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hellishjoel · 9 months

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little black dress

10k / pairing: bartender!joel x f!reader

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summary: You’re breaking things off with your douchebag situationship at one of your favorite little dive bars because lord knows you’re gonna need a drink or two. The bartender, Joel, is happy to offer his assistance.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst, toxic ex-boyfriend putting hands on you, dom!Joel, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), titty attention, unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), I think that’s it!

A/N: I’ve held this in my vault for WEEKS. Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @macfrog for helping get this piece to completion! I quite literally couldn’t have done it without them and without their input and encouragement. Also -- this is my first 10k fic! how exciting!!

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Your breaths grow heavy with impatience, waiting to feel him. Him soaking up your slick wasn’t enough. He finally got the hint as your hips rutted back into this touch, hearing his hellish low chuckle at your desperation. “So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed. “Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him.

You had never gotten dressed up for a breakup before.

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you were reminded of what you discussed with your friends last night.

You felt a little on edge when you revealed to your friends over a girl’s night that you wanted to break up with your short-term boyfriend Chris. The relationship was only a couple of months old, but the guy was a douchebag. And you realized it too late.

“He was such a waste of your time.”

“Oh my god, he was an asshole to you.”

“Girl, I hope you do a revenge breakup on his sorry ass.”

“A revenge breakup?”

Ahh, yes. The revenge breakup. For wasting your time, efforts, and emotions on Chris, you deserved to have a little fun in the form of revenge. You’d put on your favorite little black dress, do your hair and your makeup, wear a red lip, and show him that you don’t need him.

But now as you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, you felt like you were playing dress up. You weren’t really this confident, this bold. But your pouty red lips said otherwise. Your favorite perfume said otherwise, as well. After a slow turn in the mirror, long legs on show with a short black dress adorning your curves, you decided you would be a man-eater tonight.

You would have preferred to break up with him over text, but you decided you were together for a little too long not to break things off in person.

Despite what you looked like on the outside, your heart was a tangled mess of emotions.

When you first met Chris at one of the fancy bar lounges on the east side, he was the standout of his friends. Tall, blessed with dark blonde hair, perfectly clean-shaven, still dressed in a work suit to join in on the Friday night happy hour. You quickly learned a lot about him. He had an apartment in the city, but his permanent residence was in the neighboring state. He liked golf, basketball, and football. He was a family guy, close with his parents. After buying you a drink, he told you he worked at a finance agency, a large one at that.

The professionalism in itself made you swoon. You couldn’t help it, he seemed put together and men who had a plan were attractive to you.

Needless to say, you went home with him after he was whispering in your ear all night long, his large hand planted possessively on your hip, derailing any other guy in the room who thought about trying a conversation with you.

It could have stopped there, should have stopped there. But he was smart, and his face wore a permanent smirk that put you in a destructive tailspin. So you kept seeing each other. He took you out on lunch dates, got you into the trendy clubs, and put the two of you up in hotel suites from time to time for a nice weekend away.

It was fun while it lasted. His charm eventually wore off, and you realized he was just… a completely selfish douchebag.

You were ready to break things off.

And so it was decided. You looked hot. Too good for him. Your roommate insisted that she could come with you for moral support dressed as a casual bargoer, watching the show for herself behind a bar menu. The idea made you bubble up a laugh, but you really wanted to do this yourself, for yourself.

Your stomach was in knots the entire Uber ride over, leg crossed over the other as you drew shapes into the material of your clutch. You wanted to arrive a little earlier than the set time with your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend-fling, needing a drink or two of encouragement.

The Blackbird was a corner bar that had survived the rapid changes of downtown for the past ten years, or so. Initially around when there was a small gas station on the opposite corner, now it was neighboring a family diner and a video rental shop.

As soon as you enter down the cement stairs and through the dark green door, you’re greeted by a stage to your right where local bands came in and played. After walking past the pool tables that desperately needed new felt, you pass an old golden jukebox that was playing 80s dad rock. It fit the atmosphere, you had to admit. Some Guns N’ Roses started to play after just finishing a Twisted Sister song.

Maybe it was the fact that you were entering into a small dive bar, easily becoming the best-looking person there by a mile and a half, but it was the confidence you needed.

Eyes were on you, a small smile fluttering on your lips at the discovery.

Cigarette smoke filled the air, your heels clicking casually against the hardwood floor as you used the space as an off-duty catwalk. Pool balls clattered, matching the fast-paced beating of your heart.

The Blackbird Bar offered little lighting, aside from the bulbs that hung above the pool tables and a few old neon signs. The walls were decorated in well-loved decor like old license plates and tacky bar signs. There was a $1 bill hung up in a frame, most likely the first bill the bar had ever made. It's a crowning little achievement in all of its dust-covered glory.

The bar stools could use new upholstery and a fresh coat of paint might do the wall wonders, but people didn’t come here to enjoy upscale aesthetic and fruity drinks. They came for cheap booze and company from the regulars.

An empty string of barstools waited for your company at the end of the long bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness the bar was veiled in.

Your fingernail traced over the slight scratches on the bar’s surface, someone clearing their throat knocking you loose from your thoughts.

“What’ll y’ have?”

Your head was so clouded with what you might say during your impending breakup that you didn’t think of what you wanted to drink. You could really use some liquid courage.

“Uhm..” You paused as you looked over the bartender, your eyes adjusting as you watched him clean a glass with a rag before he tossed the cloth over his shoulder.

He was older, a little shaggy looking. He wore a tattered dark green henley with a waffle print, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You ordered your go-to drink, slowly swirling your straw around the ice as you anxiously watched the clock tick closer and closer to your planned time.

“Hey beautiful.” Shit, he was early.

Your eyes widened as you quickly set down your drink, signaling to the scruffy bartender and tapping at your glass to request another.

Chris entered your space with a charming smile, his pungent cologne instantly piercing your senses as your eyes gazed over his square jawline.

“Hey.” You teetered on your seat, adjusting the hem of your dress, feeling that it was all of a sudden far too short for the evening. Like it was shrinking up your body.

Chris quickly picked up on your not-so-warm greeting, his head cocking as he set down his jacket on the bartop.

“Interesting pick for the bar. I could’ve taken you somewhere uptown.”

The comment made your gut clench, especially since the bartender was right in front of the two of you, making your drink as he silently listened to every word.

“I actually really like this spot. Feels less pretentious than uptown.” You bit back, maybe a little too much venom in your comment.

Chris playfully threw up his hands in surrender, smirking down at you as he took in your appearance. Slightly smeared red lipstick and an all too tight black little dress.

“Alright, uptown is pretentious now, I’m glad you updated me.” His comment was snide but laced with a hint of teasing, your hand instantly reaching for your drink once it was crafted by the bartender. You mutter an apologetic thank you.

“Hey,” Chris spoke up as he raised two fingers to flag down the bartender. “Can I get-”

Before he could finish, the bartender had walked off further down the bar lane, grumbling under his breath as he went to fulfill another customer’s order. Chris scoffed and tried to brush it off but it made you smile. Well deserved.

Once Chris finally did receive his drink, a corona with a lime, he started to tell you about his week in the office. Unprovoked.

Apparently his coworker was brutally fired, his department was on their third secretary within the year thus far, and he was up to his ears with his end-of-the-month reports.

You weren’t sure what drink number you were on. The bartender kept giving you glances every time he poured your glass back up, his eyes signaling to Chris as he kept speaking over you. He looked just as annoyed as you felt.

“And Chambers is just.. all up my ass about finishing it ahead of schedule but I keep telling him, y’know, Dude, it’s not due until Monday. Get off my ass about it. Right? Right?” Now he was laughing like his life, and his story was really all that interesting. Like everyone was hanging onto every word he ever said with enthusiasm.

He kept wagging his beer around in his hand as he spoke, using mannerisms to go with his exquisite storytelling.

You muster up a noise to give him some sort of implication that you were interested. However, the more you drank, the more you realized how uninteresting he actually was. Who talks at someone like this for 45 minutes? When did he ask you a question about you? Did he know shit about you?

“Hey,” your voice sounded power drenched which quickly captured his attention. His eyebrows raised as if you were interrupting his train of thought.

“Do you remember what I told you I studied in school?” Your head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed on his. Despite the volume in the bar, you could still feel your heart thumping in your ears.

He tried not to look phased by your question. After a pause on his end, he mustered up an awkward chuckle before clearing his throat, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“How long have I lived in the city?”

You watched as his eyes flicked off to the side, his lips parting as if he was hoping the right answer would just come to him.

“Uhm..”

“Uhm?” You mocked, a nasty smirk on your lips. It was taunting.

The more he couldn’t answer your questions, the angrier you got. You mocking him seemed to get his blood boiling.

“What do I do for work? What are my hobbies?” Your red lipstick kissed the straw as you took another sip while you waited, crossing your leg over the other as your foot casually bounced while you watched him squirm.

You continued to roll out question after question. You enjoyed watching him writhe under your scrutiny, finding out that he didn’t fucking know you at all.

Someone you considered to be so put together, so refined, and so charming was really just a douchebag clown masquerading in a suit.

The grip on your drink tightened, and you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or the anger you bore, but something gave you the nerve to throw the remnants of your drink on him.

The liquor splashed across his white button-up shirt first, your half-melted ice cubes followed by pelting his chest.

Satisfaction and surprise filled your gut, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you tried to hide a laugh. The crowd of regulars watched from a distance, a few gasping while a few others snickered.

He looked furious.

“You fucking-- bitch! What the hell!” He was still shaking off ice cubes, pieces of his blonde hair falling down and presenting him as disheveled.

“If that wasn’t answer enough for you, I don’t want to see you again. We’ve been on countless dates, and you don’t remember a damn thing about me.”

You didn’t care that people were watching, you were putting on quite the show for them in your little revenge dress.

Chris scoffed at you in disbelief, shaking off the liquid that clearly stained through his shirt. You could feel your chest swell with a sense of pride and courage. Your body felt warm, stained with confidence as red as your lipstick.

“You’re fuckin’ sick, you know that? You’re a fuckin’ psycho!” He was nearly laughing at you, the insults scraped at your throat and made your confidence cut down an inch.

“Just-- get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to see you again.”

Suddenly, something you weren’t expecting was his hand tightening around your forearm. It stung, his iron grip burning into your flesh so hard that your fingertips already felt numb from the lack of circulation.

You let out a whimper of discomfort, your big eyes looking between his talons pressed into you then back up to his twisted face.

He yanked you into him, your heels scraping the bottom of the floor-- or maybe that was the screech of his barstool he pushed out of his way on the hardwood.

“You really think you’re all that interesting?” His eyes were narrowed in on yours. “You were just an pair of open legs.” He muttered in disgust.

Your eyes hardened, jaw tightening shut as both anger and sadness twisted inside of you until it created a damaging tornado. You couldn’t believe you saw interest in him or anything at all.

“Hey-” A voice so low and booming broke you out of your thoughts, both of your heads snapping to the bartender who was staring daggers into Chris.

“You don’t touch a lady like that in my fuckin’ bar. Get the hell outta here.” His voice relaxed in volume, his scary stature and piercing eyes were enough to thrust a splinter of fear into Chris. But of course, being the cock that he was, he wouldn’t let it seem like the bartender phased him.

“This doesn’t concern you, man. Best if you just drop it-”

“Or what?” The bartender’s words cut quick as his head cocked up, eyes narrowed on Chris’s. Challenging him. Goading him to fight back. The bartender even stepped closer to the bar’s edge, making Chris step back a foot or two despite the bar being a direct barrier to the two. Chris’ hold didn’t slack, it became stronger. Your nails started to try and pry away his hand from you, but his grip was solid.

You looked to the bartender, a silent plea for his help behind your eyes as you were still lightly fighting against the grip Chris had on you. The anger Chris felt towards the man reflected in his hand around your forearm, a short cry coming from your lips as his fingertips bruised into your delicate skin.

“What did I just fuckin’ say?” The bartender was rounding the bar towards the two of you, Chris quickly dropping his hold on you as the man neared closer. This idiot had never been in a fight before in his life, and he surely wasn’t going to start with the tall, broad bartender who probably beat up drunk assholes every other night.

You were so hypnotized by their interaction, the feeling of the bartender’s hand gently on your back before he became a barricade in front of you. His broad arms crossed in front of his chest and he was still looking for a fight out of Chris.

He looked scary, but in a more protective way now. Now that he was so much closer, you had a better look at him.

His flesh was seared with the signs of life, soft lines on his forehead and by his eyes-- probably from the permanent scowl he wore like how people put on their glasses every day or a watch around their wrist. He had a speckled beard, but a prominent mustache on his upper lip, both the hair on his head and his facial hair wore a brief streaks of silver.

His nose was aquiline, it fit him perfectly. He was long in the torso, broad in the shoulders, and drawn in at the waist. The henley shirt he wore looked like it could barely fit around his biceps, the material stretching to accommodate. He was handsome for a stranger you had paid little attention to all evening.

“You alright?” You could tell he was talking to you without looking, his voice more serene.

“Yeah.” Your voice sounded shakier than you wanted it to, the whole interaction being a shock to your system. Your hand delicately stroke over where he held you, the ghost of his grip still aching on your skin as small bruises were sure to form later.

The bartender’s attention was back on Chris after being assured you were alright.

“You heard her. Get the hell out of here.” The bartender’s head cocked behind Chris and to the door. Once the bartender got involved with your fight, you could feel the presence of the tough pool table guys pause their game to make sure the situation was handled.

Outnumbered, Chris scoffed before he yanked his ice-covered jacket from the bartop, his eyes on you as he shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Keep her. She’s not worth the fuckin’ trouble.”

The bartender had enough of Chris thinking he was in charge of the situation. He planted his hands at the top of Chris’ chest, giving him a harsh shove that had him staggering backward, still trying to maintain his balance as he was shoved out the door repeatedly.

