man’s fingers were long and elegant. He definitely wasn’t an old guy like I had predicted.

“What would you have of me, sir?”

There was a long pause and then an exhalation of smoke and a sniffle. My eyes strained to adjust in the dimness of the room.

“You see the shoes?” He asked me.

“Yes.”

“Polish them.”

I glanced at the shoes then back up at the shapeless voice I was communicating with. I heard the rustle of sheets as he must have been getting himself comfortable.

So many thoughts were going through my mind all at once that it almost took me too long to answer. I could have gone with the obvious things to reply with or I could try something different. Suddenly I regretted smoking all that weed earlier back at my apartment.  There were too many things to say. Too many ways I could fuck this up. What if I said the wrong thing and he decided he didn’t want to pay me? Fuck. I had totally forgotten to tell somebody where I was going in case this guy did turn out to be some psycho murderer.

I could refuse, claiming I was not a maid-service but then he had also requested that I remain submissive. That narrowed down my options a little bit. A thousand dollars was too much to pass up and if all he wanted was for somebody to clean his shoes, Hell, I’d have polished a dozen pairs at that rate.

“Well?” He said after clearing his throat.

Without saying anything, I set my purse on the ground and took a few steps towards the shoes. They were leather and expensive looking ones at that. I would put money on them being worth more than my monthly rent payment. Beside them was a soft rag that looked like it had never been used before. Next to it was a black jar of shoe polish. I knew I had minimal time to think so I dropped to my knees and picked up the cloth. It felt so soft on my skin that I almost wanted to hold it to my face. I resisted the urge and dropped the rag in my lap as I opened the jar of polish. The scent of it filled my nose with artificial leather.

I was still in my long jacket as he requested.

So what am I just going to like, polish your shoes for you? What am I dressed up as? Wouldn’t it have been the obvious choice to pick a maid’s outfit? I feel like I’m over-dressed for this… task? What about this has any sexual connotations anyway? Fuck… It’s a thousand bucks. A thousand. Fucking. Dollars. Pick up the rag and get going.

Dipping the corner of the rag into the shoe polish, I began. At first, I heard nothing at all but the quietest shuffling of cotton against leather, not even the sound of his lips drawing on the cigar. I started with the toe of the shoe. The whole thing had to have been the length of my forearm. With the rag tucked around my fingers I applied the polish in swift little circles all over, buffing until the polish disappeared into the leather, leaving it glistening. I worked my way down and around making sure to be diligent, checking my posture and breathing and trying to forget the fact that a man was somehow getting off to me doing this. Or maybe he wasn’t at all. I could hear nothing.

“Good. Take your jacket off.” He finally said after what seemed like ages of me shining.

I nodded curtly in response and put down the rag, careful not to let the side with polish on it touch the carpet. I unbuttoned my coat and shrugged it off my shoulders so that it fell down around me in a pile. I promptly picked up the rag, the shoe and again began drawing small circles on top of circles.

The bed began to move as he shifted, perhaps to come closer. I was almost afraid to look up from my work. What was I going to see? What would he allow me to see? Was he handsome? Did he have a deformity? I wondered what expression he had on his face. I wondered if he had his cock in his hand. No… you could always hear them beating off… He was simply watching me.

After a while, my arm began to ache so I switched hands. The beginnings of a sweat started to break on my body. I wanted to be thorough and mindful of what I was doing but in reality, I had no clue how long he wanted me to take or if I was doing a good job or if he even cared what kind of job I did on them. All I knew was there was a rich man watching me and the room was filled with the strong earthy scent of cigar smoke. During the time I took dipping my clothed finger in the jar of polish and applying it to the fine leather I heard the tinkling of a glass as well.

Smoking and drinking and watching me. Watching me shine his shoes.

Once I felt I had gone on long enough polishing the left shoe, I moved on to the right shoe. My pulse quickened as I set it down. Was that good enough? Did I take enough time for his liking? Why won’t he say a thing?

I tried not to over-think it, lest I start setting myself into a panic. I just kept having to repeat in my head… One thousand. Fucking. Dollars.

The second shoe took even longer than the first. Nobody could say that I didn’t make those shoes shine. Even though the room was dark, I managed to do what I thought was enough. I traced the contours of the fine shoes over and over until they shone like mirrors.

I almost forgot that the man was there. For a moment my mind drifted away as it usually did whenever I performed some daunting, repetitive task. Drawing circles upon circles upon circles. Giving blowjobs. Up and down and around and up and down, down, down until I couldn’t go down any more then back up. The more repetition, the number I became, which was really a gift in my line of work.

He cleared his throat.

“Your money is on the table.”

Without opening my mouth to say anything, I stopped what I was doing and set the shoe and rag down once more and for the last time that night.

Without appearing too desperate to leave, I rose, collected my jacket and purse and turned back towards the canopy bed. The four posts spiraled like great spears thrusting upwards, festooned with sheets of silk. In the moonlight, it was hard to tell exactly what colour the silks were but if I were to take a guess I would have said they were the colour of Chardonnay. The whole room was filled with beautifully kept antique woods. A wooden armoire, a wooden bureau, the wooden bed, an antique chair.

“Right there, on the table.”

I turned around and saw the table he spoke of. There was a brass plate with a wad of cash on it all folded with a silver clip. I was almost hesitant to take it but I did and for a moment I just stared at it. All fifty dollar notes. Did I count it in front of him? It was my personal habit to count my money in front of the client to assure they didn’t pull any fast moves. I doubted this would be a welcome time to continue in my routine of checking. I trusted him for some reason.

“Thank you Miss J, you may leave now.”

With that, I gave a small curtsy, smiled towards the darkness he was shrouded within and turned to leave exactly the way I had come in. When I entered the hall I had forgotten what it was like to breath clean air. His room was filled with so much smoke I could smell it on my jacket and we were more than ten feet apart for the duration of our transaction.

I clutched the money in my hand almost as if someone was going to take it from me. I had often heard of some girls scoring big with rich men for doing some strange non-sexual things but this had to have been a new record. Not even half an hour and I had come away with almost enough money for rent. Or a little shopping spree. But probably rent.

I was driven back home in the exact same manner that I was picked up. I exchanged short pleasantries with the driver and once I was home he opened the car door for me again. The BMW stayed where it was until I unlocked my apartment door and stepped inside.

“Well, that was nice,” I said to myself after I shut and locked the door, shoving my hand into the pocket I had stashed my night’s earnings in.

I gave it the count and confirmed it was definitely a thousand REAL dollars.

What the fuck? How the fuck? Who was that and why?

For the remainder of the evening I laid in bed and stared at the mountain of fifty dollar bills on my bedside table and I was finally able to truly take my attention off of my phone. There would be no need for me to pick up any clients for a while beside what I already had scheduled. Fucking. Score. No blowjobs for at least a week.

In a weird way, the easy money sort of tainted me for a while and I didn’t want to meet up with anybody. It wasn’t like I had actual obligations to anyone but when I declined to meet up with an older client of mine the following day I surprised even myself. I did take pride in my availability and it showed by the level of satisfaction my clients had with me but I had the means of shrugging off a job here and there which was not a normal feeling.

I had been doing sex work for a while to make money on the side of a full-time job. It wasn’t ideal but it was something that I found easy, fun and profitable. The more I did it the more I liked it so I kept doing it to pay off debts and to get myself out of the really shitty end of town to a not-so-shitty part. Nothing relatively close to the place my new rich client lived but still, a lot better.

I dreamed about that massive house a lot in the days to come. Always in these dreams, I was barefoot, walking up the stairs and down the east wing to his smoky room. He was encased in shadows as I remembered him. The silk sashes from the canopy bed swirled salaciously over the wood and down to the ground where my feet were planted. Snakes of soft fabric slithered across the carpet, curling around my ankles as he watched me from his bed. That was where the dream always ended.

Days came and went and so did the money I earned. It wasn’t long before I was picking up clients again. One particular client of mine was named Frederick and he was one of my preferred clients because he had the decency to bring me to a nice hotel for the few hours every time we met. He also paid me first because we had gained a level of trust.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you earlier this week. I wasn’t feeling well that night.” I lied to him as I slipped off my leather gloves.

“Nonsense my dear. I can’t always expect to have beautiful women at my every beck and call.”

Well I mean, for the right price you could.

“Don’t worry yourself about it, dear. Just allow me to think that I am your favourite and all is forgiven.”

I smiled. Frederick truly was a gentleman to me. A gentleman that liked to get fucked in the ass with a nine-inch dildo  "Alright Romeo, get on your knees and tell my big black cock how much you missed it.“

[emotionalgirl101]

Question | Chapter 2

Words: 2,104

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: SORRY FOR POSTING LATE! Just a quick reminder to check out the profiles post, and I’ll be making a Question masterlist for the series, too. In case you’re reading this first, I based appearances on the ‘I am who’ era. There is no real reason as to why apart from the fact that Jisung’s hair looks so fluffy and nice and oml I love it especially when he wears the cap in the ‘Awkward silence’ mv too I need help. Also, not edited because I felt bad about posting so late rip. Enjoy~

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You weren’t far from the apartment, but not close enough, to your disappointment. You were sobering up and starting to regret the whole thing. You didn’t feel that confident walking in in your work clothes, you were still tipsy and looking like a mess, and your feet were fucking killing you. Curse your uniform meaning you had to wear high heels. 

Minho appeared to sense your anguish, cutting short his conversation on a stupid argument he overheard at the bar, and focusing in on you. “You okay? Seem kind of, I don’t know, out of it, I guess…” He let his words linger in the air. Once he got tired of waiting, he poked you in the arm so you’d give him attention. “I’m just worried I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“Ah,” he smirked, “someone’s sobered up, huh? Well, too late now. I’m a nice friend but not nice enough to walk all the way back in the other direction and catch a bus with you. You have no choice now.” He taunted, looking dead ahead. Although he didn’t say anything similar, ‘told-you-so’ energy was emulating from his aura. So, you did what anyone else would do in that situation. Hit him for being a teasing ass and pout. “Not helping” You grumbled. He let out small laugh, massaging the point of impact with his free hand. He had still insisted on carrying your bag. You couldn’t be that mad at him due to the fact, playfully or otherwise. 

He piped up again, just as the previously stirred silence was starting to settle. “I know. How about we come up with a list of things for me to stop you from doing, so you don’t embarrass yourself?” He looked over at you, hoping you’d like his suggestion, or at the very least, appreciate it. He had limited brain cells, especially after drinking and working at that bar for so long. Pay some credit where it’s due. 

“Like, a set of rules, or something?” You looked at him, waiting for a response. “I guess, yeah.” He shrugged back. You shook your head, the teasing tone rising in your voice again. “Rules? Nope, not listening. I’m not falling them. Never have, never will.” Shock flashed across his face, then recognition took its place.

“Dude, come on! I said that once, like a year ago. I was immature back then.” Minho huffed out. “Yeah, like you’re much better now.” You snickered under your breathe, but you both know he heard it. He charged at you without warning, and you squealed, running behind a light post to take cover from his playful abuse. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I give in, okay?” You put your hands up in surrender as you retreated from behind the pole. The boy was laughing, and then so were you. He swung your bag over his left shoulder, and pulled you into his right side. An arm was slung around your shoulder. You crossed the street, encompassed by the peaceful harmony of breathing and shared heartbeats.