“I don’t usually ask twice, consider yourself lucky.” The bartender’s words were cut with steel. He looked so calm and unbothered like he picked fights with random guys every other night and it was no big deal.

The crowd of regulars at the bar cheered him on until Chris was swiftly shoved out the door and you could hear his body scuff against the cement steps outside.

You finally felt a flood of relief course through your body, the adrenaline had come and gone, but the racing of your heart hadn’t subsided.

You let out a hot puff of air as you brought the scattered barstools back to their home under the bar, seeing a pair of hands help you align the last one. It was the bartender, and he was watching you with eagle eyes.

“I’m sorry-” you quickly blurt, shaking your head and pressing your hand to the side of your neck to find some sort of relief. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene or put you in a situation-”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” He was quick to cut in and assure you, your bunched-up shoulders slowly relaxing as he resumed his spot behind the bar.

You sort of wanted to leave. You hated the unwanted attention your hot-headedness created. Even though he was the asshole, you still felt like it was your fault.

“Sit down.” His voice demanded, your eyes softening as your head whipped back up to look at him.

“I’ll remake your drink, just… sit down.” You shifted on your uncomfortable heels before giving in and satisfying him with a little nod, returning to your barstool as he came by and made you another drink.

“Can you-” your voice perked up and tapped at your glass gently. He paused his motions as he looked down at you. “Can you make this drink as responsibly strong as you can?”

His lips tightened, trying to hide a smile poking out from the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, Trouble.” You watched as he tipped the alcohol in, letting it fill up with the ice before he added only a good splash of mixer. Thank god.

The breakup with Chris was warranted, but it was hard thinking about having to start all over with someone new. Hopefully with someone better. You weren’t one to drink by yourself like this, but the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat felt better than the ache you felt festering in your chest.

As the night went on, the bartender didn’t seem keen on being more than a few feet away from you. He’d fulfill a patron’s order on the other end but always end up back by you, meandering himself to keep busy. You had watched him clean one beer mug three separate times now. Sometimes you made eye contact, only for a fleeting second before he looked away.

He kept asking if you were alright. Yeah, I’m alright. If he could do anything. You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you. Finally, he broke.

“So… you wanna tell me who that guy was?” He asked, topping off your drink as you sighed and swirled your straw around.

“He was... I don’t know. A boyfriend, I guess.” You waved around your drink as you spoke, your eyes meandering around the bar.

“Whatever we had, it didn’t last long.” You tutted up a short laugh at your little joke. You took in a deep breath through your nose, your shoulders rising before they dropped on the exhale.

The bartender shook his head, almost looking inquisitive.

“Why d’ya laugh?” He asked curiously, his arms spread as he planted his palms into the bar for balance as he kicked back one of his boots to rest behind the other. He was so broad and handsome.

“Oh,” you paused and covered your face for a moment in embarrassment that he called you out on it. “I said it didn’t last long, the relationship, but like.. Y’know.” You trailed off and shyly smiled, setting your hands back in your lap as you caught his eye contact, however, now he was holding it with you.

“What?” He pressed further. But he knew what. He just wanted you to say it.

You let out a short nervous bubble of laughter, shaking your head. Oh, fuck it. The alcohol was helping you relax, and frankly, you wanted to laugh at Chris. You didn’t owe him anything.

“He didn’t last long. The relationship didn’t last long, and he didn’t last long. Y’know. In bed.” You felt the need to over-clarify now, taking another sip from your drink, your eyes clenching closed slightly as the strong alcohol made your face tense.

The bartender’s mouth chipped up into a crooked smirk, shaking his head as he looked over you for a moment. You remembered what you were wearing, your little black dress doing wonders for your cleavage resting just above his bar.

“‘S’a damn shame.” He finally said, shaking his head as he threw a white cloth up onto his shoulder, his attention fully on you now as the bar had begun to die down throughout the night. All that was left was a set of people playing pool and one cigarette smoker on the other end of the bar, his eyes tiredly captured by the random game show on the television.

“What is?” You ask curiously, your straw slurping ice now as you sighed and pushed the glass away, shaking your head at him to signal you were done for the night.

He paused before answering you, taking your glass from the bartop and throwing down the ice into a tray then the glass into soapy water. He shook his head and shrugged as he wiped his hands.

“Jackass twenty-somethings not knowin’ how to make their pretty girlfriends finish. Damn shame.”

Your lips parted, your doe eyes on his whiskey-colored ones. Your stomach twisted, a tug between your legs so strong it felt like you were battling an internal fire.

Finally, you just laughed. It was out of shyness and shock, but it was a laugh.

“Is that so?”

“So it is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He didn’t let you go another second without it. “Joel.”

Your head cocked to the side, your confidence bubbling up as you sighed quietly. “Joel.” You repeated back to him, the two of you slowly nodding to one another. Now you were the only thing his eyes would look at. You sort of wished he would look somewhere else, to let you fucking breathe.

But he pinned you right there in your barstool with his gaze, in his bar. It was crazy to think something fruitful might actually come from the train wreck that was tonight.

Maybe put together looked something more like Joel. Someone a little older, experienced. No wedding ring, a barely-there smile that seemed to only come out on special occasions. He amused you, even if it was just for tonight.

“So, Joel,” your hand reached out, pointer finger gently grazing over the top side of his hand that was planted in front of you. His skin was warm, your nail grazing the soft hairs by his wrist, and the band of the watch he wore. “What are you trying to say?”

His expression didn’t break, if anything, there were minute details you noticed. His jaw clicked tighter like there was someone slowly turning a tight wheel that controlled it behind the scenes. His shoulders bunched a bit more at his upper back, his body tall and looming and strong. But his eyes stayed on yours, consistent, dark, and beautiful.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” His words were laced with a promise you were begging him to fulfill. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last with this nagging feeling between your legs begging for relief.

Your intimate conversation was cut short with the final clatter of a pool ball, the black 8 ball sinking into a pocket.

You finally let out a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding in. You glanced to the side, away from Joel’s protective gaze as you watched the men hang up their pool cues on the wall mount, grabbing their leather jackets as they came to set their empty beer bottles on the bar top and thanking Joel before they exited.

His hand came up in a subtle wave, not even shaking his hand back and forth, just throwing his hand out there to say a silent farewell.

Your breath quickened at the thought of him alone in the bar with you. If it wasn’t for the chain smoker dulling both of your fantasies.

Joel caught your wandering eyes, following them down the lane to the final patron.

“Paul, do you know how late it is?” Your eyes fell to Joel’s fingers as he covered the clock behind the counter methodically.

The smoker, who you learned was Paul, finally pulled the cigarette away from his dry and cracked mouth, glancing around to see how empty the bar had become. Besides you and Joel.

“Your wife is probably waitin’ for you at home. Best if you start headin’ out.” Joel said as his head tilted to the door next to him, the man nodding with wide eyes.

“Oh, she is gonna kill me. That woman,” he mumbled something else you couldn’t quite hear from your end of the bar, smiling as Joel snuck a glance at you as he ushered Paul out. He’d stay here all night if Joel didn’t tell him to head on home.

Your nerve finally made your long legs move, heels landing on the hardwood as you slowly walked the length of the bar, your fingers dancing along the top. You felt a few chips and divots in the wood, years of wear and tear exposing itself to you.

Joel flicked the lock on the door and flipped the sign. Sorry, we’re closed!

The action in itself made you feel spoiled. He wanted you to himself for the rest of the night, he didn’t want anyone interrupting. Goosebumps flooded your skin as you leaned back against one of the pool tables, the light above you making you have an angelic silhouette.

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the jukebox, the only thing eliciting noise in the otherwise silent bar. With a push of a button, the music halted.

“What? No music?” You asked. Your voice had a slight echo now.

His heavy footsteps loomed closer, his eyes on yours and never straying.

“Rather hear you.”

Well, there went any remaining ounce of respect you had for yourself.

You initiated the first contact, needy at this point. Needy for someone to take care of you just for tonight. Joel was more than willing to take on that role. A means to an end.

Your soft hands landed on his exposed forearms, moving upwards until they hit the rolled-up sleeves of his dark green henley. You had to force yourself to breathe when you felt over his biceps, your warm palms coming to rest on his broad chest.

“I could have handled it you know. Before you intervened.” Your words elicited a slight grumble from the man in front of you. From Joel.

“I’m thankful, but… I had it under control.” Your fingers continued to dance over his upper half.

He let out a gruff and shook his head. “Not from where I was standin’, Trouble.” His voice was curved with cockiness. This was the first time you really took hold of his southern accent. It came out when his voice was lust drenched.

He challenges you, and your attitude matches his stubbornness.

Joel’s hips are against yours now, you can feel his jeans against your thighs that your dress doesn’t quite reach. His hands are a warm welcome on your hips. They’re gentle on you in the same way they’re possessive, eager to have you but wanting to approach you with a sense of tenderness.

“I had it.” You were persistent. Your arms moved to wrap up around his neck, intertwining your hands and feeling the soft curls on the back of his head.

“Sure.”

The distance was closing between the two of you now, his body moving with a flirtatious sense of stealth.

He watched you with a stoic face. He seemed so unphased. Your touch alone was often enough to have gentlemen attempting to take you home. You were methodical in that sense. But maybe so was Joel.

He was a total stranger, but knew little things about him. Stiff, silent, impossible to read, a human shield, a protector. He would have knocked Chris out with a single swift swing of his heavy fist if he didn’t let you go, you knew he would have. Because he was watching you both all night like he had a gut feeling.

Joel’s tundra-cold voice broke you out of your thoughts for the third time tonight, his large hand coming up and pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear before he cradled your cheek. His actions were soft, his words were filth.

“You got a real mouth on you, y’know that?” His eyebrows were furrowed, the indents on his forehead and eyebrows exposing themselves.

A proud smirk danced on your lips, your arms tugging Joel in closer. He could choose to stay still, he’s strong enough to resist your tug. But he lets you. Because he wants to.

“So I’ve been told.”

You can feel a breath leave through his nose, a sigh of contemplation. Teetering on the idea of falling down into the unknown with you.

Your breath hitches in your throat as his hands tighten on your hips, hoisting you up to sit on the pool table’s edge. The position makes your dress roll up your thighs, a broken gasp leaving your mouth as he finally fills the void between the two of you with a heavy kiss.

It’s tongue and teeth at first, meshed and mangled as you both searched for dominance. His tongue danced with your own before you were tugging on his lower lip. You swallowed Joel’s low grunt, his hands falling to the outside of your thighs with his thumbs pressing into your skin.

Fuck, he was spreading you further. The dress rolled to the very top of your legs, his body sliding through the opening as his warm body consumed you. He tasted like mint. He was probably tasting the alcohol he was pouring you all night.

You fisted his hair at the nape of his neck to hold onto some sort of control, but he was persistent.

Joel was invading your senses on all fronts until finally, you had to wave your white flag.

“Joel,” Your voice came out in a desperate breath on his lips, his head quickly nodding as if he already knew what you needed before you had to ask.

“Lie down, baby, lemme take care a’you.” He kissed you once more before pulling away, his head nodding up once, instructing you to lay back.

You felt bashful as your shoulder blades hit the pool table, still spread perfectly for him.

His expert hands pushed the dress up your hips, lifting your ass off the edge to let the material pool around your stomach.

His warm and possessive hands claimed the lower half of your body. He bent down to take you in, pouted lips kissing your naval while his heavy eyes studied your reactions.

A breath was caught in your throat as you felt his hands on the inside of your thighs, brushing over the front of the red panties you wore. He was thinking the same thing you were, you could see it the way he dropped a small grin. Same color as your lipstick, pretty girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered, using the strength you had left and sitting up on your elbows. You were too turned on not to watch him work.

Your fingers wound into the salt and pepper curls atop his head, biting down on your lower lip as his fingers continued to ghost over cotton.

His thumb began to teasingly stroke over you, brushing over your covered clit and sending electricity through his touch to your core.

Joel hooked his thumbs into the sides of your underwear, bringing up your legs to take them off with ease. You scoot closer to the edge of the table, scoot closer to him.

“What?” You ask, his bemused grin now eliciting one from you too. “Think I’m desperate?” You ask, a little on edge for his answer.

A man of suspense, you watch as Joel shrugs off the question.

You watched as his eyes came down to admire what was previously concealed, your lips parting as he let out a hum in reaction to seeing your soaked core. All because of him, all for him.

Sinking down on his knees before the pool table, your hips rutted forward a few more inches to close the distance. His toying with you was aggravating.

Joel hooked one of your legs over his wide-set shoulder, his large hand coming up to pry the other one up and open. One of your heels nearly sunk into one of the pool table pockets. You whimpered out as you eventually kicked them both off, hearing one pair clatter to the floor on the left of Joel, then the other on the right.

His lips were on you like a magnet, a heavy sigh leaving your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed. Your gut was tight, feeling it create its own knots as Joel licked an exploratory stripe up your glossy slit with his tongue. You gasped at the estranged feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned out, a short yelp leaving you as the vibrations were shot up your center. “Taste too good not to go down on.” The compliment left you in a swirling heat, feeling your walls flutter desperately for him.

“Joel, you can just-” you paused, not realizing how frantic your words sounded. You sounded frantic enough for him to stop his tongue in his path and look at you like a deer in headlights.

“‘Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, hesitant concern crossing his features. “You alright?”

As much as you liked his attention, you felt awkward about him tasting you. Only one or two guys have ever done this for you before, neither making you finish. You just remember moaning their names until they stopped, letting them think they had succeeded. Good oral sex took experience, trial, and error. You just didn’t want him to waste his time on you.

But now that his tongue was gone, you realized how good he was making you feel. It made you realize that your slick was already devoured by his lips and his taste buds purely because he wanted to. But you still had that nervous gut feeling that it was out of some sort of chivalrous act. I’ll do it because it’s polite, because it’s only courteous.

“You just- you don’t have to, okay? I understand if you don’t want to, is what I’m trying to say.” Despite your words being laced with little pants of trying to collect yourself from the pleasure, you still offered him a respectable out. “We can just fuck, get to the good part for both of us.” Your heart thumped in your chest, looking to him with shifty, sympathetic eyes.

Your statement made his head roll to the side, his lips parting. He almost looked disappointed.

“You don’t want me to?” He finally asked, your heat still begging for his attention. You could feel your thighs trembling under the warmth of his palms spreading your legs apart.

Meekly, you finally push an answer up and out of you. “No.” Your words were breathy, eager, desperate. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Joel gave you a slight nod, his eyes looking over you for a moment before he settled back down by your core. He kissed up the inside of your thigh, his beard hairs scratching after the soothing touches of his mouth.

“Good. Now let me make you feel good.”

His words made your stomach clench, your walls fluttering and begging to be filled. By the look in his eyes, he had seen it. The way your arousal was quite literally dripping and becoming sticky on your skin.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over your core again, your hips chasing the feeling. You decided to lay back once more, just wanting to relax with Joel’s head between your legs.

His palm on your leg moved to plant your hip down into the pool table, halting your movements and holding you still. The anticipation was all too much, and you let him know that by whimpering out his name.

He wasn’t exactly slow, it’s like he was learning. With each lap of his tongue, letting it move up to your clit and then down to your entrance, he was taking the time to learn you.

You purse your lips as your eyes flutter closed, letting out a genuine gasp as he began to suckle on your clit. The motion eluded something deep in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it didn’t hurt. Feeling his mouth suck and tug on your aching clit, his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitivity felt like powerful lighting strikes setting a wildfire loose in your core.

“S’that feel good, pretty girl?” He whispered, trying to learn what made you tick.

“M-mhmm,” you whimper-moaned shakily in response, not finding it in you to lace together more than a few syllables.

One of your hands braced the edge of the table while the other fisted his hair, gripping the dark strands and keeping him in place. As if he was going anywhere.

You could feel Joel slowly untying the knots you had made in your stomach, plucking open one and then the other with each stroke of his tongue.

He liked your taste, he liked pleasuring you, he liked that you liked how good it felt to be given this type of attention. Attention he was sure you hadn’t rightfully experienced before.

You were eager for more but shy to ask. Joel, being the mind reader that he was, moved his hand that was dedicated to holding down your hip and brought it to glide up your slick. His wet tongue made slow figure-eights around your clit, broken moans tumbling from your mouth as you let your eyes dip open and then closed as waves of pleasure began to consume you in an even rhythm. Joel’s rhythm.

His mouth kissed at the inside of your thigh once more, having to bite down into the flesh to conceal his excitement. It made you smile and whine. You wanted the marks of his teeth, you wanted the prints of his hands on you. His were welcome.

He slowly sunk a finger into your pleading entrance, letting a breathy sigh enter the air above the two of you. The only sound in the empty bar was your eager moaning.

His mouth gave you much needed relief, your pussy taking his finger to the knuckle while his tongue continued to create generous circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

That’s when you felt it. The it no one had given to you before. The it that left your mind blindsided.

He was only one finger inside of you but his tongue was working magic. You started to mewl out feverish moans of his name, the hand in his hair clenching tighter and causing a sting to radiate across his scalp. The leg hiked up on his shoulder was shaking, your heel digging into his back to guide him even closer if that was humanly possible.

“Joel, holy shit,” you whimpered, head coming up to look down at him. His lips and mustache were glistening in your slick. “I’m s-so close.”

You didn’t have to convince Joel like you had to convince the others. Your moans were authentic, your cries of passion genuine.

Joel listened, he kept his pace, the pace that had you shattering like a freshly broken mirror.

“J-.. Fuck Joel, your fingers,” you whimper, your walls fluttering around where he was pumping into you with just the one.

“Mhmmm?” He elongated in a questioning tone, not freeing his mouth from you to respond. He wanted you to say it. You threw your head back in frustration and nodded quickly with your chin to the ceiling.

“A-Another, another finger.” You groan out. You could feel his smirk plastered against your clit, feeling his cheeks raise with his smile against your shaking thighs.

You don’t need to ask twice. Joel’s inserting a second finger and you can feel yourself stretching for him. He picks up his pace again and the it you’ve been fantasizing about is happening.

Your toes curl, the heel of your foot still indenting into his back as you let out heavy pants into the air. Your back arches as your walls tighten around his fingers while Joel curls them in the perfect spot, your hand fisting the edge of the table as you searched for words to resemble how good he was making you feel.

Joel kept untying your knots, plucking open one after the other, after the other, until-

“Holy f-fuck! Joel!” Your body convulsed with your orgasm, your hard nipples peaking in your dress as your lower half started to grind against his mouth for the ultimate finish. You were seeing white, your moans and the squelching noise your wetness made filled the room.

His fingers worked you down from your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you came back to life. Freshly resuscitated after a life-altering orgasm. And one you didn’t have to fake.

His fingers were covered in your cum-mixed arousal, he didn’t waste any time sucking them clean as his eyes connected with yours. An exhausted whimper left your throat. Your lips were pouty, eyes as wide as a doe as you sat up to face him.

He pushed himself off his knees, your leg dangling free from his shoulder.

Your foreheads came to rest against one another, both taking a breath to collect yourselves. His beard definitely gave your thighs a little burn rash, but with how good he made you feel, the slight pain was worth all the pleasure.

“I’ve never had someone go down on me on a pool table.”

Your fingers aimlessly drew circles in the felt, your other hand reaching up to swipe your thumb clean across his bottom lip.

“Ever been fucked on a bar?” His eyes dark and tantalizing, his voice lacking true emotion and replacing it with grit and lust. Good. That’s the last thing you want right now. You don’t need emotions tonight.

“Mm-mm.” You said as you shook your head, the two of you wearing matching smirks.

You were glad you and Joel were on the same page. Neither of you seemed interested in anything more than sex tonight.

Joel was about to help you down from the pool table, a wave of heat splashing your already warm face. He turned back when you dropped hold of his hand, lightly squirming on the table.

“Just-” You’re a bit embarrassed, you don’t want him to feel sympathetic. “I need a minute. For my legs.” You gave him a shy smile, and he wore a crooked cocky one in return.

You glanced down as you tested a foot on the floor. Your stems felt like jelly, as if you had just run a marathon, but really, Joel was just pulling an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Joel was quick to shake his head, his body coming back to yours.

“Don’t need you walkin’ barefoot on the floor. I’m a little behind on cleanin’ up the place.” His words made you stifle a laugh.

He was okay with eating you out on the pool table and fucking you on his bar, but god forbid you might step on something sticky.

You wonder if it’s because he feels protective of you. He wasn’t going to let some dickhead break your arm tonight. Not in his bar.

“I’m fine.” You say as you haul yourself up, planting your palm into his bicep for leverage while you put on one heel and then the other. You could walk on your own.

“You wanna fuck me on your bar, baby? You do this with all the girls?” You ask as the heels clicked on the floor, one after the other.

His pace catches up with you, dark eyes watching your every move like a predator meeting prey. It would scare you if you didn’t know how good he was with his tongue.

“Only the real pretty ones with delicious tasting cunts.”

Your lips parted at his words, merely watching as his pace kicked up a notch. You felt your back slam against the bar as Joel consumed your front and he was kissing you once more.

His kiss was magnetizing, commanding. Open your mouth for me. Let me taste you.

You obeyed, feeling him slip in and have his taste. Your hands reached for your dress that was bunched around your stomach, pulling your lips from Joel though he was apprehensive to let you do so. The material tangled your hair but you were quickly tossing your dress aside, eager to have him back in your space.

His eyes lingered on your tits, his mouth on yours, but now his hands- god, his hands, they were massaging and cupping them in his palm.

You let out a strangled whimper as he pinched your nipple between two fingers, still sensitive from your orgasm across the room.

He enjoyed watching you squirm, your jelly legs already coming back.

“So fuckin’ greedy.. Can barely hold yourself up.” Joel’s words were gritty, lost in the depths of his heady lust. You wondered how big he was, you could see the heavy outline through his jeans.

While he played with your tits, his mouth now slobbering on your nipple and making your core tremble, your hands were on his old leather belt. Pulling the excess to the side and flicking open the pin.

He takes over, pushing down his jeans to the tops of his thighs. You smile seeing his dark green briefs, the same green as his henley.

“I guess we’re both matching tonight.” You teased, snagging your pointer finger into his briefs and tugging until it snapped back into his waist.

“Turn around pretty girl, wanna feel that pretty pussy around my cock.”

Your stomach was already bottoming out, all those knots Joel had untied on the pool table were now forming again.

You whimpered as you eagerly turned around, your saliva covered tits now plastered to the bar as you bent over it. The bartop gave you a shiver, considering how cold it felt while bare.

You whipped your head to the side when you could hear him shifting out of his boxers, his belt clattering with his movements. You flicked your hair out of your way as you tried to get a look at his lower half but he was flushed behind you in no time at all.

Joel wrapped his hand around his base, his other hand on your hip as he guided you to stand between two barstools. He slid his tip in your fresh arousal, smirking as he watched you grip the edge of the bar.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ girl. Need a man to make you feel good, not a boy.”

His words released a whimpery moan from you while you nodded, each time his tip teased your entrance made your heart race just a beat faster with anticipation.

“Need you, Joel.”

He nods, his open palm splayed on your lower back and right hip as he admired the curve of your ass.

“So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed.

“Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him.

Your cunt was in shock, your tight walls clenching desperately around him as you began to flood over him with your arousal.

You began panting into the wood of the bar, the pain greeting you in a hot flash.

“Oh f-... god,” your knuckles were white gripping the backside of the bar. You could hear Joel behind you, moaning at the way your walls expanded graciously for them.

“Good girl, alright baby, come on, baby,” His voice was heavy, wrapped up in his lust as he hiked up one of your legs and set it on the barstool. “So fuckin-” his heavy breath fanned across your back as he pulled he retracted his hips, “perfect for me.” He said as he reeled them back in, filling you to the max.

Your leg up on the barstool released a new angle for the two of you, your eyelashes fluttering as Joel found a previously undiscovered spot.

He started slow, letting your body adjust to him. How could someone as good-looking as Joel be humble about a dick like this? And he knew how to fucking use it.

You were trying to moan his name, but they just kept coming out in hot pants.

“Joel, Joel, fuck Joel!” The pleasure had now replaced the pain, a sweet sting at your core every time he ground his hips into you just right.

Joel’s thrusts never wavered, they were deliberate and calculated as he filled you to the brim. His cologne was invading your senses, mixed with his sweat.

He collected your hair in a loose ponytail, peeling your face off the bartop as your chin angled up to the ceiling. The pool table may have been for you, using his mouth to get off. But now, this was for Joel. Joel was using you good and hard, and you fucking loved it. You loved that you were what he needed tonight, and vice versa.

The sound of Joel’s hips clapping against your ass echoed throughout his bar, your hand coming back to grip onto his forearm for some sort of leverage. Some sort of control. Some sort of… anything.

But Joel made it clear that he was in charge tonight.

His tempo edged you. Once you fell close to another crashing orgasm, his thrusts feeling like they were hitting you at a million miles an hour, suddenly slowed to the flow of bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. It was torturous the way he had you mewling out his name in desperation one moment and then the next, he had you whining for more. But every time you neared the finish line, the overwhelmingness of it all was stronger, and you knew Joel felt it too.

Joel didn’t want you just to feel good, he wanted to change how you saw sex. No more laziness from a partner, no more vanilla positions, no more faking orgasms. This was what it felt like to be fulfilled by the real thing.

No matter how hard he tried, both of you were losing strength to put up with the passing of another orgasm.

“J-Joel-” He could barely hear his name with the sound of his front snapping into your behind. “I’m so- fuck me,- I’m so c-close,” You were sure to have bruises on your hips tomorrow, the wooden edge of the bar being nailed into you. “I’m close, please!” you whined, beginning to throw yourself into each of his thrusts which worked up a good grunt from him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good around my cock,” you twisted your head back as you felt his arm snare around your hip, his fingers slowly circling around your sensitive bud. You were gasping for air, seeing stars as he actually fed you what you wanted. He was ready to let you cum.

Your eyes weakly watched him as he fucked you over his bar. Eventually, you had to push yourself off of the front because it was pinning your hips into numbness. Your leg came down from the barstool, your back still bent over as you used your palms to flush against the edge of the bar to hold yourself up. Your head whipped back again as you became obsessed with observing him.

“You like watchin’ me fuck you, sweetheart? Little fuckin’ troublemaker.”

There were no words, it was too late. Your head dropped as your nails chipped into the wood, letting out a cry of his name as Joel continued to untie the knots in your stomach, all of them falling loose until you came.

You heard him let out a long and low groan, your barely-open eyes turning back to watch the sight of Joel finishing.

Joel could feel your walls pulsing desperately around his swollen cock, his fingers getting a little messy with your clit but he kept at it, he wasn’t going to disappoint you. That’s when it hit him, where he couldn’t hold on anymore.

He spilled his white hot cum into you, rope after rope until it was coming out in shorter streams inside your cunt. You and Joel were moaning in unison as you both finished together.

After a few moments to breathe, you gently pat his hand that was rubbing lazy circles in your clit, feeling his warm palms move to your hips as you slowly straightened out together.

You flipped your messy hair out of your face, smirking tiredly as you looked over him while he tugged his jeans and briefs back up on his hips, your eyes hypnotized by watching his rough and calloused hands easily secure his belt on.

“Uhm..” You paused as you shyly searched around for your dress a few barstools down. You went to retrieve it, Joel taking it from your hands and slipping it back on your body. You watched his face, his eyes looked through you.