“Okay, we’re almost at the house. You have 2 minutes to give me any instructions to help you out. If you say nothing, I get no blame if you make a fool of yourself. Now, shoot.”

You sighed. He was right. At a time like this, a strategy was important. Minho was your best friend, and you wanted to make a good impression, not only for the sake of Minho, but also your friendship. The only time you went to his apartment was when all his roommates were out for the day. If you were going to hang out, you’d have to be able to go to his place without any awkward encounters. It made the most sense. Besides, you were bound to meet them, anyway. Minho’s birthday wasn’t that far off, and if they were his friends, how bad could they be?

“Okay. Most important thing first. Do not let me pull any stupid stunt-“ “Like stripping?” Minho inquired innocently, remembering that one time you got blackout level wasted after your mid semester exams. You didn’t want to that about that, especially not right now. “I was thinking more like standing on the table, but yeah. Hopefully, I won’t get THAT drunk.” You emphasised. “Oh, with our group, it’s highly likely that’ll happen.” You rolled your eyes. “Next?” He urged.

“Under no circumstances will you let me, or you for that matter, tell any embarrassing stories. Like, really bad ones that you save for drunken nights with close friends.” He nodded, “Got it. Anything else?”

“I guess, just don’t let me do anything I’ll regret. Anything bad that I’d remember in the morning with a bad hangover and want to kill you over.” The sudden threat caused the raven haired boy to tense slightly, but you both laughed it off.

“Any warnings for me? Anything I should be aware of about these guys? Like, you know, homicidal tendencies?” He threw his head back, laughing at the way you put the question to him. “Nah, nah. They’re not anything like that. One thing, though. They can be loud. Like REALLY loud.” He kept moving forward. The door to his apartment was slowly appearing, but you weren’t focused enough on your surroundings to notice. “Like, worse than you loud?” You said in mock fear. He just smiled cheekily. “Worse.”

He came to a stop at a midnight blue front door, removing his arm from around your shoulders and fishing out his keys from his right pocket. The nerves hit you like a brick wall now. “I’m still way too sober for this.” You sighed, more to yourself than to the boy ahead of you, hands retreating to your jacket pockets as you said so.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. We can fix that.” He winked and ushered you in.

You stood in the small entry way, looking around at the clutter, which strikes you as typical for an apartment of nine boys. You took a step further in as Minho manoeuvred from behind you, placing your belongings by the door. He slipped off his shoes, and you followed suit, as he dumped his keys carelessly on the table beside him. 

As Minho closed the door behind you, a loud voice came from the passage way to your left. The owner was hidden behind the wall, but it definitely belonged to a guy your age. 

“Hyung!” he called out, “Finally! I’m starv-“ His sentence was cut short when he rounded the corner, and his eyes met yours. His mouth fell open and brown eyes were grew wide. “-ing... You’re not...” his words faded as he finally realised Minho was, in fact, there. He recovered, smiling, as realisation adorned his feature. His smile was so warm when is gaze returned to you.

“You must be the one trying to steal him away from me.” The boy had no trouble teasing you, despite this being your first exchange. Minho smirked at the boy’s antics before introducing the two of you to one another. “Jisung, this is Y/n. She’s older than you so behave. Y/n this is my housemate, Jisung.”

You smiled, feeling comfortable around Jisung almost immediately. “Nice to meet you,” you waved.

“No need to be formal with him, don’t worry.” You laughed as Jisung acted offended by Minho’s words. The older moved towards him, throwing an arm lazily over the boy. Both beamed at you.

“Did I hear a girl’s laugh, or is Jisung flirting with Minho again.” a sharp-tongued boy emerged from the opposite hallway Jisung had appeared from. He looked pleased with himself when the colour drained from the two faces his eye fell upon. If all of Minho’s friends gave him this much shit, you could see yourself getting along with all the boys without trouble. He then turned to you, bowing slightly and introducing himself with a softer smile. “I’m Seungmin.”

“Y/n.” you replied. You soon found out just how blunt Seungmin could be. “So how’d you get stuck with him?” He pointed to Minho, who had a genuine expression of annoyance and shock. “Dude, I’m right here.” 

Seungmin continued to smile at him and shrugged. Then had a hand on his left shoulder gently usher him out of the hallway, revealing a smaller guy. He grinned just as brightly as the rest had when his eyes fell on you. He moved away from Seungmin and bowed, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I’m Changbin, Minho hyung’s good looking friend.” 

Seungmin rolled his eyes, mouthing a not so subtle ‘sorry about him’ at you, just before Jisung shut him down. 

“You wish, hyung” Jisung snorted. He looked proud when laughter erupted from everyone, with the exception of Changbin. He looked like he had no clue how to react, letting out a small, unsure laugh.

“I’m Y/n.” you smiled after calming down a bit. Changbin’s bright smile returned to his lips. Minho looked back at you, “Since you’re going to get sick of introducing yourself five more times,” he turned to face the large archway behind him, that appeared to lead into the main living area. Then he proceeded to shout notice of your arrival. “EVERYONE! MY FRIEND, Y/N IS HERE. YES, SHE’S A GIRL, AND IF YOU HURT HER YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WAKE UP IN THE MORNING. THANK YOU!” He huffed a sigh, turn back to you, then at the boys. They were all quiet, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of Minho’s shallow threat. You and he both let out a laugh, which was quickly halted when a shout came from the room beyond you.

“MINHO HYUNG HAS FRIENDS?!” Minho turned expressionless as the young boy’s voice had the rest of the entry way in stitches. Jisung leaned on Minho’s shoulder, which was aggressively pushed away by the latter. Jisung lost his balance, almost falling over completely, only egging on everyone else’s laughter. 

The boy, whom you guessed had made the comment judging by the huge grin consuming his face, entered with an older housemate in toe. They boys appearances made you feel as if you were being approached by a fox and a teddy bear. 

The younger boy waved at you, before the older began to speak. “Hi, I’m Woojin, and this is Jeongin. Welcome.” He turned to the other boys, “Ever thought about letting her further inside?” He raised his eyebrows, followed by Minho using the opportunity to usher you away. “Thanks, hyung.” he smiled up at Woojin as you passed through.

He walked you through the entry into the living area. It was an average size considering there were nine boys living in the house. Two boys were lazing on the couch in front of the large tv, eyes trained on the fantastical figures there were controlling on the screen. Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin headed their way after following you and Minho into the communal room. The kitchen linked in, more so hidden out of sight to the left of the entrance. Woojin headed there, Seungmin in toe. Minho guided you over there as well.

“So Y/n, how did you meet Minho?” Woojin smiles politely as he poured water for the four of you. Jeongin appearing behind him, making his way to the pantry before Seungmin grabbed him in a back hug. “Hyung~” Jeongin whined, resulting in Seungmin releasing him and turning back to the conversation. The others were watching the exchange, too, so you didn’t have to worry about replying right away. 

Everyone’s attention returning to the topic at hand, you replied with small “uni.” Minho took over the conversation to give a more in-depth explanation. You were so grateful he could read you so easily. Jeongin joined the conversation momentarily to make fun of Minho. Seungmin managed to grab a couple of chips from the bag in the Maknae’s hands before Jeongin was out of the kitchen. The boy proceeded to make a desperate run to save his snack from unwanted hands, leaving to the couch with his Honey Butter Chips. You laughed at their behaviour, more so when you shared a cheeky smile with Seungmin.

Steps were heard from yet another passage way, this time one that was located to the right of the kitchen. He emerged, a calm aura surrounding him. His hair was a brown, slightly fluffy mess, his fingers running through it. His over sized shirt hung on his frame nicely, partially exposing the left side of his collar bone. His eyes landed on you, just as quickly as yours had on him.

“Hi, I’m Chan.”

>>

[cassiavioletblue]

With you, always

♡ Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook  ♡ Genre: Fluff/ Romance, just a tiny hint of angst ♡ Words: 3k ♡ Disclaimer: nothing, even if it’s one of my solo stories it’s sweet, I promise ;)

♡ Crossposted on Ao3 here

Yoongi and Jungkook were close. The closest you could be. It had always been like that because they had grown up together. Even though Jungkook couldn’t remember the first day they had met because he had been too young Yoongi remembered; he could see it before his eyes as if it had been yesterday; that small boy running on the playground, chasing a bird or a bug or his own thoughts and then suddenly falling. Yoongi had expected the typical screaming and crying that normally followed right after at that age and had been utterly surprised when he had found the little kid biting his lip in concentration instead, his eyes teary but head held stubbornly high as if he refused to let falling get him down. Then he had looked around to see if anyone had noticed his fall and their eyes had locked. Jungkook froze – and then broke into laughter. Yoongi was gone for him since that very day.

They had become best friends in lighting speed. He had been watching over Jungkook ever since, watching him grow and change from the headstrong little child into an even more defiant teenager. They rarely fought but when they did it got heated and Yoongi found himself wondering more than once where the hell Jungkook got his energy from. Though somehow they always ended up together again on the same day and if it had been really bad then Kook asked him if he could stay the night and sneaked into bed with him. Moving in together honestly had been a logical decision as they spent most of the time together anyway.

And Yoongi was glad that he could be there when Kook was coming home after a night out with his school friends, drunk or high like a kite when he had tried something for the first (and last) time. He held his head over the toilet in the bathroom and was there with a cool, wet cloth to clean him up when he collapsed. He never had to explicitly tell Kook that he would be there for him no matter what because it was just a fundamental rule of their friendship that none of them questioned.

Until Yoongi noticed that his heart behaved strangely whenever he was close to Kook and that jealousy, something he’s never had a problem with before, slowly sneaked its way into his mind whenever Kook was out too often with the same person or slept over at someone’s place where Yoongi wasn’t sure if they were friends or… more.  He never voiced his thoughts though. He wouldn’t burden Jungkook with something vile like that. Despite being all grown up now the younger was still so open and pure-minded. He could be really determined, was hard working and a force to be reckoned with when he was driven by something but underneath all his strength and grown-up-behavior he was still so child-like sometimes that Yoongi’s heart ached with it. Like when he got frustrated after losing a game and started pouting without even realizing it or when he was laughing so much that his nose scrunched up and his eyes got that sparkle –  he was too good for this world, too pure. And Yoongi feared the day he would be hurting in a way that he couldn‘t soothe and a band aid couldn’t heal. He was dreading the moment that Jungkook would get a taste of what it felt like to love and get his heart broken by it. And he refused to ever burden the younger with his own feelings for him. So he carefully locked them away, promising himself that he would never ever act on them no matter what.

It got harder though the older Jungkook got and when it became obvious that he had a thing for boys as well, just like Yoongi had – or one single boy to be precise. His feelings hadn’t changed but he felt more guilty for it now as Jungkook had matured enough to be actually interested in relationships.