Your thumb came up to his lips, watching as he did a minute flinch with how fast your hand invaded his space.

“Relax,” you tease, swiping away the red lipstick of yours that melted on the edge of his pretty mouth. He slowly relaxed as he watched you clean yourself from him, his warm palms still holding your aching hips.

You sighed, your body and mind tired from being completely blown out. Your feet were sore from your heels, you were ready to take this dress and makeup off for good tonight.

You watched with a teasing smile as Joel did a shitty job with a wet rag cleaning up where you were thrust against his bar, shaking your head at him.

“Missed a spot.”

He tutted dryly. “Funny.”

You collected your clutch and your other belongings, seeing the spot at the end of the bar where the ice you had thrown at Chris had long ago melted and was now a puddle on the floor.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Joel’s voice erupted from behind you.

Your hand clutched the stray 8 ball on the pool table Joel had you laid out on, dragging it to the corner pocket before you went to meet him at the door. He unlocked it to let you out, even going up the concrete steps with you.

“It’s fine, Joel.”

He shrugs and shakes his head, looking past you once more.

“I know. Just wanna make sure you get in the cab alright.” He waved up his hand and stepped into the street, signaling a car until one pulled up to you both. You didn’t know what time it was, how late it had gotten. You probably had several missed messages from your friends to hear how your revenge breakup went. You couldn’t wait to tell them how tonight turned out for the better. Because of Joel.

Finally, he was really looking at you. And you had no idea what to say. Your lips parted, looking up at the older man who sort of saved your night.

Your eyes said it all. Thank you.

He just nodded and cocked his head towards the cab.

“Night, Joel.” You tugged open the door to the cab, tossing your purse in the backseat before sliding in as gracefully as you could. You should forget about being graceful at this point after what you’ve done.

“You gonna tell me your name before you go?” How could his question come from curiosity but his voice was as cold and bare as ever. His hand was in the window of your cab, as if holding it in place from taking off on him.

His interest made you smirk, your hand playfully plucking his fingers free from his grip on the window before giving a little shrug and not saying a word.

His eyes stray from yours and look down the road, seeing him cross his arms in front of his broad chest before he continues. “Alright, fine.” He said with a little nod. “Do you think I don’t pay attention to ID’s when I check ‘em?” He says your name, testing the waters as a shy smile creeps on your lips, his cocky little smirk was enough to make your eyes roll. “That’s alright, I’ve been calling you Trouble all night anyway.”

You sighed tiredly and smiled, tapping the cab window. “Goodnight, Joel.” You say before falling back into your seat and giving the driver your address.

“Goodnight, Trouble.”

Joel saw you off before disappearing down the concrete stairs into the Blackbird, your fingers gently ghosting over your red lipstick as you watched the city fly by.

---

here's my masterlist!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update! after sept. 1, there will be no more taglist!

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @joeldjarin @unsteadyimagines @pattwtf @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @schnitzelwnoodles @flippittygibbitts @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @cartoon-garbage04 @alltheseperfectimperfections @sunnywithachanceofjavi @kyloispunk @hopplessilse @toxicfics @angelicnotifs @iquitedislikeithere2 @livingdeadmaria @emmalandry @worhols @radsanchez @pedritoferg @lucyeyelesbarrow @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @pastawench @kittytiddywinks @slut-for-bucky-barnes @mendessi @aphterthoughtt @chyannealaniz @pedrotonin @barbierat @chicville03 @alejaa-a

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #bartender!joel

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kozachenko · 4 months

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I swear to god, Zanmu has just been on my mind recently, she's taking over my fucking brain please send help

Artist's Note:

Why is it that everytime I do a drawing of Zanmu I always make the canvas size fucking huge and it ends up being a living nightmare to fucking export. I swear to god I had to go from 1200 DPI to 600 to 350.

Exporting hell aside, I loved working on this piece. With Zanmu's design, I wanted to combine all the design details that I love and have seen in other people's drawings of Zanmu and give them my own personal touches. First of all, her sleeves were inspired by @amemenojaku's design for Zanmu, and I absolutley love that detail because not only does it make her feel more regal, it also can be a callback to Satori and old hell, and also gives me the idea that Satori's fashion sense was inspired by Zanmu because IRL a lot of historical fashion was inspired by what the nobles were wearing at the time, and since Satori was around since when Old Hell used to be Hell, she probably took some wardrobe inspo from her (or it could be my headcanon that Satori could've been Zanmu's royal advisor or she was in her court or something but that theory is kinda grasping at strings from other headcanons I have, but that's for a different post). Also, the eye makeup she has was inspired by @jothelion's drawings of Zanmu, and like, I fucking love that detail because it just adds so much like omg I just love it sm.

And now for the design details I put in. I gave Zanmu tassel earrings because I think they'd look great on her. I also really like to exaggerate her hair and really try to make it look wild, as well as having little grey hairs here and there. I also try to add some wrinkles to the corners of her eyes, but TBH I don't know how visible that detail is, since the image is pretty fucking big. I also really exaggerated the tassles/strings on her outfit, since I really wanted to play around with the potential flow they could have. Also, big fan of giving Zanmu longer sleeves and pants. IDK why but I just like how it flows better. Also big fan of making her taller, idk why a lot of fanart makes her short. Also, I placed her horns closer to the front of her head as I just think placing horns in that position looks cool.

Also, if you're wondering about the halo, I took some inspiration from a few of Caravaggio's paintings where he often depicts saints with this very thin halo around the top of their heads. I just liked that detail a lot so I thought I'd include it.

Fun fact, I was originally gonna make the four skeletons Chiyari, Biten, Enoko, and Hisami but I didn't like the prospect of having to draw four more characters, so I chose to replace them with skeletons (if you wanna get silly with it, Zanmu got Hisami to kidnap Aya, set up some skeletons with bones from her bone collection and told her to take a picture of her).

I kinda gave up on Zanmu's feet and the one skeleton's hands (as if drawing hands normally is hard enough but NOPE, HAD TO MAKE IT LIVING HELL FOR MYSELF BY MAKING IT A SKELETON) and the quality of the image may suffer because of how much I had to fucking compress it (Zanmu's presence alone was enough to make the computer lose all of it's desire and motivation to export the drawing of her lmao), but I have been hacking at this piece for a while now, plus I need to learn when to call it quits when it comes to drawings). Also as I was fixing up the hands there was one spot where I forgot to clean up with the sketch and I can't fucking unsee that now and it's going to fucking bother me until I fix it but fixing it requires going back and putting my computer through hell so yeah.

So yeah, that's about all I have to say with this drawing, it was fun but also a nightmare lol

#art #touhou project #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 19 #unfinished dream of all living ghost #zanmu nippaku #touhou #東方project #東方

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bumble-punch · 2 months

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I tend to care about taking a more realistic approach to Riptide in terms of resource management ect, so here's some random thoughts about clothes.

(minor spoilers up to episode #87)

Space management is important on a ship, so pirates tend to stick the essential clothing pieces, and change and wash them less than the average land-dweller.

Pirates don't smell great. This is just something you have to accept.

(except Gillion. Gillion smells of fish and salt and seaweed and the ocean, and never smells sweaty because he doesn't sweat in the human sense, he's just always moist)

Pre episode #87:

Chip has one shirt and one pair of trousers. When he needs to wash them, he will just walk around shirtless or in his underpants depending on what item is being washed. even for a pirate, this is a bit excessive.

he has like three pairs of underpants and he washes them concerningly infrequently

Jay has a change of clothes - she has a spare shirt and trousers, 2 bras that she alternates between, and several pairs of underpants. This is closer to the regular amount of clothes you would expect a pirate to have

After Chip lost his shirt in Allport, he borrowed Jay's spare one since I refuse to imagine him shirtless for the entire Feywild arc. My boy would be cold! :(

Jay is overall the most well-groomed due to her Navy upbringing. However, this isn't something she enjoys - more like something that she feels obligated to do. She finds washing her clothes a pain, and doesn't mind not smelling great or being dirty. As a kid she always hated washing and wearing uncomfortable clothes. As she spends more time on the pirate ship, she becomes less well-put-together and starts to drift more towards a Chip-level of cleanliness - though she promises herself she will never stoop quite as low as him. It's a matter of pride.

She does pick up his habit of walking around shirtless or in her underpants when she can't be bothered to get dressed / it's too hot / whatever. It's a pirate ship, social norms don't matter. Everyone on the ship is family and no-one cares.

She stops wearing bras when they are not on land for the same reason. However, when they come to land, she does make a concerted effort to make herself look socially acceptable and conform to standard norms regarding dress, since she knows this will get them a better reception with the land-dwellers they interact with.

Gillion's was raised to be well-groomed, but didn't have a chance to pack a change of clothes when he was kicked out of the Undersea. His clothes are stiff and encrusted with salt from all the time he spends in the water. There isn't as much of a need to wash items of clothing in the Undersea, as they are in water the whole time, and stains don't show up in the underwater gloom unless they're extremely obvious. Chip and Jay teach him how laundry works easily enough, and Gillion employs a similar strategy to Chip. However, he washes his clothes less frequently than they do as they are always being resubmerged in water anyway.

Post episode #87:

They finally get Gillion a change of clothes. He has an alternate shirt and trousers.

Since they have a bigger ship by this point, the crew has space for a few more fun/luxury items of clothing that aren't for everyday wear. Only a few - ie one special shirt - but it's still nice to have.

(Gillion has an emo band T-shirt) (yes they have emo bands in the fantasy world of Mana) (come on we all know at this point that the world doesn't conform to a consistent time period)

Jay realises she hates her current clothes because the starched sleeveless shirts she has been wearing, though they have become far less starched after a year of heavy use and improper wear, are very scratchy on her skin. She buys two softer woolen sleeveless shirts instead (ie the ribbed design a lot of the fanart of her features). She gives the old shirts to Chip

Chip buys the coat, which keeps his shoulders warm, and so he often prefers to go shirtless to show off his tattoos. However, he will wear Jay's old shirts when his tits get too cold.

#jrwi riptide #jrwi #jrwi show #gillion tidestrider #jrwi gillion #jrwi chip #jay ferin #jrwi jay #chip bastard #chip lastname

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 3 months

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Examining SVSSS Canon: 2/∞

THE PRE-CANON TIMELINE

This post will attempt to provide an answer to several questions, including the ages of some of the current peak lords, as well as a rough timeline of events in the extras relative to the current day. A simple, bullet-point timeline will be at the end of this post, with relevant quotes and analysis above.

The timeline of SVSSS isn't particularly easy to piece together, and many fans are unsure of things such as the ages of certain characters, or how long the current generation of peak lords has been in power. As a matter of fact, it seems like even Airplane himself doesn't have a set timeline in mind for the events of PIDW pre-LBH:

“Your ages?” To tell the truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t really know the precise age of this body. He raised his head at Shang Qinghua. “Wouldn’t you know better than I do?” Shang Qinghua twirled the brush in his hand. He’d never thought about this question either, so he figured he might as well just say whatever. Therefore he randomly wrote a number down in a couple of strokes. (7 Seas, Ch. 31)

It would be easy enough to take this quote and call the timeline a mystery-- however, there are a surprising amount of clues in the text, enough to at least put together a decent idea of when things happened and how old certain characters are, depending on which theories and interpretations one ascribes to.

There are two particular facts which are our most important hints as to the pre-LBH timeline, upon which this entire analysis hinges.

First, we have the spacing of the Immortal Alliance Conferences:

After much difficulty, Luo Binghe managed to turn seventeen, at which point he finally participated in the event the cultivation world held once every four years: the Immortal Alliance Conference. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

And next, we have the length of time since Shen Qingqiu began to cultivate:

Before, Shen Qingqiu had thought that this body’s qualifications were already incredible, to have formed a core in only ten or so years when he’d begun cultivation so late. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

Notably here, what is translated as "ten or so years" is 十几年， which is more accurately "ten and a few years." This means that at the time Shen Qingqiu formed a golden core, he had been at Cang Qiong Mountain for around 10-15 years, but likely no longer or shorter than that.

This tells us quite a bit already-- because we know that Shen Qingqiu only reached core formation after becoming peak lord, as well as after Luo Binghe had already become a disciple:

Luo Binghe was using the incorrect cultivation manual that Shen Qingqiu had handed him; he should have long since died bleeding from the seven apertures, his body rupturing down to his bones, skin, meridians, tendons, and flesh... Shen Qingqiu was filled with paranoia; he forever felt like everyone was secretly talking behind his back, discussing how he’d been unable to attain Core Formation even after this long. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So this tells us that it could not have been any longer than around 15 years between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe joining Cang Qiong Mountain, and was likely at least a few years less than that because it has already been awhile since Luo Binghe was given the fake manual, which likely occured shortly after he arrived, and Shen Qingqiu reaches core formation at some point after this scene.

This means that the Qing generation's ascenscion likely occured no more than ten years after Shen Qingqiu joined the sect-- putting the ages for Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan respectively at roughly twenty-six and twenty-nine when they became peak lords.

The timeline can be clarified further and expanded, however, due to the spacing of the IAC. We know that the IAC occured when Luo Binghe was seventeen, and that it occurs every four years-- meaning that there would have been IAC taking place also when he was thirteen, nine, five, one, and three years before he was born.

However, we also know that it had not actually been fourteen years since Luo Binghe's birth at the start of SVSSS.

In the translation, Luo Binghe says the following when Shen Qingqiu asks his age:

“This disciple is fourteen,” Luo Binghe obediently replied. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

However, the original says:

洛冰河乖巧地道：“弟子虚岁十四。”

"虚岁" here would be better translated as "nominal age." In ancient times, a child was one year old on the day of their birth, and aged up by one year with each new year-- so if a child was born the day before the new year, then at two days old he would already be counted as two years old. Sometimes, this would be counted on the spring festival new year, but other times it would be counted on the winter solstice.