It felt wrong to feel so attracted to him, to want him with every fiber of his being. He wanted all of him, his mind, his gentle soul – but every time he felt his mind slipping into adult territory he stopped it right there. They had grown up with each other, they where as close as family which made Jungkook practically his younger sibling and Yoongi felt sick to his stomach every time he tried to remind himself of that while he ached to touch him and hold him and get a taste of his sweet, sweet lips.. Jungkook was off limits. He of all people was the last one who should get close to Kookie in that way. He was fucked up and scarred and messed up and he would undoubtedly ruin Jungkook’s soft heart if he let the other see what his affection could mean. It had come to the point that he was very strict about how much affection he gave Jungkook and how, to make sure that there was absolutely no way he treated him inappropriately – not realizing that by restricting himself so much and turning away from the other he made the younger long for his praise and affection even more. A single word from Yoongi could make him smile like the sun was shining out of his eyes – or let his hopes fall apart with a dismissive head shake and a frown.

They kinda argue a lot and when Jungkook stayed out more and more and whenever he kept away from him for longer than usual Yoongi’s heart ached. But he endured it, was almost glad that it would be like this now because it meant Jungkook wouldn’t rely on him so much anymore and maybe if he saw that Kook had found someone that truly loved him, then maybe his feelings would go away. Deep down he knew that he was lying to himself but he still held onto this thought as tightly as he could.

He never tried to lecture Jungkook or keep him from making his own decisions because he thought the more independent he got the better – until he got a text from a friend saying that the younger was at this party he was a little too inexperienced for and that he was a little too drunk and that Yoongi should come get him because it was looking as if Jungkook was waiting for a free room upstairs and this wasn’t how someone should have sex for the first time.

Yoongi was out of the door in a second, keys in hand, not caring that his clothes were worn out and he himself a mess. He might have ignored a speed limit or two and when he pulled up at the driveway he was out of breath as if he had run all the way when in reality he had just sat in the car, unmoving, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white while hoping that he wasn’t too late and that Jungkook wasn’t lying in some random bedroom together with a random stranger; with his mind dulled and his clothes off.

He rushes in, with Namjoon already waiting for him and telling him that Jungkook had been successful in getting a room just a few minutes ago, ignoring Namjoon’s carefully voiced words. Yoongi doesn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before he’s up the stairs. He disturbs two other couples and doesn’t give a damn about it before he finally finds Kook. Time comes to a halt for a moment and his heart with it. Jungkook is lying on the bed with a man above him who is half naked and kissing the breath from his lips. They look beautiful together – and Yoongi wants to scream because it still feels so utterly wrong. Jungkook turns when the man stops kissing him at the intrusion and Yoongi can see him flinch hard when their eyes met.

“Y..yoongi? What are you doing here?”

‘I came here to stop you from having sex because I love you and I can’t stand the thought of you fooling around with someone you don’t love while you’re drunk and don’t know what you’re doing’ isn’t exactly what Yoongi can tell him so he just says that he’s here to come pick him up because he’s drunk and he shouldn’t be here in the first place because parties like this aren’t for boys like him and that apparently was the wrong thing to say because Jungkook’s eyes come ablaze and he pushes the man off of him (which Yoongi’s heart likes a lot) and then cruelly laughs at him (which he doesn’t like) The man tries to calm Jungkook down and his gestures are soft and his touches seem as if he knows Kook more closely and Yoongi isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse now.

„I‘m Twenty one, Yoongi. Twenty one! You can‘t tell me what to do! You can‘t..can‘t expect me to not look for someone else when you so obviously don‘t want me!“

They all stare at each other in a mixture of shock and too many overwhelming emotions, in Yoongi’s case he feels like he had just taken a blow to the gut. Jungkook’s voice is angry, so very angry but also full of hidden tears and it broke audibly in midst of his little speech. His eyes however are still ablaze and Yoongi feels like watching a storm, too wild and messed up and beautiful. He knew that he would lose him eventually even if he tried to repress that knowledge. If he turned around and left him now then the door between them would close, figuratively and literally and Jungkook would soothe his broken heart in the arms of someone else, someone he probably didn‘t love but would give his body to, just to get rid of his pain and his innocence. The fear eats at him and paralyzes his tongue while he looks at the younger who is still shaking with anger and something more. He knows so little about the darkness inside of Yoongi and it isn‘t fair! It isn‘t fair to decide now for him but he doesn‘t want him to do something that he might forever regret. So he swallows hard, choking down his pride and his fear and everything else tat keep hindering him in the process  and reaches out for him.

„Jungkook..Kookie..please..“

His fingers are twitching in mid air because he feels horribly exposed and.. and everything inside of him tells him that this is wrong but there is no turning back now if he wants Jungkook to understand.

„It‘s not that I don‘t want you, it‘s.. Kookie, you don‘t even know how much I love you. I just don‘t wanna hurt you. I can‘t.. I couldn‘t… You mean so much more to me than my desires, you..Please, let me talk to you. Let us talk this out. Don‘t do this out of spite or hurt while you’re intoxicated. Please.“

He tries to block out the other person who is still standing besides Jungkook, hearing every word he says while he is spilling his heart, making himself way, way too vulnerable for his liking. Jungkook remains silent, then he turns and puts his arms around the other guy. It looks as if he has made his decision and the stab in Yoongi‘s heart was to be expected but he is still overwhelmed with how much it hurts and how easily it steals his breath away.  Yoongi is shaking and he thinks how he can leave Jungkook alone now when he knows what’s about to happen, when he knows that Jungkook’s first time will be like this but he doesn’t have a choice really and so he is about to retreat, thinking that this is it and that Jungkook will hate him now - when he realizes that Jungkook wasn‘t just hugging the other but actually talking to him, quietly whispering words into his ear that Yoongi wasn‘t supposed to hear. The other nods curtly, lips pressed into a thin line while he listens to what Jungkook is telling him. With a tight hug and a last look that sends daggers Yoongi’s way the other walks past Yoongi to grab his shirt and leaves the two of them alone. Yoongi stares at Jungkook who is smiling a little, something bittersweet and insecure, but soft. The storm from before has passed, leaving him looking as young and sweet as before. „Okay. Then let‘s talk.“

However Jungkook has had too much alcohol too think clearly and it’s still in his system so they both decided that it would be better to sleep it off and do the talking tomorrow. Just like it would be better to to just let the turmoil inside of Yoongi simmer down too. Still it felt like the sun was smiling down on him when he was allowed to take Jungkook‘s hand and guide the other one out of here. The younger didn‘t seem interested in the party at all any more, following him like a lamb through the crowd, attention solely on him and with that little smile on his lips that made him look too kissable for Yoongi‘s liking. He knew he should just leave it at that but he couldn’t, a thorn still securely hooked in his chest that he couldn’t just ignore so he asked as casually as he could (while horribly failing at it)

„Who was that guy? Will he give you a hard time because I interrupted you?“

Yoongi couldn‘t help but squeeze Jungkook’s hand tighter as a reminder that he was here with him now while they walked out the door and looked for his car.

„Nah, don‘t worry. He‘s a friend. He wasn‘t some random guy from the party, we know each other  from dance practice and he agreed on.. on doing me that favor. He won‘t be mad that I made up my mind. He wasn‘t pushing me or anything. He actually...“ Jungkook bit his lip, looking a little lost when he broke off but he seemed to pull himself out of his thoughts pretty quickly and turned towards Yoongi, smile back in place. „Doesn‘t matter now. Are you gonna take me home or not?“

They were both tired, the kind of tired that didn‘t came from not-sleeping but was accompanied by exhaustion from too many emotions rushing through your body all at once. That threatening emptiness he had felt when he had been only a hairs breadth away from losing everything right before his eyes – Yoongi could still feel it lingering in his bones. His eyes flickered back to Jungkook as a reminder that he was really home now while the younger was busy kicking off his shoes and visibly struggling, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from exhaustion. He was with him. He was safe.

„I‘m.. I think I‘m gonna sleep on the couch tonight“, he said, trying to keep his voice as stable and nonchalant as possible. But Jungkook wasn‘t having it. „Don‘t do that.“ Even with his back towards him the other could still hear the frown in his voice. „Do what?“ he asked, practically squirming under Jungkook‘s blunt words. „Don‘t withdraw yourself from me again the second we are alone. I won‘t ask you to be all touchy-feely with me right away. Just please don‘t leave me alone now. You could.. I don‘t know, maybe..hug me?“ His voice had gotten more and more quiet towards the end until he sounded so small and insecure that it hurt Yoongi‘s heart. As if the younger still thought this wasn‘t more than a temporary situation for them, with Yoongi only opening up to him for a moment while knowing he would close himself off again before the night was over. He finished getting out of his jacket and put it onto the couch before turning wordlessly and stepping closer until he was right in front of Jungkook. His heart beat thundered in his chest and although Kookie had been the one who initiated it his widened eyes and quickened breath told Yoongi that even he wasn‘t sure how to react. Ignoring his own fears wasn‘t easy but Jungkook had shown so much trust in him tonight, opening up and going with him so easily that giving into his wish was the least he could do. Besides it wasn‘t as if he hadn‘t wanted to do this...for quite a while. So he placed his hand at the small of the younger‘s back and in between his shoulder blades while pulling him in, holding him securely against his own body. The first few second felt strange and awkward but then Jungkook melted into his embrace and somehow their arms found their way around each so naturally as if their bodies were made to fit. Like a puzzle. Yoongi would have scoffed at that cliche thought if he hadn‘t been so busy enjoying the other’s warmth. It felt so good to have him close like this, as if suddenly his chest had expanded and he could breathe more easily. Jungkook had leaned his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes, the embodiment of trust.. „Thank you.“, he whispered and he sounded so thankful, so full of affection that Yoongi couldn‘t help but turn his head and place a little kiss onto his head. Just barely there. And still Jungkook had noticed.

-`♥´-

P.S. 

They work it out even though it takes more than one “talking session” to do so. The first time they kiss Yoongi thinks he’s found heaven. And Jimin – the guy who has been with Jungkook at that party – is the first to comment on how Jungkook has never looked so happy. He also threatens that if Yoongi is ever going to be an ‘asshole that closes himself off again’ he’s going to snatch Kook away from right under his nose (while withholding that there was never more than friendship between them)

[sarcasticdebate]

Two Photos from Last Christmas

Relationship: Emori/John Murphy

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,275

Summary: Murphy got Emori’s Christmas gift back in March. Since then he’s lost his job, been dumped, lived on Bellamy’s couch, changed career paths entirely, and has finally gotten his own place only to rediscover that Christmas present. The problem is he has no idea what to do with it now. [Modern AU]

“John?” It’s Emori, calling out at the mouth of the stairwell, the rain matting down her hair, her cheeks and nose a violent red, and her lips cracked. She’s beautiful. He wants to tear his heart out. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t sound angry at least, tentative and wary, sure, but not angry.

“Uh,” he says, even knowing that with each second he leaves her question unanswered her frustration will only mount in preparation to spear him. He flounders for a moment, trying to think of an excuse that would explain his presence. Typical. For the first time in his life the only lie he can think of is the truth.

“It’s--I got you a Christmas present,” he says, digging his index finger into the hole in his glove, “From before we broke up. Not exactly something I could return, and I thought you should still have it. So, uh, I was just going to drop it off. You weren’t supposed to see me.” He licks his lips, still chapped from the cold, and dares to meet her eyes and criticism.

Murphy’s new landlord isn’t thrilled that he’s coming to pick up his keys on Christmas Eve. But that’s hardly Murphy’s fault. His new schedule is still kicking his ass. Being the new guy who’s still rotating between twelve hour day and night shifts is a big difference from eight hour construction work days, but he’s handling it, so his landlord can too. It’s not like he’s asking a lot.

His new building has an elevator that’s only ‘a little finicky’ so by Murphy’s standards its high living. He shoves his stuff into it after getting the key and allows himself to slump against the dirty mirror wall. Finding a place is such a hassle, and moving on top of it just sucks. Especially when he has to do it all alone.

He shoulders his way into the new place, boxes precariously balanced in his hands. He sets them down without ceremony, wishing some grain of excitement would rise up in him, but nope.

Under normal circumstances Murphy wouldn’t consider unpacking the worst part of moving. A pain, sure, but it usually meant the hard work was done, and left the anticipation of a new place to grow into and explore. It’s different when all he has to his name is three boxes, groceries, a duffel bag filled with his clothes, and the blow up air mattress Bellamy had lent him. Depressing really. But he has his own place again, so he tries not to let it get to him.

He leaves the single set of dining implements on the kitchen counter, plugs in his old laptop to charge, and throws the sheets onto the bed once it inflates. There’s little to be done after that since he’s not going to put his clothes in the closet right now, other than set up the one lamp he has, and leave his toiletries in the bathroom.

He debates removing the stuff in the third box, not quite remembering what’s in it. As far as he can remember it mostly holds miscellaneous stuff: a throw pillow, a first aid kit, three books—only one of which he’s read— and the contents of his old junk drawer. But there’s also a picture frame at the bottom.

His pulse quickens as he lifts it out of the box, shame and disappointment running in his blood. The boxes had been tucked away for the months he’d been subsiding on Bellamy’s couch and wavering patience, and he had forgotten what he’d shoved into them in the emotional turmoil following the day Emori had walked out.

It’s a two-photo picture frame that he’d bought back in March. The picture on the left is pretty normal, just something he could put into the second slot. It’s from last Christmas, when Harper had insisted that they get one good non-selfie photo of the seven of them. They had ended up taking three, because Bellamy had messed up the timer, but that first picture, snapped a moment too early, is still Murphy’s favorite. It features Bellamy tripping over Murphy’s legs, his arms outstretched in the second before he went careening into Raven and Echo who were squeezed in together on the armchair, both their faces unmasked in shock and amused horror. Monty stands behind them, his wide-eyed face somehow funnier than Bellamy’s; maybe because his arms are full of Harper, who had been perched on the back of the chair and promptly went careening into him at the disturbance. Looking back on it, Murphy can’t remember if he had stuck his leg out and tripped Bellamy on purpose or not. His own smile doesn’t reveal if Bellamy’s fall was premeditated or not, but looking at Emori sitting on the floor next to him, her face caught in a laugh and eyes bright, he thinks maybe they had come up with the idea together. It’s something the Murphy and Emori of a year ago would have done.

His thumb can’t help but trace the curve of her cheek as he relearns the photo, when he realizes he’s doing it his attention shifts to the second photo, forcing himself to hold onto the edges of the frame.

The second photo is the special one. It was complete luck that he had come across it. A local paper he had flipped through out of boredom one day had a featured story about one of the group homes downtown to commemorate its fiftieth anniversary. Pages six and seven were dedicated to photos through the years, and one of them, in the bottom left corner was of Emori and Otan, sitting on the front steps of the home. Neither of them were credited in the picture, and the caption read only ‘Christmastime, 1998’ but of course he recognized Emori, even with all her miniature features not looking directly into the camera and despite the fact she was sitting on her left hand to hide it away.

Emori didn’t have any pictures of herself from when she was younger, and only a few of Otan that she refused to display, and he knew she deserved more than a newspaper clipping, so he had contacted the journalist who had done the article, and through persistence and some lying had gotten a proper printed copy.

The pictures were going to be her Christmas present.

Historically, he’s been a pretty lousy gift-giver, and after putting the frame together back in March he had thought he’d actually succeeded in being a thoughtful boyfriend instead of just getting whatever generic item Emori claimed she needed. Of course the whole ‘thoughtful boyfriend’ thing had gone down the drain back in June. Being jobless hadn’t been good for him, especially when McCreary had gotten off scot free because he was the forman and Murphy got saddled with criminal charges on top of getting sacked even when he wasn’t the one who’d started the fist fight. Still, taking his frustrations and built up turmoil out on Emori was a shit thing to do, in retrospect.

But at the time her promotion and raise (she didn’t even need his income to cover the other half of the rent anymore) just seemed put into place to spite him. Sitting home alone all day had made it worse. Hoping for a call back from just one of the places he’d sent out his resume, only for Emori to come home for half an hour before going out to get drinks he couldn’t afford with their friends who were all too keen on charity.

The insults hadn’t been warranted, and neither had the yelling, or the childish refusing to talk to her. Distancing himself from the group had only compounded it all. And he only really recognized he was self-sabotaging after he had gotten back on his feet and had been living with Bellamy’s near daily lectures, which came after she’d dumped him.

“So you learned a lesson,” Bellamy had said sometime back in September. “You’re an asshole. I could have told you that ages ago, but hey, at least now you can grow from it.”

“Fuck off,” he had said at the time, but even back then he’d been working on it. Meeting Raven’s new boyfriend, going to Echo’s work thing when Bellamy was sick, attending Monty and Harper’s garden party even though he had to wear a button down. Stuff he didn’t want to do, until he had done it and remembered there was a reason he was friends with these people.

He still avoided Emori for a long time though. Raven rolled her eyes everytime he asked if she was going to be around, but as far as he could tell that was pretty normal. Emori is the only ex he has, but he thought keeping his distance was pretty par for the course.

But keeping that up was near impossible, considering all their mutual friends. So he stuck around when she came over for Bellamy’s movie nights and he doesn’t have the groupchat on mute anymore. Sometimes he even replies to stuff. The group acts as a good buffer, making it so that he and Emori only have to have tangential interactions. Of course that doesn’t prevent him from wanting to throw up his heart everytime he sees her. So it’s not like they’re having one-on-one conversations.

But maybe he should give the gift to her. It wasn’t expensive or anything, and it might get them closer to being Just Friends, which he really dreads the idea of, but would still be better than being nothing. Unless she still hates his guts, which is definitely a possibility and a good reason not to give her a Christmas present.

He slips his phone out of his pocket. He could ask Raven, she and Emori talk the most and she’d know where Emori is on the spectrum of liking to hating him. But that’s dumb. Not only is there probably some girl code that would get in the way of her telling him, but asking someone else where you stand with your own ex-girlfriend is too sad of a concept for him to stoop down to.

That’s something he should actually talk to Emori about. Technically there’s nothing stopping him from calling her. He flops into his shitty bed, staring blankly at his phone, as his thumb catches on Emori’s name. He still has her number of course. The green heart sits next to her name in his recent contacts, as if the last time he texted her wasn’t two months ago.

What a stupid message it was too, Emori?, sent at a quarter after midnight on a Tuesday, and he’d actually thought she’d respond. Show’s what loneliness can do to your brain.

Scrolling through their old messages is probably some kind of fucked up anti-therapy, but he does it anyway, maybe because six months later he’s still being sustained by the hollow itch in his chest he feels whenever he thinks about her. It’s motivating at least, better than feeling nothing.

Their texts from when things were going downhill aren’t the worse. Most of them are brief—neither of them are the kind of people to take their frustrations to a third platform. If anything, the worst part is seeing how little they were talking. It’s the ones from when they were happy together that hurt the most.

Making plans for dinner or when they’d go out, coupled with random links to articles or youtube videos that made them think of one another. Stories from work that couldn’t wait till they got home and screenshots from the groupchat they had to dissect one-on-one. The I miss yous and I love yous and Emori’s adorable affinity for the vulcan hand emoji.

He’s lost track of the amount of times he’s clicked the ‘load more messages button’ when the blue light makes his vision start to blur. He blinks hard and scrolls to the bottom again, that same stupid message there for him to reread, the echoing lack of response. There’s no way she’d want him to call her. He drops his phone to his chest and tugs on the ends of his own hair, a frustrated growl escaping from his throat and bouncing off the ceiling of his mostly empty apartment.

He plugs his phone into an outlet on the wall, far enough away that he won’t be tempted to get out of bed and check it. He doesn’t call her.

The good thing about working for emergency services is that people still need to work on Christmas. It’s a good thing for Murphy at least, his usual partner found someone to switch shifts with so she could spend the day with family. The guy working the shift with him today is Jewish, and even he doesn’t seem to want to be there. Not that Murphy doesn’t also want to still be in bed after the shit night of sleep he had, but this at least provides a distraction. He’s sort of hoping someone’s arteries get clogged after one sugar cookie too many just so he can have something to do.

They get three calls out, but nothing overly exciting or worrying. Their shift ends at five, so at least he doesn’t have to deal with all the merry drunks who’ll no doubt crawl out of the woodwork and crash into light poles later that evening. His partner wishes him a Merry Christmas as they part ways, which is nice of him, but only really serves to annoy him.

He gets home and has every intention of reheating leftovers and going to bed at seven, but that stupid picture frame is still sitting on the floor of his remarkably empty apartment, his own smiling face from a year ago mocking him. He can’t look away at it as he slurps wonton soup, for the first time noticing the way one of Emori’s legs overlaps his in the bottom photo. Her smile is so wide.

Fuck it. The guy in that picture would do anything if he thought it had a chance at making Emori happy. There’s no point in him keeping it, and throwing it out would be a waste. She might not want anything to do with him, but if he leaves it at her place, no confrontation, with a note to explain, she can’t be too mad.  

The note he writes is short, no frills. He debates signing it for a long time, but she’ll recognize his handwriting regardless so in the end he writes down his full name, not just J. Murphy like how he normally does, and tapes it to the back of the frame.

The walk to Raven and Emori’s apartment isn’t long, but the spitting rain and biting wind don’t make it pleasant. Tears sting his eyes by the time he makes his way inside on the heels of a tenant. He was planning on leaving the present in the mailbox, but it’s far too small. He makes his way upstairs, two at a time because he doesn’t want to linger in the building. Raven’s apartment is the furthest one down the hallway of the third floor. He takes over-large footsteps down the checkered carpet floor, as if that might make the urge to check over his shoulder lessen. He should have succumbed to it.

“John?” It’s Emori, calling out at the mouth of the stairwell, the rain matting down her hair, her cheeks and nose a violent red, and her lips cracked. She’s beautiful. He wants to tear his heart out. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t sound angry at least, tentative and wary, sure, but not angry.

“Uh,” he says, even knowing that with each second he leaves her question unanswered her frustration will only mount in preparation to spear him. He flounders for a moment, trying to think of an excuse that would explain his presence. Typical. For the first time in his life the only lie he can think of is the truth.