As for Luo Binghe's precise chronological age, that is up for some determination. We know roughly the time of year he was born:

Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year... (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

The "coldest days of the year" here is 数九寒天, which refers to the nine periods of nine days each following the winter solstice. The winter solstice typically occurs on December 20-21, meaning that Luo Binghe's birth date is somewhere between December 20-March 12. If nominal age is being counted by winter solstice in this world, then that makes him chronologically thirteen at the start of SVSSS, but if it is calculated by the spring festival, then he is chronologically either twelve or thirteen at the start of SVSSS, as the Chinese new year can fall anywhere between January 21 - February 21, meaning that LBH could have been born either before or after this time.

So, let's just say that LBH's chronological age, for the purposes here, is thirteen, and then adjust our IAC timeline as follows：

There was one when he was chronologically sixteen, twelve, eight, four, the year he was born, and four years before he was born.

Now, how does this help us determine a timeline?

Well, we have the following statement:

Yue Qingyuan’s knuckles slowly brushed along Xuan Su’s hilt. “I was able to meet Senior Su Xiyan once at an Immortal Alliance Conference, many years ago." (7 Seas, Ch. 18)

Because we know that Su Xiyan died when Luo Binghe was born, we know that this meeting could not have occured at any conferences after his birth. It also would be unlikely that they met the same year Luo Binghe was born, as Su Xiyan would likely already be dead at that point if LBH was born after the new year. So, the latest that Yue Qingyuan could have met Su Xiyan would be twenty years before Luo Binghe was thrown into the Abyss.

We now combine this with the earlier discussion of the ages of Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan, and here I will note the following:

Yue Qingyuan slowly said, “At age fifteen, I entered Qiong Ding Peak." (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

This puts Yue Qingyuan roughly three years older than Shen Jiu:

“When [Shen Jiu] was twelve years old, he was but a slave my family had purchased from traveling child traffickers. " (7 Seas, Ch. 6)

Shen Jiu joined Cang Qiong Mountain at sixteen:

Liu Qingge didn’t even grace him with a sideways glance. “But certainly more success than a nobody who only began proper cultivation at age sixteen.” (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

This happened most likely directly after reuniting with Yue Qingyuan at an Immortal Alliance Conference. This puts Yue Qingyuan's age at nineteen during that conference, at which point he is head disciple, and has already gained some fame. However, this reunion has to occur before Luo Binghe's birth, Su Xiyan's death, and Tianlang-jun's defeat. This is because at this point, Yue Qingyuan has only been in Cang Qiong Mountain for four years-- thus, this particular conference is almost certainly the first one he has taken part in, and likely the first one he has attended at all, since a brand-new disciple in early stages of training most likely wouldn't have gone, therefore if Tianlang-jun had already been sealed by this point, Yue Qingyuan would not have had the chance to meet Su Xiyan.

So, the latest Shen Qingqiu could have joined Cang Qiong Mountain, at age 16, is twenty years before the Abyss, which would put him at age thirty-six at the youngest at that time.

Now, what about additional conference cycles?

It's possible that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan and/or after which Shen Qingqiu joined CQM may have been the one before this-- but that would also add four additional years to the time SQQ had been cultivating.

The earliest that Luo Binghe could have joined CQM would be when he was a little over ten years old, as that is when his mother dies:

On the bed lay a haggard old woman. With great effort, she tried to prop herself up, but from beginning to end, she was unable to do so. A small figure rushed in from outside. A tender-faced Luo Binghe, only a little over ten years old, supported the woman. Around his neck hung that jade pendant. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Shen Qingqiu had not reached core formation when Luo Binghe joined the sect. This means that if the IAC where SQQ joined the sect was four years before Luo Binghe's birth, then by the time Luo Binghe joins the sect it has been about fourteen to fifteen years since SQQ began cultivating.

Adding an additional four years would bump that to eighteen to nineteen years, which exceeds the "ten and some" years that SQQ took to reach core formation.

In my opinion, this also tells me that LBH joined CQM when he was absolutely no older than ten or eleven, and likely went to join immediately after his mother's death, because pushing LBH's join date later would also stretch the timeline of SQQ's cultivation. Now, this part does not specify whether the ten years old is nominal age or chronological age-- but because LBH's age of seventeen at the conference is referenced to his nominal age of fourteen, with a distance between of three years, then I am considering all age-numbers to be nominal age rather than chronological. This only really matters in regards to Luo Binghe for this analysis, though, as his birth year is the only one which has bearing on the timeline in regards to Su Xiyan's status.

With all of this information, we can determine with good confidence that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan was the same conference during which he reunited with Shen Qingqiu, which occured four years before Luo Binghe was born and twenty years before the Endless Abyss.

So because of this, we actually do have a relatively precise timeline of characters' ages, as well as events in the cultivation world.

This short timeline is also supported by the fact that Ming Fan is the most senior of Shen Qingqiu's disciples, and he is only sixteen, about 2-3 years older than Luo Binghe:

A youth around sixteen years old, tall and thin, promptly ran in through the door. “This disciple is here. What instructions does Shifu have?” (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

Had the Qing generation ascended too many years prior to Luo Binghe's joining the sect, it would be strange that the most senior disciple of Shen Qingqiu's was only sixteen, as in xianxia a disciple typically will not "graduate" at a certain age or cultivation stage, meaning that older disciples will maintain their role well into adulthood.

As for the rest of the peak lords, we have little to no information regarding the ages of Wei Qingwei, Qi Qingqi, or Mu Qingfang. However, we do know that Liu Qingge is quite young, and joined the sect both at an optimal age and a significant length of time before Shen Qingqiu:

At this point, Liu Qingge’s formal ascension to Bai Zhan Peak Lord, too, had likely only happened a couple years ago. There was a visible air of immaturity about his features, his gaze fierce and sharp, and within his every action was a young man’s spirited vigor. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

and

Therefore, even though he’d entered the sect quite some time after Liu Qingge, because Qing Jing Peak was ranked second—only below Qiong Ding Peak—while Bai Zhan Peak was ranked seventh, Liu Qingge still had to address Shen Qingqiu as “Shixiong,” if through gritted teeth. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So, Liu Qingge is likely a year or two younger than Shen Qingqiu, but not by too much, since they still behave very much like contemporaries as teenagers-- let's say that Liu Qingge is likely around 14-15 when Shen Qingqiu joins the sect at age 16.

The other peak lord we know a bit about the age of is Shang Qinghua:

The older-than-average outer disciple Shang Qinghua, who currently occupied a seventeen-year-old body, looked around in all directions as he trailed behind the main team, who were unloading goods from the ship onto the docks. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

He is seventeen here, and an outer disciple of An Ding Peak. We can place this a bit more definitively on the timeline by the fact that Shen Qingqiu is already a head disciple at this point in time:

“What I don’t know is how Shen Qingqiu got chosen as head disciple after starting cultivation so late,” said another outer disciple who’d joined Cang Qiong Mountain at an older age, his expression sour. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Unfortunately, we cannot place the exact point in time where Shen Qingqiu became head disciple-- one possibility is that it couldn't have happened until after Tianlang-jun's defeat, which occured about four years after he joined the sect, since he did not participate in the battle. But that is a weak argument, since none of the current generation besides Yue Qingyuan participated in that battle:

Of the current peak lords, only Yue Qingyuan had participated in that battle, as the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. (7 Seas, Ch. 17)

If using this argument, then that would mean that aside from Yue Qingyuan, none of the other peak lords had been chosen as head disciples at that time-- while that is a possibility, I think that a more feasible explanation would be that Yue Qingyuan was an exception, and participated in the battle specifically because of his wielding Xuan Su.

One thing we can extrapolate, however, is that Shang Qinghua was most likely an inner disciple for at least three years before the Qing generation's ascension. This is because of the following:

One day, Shang Qinghua’s concise Great System delivered a new command: Become the An Ding Peak head disciple within three years. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Now, it is somewhat loose evidence, as there is nothing to say that "three years" means for certain that the ascension would occur three years from that point, but it does mean that it occured no earlier than that. By now, Shang Qinghua has already been an inner disciple for some time, long enough to have been assisted by Mobei-jun a few times and to have gone on several missions-- most likely around a few months to a year or so at minimum.

Of course, how long has passed between Shen Qingqiu joining the sect and this point? Well, since Shen Qingqiu is still described as a youth:

Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Because of this description, I would say that Shen Qingqiu is most likely between seventeen and his early twenties, since it isn't particularly likely that he would become head disciple in less than a year after joining the sect. Of course, within this age range, there is one important event that occurs-- the battle of Bai Lu mountain, which would have occured when Shen Qingqiu was twenty and Yue Qingyuan was twenty-three.

Now, this gets into more of a speculation than anything else-- just before this point, Mobei-jun attacked Huan Hua Palace and the An Ding Peak disciples. If the battle of Bai Lu Mountain had already occured, it would have happened no more than a few years earlier. We also know that there is a tentative truce between the demon realm and the cultivation world:

This suggestion was solid. For many years, the Human and Demon Realms had maintained an uneasy balance and had yet to drop the pretense of peace. Eliminating Sha Hualing and her mob wouldn’t be impossible, but it would likely light a fuse. The demons definitely wouldn’t let her death go unanswered, and it wouldn’t be worth it if they stirred up an even greater conflict. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

I suspect that this pretense of peace was likely set in place after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, when the demon realm had just lost their ruler.

Since just a short time had happened since the demons' defeat and a likely truce between the realms, I find it unlikely that Mobei-jun, a prominent member of demonic nobility, at this time would be actively antagonizing the cultivation world by attacking Huan Hua Palace and Cang Qiong Mountain. Now, of course, there is a potential alternate storyline that this is exactly what happened, and Mobei-jun went rogue as an act of lashing out, and that interpretation would be perfectly valid on its own.

Personally, though, I believe that Shang Qinghua's meeting with Mobei-jun occured before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, while the cultivation world and demon world were in the tense state on the edge of war. This means that Shang Qinghua most likely became an inner disciple when Shen Qingqiu was around 17-19 years old.

With this information, we can determine some relative ages:

Yue Qingyuan is three years older than Shen Qingqiu, who is a little older than Liu Qingge. Because Shang Qinghua was seventeen when Shen Qingqiu was already head disciple, it is most likely that he is around Liu Qingge's age, give or take a few years, as it is not particularly likely (though potentially possible) for Shen Qingqiu to have gone from new disciple to head disciple in the space of a single year.

Aside from these four, there are no other ages that can be determined for the peak lords.

With all of this information, a fairly decent timeline can be created. Characters' ages will be listed with each notable year.

《 THE TIMELINE 》

*counted up to the start of SVSSS. If using this timeline, keep in mind that the earliest and latest notes for date ranges can overlap-- do not accidentally have a disciple join the sect before the current peak lords ascend, or have SQH become head disciple after ascension! Dates with ranges are colored green (earliest) and red (latest).

Earlier than -21 YR

LQG: <;10-11

(earliest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-21 YR

LQG: 10-11, SQQ: 12, YQY: 15, QHT: <16, QJL: 16

Shen Jiu sold to Qiu Jianluo

Yue Qi joins Cang Qiong Mountain

--IAC--

-19 YR

LQG: 12-13, SQQ: 14, YQY: 17

(earliest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

-18 YR

LQG: 13-14, SQQ: 15, YQY: 18, QHT: <19, QJL: 19

(latest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

Shen Jiu kills Qiu Jianluo and burns down Qiu Manor

Shen Jiu becomes Wu Yanzi's disciple

(earliest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(earliest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

(latest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-17 YR

LQG: 14-15, SQQ: 16, YQY: 19

(latest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(latest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

--IAC--

Yue Qingyuan meets Su Xiyan

Shen Jiu kills Wu Yanzi and joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-16 YR

LQG: 15-16, SQH: 15-17, SQQ: 17, YQY: 20

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(earliest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

-14 YR

MF: 2, LQG: 17-18, SQH: 17-19, SQQ: 19, YQY: 22

(latest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(latest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(earliest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(earliest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

-13 YR

NYY: <1, LBH: 1, MF: 3, LQG: 18-19, SQH: 18-20, SQQ: 20, YQY: 23

(latest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(latest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(latest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

Luo Binghe is Born

Su Xiyan Dies

(earliest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

--IAC--

-11 YR

NYY: 2-3, LBH: 3, MF: 5, LQG: 20-21, SQH: 20-22, SQQ: 22, YQY: 25

(earliest***) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-9 YR

NYY: 4-5, LBH: 5, MF: 7, LQG: 22-23, SQH: 22-24, SQQ: 24, YQY: 27

--IAC--

-8 YR

NYY: 5-6, LBH: 6, MF: 8, LQG: 23-24, SQH: 23-25, SQQ: 25, YQY: 28

(latest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest***) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-5 YR

NYY: 8-9, LBH: 9, MF: 11, LQG: 27-28, SQH: 27-29, SQQ: 29, YQY: 32

--IAC--

(latest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

(latest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

(latest) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-4 YR

NYY: 9-10, LBH: 10, MF: 12, LQG: 28-29, SQH: 28-30, SQQ: 30, YQY: 33

Luo Binghe's adoptive mother dies

(earliest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-3 YR

NYY: 10-11, LBH: 11, MF: 13, LQG: 29-30, SQH: 29-31, SQQ: 31, YQY: 34

(latest****) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

(latest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

-2 YR

NYY: 11-12, LBH: 12, MF: 14, LQG: 30-31, SQH: 30-32, SQQ: 32, YQY: 35

(latest*****) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-1 YR

NYY: 12-13, LBH: 13, MF: 15

--IAC--

Year 0

NYY: 13-14, LBH: 14, MF: 16

SVSSS Begins

-----

This timeline operates under the following conditions. For some of these conditions, alternatives are discussed in the post above-- if you wish to use any of the alternative calculations, then you're more than welcome to adjust the timeline as applicable for your own use!