“It’s--I got you a Christmas present,” he says, digging his index finger into the hole in his glove, “From before we broke up. Not exactly something I could return, and I thought you should still have it. So, uh, I was just going to drop it off. You weren’t supposed to see me.” He licks his lips, still chapped from the cold, and dares to meet her eyes and criticism.

The moment is flat and awkward as she steps forward slowly, unlacing her scarf from around her neck as she approaches. Her steps seem over large too. He hands over the gift when she’s close enough but he’s careful to keep the distance far and impersonal. She takes it in hand, a little frown between her eyebrows, and he kind of wishes he went to the trouble of wrapping it now. He doesn’t want to see her reaction.

“I’ll just...go,” he says, his hands stuffed deep inside his pockets as he steps around her, a good arm’s width between their bodies.

“John?” Emori says, and of course he stops and turns back to look at her. “You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” he interrupts, “But it’s been sitting in a box for the last nine months. You should have it. I promise I’m not trying to make a gesture or anything.”

“Okay,” Emori says lowly, her hands on the edges of the frame clenched as if they’re cramped from the cold. “You still didn’t have to, though. So thank you.”  

He offers a quick nod and grimacing smile, having every intention of leaving, but his gaze catches the tears floating on Emori’s waterline and suddenly his feet are stuck in his shoes.

The thing is he knows what to say to comfort her. It sits on his tongue like a pearl, a gift he could give her if he just opened his mouth. The problem is it’s not his place anymore. So he swallows instead.  

But Emori has never been one to sit with her emotions, and it’s no surprise that a few blinks later her eyes are clear. Maybe even brighter.

“Have you eaten?” Emori asks, quickly enough to confuse him. “Monty doesn’t know how to cook for only six apparently. I have leftovers. You can come in if you want.”

There are so many reasons to say no. He has eaten. She’s his ex-girlfriend. It’s Christmas and he just worked a twelve hour shift.

“If you’re sure,” he says instead, and when she gives a nod he follows her inside.

“Uh, where’s Raven?” he asks, as they move to the kitchen. The apartment looks the same as the last time he was here, as if Emori hasn’t added any of herself to the place.

“She’s meeting Shaw’s family,” Emori answers, turning on the stovetop, “Apparently they have a Christmas tradition of driving around after dinner to look at the lights, so she got invited to tag along.”

“Oh,” he says, watching her dish out some of Monty’s famous green bean casserole and a bit of ham from his place on the far wall, “I didn’t realize they were that serious.”

“Yeah,” Emori says, “She really likes him.”

He nods, tugging on the loose thread in his glove until it’s close enough to unraveling that he has to stuff them in his pockets if he wants to have both gloves to wear on the walk home. There’s a long silence as Emori stands over the stove with more dillegance than is really required, and as he hates himself for being fixated on her small movements. Her eyes flick back to him too many times to count, but she tears her gaze away countless times too. Her expression is held tight.

She pours herself a glass of water, and grabs a plate and fork for him. She drinks as he eats, and it’s clear both of them are grateful for the occupation of their hands and mouths. If he had more courage he’d ask her why she invited him in. As it is he’s grateful, despite the pressure on his chest and the awkward eye contact.

“I’ll have to tell Monty he’s triumphed again,” he says, taking his last bite. He makes a big show about scraping the plate with the side of the fork, hating himself for not wanting to leave yet.

Maybe Emori knows that because the next thing she says is, “We missed you at dinner.”

“I was working,” he answers automatically, but when he thinks about what she said it’s like his heart is shaking in his chest.

“I know,” Emori says, “Bellamy said...How do you like it? Being an EMT?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” he says, “The courses were cool, hands on, and Abby wrote me a letter of rec, so they overlooked the charges...I like it a lot. It’s exciting, different all the time. I get to drive an ambulance. There are sirens. Blood and guts.”

“Sounds good for you,” Emori says, maybe at the joke, maybe because she’s happy for him. “What’s your grossest story?”

And her smile is still there so of course he has to explain the guy who had somehow managed to get his thigh impaled by his own bike. Emori scrunches her nose and laughs at all the appropriate places, and he hadn’t noticed them drifting towards one another until he almost hit her with his fork while miming the angle of the bike seat.

“Sorry,” he says, moving around her to get to the sink, “I’ll just wash up and get out of your hair.”

“John, you don’t have to…”

“Nah, I ate your lunch for Monday, pretty sure I’m an asshole if I make you do dishes on Christmas.”

“I already did dishes at Monty and Harper’s,” she points out, but she lets him put soap in the ratty sponge and clean the plate. And maybe he scrubs for longer than he needs too, and rinses it twice, and towel dries it too when the rack is right there. It’s already been established that he’s pathetic, doing an overly thorough job cleaning dishes really isn’t the worst thing he’s done.

“Sparkling,” he says, presenting it to her to put away. She smiles, and for a moment it isn’t awkward, they’ve done dishes together a thousand times. Of course, just thinking about how it isn’t awkward makes that squirming feeling in his chest reappear. He coughs. “Well, I’ll get going then,” he starts, “Merry Christmas.”

“Wait,” Emori says, reaching out to grab his wrist. He doesn’t look down to where she’s touching him because he knows if he does she’ll let go. She licks her lips, which she really shouldn’t do when they’re standing this close together. “Could you hang up the picture frame for me?”

He nods without thinking, considering for the first time that maybe she doesn’t want him to leave either. Sure, he worked in construction for nearly five years, but she’s a mechanic. She shouldn’t have any trouble putting a nail in her wall “Where do you want it?”

She holds the frame crooked in her arm and leads the way out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into her bedroom. He stops in the doorway.

Emori has always been something of a mess, perfectly okay with living in her own clutter. They had spent an entire afternoon bickering about her actually hanging her clothes up in the closet once, but those habits are incomparable to this situation; her room now is something out of a reality tv show. Cardboard boxes are stacked up on one another in almost all the available floor space. There are three side tables next to Emori’s bed, a rolled up rug leaning against the dresser which has four lamps sitting on it.

That carpet used to lay in their living room. There’s probably still a stain from when he’d spilled chili on it after Emori had him laughing too hard. Those lamps used to be the only light they had in their bedroom because the one window was snug against a brick wall an alley over. He still remembers all the slightly different clicks they’d make as he turned them off in preparation for bed.

“Um,” he says, stuck in the threshold. Emori shimies her way through the disorder to hold the picture up to the wall.

“Here?” she asks. It’s the left wall. She always slept on the left side. In that spot the frame will be the first thing she’ll see most mornings. He blinks hard several times.

“Sure,” he says, “You have a hammer and nail? I’ll probably need a measuring tape too.”

“Of course,” Emori says, “One sec.” She roots through some of the boxes until she pulls out a toolbox. His toolbox. The one filled with odds and ends he’d stolen from work over a handful of months. He hasn’t thought about it in the longest time. She hands it over and he takes out what he’ll need, sticking a nail between his lips. Finding a stud isn’t a problem, and too quickly the frame hangs on the wall.

“That straight?” he asks, taking a step back.

“I don’t really care about it being straight,” Emori says and his eyes can’t help but fall to the disarray about the room as he nods in agreement.

“I know it’s a mess,” she says, but not like she’s offended. “I haven’t gotten around to unpacking yet. Didn’t seem worth it when half this stuff is yours.”

That doesn’t make any sense. It’s been months, and it’s not like he’s asked her for any of his old shit, and she hadn’t tried to pawn it off on him either. Keeping it that long without using it seems pointless. Emori knows that, no doubt, judging by the way she sinks onto her bed, looking at the frame. It’s the only thing hanging on any of her walls, he notices.

“We could sort through it,” she says. “If you want.”

“Emori.” He shakes his head, he’s barely stopped looking at her this whole time, but he has to now. “I don’t really want to be in your bedroom right now.”

That sits between them, like a rotting apple no one wants to throw out of the bowl. So far they’ve managed to avoid talking about them, because this is the first time they’ve spent any lengthy amount of time one-on-one since they broke up. But now it sits out there to be prodded and examined.

“Oh,” she says, and she sounds hurt. He grimaces, and that gray, niggling part of him that hates himself bruises even more. He forces himself to explain.

“I can’t be just friends with you right now, okay? I’m still in love with you, and it doesn’t…” he drifts off upon noticing the pink in Emori’s cheeks, the strain in her throat. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to say that, was he? “Sorry. I’ll...I’ll leave.”

Except that maneuvering out of the room in his semi-frantic state makes him knock over one of the boxes, it’s contents spilling onto the floor. Emori springs to her feet, and he scrambles down, replacing the items while he tries to avoid even the sight of her shoes. His heartbeat skitters in his chest regardless.

“John, John, it’s fine,” Emori says, her hands reaching out and lying on the back of his, and of course that catches him, the only option to look into her eyes. She has such an expressive face, but he’s not used to seeing it any more. Her jaw is held solid, maybe so it won’t tremble, and her eyes are wide. “I’m sorry,” she says, and his brow twitches in confusion.

“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who was such a jackass. I shouldn’t have treated you like that,” he says, and then, because he’s just realized he’s never said it, “I’m sorry about that. Really.”

Emori blinks, twice, and know that he thinks about it, he might have blurted that out of left field, from her perspective. Keeping things inside the box has never been a specialty of his apparently. Part of the reason he needs to leave, and he should, but Emori had caught him in her net a long time ago.

“I accept your apology.”

He feels lighter, a weight on his chest he hadn’t know was there is gone. Emori doesn’t hate him.

“Thanks,” he says, because it seems the only reasonable thing to say. He straightens, the mess on her floor mostly cleaned up.

“I was going to say I miss you.” He must look as confused as he feels because Emori repeats herself. “I was going to say I miss you, that’s why I wanted to…” she throws her arm in a gesture, towards her apartment at large or these weird and precious collection of moments they’ve been having. “I’m sorry that’s not what you wanted. It’s just…” she pauses, looks him straight in the eye, and then says with conviction, “I still love you too.”

He grinds his teeth, the taste between them bitter and sweet and dissolving on his tongue. But then he shakes his head a little, because he knows by now that it’s not enough, that he doesn’t deserve it.

“What?” Emori asks, searching, prodding, something watery in her voice.

“I don’t know? What am I supposed to say to that?” He asks, and in his head he sounds more outraged, more overwhelmed. In reality, the words come out soft. And scared.

Emori swallows something down. “I don’t know. Don’t you want to try again?”

There it is. He wants to throw up his heart. “You do?” he manages to choke out. He’s only just learned that she doesn’t still hate him. It seems too far a jump.

Her jaw stutters before it snaps shut, and he was right, it was too far a jump. She doesn’t know how to handle this any more than he does. So where does that leave them?

“Yes, John, I do,” she says, surprising him. “I didn’t really think you’d get back here again. I thought you’d keep falling apart.” She’s sounds ashamed about not having faith in him, but he can’t really be offended when he hadn’t had any in himself either. “But you still care about your future, and our friends.” She bites her lip, turning a bright pink. She looks at the picture frame. “You still care about me.”

He never stopped, but it’s not like his past behavior is very reflective of that. And now who he is and who he was a few months ago is blended together in his head. Just a bunch of mush Emori doesn’t deserve.