"Years" are counted from the first day of the spring festival/Chinese new year, rather than January 1

All character ages are nominal ages, so they were born in the year they are counted as age "1"

Luo Binghe was born after the new year, and so his nominal age is only about one year higher than chronological.

Shang Qinghua met Mobei-jun before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain

The system's time limit for SQH does reference the time of the Qing generation's ascension

The Immortal Alliance Conference takes place roughly in the middle of the year. Based on the fact that it is warm enough for the disciples to dip their feet into a stream and find that pleasant, it would make sense for the IAC to occur in a warmer season (Ch. 4)

Further References and Footnotes:

*Yue Qi was in the Lingxi Caves for more than one year and Qiu Manor had already been destroyed by the time he got out (Ch. 21)

**The birth of Luo Binghe occured a few days after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain. Depending on when LBH was born, it could be at the end of year -13 or the first few days of year -12 (Ch. 21)

***We do not know the earliest a child can join Cang Qiong Mountain, even though the appropriate age for cultivation most likely cuts off somewhere around 15 (due to YQY joining at that age and no comments about him being "too old"). For the purposes of this timeline, I am setting the absolute youngest to age 5, but more realistically a disciple wouldn't join until age 8-10 at the earliest.

****It is unknown whether the only time that disciples can join Cang Qiong Mountain is during the recruitment trials. Therefore, there remains a possibility for Ning Yingying to have joined the sect in the same year as Luo Binghe, but at some point before the recruitment trials due to connections. This can potentially be supported by Shen Jiu joining after the IAC, but at the same time, it is not confirmed that SJ joined CQM immediately, or if he had to wait until the next recruitment trial, so there is no clear canon precedent-- nonetheless, it is still possible. Note that Ning Yingying can only join at this late point if Luo Binghe joins at age 11, and after her. The only hard requirement is that NYY joined at some point before LBH.

*****I have placed this as the absolute latest time SQQ could have formed a golden core because this puts him at having been cultivating for sixteen years. It is a bit of a stretch already , but I don't think that "ten and a few" years could really be any longer than this. It is also worth noting that by the time SQQ reaches core formation, every other peak lord has already done so, with Yue Qingyuan first, Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi next, and Shang Qinghua most likely last (Ch. 24)

Please let me know if you notice any errors in calculation, formatting, or missing details! This was quite substantial so there's a good chance I may have missed something.

Some of the points in this analysis and timeline calculations were brainstormed with the help of @zykamiliah , @cum-villain , @furbygoblinxiv . Many thanks!

#svsss #canon examined #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #svsss timeline #resource

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somewhereincairparavel · 2 months

Text

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 part one..

Note: I've never done a pjo hcs post like this with the aesthetic pictures and everything- but I've been Itching to make a daughter of Neptune one, since I consider myself as a Neptune child. So this is sort of a self insert haha, and I thought it'd fun cuz I have so many hcs abt this, I've only over seen ppl do a daughter of Poseidon one.

Also this one has reader x Jason Grace as romantic pairings, but it isn't the main focus. Like I said, this is a self insert, and I love my bb jason ;) + imagine having Percy as a big brother, goals fr

• Okay so you'd come to Camp Jupiter at the age of 8-9, so you definitely have a considerable amount of childhood before you came to camp. Which only made it harder for you to adapt to the barbaric ways the Roman camp worked.

• Also, Since Neptune was not a very respected Roman god, your arrival was considered bad luck. Octavian made you go through an intense trial (that motherfucker was like 10 years old and an augur, and was already such a bitch lol) + forced a newly elected praetor Reyna (who was also just 10 at the time) to hold a senate meeting before you were even offered a position at camp.

• Neptune is very feared by the romans though, since he represented the harsh brutality of the ocean, so you got the Roman Nico di Angelo treatment from camp. Everyone was scared of you, flinched when you walked passed them. this was to your advantage tho, since you never got bullied, mostly out of fear.

• so Neptune temples in Camp Jupiter are only taken care of by you, if you left for a quest or something then the shrines would be in such a horrible state, bc no one cares enough to offer Neptune anything or even clean up his shrine. You'd do the cleaning and offering.

• and the worst part? Your dad wouldn't even notice you even after your efforts.

• okay, your powers are quite similar to Percy's butt I feel like since Roman/Greek siblings always have powers that compliment eachother, you'd have better control over the earthly side of the domain. Like you can cause longer earthquakes, control seismic waves, and make volcanos erupt + cause bigger avalanches, Stuff like that.

• Your water control was actually a little limited, up until Percy arrived and helped you enhance your powers. And you helped enhance his control over earthquakes, since his earthquakes usually only lasted for a few seconds, his dad is more water dominant. So when you met him, you knew he was a missing puzzle piece in your life. You'd even be able to communicate telepathically to Percy underwater, a power you both never knew you needed.

• Seriously tho it would be hilarious to look at, bc to the others, you both sound like squeaky dolphins but in reality you are just telepathically speaking with one another. The others wouldn't understand, and poor Frank would be so confused as to why you both are making strangled fish noises

Leo would troll you guys so bad for this lol

• your eyes would actually be black. Not blue, not sea green, just black. Your eyes would literally glitter like black obsidian rocks. because Poseidon is the calm side of ocean, hence sea green eyes for Percy, Neptune is the dark and scary side of the ocean, so that's black eyes for you. that difference would clearly reflect in your guys's eye colours AND personality (I'll expand on this more in part 2)

• but your scariness comes with a downside, you had no friends. No friends, except Jason and Reyna. it's just your dad's naturally strict aura surrounding you that makes your overall personality a Lil grumpy and moody tbh. You did have such a resting bitch face that wasn't helping either.

• Jason, being the noble boy he was, knew you were going to be his friend the moment you made a dramatic entrance to camp for the first time, getting scouted by the waves to New Rome. He knew what it was like to have a powerful, scary dad, but he acknowledged and empathized that you had it harder than he did. He was considered a golden boy, while you were considered a scary bad luck charm. But regardless of that, Jason was your first best friend. And eventually, your boyfriend.

• Reyna on the other hand, badly wanted to befriend you because she admired your mental strength, you were 9 years old and you were openly scoffed at by the legionnaires simply because your father was a scary man. Yet you handled it all so well. But she befriended you a little later than Jason did. Since she was so busy, she barely had any time to chat with anyone. You, Jason and Reyna bonded as a trio when you guys had your first quest.

• Reyna secretly shipped you and Jason from the very beginning lol, bc a Jupiter x Neptune union? Y'all were powerful and cute af together. The mutual pining drives her crazy though, like kiss already smh.

• Also, Nicknames! Your nickname was ALWAYS "kelp head" because your hair was wavy and shaped like seaweed lol. As much as you hated to admit it, the name fit a little too well.

• okay enough with the friendship stuff, let's talk about how much that bastard Octavian makes it his mission to make your life a hellhole. It isn't even funny anymore, he hated you from the very beginning. Not only because you were considered bad luck, it's because he envied that you were a direct descendant of such a powerful God, he couldn't even handle Jason's arrival, yours was just the last straw for him. He opposes your opinions in front of the whole senate + prevents you from getting elected as Centurion + attempts to prevent you from going on quests, bc he can't handle someone else taking the glory.

• He was also the reason you were put into the unpopular twelfth legion. The underdog legion. But Jason? That sweetheart made it worth being in the twelfth legion so you weren't complaining tbh.

• honestly? Octavian and you are famous in camp for your bickering though lol it's just always a back and forth between you and him, such burning rivalry and enmity. You LOVED roasting him and you were fucking great at it too. He deserved that for making you go though hell. You'd laugh like a maniac when he trips and he smirks when has the upper hand against you in senate discussions.

• Reyna is the only reason you both didn't beat eachother up at this point tbh

• once, Reyna came running up to you all panicky because Octavian went missing from camp. In response, you beamed and told her that you'd get the balloons ready in the dining hall for a grand celebration. Jason would burst out laughing lol.

• you'd steal his teddy bears and give them to younger campers, asking them to hide it from octavian. So the younger campers absolutely adore you, unlike the older ones.

• you are also quite the rebel in camp, JUST like Octavian predicted you would be, when you first came to camp. It was actually written in his auguries that the new child of Neptune arrival would be always shafting the rules, since the sea can't be controlled. It's in a nature for a Neptune child to walk their own pace (lol have you seen Percy??) That gave another reason for him to hate you.

• Even some of the lares in CJ would call you an abnormal roman bc you never acted like one. You were wild and temperamental.

This rule breaking tendency you had did earn you lots of punishments that included scrubbing the whole camp with a toothbrush. But it was worth it for you. Camp Jupiter sucked. And you were already in trouble, so what's a little more, right?

• you'd sneak out at night to explore New Rome, because again, the Romans had this weird bedtime curfew like. they have rules for every. Fucking. Thing. It pissed you off so bad. They wouldn't even let you explore the city at night? They were seriously wasting the beauty of the city, You'd definitely rope Jason in to break the rules with you. Like don't be such a goody two shoes smh. I feel like that's what attracted him to you in the first place. He's a goody goody boy with such a boring life, youd just make it interesting for him.

• besides, sneaking out is SO much easier when you can fly. So Jason is your personal airplane. The Jason Grace airlines.

• okay so after all your hardwork in the legion, you'd finally get elected to Centurion, after you successfully finished a quest to retrieve a lost Roman artifact, which was formerly Jason's position and he would become a co praetor with Reyna. But you were still very much disrespected in camp tbh, it just became an internalised thing for everyone to hate you at this point, Octavian was also great at putting your reputation under dirt, but you didn't really care anymore.

• now here comes the catch, Jason and you were sort of in a half-pining half-relationship situation, Before that jerk goes missing. because neither of you knew how to confess, and camp was SO strict when it came to relationships for some reason?? Like even dating has to be lowkey.

• you and Jason are totally the grumpy x sunshine trope lol except you're the grumpy, snippy and batshit one and jason is calm, levelheaded and optimistic one.

Perfect balance. Gosh your dynamic would be so cute :(

• you'd just be grumpily stomping around while jason stalks behind you, laughing lightly. You're super short compared to him aswell, so yeah it makes it funnier.

• You were in charge of welcoming Hazel to camp, since Jason and Reyna had some serious meeting stuff about the new prophecy Octavian told them about.

• poor hazel would be scared to death while meeting you, not just bc it's you, it's bc she just came back from the dead, so this is all rlly new for her.

• That's where you met him. Nico di Angelo. You'd bond over your shared mistreatment in camp. So you became homies w him fairly quickly. He saw you as this cool big sister he could have happy meals with talking abt life.

• you would be a little curious when he keeps disappearing off to somewhere tho, you knew he was lying about where he came from.

Okay part 1 of this is done, this was so long lol, part 2 would drop later, that's where you and Percy meet and stuff.

Update: part two is out! https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746489087922520064/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part-two?source=share

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simping-overload · 2 months

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ᴀ ᴛɪᴇꜰʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴀɪʟ - ᴄʟᴏᴛʜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀɪʟ (ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ)

a/n: a tieflings tail is a 10+ chapter series involving bg3 men and a variety of scenarios with tiefling tavs tail

tags: gn tav, tailor astarion, fluff, 531 words

synopsis: Astarion makes you a sleeve for your tail to keep it warm during the winter months.

『read on ao3』

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

Over the course of your adventures with your ever-growing group, Astarion appointed himself as the tailor. Stitching together any holes and tears, he’d find in someone’s clothing.

According to him, he refuses to allow himself to be seen with people who look like disgusting hobos.

He’s mainly self-taught, but after Halsin joined the party, he’s learning from him as well. Halsin himself was taught by his mother and, along the way, picked up more unconventional tricks when he looked after the children of the Emerald Grove.

You are his test dummy to try his newly found tricks on. Though, not only because you’re his lover, but because you’re usually the one who ends up with the most tears and holes in your clothes.

Just as you were now, standing in Astarions’ tent as he patches up your clothing. Some are from old tears, and others are from completely new ones in different places.

Astarion, per usual, grumbles out his disappointments. “By the gods’ love, can you ever just not rip your clothes to shreds anytime you leave camp?”

You suppress your shrug, wanting to avoid getting jabbed with a needle again. “Sorry, Star, we both know that isn’t possible.”

Astarion scoffs, rolling his eyes as he completes the last stitch. Stepping back, he tugs on the fabric, making sure his stitches are secure, and hopefully won’t be teared for at least another few weeks.

It doesn’t seem he’s done as when he stepped away to rummage through his belongings. You stay in your spot, tail curling in curiosity. He turns back around with a long piece of cloth in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“I’m not sure what to name it but, it’s for your tail. Since winter is nearing, I wanted to make you something for your tail. Just to keep you warm.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t need one. Since you're a Tiefling, your body heat was more than enough to keep you warm during the winter months.

“Thank you, Star.”

He hummed in response, pulling the long sleeve up your tail and fastens so it won’t fall off. He left a small hole in the end for the tip of your tail to poke out, since you’ve told him before you don’t like that part of your tail being surrounded by anything since it’s the most sensitive there.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. It didn’t look bad at all. The color compliments your skin tone. Twirling and moving your tail around, you get a feel for it. It’s quite comfortable against your skin and were you more susceptible to the cold, you’d for sure be able to keep warm with this.

You hop down from the stool, turning to Astarion. “I like this a lot, love and rest assured I will keep it intact.”

Astarion snorts, grabbing your hand and pulls you to him. “You better, or I’ll make sure you wake up bloodless the next morning, hm?” He teases.

You fake an offended gasp. “You wouldn’t dare.” Leaning down, you press your forehead against his.

“Oh, love, but I would.” He giggles and places a soft kiss on your lips.

#bg3 #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion and tav #astarion x tiefling #astarion x tiefling reader #tieflings #tielfing #tieflings tail #x gn reader #x male reader #astarion x male reader

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: memories flood back of when you were younger, Eddie wants to talk but silence holds merit.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: cold before the warm

masterlist

The nub end of graphite scrawls against a crinkled back page of paper. Ripped haphazardly from a composition book labeled: Language Arts—E.M.

The yellow pencil was pocked with teeth marks, having been between a pair of teeth that weren’t yours, mind not even gathering the germs that could be harbored in the pressed wood.

Your tongue had been poked out for nearly three minutes according to the watch on Eddie’s wrist. Your brain working overtime trying to find the best phrase that would stump your friend in the game of Hangman.

The alphabet was written in a hurry on the left side of the page, parallel to the hanging post. Beneath that were evenly scratched dashes on the blue printed line, waiting for their companion of letters to be filled by Eddie’s correct guesses.

Putting the pencil down with a satisfying smack, you look up from your masterpiece confidently.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Eddie chomps a piece of Big Red loud between his teeth, unhooking his tangled feet from underneath himself and stretching out his skinny legs, jeans from the previous school year hacked into shorts for the summer, “took long enough.”

You make a face and flip him a suggestive finger, the nail chipped and painted pink from the last time your neighbor Michelle let you play with her nail polish, and in return you listened to her gab about her boyfriend while she combed her hair like Marcia Brady.

“Don’t be a poor loser because you’ve lost the last four games, Clove.”

He laughs when your eyebrows turn into a pout, the heel of your worn sneaker kicking into his. The same black pair of converse, yours a few sizes smaller, faded and tattered, fitting your feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the arch of your foot, years of wear accustomed to another’s foot print that belonged to the boy across from you.

Letters are guessed and lines filled in. Eddie insists that you make the hangman have a face complete with nose, mouth and eyes realizing that he is close to eating his words from earlier.

“Would you like the hangman to be wearing socks and a hat?” You ask honestly, hiding a smirk behind the paper.

Eddie scoffs, working a bite mark into his bottom lip as he racks his brain for what kind of dumb phrase you conjured up, “I quit on terms that you’re a cheater.”

The insult was harsh, not worse than the words that you heard around your kitchen table or ones that ricocheted off the thin walls when you were on the cusp of dreaming. No, this word hurt. Stung into your skin like a wasp, repeating its terror until you were swollen and skin ached of heat.

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging to your lashes ready to drop. The paper clenched in your fist as you shoved it under Eddie’s nose, proving your innocence.

“I am not!”

“Sure you are,” he takes the paper from you, folding it roughly into an uneven shape and shoving it between the couch cushions behind him, “Cheatin’ Clove. Has a nice little ring to it doesn’t it?”

Before Eddie can say anymore, a can of Coca Cola is thrown at his head hitting him with a thud, followed by your whimpers and the sound of your feet clapping against the dirty linoleum.

“Clove! ow! Wait!”

The screen door scratched your palms as you twisted it open. Jumping from the stairs and landing hard in the dirt, you didn’t bother bringing your bike home. Choosing to run the short distance instance instead, shutting the front door with a heavy slam.

Tears soaked your pillowcase before you drifted to sleep, curled up on top of the patchwork quilt on your bed.

Eddie.

His name was trapped in your mouth, dry along your tongue, unable to force its way out.

He was a ghost to you, memories that were buried and dormant were now flooding back at full speed, pinging around your brain firing each nerve tucked away deep, landing you a migraine behind your eyes.

Seven years.

Seven fucking years, since you had seen those doe shaped eyes, brown muddied colors still lost in a child’s innocence and wonderment— barely aged from the last time you had seen him. That memory burned into your retinas, like fuel to a pained flame.

His hair was longer, well past his shoulders now, fringe of his bangs still thick on his forehead. His knuckles were covered in tattoos, the little you can see of his neck is also full of dark wisps of ink.

He says your nickname, the one only he knew. A joke between best friends.

You try to open your mouth, fighting like hell to will anything to come out, but nothing does, the words choke against your throat, caught against each other in a tangled string of sharp edges.

“uh— I—E..”

His eyes grew bigger than they already were, waiting for you to say something, anything. It was as if time stood still, all the pain from years prior coming back.

Images of Eddie, his smile, the bloody gash on his knee from his longboard, small memories, painful ones that could bring someone less strong to their knees: all flash behind your eyes.

The pain from all those years ago was searing through you like a knife. Memories that you kept buried away were suddenly throttling you like they had just happened, the wounds that were licked clean were now fresh and open, blood flowing freely.

Before hot tears can spill down your face, you spin wildly on your heel, walking fast and turning back to the bar. The tray slamming onto the back counter with a loud bang, snapping.

Your breath was erratic, heart racing. Whatever lingering high you had was gone. Emotions you hadn’t felt in years coursing through you demanding to be felt.

Why was he back?

You didn’t know the purpose of his return to Hawkins, only registering how hurt you felt that he was. The day he left still stung your spine, sending shivers all over your body.

Did he ever think of you? In the seven years he had been gone did you bleep on his radar even once?

Hanging your head your fingers tap nervously on the lacquered wood, trying to calm yourself down before you work yourself up anymore than you already were.

“Be right back,” you called over your shoulder to Jolene, head down walking fast to the cooler.

The chilled air made your skin prick with goosebumps but you couldn’t care, the only thing you could feel was your heart shattering to pieces all over again.

The floor was cold under your body, shelves and beer boxes held you up as you fell apart. Deep shuddering breaths in and winded ones out, you don’t wipe the tears as they free fall down the apples of your cheeks—dragging black eyeliner and mascara with them til they trickle from your chin.

The callus of your life made it hard to feel, even harder to cry. But once the gate was open, it was challenging to close. A dam of pent up emotions broke free out of you like an angry flood, full of irreparable damage, forgotten feelings and an exploding heart. Taking with it years of questions, hopes and dreams.

Scenery wasn’t the only thing that was altered in his time away. You evolved, having to peel off layers of naivety and fear. Would he care if he knew?

Wiping another sludge of wet makeup from under your eyes you catch the tattoo on your hand.

It burned on your skin. Prickling like it hadn’t been ten years since you’d gotten it. Years that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

It practically was.

The boy who did them was long gone, and the man in his place was someone you didn’t even know.

—

It was you.

The only person in all of Hawkins who made it bearable. What should have been a joyful reunion was clouded over with painful memories. Of course there were good ones, but mostly the bad out weighed anything happy.

You had always been the little bit of sunshine that broke through on a cloudy day, the only person he trusted with silly secrets, trusted with anything.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were here. Not just in Hawkins. But working here.

A surge of rage filled his stomach but was quickly washed out by pain as you stomped away, looking as if you had seen a ghost, a part of your past that you didn’t want to remember.

Was that what he was to you? A painful memory, one that was more sour than everything else that happened?

Jeff’s voice is muffled in his ears, as if he’s trying to speak underwater. He can’t wrap his head around this whole thing. The guilt eating him alive.

Eddie clears his throat and takes a generous sip of beer, trying to stop his hands from shaking, chilled sweat creeping down his back. He fiddles with a napkin, ripping the end into small shreds and rolling them up like a kid would for a spit wad.

He could map out every scar on your arms and legs, tell anyone the exact color of your eyes, in sunlight and in a dark room. He knew your favorite song, that you were afraid of the dark and that your front teeth didn’t come in for almost three months after he had helped you pull them out.

You had taught him how to hang upside down on the monkey bars behind the trailer park. He taught you how to play his guitar, and if he thought hard enough he could remember the smell of your shampoo.

You were everything to him.

Bestfriends since the cradle, made up handshakes and secrets sworn to the grave. But years, tear spilled miles and the guilt of broken promises wedged a distance between you.

One that couldn’t be made better by the letters he sent that went unanswered. And it definitely wouldn’t get fixed in one random night when fate lead him to this fucking dump, back under your nose.

It hurt not seeing the sparkle in your eyes, but he could only blame himself.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Jeff motions for Eddie to lean in, doing so he jerks his head to the bar where you are standing stone-still hovering over a counter with your back turned to them. “She looked familiar, right? Did she go to school with us?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to shove down his emotions with another gulp of beer, “she did.”

Jeff leans back, “Chloe? Cassie, Chasity… no. Claire? Shit what was her name?”

Eddie’s eyes fell to the smudgy tattoo, he rubs his thumb over the ink, “Clove.”

“That’s right!” clapping his hands together, “knew it was something weird.”

Eddie let himself smile. Small and weak, his lip ticking up on one side. He rubbed the tattoo again, remembering that day like it was yesterday.

—

The summer breeze blows hotly through the makeshift curtains, sending the loose paper on the dresser scattering like desert tumbleweeds across Eddie’s bedroom floor, joining the litter of car magazines and unwashed clothes taking up space in the tiny room.

“gotta sit still Slick, or this won’t work.”

You were biting through your lip, trying to muffle a cry from breaking out, “ow..it hurts!”

It was your idea to get matching tattoos with your best friend, and it was Eddie who said he could do them no problem. He had already tattooed a heart on Dave with his girlfriend's name through the center last month—never mind that she dumped him a week later. The sobs coming from trailer 11 didn’t ever seem to end.

“Well yeah,” Eddie chuckles, clearing his throat and puffing behind a cigarette, “what did you expect it would be done with? A marker?”

Your right hand rested on his bent knee for precision. The other was clamped tight over your eyes in hopes that if you didn’t see how it was done, it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

The warmth of your sweaty nervous palm on his jeans felt hot, as if you were being burnt alive. But, despite the pain from the needle going in and out of your skin, Eddie was gentle.

His shoulder provided comfort as you leaned your head onto it, slowly wetting his shirt with your tears. You curl your body into his side, knees stabbing into his ribs, head pressed tight to the side of his neck, hand fisting the sleeve of his shirt for support as you intake a sharp breath when he finishes the curve of the dainty heart.

“Need a break?” he asks, setting the needle down on the carpet, rubbing a pattern with his thumb on your hand. “I made some Kool-Aid yesterday, your favorite kind.”

Lynyrd Skynyrd plays softly in the background and Eddie strums along on your palm to the guitar solo.

Muffled against his cotton shirt, your voice is hoarse from the tears, “orange?”

He chuckles around a cloud of smoke, “hell yeah, picked some up yesterday morning before my shift, got a few packets for your place too, I know how much Lolly likes it.”

“Speaking of,” you uncross your legs to stand, “I gotta go check on her.”

Eddie stands up with you, a whole head taller than you were, you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and slot it into your own, inhaling the tobacco expertly into your lungs as you examine the small tattoo on your skin.

“‘m not done yet, but what do ya think?”

Blood and ink were smeared around it messily, but it looked identical to the one he had on his left hand, yours only missing the clover.

A smile stretches across your lips and you feel the burn of tears from in your eyes, “it’s perfect, Eddie.”

He opens his bedroom door, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth and squishing it into the heaping ashtray on his nightstand. “you really think so?” he whispers.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!”

He blows his lips in a raspberry, long legs walking down the dingy carpet hallway to the kitchen, “let those prissy bitches try to pick on you now… nobody wants to fight someone with tattoos.”

The girls at school weren’t nice in elementary school and they somehow got nastier with every year. You went from being “stinky girl” to “trailer skank” overnight.

A far cry from any sort of originality, but that’s how Hawkins was, ruled by the dim and dumb, daddy’s bank account used as a hierarchy status.

You always brushed them off, keeping mostly to yourself and to your best friend. Eddie took it upon himself to conjure up a frenzied retort that would have them scoffing in disgust.

With Eddie, nothing else mattered, he didn’t care if your clothes didn’t fit right, or if your ponytail looked scraggly. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. You were just two neglected trailer park kids, but to him, you were important.

“You're an artist Eddie, could probably make a lot of money doing this someday.”

The idea fell silent between you, both knowing in your hearts what path your life would lead you down. Stuck in the nightmare of what went on behind the thin walls in the trailer park.

Peering over the counter you can see Lolly. Sleeping just as soundly as she had when you laid her down. The stolen playpen from the yard sale on Cornwalis turned out to be worth the uncomfortable bike ride back to Forest Hills with Eddie standing on his pedals and you on the handlebars holding onto dear life as he raced back home.

Her chubby cheeks were pressed against the yellow floral sheet, little curls twisted into two tiny pigtails, milk dribbling slow from her puckered lips.

You smile at the sight of such innocence, wishing that you too were unaware of what life was actually like, and knowing that you would do anything to keep your little sister safe from this reality for as long as possible.

“Can’t believe she cried that long, usually she loves pb&j’s..” Eddie points to your head, trying not to laugh, “you still have peanut butter in your hair by the way.”

Lolly had thrown every last bit of her sandwich in a temper tantrum fueled by a lack of sleep. Her aim being perfect with you as her target.

Twenty minutes with your head under the bathroom sink and Eddie cackling as he squeezed shampoo on your head apparently wasn’t enough to get the sticky treat out.

“Little shit,” you huff, a smirk on your lips, turning to the fridge, and reaching for the sugary orange drink from the shelf, shutting the door with your hip, “think she might be cuttin’ some teeth at least that’s what Patty said last time she babysat.”

Eddie reached for the plastic cups that were nabbed from Benny’s after one of his busboy shifts, holding them steady as you poured the juice.

Only spilling a little, you lifted the end of your shirt to mop the counter up. “Kids are weird,” Eddie says, smacking his lips with an orange mustache after a long swig, “remind me never to have ‘em.”

Snorting through your nose you swallow harshly, a quirk to your eyebrow, “having kids is totally normal, all of our neighbors do.”

He thought quietly before speaking again, “yeah, and nobody is ever around..” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna leave here someday, you and me.”

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, Slim.”

Eddie talked crazy like this sometimes. Always dreaming bigger than you could even fathom. Head permanently stuck in the clouds, wishing, hoping for something better than the cards you were both dealt. But you on the other hand, your feet, in hand-me-down shoes, never left the ground.