“It’s just a Christmas present,” he says, an ache in his throat coming up with the words, and Emori looks at him with disbelief.

“John, Christmas didn’t mean anything to me until I met you! God, for me and Otan, Christmas was just the day where we even more unloved. But that…” She points at picture frame hanging on the wall, that first picture of all of them, the one he had printed out as an afterthought, had taken for granted. “You, with all of them, made it actually mean something.”

It takes a lot for Emori to cry. As a teenager she had thought it made her weak and had beaten it out of herself. But there’s that shine to her eyes again, the same as when she had first seen it, and a wet break in her voice.

“It’s my favorite Christmas present,” she says. “And if you got it back in March, I think it’s important to you too.”

Damn it. She knows him too well.

“Of course it means something to me,” he forces himself to say, some previously unknown courage swelling in him. “Because you do. You mean...so much to me.”

“Then let’s try again,” she says, insistence pushing at the end of each word. And he finds himself nodding, because that’s what he wants, even if there’s that quibbling part of him still thinks she deserves better; but if he was meant to learn anything from all of this it was probably that Emori gets to decide what she deserves.

Emori smiles, dazzling, like she always is, and the doubts rush from his mind.

“You’re coming to Echo’s New Year’s party, right?” He asks, and Emori nods, smile widening.

“Was she nagging you about it too?”

“Oh, yeah,” he confirms, the corners of his mouth beginning to ache, but in a pleasant way he has no intention of stopping. “I didn’t mind too much, though. I’ve got this feeling it’ll be a good year.”

[kinitstuffblr]

WHO WANTS TO ANALYZE CRAZY DREAMS?!!

Aight bros this dream I had last night was INSANE basically because it made a lot of sense in a lot of different weird ways and I personally love hearing people’s dreams and helping interpret them SO I hope all FOURTEEN of you maybe-real-people will consider sharing YOUR dreams with me via asks/messages/comments/whatever (if you want other people to weigh in then go for it in the comments otherwise I don’t mind if it’s just one-on-one I really just want to discuss dreams).  To get the ball rolling I’ll describe my dream and my analysis of it (But feel free to just skip reading that part and go straight to yours if you want! I’m half typing this out just to keep a record for myself)

SO my dreams lately have involved being lost, usually in cities, where I’m vaguely aware of where I should be and am trying to find my way toward that.  AND lately my dreams have distinct beginnings and ends and relative themes throughout, which is not how they used to be.  I’m going to break this one down into separate numbered sections to kind of establish the timeline and to highlight the key parts.

Part 1: I was in an empty mall; mostly empty, with the stores all dark, but not closed.  Think small town, mid-day, but technically open so one or two stores are still available for shopping.  I was just sort of wandering through with no real goal, like a lazy tourist, and I knew I was in my local Big City.

Usually I go to this Big City and sort of do a lazy tourist thing a lot when I’m getting ready to attend a con, which I am currently irl preparing for, so it made sense to me that I was in the area wandering around.

Part 2: I saw a theatre attached to the mall, where there was basically just a big entrance that opens up and there it is - but it was a stage theatre, not a movie theater.  I could see the stage and all the seating just past the ticket counter.  Next thing I know, I see several drag queens in powdered wigs and costumes filing out of a nearby door, which I guessed led to a green room.  At the end of the line was a close friend of mine, the only anatomical female of the group, dressed as Marie Antoinette, and she was surprised to see me and invited me to come watch the show (which, of course, I eagerly agreed to).

First of all, she would SO take that role and she would SO be part of a drag show if the opportunity presented itself, so all that made lots of sense to me.  I also adore this friend, and don’t hear from her much, so I’ll take every opportunity to be around her if invited.  The problem is this doesn’t happen often, and I get stuck feeling like me reaching out to hang out with her will come off as needy, but also that maybe she would prefer I reach out more and is disappointed that I haven’t.  Also, I think the last time we hung out for real was the time I’d elected to let her know about a year-long unrequited crush I’d had on her, so in the interest of never making her feel awkward again, I feel like I can never be the one to initiate a hangout, even though we’d had an open conversation that went very well considering the circumstances.  Oh - at this point I was also aware that I didn’t have my hair styled, makeup on, or an especially good outfit - I looked frumpy, which I felt she noticed.  (She’s gorgeous, not in a fake way, legitimately she always looks great but she also does fucking bomb makeup whereas I feel like I’ve never fully learned it/understood it.)

Part 3: At the drag show, I realize it’s a dress rehearsal.  No biggie.  I head to the bathroom, where a lot of the queens are now actually getting ready, some in the bathroom and some out in the hall.  I’m nonbinary, but I only recently learned what that even is and started embracing it; in the moment, I can’t decide if I should go into the female bathroom or the male bathroom.  I really don’t want to be in their way while they’re getting ready and though my instinct is to go into the bathroom opposite my assigned sex in an act to embrace my newer self, I immediately think of how non-nonbinary (not-androgynous) I look, and shamefully head into my assigned sex’s bathroom.  

This is no mystery, I still constantly feel like even a group for ‘people who don’t fit into the other groups’ is still too exclusive for me to fit into it; Like I’m posing, and I should just be quiet and stick to my assigned sex, and nonbinary isn’t what I am because I’m not nonbinary enough?? It’s hard to explain but I feel like you get it even if I can’t put it into words well.  I felt like an asshole trying to go into the opposite sex’s bathroom, but I felt like a coward ducking my head and going into ‘my’ bathroom.  

Part 4: In the bathroom, it didn’t matter what I’d chosen because the drag queens were getting ready in both (which I should have seen coming?) While in there I was of course half afraid I’d be seen through various gaps in the walls and did notice someone getting high out of a CVS bag in a stall.

This is basic bathroom-related anxiety I face in dreams a lot, although the drug thing is new and I think related to how often junkies are getting high on the steps literally outside my front door every night when I’m trying to go to bed.  In the moment I felt like I should let someone know but I didn’t because I’m not street smart and somehow that implies that street smart people don’t need me getting into their business?? Idk 

Part 5: I found a former theatre club classmate to sit with to watch the rehearsal.  I don’t remember the show at all but I remember that I was supposedly there for the whole thing and didn’t get to see or talk to my friend at all, so I ended up wandering out without saying goodbye.

Typical again - At social events with this friend, I feel like the norm has been that I don’t actually get to spend much time with her and that it’s not really noticed if I leave

Part 6: My cat was with me?? My cat, an FIV positive soft boi who I love with everything in me, was for some reason with me on this trip and I’ve just realized I’ve lost him in this mall.  He doesn’t wear a collar and is easily spooked.  Somehow I see him in an open area and swoop him up into my arms and tight against my chest; now I just have to not let him wrestle free while I find my way back to the car.

Again SO normal, but in a new, FUN terrible way! Combining my fear of losing my sick cat outside and not being able to find my car in a big city during an important situation.  Both are repeat anxiety nightmares, but I’ve never had it structured like this before.

Part 7: I don’t remember where the car is or how far; I only have a vague idea; I also know there’s no way when I get there I’ll be able to open the door without losing him but right now I’m just focused on finding the car.  Suddenly there’s a few people here and there in the mall and I’m really worried that someone will approach me to touch my cat or to offer help and only end up spooking him.  A kid walks up to me and he has a gameboy open in his hands; I know he just wants to touch my cat but I explain I need to get him to my car and he offers to help, which mostly is just him following me while half-playing his pokemon game and half looking at my cat.

The boy is the same age/slightly younger than my youngest brother and looks exactly like him and acts exactly like him, he just isn’t him somehow - and he’s legitimately sort-of-trying-to-help in his own kid way.  I appreciate the moral support.  But I’m confused what this represents in my dream?? Me and my youngest bro used to be very close, but I was a little distant with him after I moved out and lately now that he’s in high school I feel like he doesn’t want my attention as much as he used to and also doesn’t want to spend time together.  

Part 8: At one point I’m squeezing my cat so tight to my chest he’s gone limp and isn’t breathing - but I loosen up and check and he’s fine after just a second, although he’s irritated and a little squirmy.  Somehow this boy with us has now gotten me to finding my car at the top of an open parking garage and I haven’t dropped the cat the whole way.  I open the door and start putting my stuff on the seat (I had a purse this whole time).  In the front seat, there’s actually already a cat.  My cat?? I say out loud, ‘oh, I didn’t actually bring him in - there’s an unopened one right here!’.  Because the cat in the car, my cat, has a San Pelligrino soda foil cap on its head.  Also, I realize I dropped my cat - you know, the one I’d carried back? But no, there he is, and I pick him up and put him in the back seat.  He’s also my cat.  And somehow I’m still more worried about his well-being, even though supposedly, the cat in the front seat with the foil hat is mine.  

The squeezing thing is a memory of the other night irl when I realized my cat was so deep asleep he felt like he’d stopped breathing and when I moved him to wake him he was completely limp and still; he’s fine now and was confused and irate at me for waking him before.  But the two cats thing was throwing me off really hard; All I knew was that a family friend literally just put down her cat yesterday and that I’d seen pictures of her baby girl, and this girl cat looked exactly like my boy cat and was roughly the same age and had an illness.  But I was certain that both of these dream cats were my boy, although weirdly I was more loyal to the one I’d been carrying.  

My husband actually helped me figure out this crazy shit in a way that blew my mind (because foil hat was reaaally confusing me.)  He asked what I usually do with San Pelligrino sodas, and got me to admit that usually, I don’t finish them.  (I don’t always finish most drinks actually.)  But it really sucks when I leave a San Pelli unfinished, because they’re expensive and they’re one of my favorites, so wasting it is a bigger deal than wasting other drinks, and I feel regretful because I didn’t get to appreciate them all the way to their end and guilty because I didn’t do all that I could to make sure they weren’t wasted.  He said the cat in the front seat is a healthy cat - an ‘unopened’ one that I haven’t put in danger and that doesn’t have any predetermined threats to its well-being because it’s ‘new’.  I wish desperately that I didn’t have to be constantly afraid of losing my FIV boy to an illness, but at the same time I would never want to replace him with a healthy cat even if they were exactly the same - his weakness has made me not only glad I have him in my own care, where I know I’d give anything in my power to keep him healthy and happy - it’s made me and my husband open to the idea of seeking out needy pets in the future that might not otherwise have chances with families.  (We also know that we have to be ready for the worst; if a vet tells us our boy isn’t going to be happy or isn’t going to feel healthy, we need to be ready to let go and voluntarily put him down when his quality of life diminishes.)   Basically, having the opportunity of the healthy-safe-front-seat-fresh-cat didn’t make me forget or discard the one I’d carried back with me, and I think that’s my brain reaffirming I don’t regret my boi and will protect him with everything I have until I literally can’t anymore.

That was the end of my dream - putting the rescued cat in the back seat safely while acknowledging the other cat.  And I woke up with my cat snuggling me, of course.  I’ve had a lot of these weirdly detailed dreams lately and I love writing them out.  Watchyal got? Anyone??

[a-splash-of-stucky]

A Messed Up Place | Epilogue

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A wedding and a surprise

Warnings: flooffy goodness :’)

“Professional” Notes: The last ever AMUP update is being posted on Bucky’s birthday — I feel like that’s appropriate, somehow. Also, this was supposed to be a short and sweet epilogue but whOOPS 4k words happened somehow. Self-discipline? Don’t know what that is, never heard of it. #noregrets

“Emotional” Notes: I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, I’m hysterical, I’m not ready for this gAAHHHH!!!!

I’m feeling like a bundle of raw emotions rn. A Messed Up Place has been a labour of love ever since October 12th, 2017, my 19th birthday and the day I posted the AMUP Prologue. Now, nearly 5 months later, it’s coming to its official end. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me throughout this journey — your reblogs, comments and reactions have truly meant the world to me. To share this story with you, to see all the love that has come out of it, to have had this story bring me closer to some of my faves…there are no words to describe how I’m feeling. Honestly. Thank you so much, all of you.

Also, I’m sorry I broke your hearts and made you cry — I hope it was worth it all in the end.

AMUP Masterlist

“My point is, I’ve known Tony for a long time,” says Rhodey. He pauses and cocks his head to the side, before barking out a short, dry laugh. “Actually, now that I think about it, it hasn’t been that long year-wise, but man, with the amount of sh—I mean…stuff he’s gotten himself into, it sure does feel a lot longer.”

As Rhodey takes a sip of his champagne, he catches Bucky’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and  gives an almost imperceptible quirk of his eyebrows. Bucky flashes him an easy smile and gives him a subtle thumbs-up, showing his thanks for the quick save.

Steph’s at the age where she just adores repeating basically every word that she hears. The last thing Bucky needs is for the word ‘shit’ to be added to her repertoire of favourites, alongside ‘laun-de-reee’, ‘no’ and ‘cat dick’.

Though, with a room full of adults in various stages of tipsiness, not adding a swear word to Steph’s vocabulary is proving easier said than done. There have been a few too many close-calls tonight. Why did Bucky ever think that letting Steph stay for the reception was a good idea? Her sleep schedule’s going to be fucked up for the next week.

Bucky pauses, registering his train of thought. God, he’s such a dad.

“I remember when Tony was an insufferable know-it-all,” Rhodey continues, his voice drawing Bucky back to the present. “Oh wait — he still is an insufferable know-it-all.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Bucky and causes a titter of laughter to ripple through the room. Tony gives his best man an affronted look.

“Yeah, but I guess back in the day, he was a hundred times worse,” Rhodey amends, once the audience has settled again. “I mean, c’mon! He was schooling all of his professors in MIT! Gave a lecture of his own, at one point — after hijacking the lectern in true Tony fashion, of course.”

“I’ve watched him as he lived the life of a CEO playboy. I’ve seen him learn what responsibility is. I’ve seen him at the lowest of his low points and the peak of his high points. And I thought I’d seen all the parts of him there ever was to see — until he met you, Pepper.”

The customary wave of ‘aww’s’ sweep through the room. Bucky watches as Pepper — in an uncustomary public display of affection — scoots her chair closer to Tony’s and rests her cheek on his shoulder. Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair has started to fall out of her bun, curled tendrils hanging loosely around her face. Her cheeks have a rosy glow to them that match the happy glimmer in her eyes. She looks relaxed and in love and more at peace than she’s ever been — just like her new husband.

“You bring out a whole different side of him, Pep,” Rhodey says, the fondness evident in his tone. “He’ll deny this to his grave, I know, but you make him soft at heart. You’re good for him and hopefully — he’ll be good to you. May the both of you live a long life, have a healthy marriage and please, for the love of god, don’t let any of your kids get their hands on Tony’s suits. To the both of you,” he declares, raising his champagne flute with a grin on his face. Amidst waves of laughter, Bucky catches the toast being echoed by the rest of the wedding guests.

Bucky pushes off from the wall he’s been leaning on and walks back to the centre of the dance floor. He takes the mic off Rhodey as their paths cross, murmuring a quiet ‘well done’ as they brush shoulders. That’s the last speech of what has been an eventful night, filled with tears (of the happy sort), lots of laughter and two separate occasions of Tony nearly setting Pepper’s dress on fire.

But besides those instances of near-catastrophe, the whole affair has been rather low-key and chilled. It’s clear that Pepper’s done most of the wedding planning. The entire event is being held in the back gardens of the compound. An enormous marquee has been set up, with fairy lights, lanterns and all manner of flowers strung from the ceiling. There’s a dance floor on one end and tables taking up the rest of the space. Everything is pastel coloured and tastefully decorated.

It’s nice. Really nice.

“So, that marks the end of all the speeches we have lined up for tonight,” Bucky says, addressing the assembled crowd. He’s the MC of the reception, tasked with the trying job of facilitating seamless transitions between the nights’ entertainment.

Bucky’s really glad that his work is almost done.

“I’d just like to say a quick thank you, on behalf of our newly married couple, to everyone that’s made this event what it was. And to Tony and Pepper — I’m sure you’re sick of hearing this, by this point, but congratulations,” Bucky says sincerely, flashing the two of them a warm smile. Pepper returns the gesture and Tony nods his head in acknowledgement.

Just then, Bucky hears the tap-tap-tap of patent-leather shoes darting across the floor. He beams when he catches sight of his daughter rushing towards him at full speed, arms outstretched, fine blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders and chocolate cake smeared on her chin.

Typical, he sighs internally. Well, at least there’s no chocolate on her white dress.

As Stephanie runs to his side, Bucky crouches down to welcome her with open arms. He hoists her up in one smooth motion, perching her on his waist. She enthusiastically wraps her arms around his neck and flashes him a toothy grin.

“Hello gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Bucky spots you sitting beside Pepper and arches an eyebrow in your direction, before looking pointedly at Steph; a silent what’s she up to?

You shrug exaggeratedly, hands raised and palms facing outward. How the hell do I know?

“Daddy,” Steph whines, patting Bucky on the cheek to get his attention, “Wanna go dancing again.”

Bucky’s heart might just have melted a little. He ducks his head closer, “Almost done here, gorgeous, then we can go dancing again, okay?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Steph’s ear with each word. He smiles when she giggles and pushes his face away with her pudgy hands; his baby’s always had ticklish ears.

Steph leans back and puts her palm on his cheek, schooling her features into a more solemn expression. “Daddy, I haff something ‘portant to tell you,” she says seriously.

“Oh?” Bucky asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Okay, but is there something you want to say to Tony and Pepper first, gorgeous?”

Stephanie seems to think about it for a minute, brows drawing together and lips pursing as if she’s sucked on a lemon. When it clicks, she claps her hands excitedly as an exuberant grin spreads across her face.

“Yeah!” she cries, making grabby hands for the mic, “I gotta say something!”

Bucky chuckles, holding the mic closer to her mouth. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says.

Steph twists around so that she’s beaming brightly at the crowd of expectant faces. As the one and only flower girl in attendance, over the course of the night, Steph seems to have won over the hearts of everyone present.

Who can blame them, really?

Bucky catches sight of you, sitting in between Wanda and Pepper, watching your daughter with a bemused smile on your face. You’ve got your chin propped up on one hand, a glass of water poised at your lips. You meet Bucky’s gaze and flash him a cheeky wink, just as you take a sip.

“Ev’body? I’m gonna be a biiiiiig sistah!” Steph announces proudly.

What?

It’s lucky that Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, because your reaction to Steph’s revelation is priceless. You choke on your mouthful of water and burst into a coughing fit. Wanda turns towards you to thump your back, whilst simultaneously shooting Bucky an is this for real? expression. Pepper and Tony have bolted upright, their haze of marital bliss disrupted by the commotion. Natasha and Sam look like they’ve gone into shock, and everyone else’s gaze is focused on Stephanie, who is seemingly unaware of what she’s just done.

A stunned hush descends over the room.

“Uhm,” Bucky mutters weakly. He clears his throat and shifts Stephanie on his hip. “Uhh—gorgeous…I think you had something else you wanted to say to Tony and Pepper, right?” he asks. “Remember? You were practicing it this morning?”

Stephanie cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Oh! Oh, con…gra…chu…lay…shuns?” she says slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, his voice strained. “Yeah, um…why don’t you go sit back down with Aunty Nat, gorgeous, and let Daddy finish this off?” he suggests. Steph nods agreeably. Bucky sets her down and watches as she toddles off towards the head table, where Natasha is holding a hand out for her. Bucky runs his metal hand through his hair and takes a shaky breath.

“Okay, well…um,” he starts, “I—guess there’s not much more for me to say. Congratulations, Tony and Pepper. May you have a good marriage and all that.”

He’s pretty sure his words fall on deaf ears. As Bucky hands the mic back to the DJ hovering at the back of the dance floor, he spies you hurriedly weaving through the tables and slipping out of the marquee via one of the side flaps. Sam shoots Bucky a pointed look and jerks his head in your direction; a clear go after her, dude. Steph seems to be well-occupied by Natasha for the moment, and so, silently praying that his daughter isn’t going to start spouting out more secrets, Bucky quickly dashes after you.

When he steps outside, Bucky discovers that the twilight hour has come and gone. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Bucky spins around in a circle, trying to find you. He spots you sitting on the concrete steps leading into the main building, your elbows on your knees, hands clasped in front of you and forehead pressed against your wrists. He sighs, slowly walking towards you, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his crisp white shirt as he goes. Bucky plops himself down a couple of steps below you, body angled in your direction.

“She’s only three,” you say weakly, not bothering to lift your head up to acknowledge him. “What did I expect? Ugh, our daughter is terrible at keeping secrets.”

Bucky’s heart does an excited little flutter. “So she was serious?” he croaks out.

You drop your hands. Your mascara’s smudged underneath your eyes and most of your lipstick has rubbed off, this late in the day. But, you’ve still got a smile on your face and to Bucky, you look as beautiful as ever.

“I found out a few days ago,” you admit quietly, “Realised that my period was late and took a test.” You laugh softly, “Got the shock of my life when I saw it was positive.”

Bucky inhales sharply.

“I thought it’d be a nice to have Steph tell you the news,” you continue, eyes flicking up briefly to meet his. “I’ve been practicing it with her and—,” you break off with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Fuck, why did I ever think that was a good idea? Now everyone knows that I’m pregnant and I wanted to tell you first in private before—and, and now—,”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky interjects, pushing himself onto his knees and catching your wrists in his hands. He pulls them to his chest, ignoring your weak protests, leaving you unable to hide your face from him. When you tilt your chin upwards, Bucky sees the glimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. The watery smile on your lips tells him that they’re not tears of sadness, though. In this moment, Bucky feels like there’s a gurgling pressure behind his sternum, a bubbling spring of emotions itching to spew free.

“For real, princess?” he asks quietly, barely able to contain himself.

You laugh breathlessly, the corners of your eyes crinkling with joy. “Yeah, honey. Really.”

Bucky swallows, then leans in close until his forehead is resting against yours, until his nose brushes your cheek and your breath ghosts over his face. You slip a hand out of his grip and curl it around the back of his neck, fingers combing through his ponytail.

“Tell me again, sweetheart,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, thick with tears. With your palm pressed to his chest, he has no doubt that you can feel the mad thumping of his heart. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your hand on the back of his neck tightens its grip. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

Bucky lets out a half-sob, body surging forward to crash his lips against yours. Inside his chest, he feels the dam burst, allowing a tsunami wave of emotions to course through his system. The kiss is heated and sweet and meaningful, all that same time. His brain is spinning, his body is floating, his heart is soaring, his soul is singing. He’s overcome with feelings and he just—he can’t put any of them into words.

“Sweetheart,” he says breathlessly, brokenly. It’s the only word his brain can think of right now. Fuck—he has so many things to tell you. I can’t believe it, he wants to say. I’m terrified, maybe. I’m so fucking happy. I love you so much. “I—oh my god—,”

“I know,” you say fervently, meeting his lips for another urgent kiss, “I know.”

And perhaps, he just doesn’t need to say anything. Maybe you’ve heard all those unsaid words anyway. Maybe, after all this time, you just know.

“Again,” Bucky demands, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other arm encircling your waist. He darts in for another kiss — fuck he never wants to stop kissing you, ever — as he leans forward, forcing you to brace your elbows against the step above the one you’re sitting on. “Tell me again,” he begs, gently nipping your bottom lip as he pulls back to look at you.

He takes in your kiss-bitten lips, your darkened eyes and your messy hair. You curl your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, just as your lips curl into a private smile, for his eyes only. “I’m pregnant,” you repeat, your voice quiet, sincere.

Bucky drops down again, brushing his lips against yours. “I love you so much,” he says, in between kisses, “So fucking much, you know that?”.

“Love you too,” you reply, throwing your arms over his shoulders to hold him close.

Where words fail, actions speak.

Bucky pours every ounce of love surging through his body into every press of his lips, desperately hoping that each kiss is enough to telegraph the extent of his emotions. Words are not enough, actions are not enough — he wants you to know how he’s feeling so bad. His world is shaken by this news — for better, for worse, who knows?

The only certainty he’s holding onto right now is you.

Bucky blankets your body with his, moulding his body to yours and wishing he could do the same to your souls. He kisses you and tastes the salt of your tears, the mint on your tongue. He feels the hammering of your heart, hears your barely-audible sighs and greedily drinks in the exultant joy radiating out of every fibre of your being.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, cradling the back of your neck with his flesh hand and pulling your mouth closer, kissing your lips like you’re the oxygen that Bucky has been starving for. And maybe that is what you are, Bucky thinks desperately, a fleeting thought in his dizzy mind. Maybe you’ve been his oxygen all this while. Because it’d certainly felt like an agonisingly slow death, enduring all those months without you.

The two of you lose time like that, sprawled out on the steps, tangled in each others arms, rucking up your fancy clothes. You trade kisses and soft touches, murmured promises and meaningful stares. There’s a simmering heat in his belly that Bucky could turn into something more if he stoked the fire and gave it some attention, but for now — this is enough.

From somewhere on his left, someone clears their throat obnoxiously.

Bucky startles, quickly rolling off you as he reaches for the knife strapped to his left calf. When he sees who it is, he allows his posture to relax, although a hot rush of embarrassment does race through his veins.

“If we’d walked out a second later, I’m fairly certain we’d’ve stumbled across you two defiling our porch steps,” Tony remarks dryly.

Pepper gently elbows him in the side. “Tony!” she chastises, “Be nice.”

“Sorry, darling,” Tony says quickly. Bucky doesn’t miss the dopey look he shoots in her direction.

Seriously. Were you and Bucky ever this bad?

Bucky glances down at the gold ring welded onto his metal ring finger, casts his mind back to a warm summer’s day on the beach, sun on his face, sand between his toes, his arms around your waist and thinks no — the two of you were worse.

“Anyway,” Tony drawls, “I must say, your daughter sure does have a knack for dramatic timing.”

“He did learn from the best,” Pepper comments sarcastically, giving him the side-eye. Tony squawks in protest.

“Tony—Pepper, I’m so, so sorry,” you say quickly, sitting up and brushing you skirt back into place. “I—I really didn’t mean to steal your thunder, or anything like that, I swear, it was—,”

Pepper holds a hand up to silence you, a benevolent smile on her lips. “No harm done, Y/N,” she says reassuringly, “Really, we mean it. Yes, it was quite the shock, but—that just makes the night more memorable, no? We’re not mad, honestly.”

Tony snorts. “Speak for yourself,” he grumbles. “Sorry, sorry,” he adds hastily, when Pepper narrows her eyes into a murderous glare. Turning his focus back to the two of you, he clears his throat and says, “Congratulations, and all that good stuff, I suppose.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Yes, congratulations, you two,” she says emphatically. “And technically, it is past midnight, so you didn’t really steal our thunder.”

You make a sound that is a cross between a laugh and a groan. “I’m never going to forgive her for this,” you mutter darkly, “There goes her Stark tablet privileges for the week!”

“You say that, but you know she’ll just do something to make you forgive her in the next day,” Bucky points out. “Kid’s got us wrapped around her finger.”

With a resigned, full-bodied sigh, you slump against Bucky’s side. “It’s the thought that counts,” you say morosely.

“Well, I think we’ll leave you two to rejoice in peace,” Tony says decisively, pivoting on his heel and striding back to the party. “Just don’t traumatise any of our guests when they come out here!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Tony,” Pepper says, in a voice that is both fond and exasperated. To the two of you, she adds, “Seriously, no offence taken. I’ll make sure that Nat’s keeping an eye on Stephanie.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Bucky says, as Pepper glides off towards her husband, her periwinkle blue wedding dress swishing with each step.

The two of you sit in silence, watching as Tony and Pepper slip back into the marquee, hand-in-hand. When the coast is clear, you peel yourself away from Bucky’s side and climb into his lap. Bucky chuckles in surprise, but plants his feet flat on the step below, allowing you to straddle his thighs.

You pay no attention to the fact that your skirt has bunched up in your lap, nor to the fact that someone from the reception could stumble out and see you two at any second. Bucky rests his hands on your waist and tips his head back to look at you, awestruck by the reality of the situation and the enormity of this new adventure.

“How the hell are we gonna manage with two little ones?” he asks quietly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your hipbones. “We can barely get by with just Steph!”

You throw your head back and laugh, drawing Bucky’s attention to the elegant column of your neck. Compelled, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, letting his lips linger for a while. You hum softly, looping your arms over his shoulders and scooting forward a little, so that your chest is pressed against his.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” you murmur, “Things always seem to have a way of working out.”

When your lips finally meet, the kiss is tender — languid and lazy, like a sluggish breeze on a sweltering hot day. Bucky’s arms tighten around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair, his metal hand tracing patterns across the skin of your bare back. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and swallows your breathy sigh. You mouth opens so easily for him and before long, he finds you rolling your hips against his in slow, sinuous motions.

Bucky’s mouths a trail of wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck, coming to a stop above your pulse point. He feels your thrumming heartbeat against his lips, seemingly beating in time with his own heart.

“D’you think it’s okay if we ask Nat and Sam to take Steph for the night?” he asks, only half-joking, “Y’know. For celebration purposes.”

He feels the rumble of your laughter vibrate through his chest. “Bucky,” you giggle.

“What?”

“No,” you say. Bucky’s fairly certain he heard your eyes rolling, that time.

“Aw—c’mon, honey—,”

“No,” you repeat firmly. Before he can protest further, you cup Bucky’s jaw in your hands, tilting his head back until he meets your eyes.

Your hair is disheveled, falling around your face in messy strands. There’s a gleaming brightness in your eyes that makes the marquee lights behind you seem pale in comparison. You brush your thumb across Bucky’s stubbled jaw, an absentminded smile playing on your lips. “Not tonight, at least,” you tell him.

Bucky swallows, reaches his flesh hand up to catch your wrist. He turns his face to the side and presses his lips to the heel of your palm, registers your sharp intake of breath. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise,” he murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and lean forward, nosing a path down his cheek. Bucky turns his head and finds your mouth again, pressing his lips against yours in slow, unhurried movements.

“Tell me again,” Bucky whispers, as his flesh hand comes to rest on top of your belly.

You rest your hands on top of his, before swallowing audibly. You hold his gaze, your eyes bright with sudden tears, a pure and hopeful smile on your lips.

“I’m pregnant, sweetheart. We’re gonna have another baby.”

Bucky thinks he’ll never be as happy as he is right now, sitting on some concrete steps with you in his arms, stealing kisses from your lips whilst the sounds of laughter and upbeat music float across the gardens.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months later, on Steph’s fourth birthday, when he sees the look of delight on his baby’s face as she sets eyes on her unicorn-themed birthday cake. They’re surrounded by their super-family, a collection of opened presents and shredded wrapping paper littering the floor of the common room. Stephanie manages to get pink frosting all over her face, making Bucky laugh until his cheeks are sore. You try to keep the smile from spreading across your face, but it’s a futile effort when you have a daughter as sweet as Steph.

You have a hand resting protectively on top of your burgeoning belly, and the sight only serves to make Bucky’s heart swell a little more.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months after that, as he cradles his son in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth as he makes his way over to your side of the bed. You take him from Bucky, cooing softly as you stroke your knuckle over his chubby cheeks. Steph, perched on your other side, peers at the baby curiously, as if trying to decide what to make of her little brother. Warily, tentatively, she brushes her index finger over his pudgy fist, gasping in surprise when he wraps his little fingers around it and holds on tight.

“I think I could love him,” she whispers.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few years down the line, as the two of you bring in the last of the boxes and set them on the kitchen counter. The house is a mess, the kids are wreaking their usual havoc and the last thing he wants to do is walk up a flight of stairs to check on them. Both of you are gross and sweaty, but Bucky loops his arms around you and pulls you close nonetheless, planting an enthusiastic kiss on your lips. Moving in has been stressful and exciting, to say the least, but Bucky is eager to start writing this new chapter in your lives. He can’t wait to fill these walls with memories and make this house a place to call home.

Unable to fight the grin spreading across his face, Bucky picks you up and swings you around in a circle. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he breathes.

Bucky loses track of how many times he stands corrected, as the years go by. Day after day, he smiles until his cheeks hurt and laughs until his sides ache. The years are filled with birthdays and babies, missions and milestones, ups and downs. He watches his children go to school, grow up, get married, have lives — take on the world like they were made of gold dust and vibranium.

“What a life, huh sweetheart?” Bucky asks softly, as another chapter comes to its end.

Time has a funny way of slipping by in the blink of an eye, he’s noticed. Many things have changed over the years, but the one faithful, unshakeable constant he’s held onto is his love for you.

Bucky thinks of this as the two of you lie tangled up on the sofa, your body slotted between Bucky’s legs, your cheek pressed to his chest and his chin resting on top of your head.

“Yeah, honey. What a life,” you murmur, as you slip your fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt, splaying them across the small of his back. “A crazy, wild, tumultuous, messy life.”

You pause to pull away from him, sitting up a little and craning your head back to look into his eyes. “But worth it all?” you ask.

Bucky grins, feels that joyous fluttering in his heart as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. “Yeah, my gorgeous. It’s all been worth it.”

End A/N: Am I bawling my eyes out? You betcha :’)))