His voice was stern when he spoke to you, eyes pleading, and you had never heard him like that before.

“I’m serious, I’ll die before I stay here,” he moves forward, holding your biceps as he looks down at you, dark eyes wide, almost wild, “I promise you, we won’t end up like this...okay?”

—

He couldn’t blame you for the way you reacted when your eyes met his. Seeing you tonight hurt more than he could have ever imagined it too. To be honest, he didn’t expect you to still be in Hawkins, but then again— where would you have gone?

“…you still there dude?”

Eddie’s eyes shift to Jeff, plastering a smirk to his lips to hide the pain etched so evidently on his face, “yeah, I just uh— tired I guess.”

He scanned the bar for you, still seeing your frame behind the counter, this time turned around handing a round of beers to a couple of college punks.

“How far is the drive?”

Bless Jeff for trying to keep this conversation alive, but Eddie’s mind was anywhere but here at this table.

Questions he never thought to ask, suddenly poured into his mind. Did you finish high school? Where were you living? How’s Lolly? How old is she now? How have you been?

He felt sick that he didn’t know the answer to any of them. Guilt devouring away at him like a flesh eating amoeba.

“Six—no, probably seven hundred miles.. give or take.”

Had you applied to college? Were you still living in the trailer park?

“Damn,” Jeff said, scrubbing his hands down his face, “gonna have to visit you sometime, show me around all the cool places… you ever been out to LA? My girlfriend, well ex now, we went a year ago around Christmas time she really loved...”

Although Eddie didn’t know the answers, he figured maybe Jeff would.

He shakes his head, interrupting his friend, hand raised in apology, “hey, uh wh— whatever happened to her?” He hooks a thumb in your direction in the most nonchalant way he could, even though his entire body was fidgeting in anticipation.

Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Clove? Oh umm, shit… well I think, no.. yeah no, she didn’t graduate. I remember hearing that she had dropped out, and now she works here apparently.”

A smirk forms on his lips and he points behind him to the back corner, “forgot to tell you, rumor has it this place is more than just a strip joint,” his dark eyebrows wiggle, “if y'know what I mean.”

For the first time tonight, Eddie noticed girls coming and going from the beaded doorway, vacant expressions on their smudged faces. Trailing behind were drunk men with glazed eyes and sweaty foreheads, readjusting the threads of their belts and slacks.

He scans the bar with wild eyes in search of you. Hoping and praying to whoever would listen that you weren’t a part of this. You couldn’t be.

Who is he kidding?

If you were still in Hawkins, still under the weight and scrutiny of the inner dealings that started in the trailer park, you were very much involved.

Realization hit him like a freight train. His stomach clenched and warped with the dreaded grief and guilt he still carried. Deep down he had figured this was what your life had come to. Lying to himself in thinking that you had gotten away from all of this. But seeing it firsthand, in the flesh—he couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Choking back vomit, he slides from the booth hastily, practically spilling his beer all over the table in his desperate attempt to find you.

“shit!” Jeff shouted, “dude, you alright?”

He wasn’t.

He stumbles from the table, tripping over his own boots and knocking into one of the burly bearded men at the bar, sending his drink tumbling to the ground. Glass and liquor covering the floor like the sparkle of a fresh snow.

“What’s your problem asshole!?”

His fiery red hair matched his temper, and the weathered roughness of his cheeks, “ever been inside a bar, tough guy?”

Before Eddie can whip up a witty retort, Mr. Big Red comes back for more, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the high counter of the bar, “hey honey, better stop serving this prick, he can’t handle his liquor like a real man.”

The swinging doors open and there you are again, struggling beneath the keg you’re carrying. He wanted to jump up and grab it from you, but Eddie was still pinned to the bar by the guy's hand on his bicep, tightening more and more.

Your eyes reach his and it’s like you don’t even see him.

“Agh, c’mon Mick,” you say, a warm smile on your lips, “I like ‘em nice and drunk, that’s when they tip the best.”

You set the keg down with a metallic thud on the floor, grabbing a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. The mahogany liquid pours smoothly, much like the dark eyes watching you, and heat crawls up your neck.

Sliding one towards Mick, you hold the other up by your black painted fingers, Clinking them together with a ‘cheers’ and bringing the glass to your lips, allowing your eyes to finally glance towards Eddie.

He was taller now. His shoulders, more broad, filling in the teenage lithe muscles that fit his frame then. His baby face disappeared entirely, now his chin was stretched with a sharp jaw, which was currently clenched like he was holding back anger, his throat bobbing in a dance of tattooed skin.

You swallow the liquor in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slips down your throat, the same fire that’s staring from across the counter. Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes from yours.

A twitch forms in your eyelid and you blink it away, setting the glass down hard on the wooden countertop.

You lean your body across the bar, collecting the glassware that’s accumulated since you had been hiding in the cooler. Placing them gently into the warm sudsy sink to wash before filling the small dishwasher below.

Mickey was already turned back around, talking loudly to Wendy and trying to get her to sit on his lap for five bucks. His grip on Eddie’s arm turns limp when you slide him another shot, just for good measure.

The bar is chaotic, loud and boisterous, but the air between you and Eddie is quiet, stagnant, no warmth from you. Icicles could form from your frigid silence.

He knocks his knuckles against the bar, big gaudy rings clacking along, keeping in rhythm to the music playing overhead, but you don’t give in. Don’t humor him by asking how or why he knew Rock Me Amadeus.

“Hey V,” you call out to your work partner, “get this stranger a drink before he gets a parking ticket.”

Swiveling away from him, you squat down to maneuver the keg to where it needed to go, rocking it on its rounded edge and swiveling it into place.

Veronica’s voice is cheery and dripping with sex appeal as she asks Eddie what he wants to drink, and you can’t misplace the deepness of his voice, and the polite way he tells her that he’s fine for the evening.

Cracking the top of the keg, you hook it up to the correct tap, shoving with all your might to get it in under the cabinet and slotted in properly.

Spending more time than necessary below the bar, you avoid the warm chocolate eyes waiting for you up above.

What were you supposed to say to him? Thank God you’re home? What the hell did he even want?

An ant is huddled around a spilled drop of grenadine, you watch as it collects the sticky treat—what you wouldn’t give to switch places with the insect for a few hours.

If one thing was certain you would need a little encouragement to make it through tonight and the haunting memories that shuddered through you every time you looked at Eddie.

Your purse was in the cubby over to the right, nimble fingers find the familiar plastic of the bottle, screwing off the top and clicking three pills into your hand.

A greedy palm finds your lips, your eager tongue accepting the drugged gift. Swallowing without any liquid, your spit was more than enough to coat the tablets, watering upon knowing the relief you’ll be met with.

More shouts and hollers boom through your ears, this time in celebration.

“Where’d you go sweet cheeks? Need a round, Bobby just found out his girl isn’t pregnant!”

Duty called, and you knew those dark eyes were still waiting for you, hide and seek was done for now, and in a few short minutes, you’d feel like you were flying.

Boots planted firm on the sticky tiles, you push yourself up, fully expecting a litter of questions. But when you face him, he’s quiet. Silently watching your every move.

Not in a way you’re watched by every other slimeball in this town, his eyes never once flicking over your curves or the deep v of your shirt.

Eddie was admiring the woman you’d become. The shy girl he once knew was replaced by a force to be reckoned with. Did you become that way because he left? No longer having him around to stick up for you?

He pushed out those thoughts, thoughts of you alone.

The way you fleetingly moved from drunk to drunk, collecting tips and pouring drinks, you were a natural. no longer the girl that was afraid of spiders and slept with a nightlight. What should have been a comfort in his heart stretched into an angry bruise against his soul.

Warmth riddled your face into a smirk as you dug jabs back at the guys, making them pay up front before they tried to slink away to the back rooms.

Eddie couldn’t miss how the smile never reached your eyes, that glassy lost look couldn’t fool him, another ping of guilt cutting through him like a knife.

You were elbow deep in the warm water now, fingers pruned and slicked with soap when he finally speaks. The counter had cleared up enough that he wasn’t squashed between some greasy assholes, the regulars fighting to get to the best seats closest to the stage. Tiffany on her second set of the night, her shiny heels spinning in the air to Girls, Girls, Girls.

“So I’m a stranger now?”

Your fingers slip on the smooth surface of a glass and it hits the bottom of the sink with a thud at the sound of his voice, thankfully not breaking. Looking up, the smile fades as you stare back at him, fully allowing yourself to take him all in. “what else would you be?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Slick,” his hands twirl the rings on his left hand, “a friend.”

Your laugh is filled without humor, sheer mockery as you shake your hands above the sink ridding them of suds and water.

“Friend…” the scoff is thick in your throat, swallowing a ball of vomit before you continue, “that’s rich isn’t it?”

“Clove..”

“…y’know…I had one of those once,” you say, eyes dead behind your irises, moving to the spouts of the draft beer, “at least I thought he was.”

“Can we talk?” he pleads.

“..think I’ve heard more than enough…” slapping down two heavy beers in front of him, you glare into muddy brown eyes, trying not to let yourself feel the pain in your chest, “these two are on the house.”

Without a second glance or even a fuck you, you stomp towards the dressing room, leaving him sitting alone to sit alone at the bar, and for a split second you allow yourself to feel good it. His turn to be left in the dust this time.

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#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie fan fiction #eddie fanfiction #eddie fanfic #best friend eddie

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sundrop-writes · 5 months

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From Your Lips

Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone else is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind.

Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Established Relationship. Smut, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

Word Count: 3,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is set during Season 2, Episode 15 (“Revelations”); warnings for themes/plot points from the canon episode - rabid dogs, mentions of JJ being attacked by dogs, mentions of dogs eating/killing a woman (a random woman who is not named here), animal death - mentions of JJ having to shoot the dogs (killing them) in self defence, gun violence, mentions of Reid being kidnapped (no details of that are discussed in this fic), religious themes (in this fic, religious motifs are used to encourage sexual behaviour - spoken about as though God made us to have sex with each other, not to discourage it as the Christian religion does); symptoms of shock/PTSD - JJ waves a gun in the reader’s face because she’s scared; general emotional angst, mentions of JJ blaming herself for Reid being kidnapped; mentions of blood (from JJ’s injuries); the reader is completely gender neutral - there are no identifying pronouns used for the reader (other than the ‘you’ I generally use for fics) and the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way; use of Y/N, mentions of a pre-established sexual relationship between JJ and the reader - it could be a friends with benefits situation, it could be secret lovers, it’s never quite specified; JJ is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, but there is no outright dom/sub relationship; the reader calls JJ 'Jay’, 'sweet girl’, 'sweets’, and 'good girl’; using sex to distract from one’s emotional problems; (technically) semi-public sex because they’re in the bathroom where anyone could walk in on them (but they’re not caught by anyone); kissing/heated making-out; the reader fingers JJ; neck biting/marking (JJ receiving); hair-pulling(JJ receiving); praise kink; clothed/mostly clothed sex; I believe that’s everything.

A/N: This was primarily inspired by the picture of JJ on the right. I saw it and I was like 'damn she fine’ but I knew it was from Revelations so I was like 'damn she fine but I know she’s havin a real bad time rn’ - so I did the thing I do best: smut based off emotional trauma. This is basically the scene where Emily comes to talk to her in the bathroom, but replacing Emily with a reader character and then they fuck. Also the title comes from the phrase 'from your lips to God’s ears’ because religious imagery. I had so much fun with this lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

...

You couldn’t help but to feel bad for JJ.

You knew that everyone was concerned about Reid - rightfully so. Worried about where he was, if he was alive or not. But you were the type of person who preferred to focus on the things you could control - the things right in front of you. JJ was someone you had known for long enough that you knew how to comfort her, and you pushed the ‘what-ifs’ about Reid to the back of your mind in favor of focusing on her.

You knew that she was intensely shaken up by the entire situation. Not only the fact that she had been nearly mauled by a couple of dogs, pieces of her skin torn up and marred. But it was the fact that the team knew for certain that those same dogs had ripped a woman apart only a few days ago. You knew that JJ hated being forced to shoot those dogs. She was someone with a tender heart. You knew that all of this was affecting her.

On top of all that, she was likely blaming herself for Reid being put in danger, even though there was nothing she could have done to save him.

While everyone was gathered in the main room, looking through Hankle’s things for any hint as to where he had taken Reid, you moved toward the back of the house, knowing that JJ had gone to the bathroom to ‘freshen up’. You knew her well enough to easily pick up that it was code for her needing a moment to escape from everyone else in some attempt to calm down.

The door to the bathroom was open just a crack, so you took a peek, not wanting to startle her by knocking.

You could see her hunched over the sink, stress knit through her muscles as she gripped the sides of the porcelain. You felt a twinge of guilt flow through you as the thought occurred to you - even in such a state of duress, she was so beautiful. Painted in agony or pleasure, she was gorgeous.

She looked almost angelic like this, and you hated to believe that torture looked good on someone like her. (Perhaps it was the fact that you had seen her ‘tortured’ before - sweaty and begging, half on the brink of madness as she pleaded to get your tongue between her thighs once again.)

You found your eyes admiring the sliver of skin that peeked out between her white button up and the low waist of her simple black dress pants. You found yourself wanting to actually smack yourself as a form of scolding when you couldn’t help but to admire the gentle dip of her waist and the curve of her ass.

You felt sinful for thinking such carnal thoughts, even when she was so wrought with stress, clearly so wrecked from the night’s events.

Perhaps it was the fact that you had come so close to losing her, and now that urge to possess her bubbled closer to the surface than ever. But you pushed it down as you gently nudged open the bathroom door.

When the creak of the hinges echoed through the room, you certainly did not expect to be greeted with a gun in your face.

JJ had whipped around much faster than you expected, and pointed her Bureau issued glock right at you. Clearly, she expected you to be a threat. The look in her eyes was positively wild - like a frightened animal being cornered by a fierce predator. Which of course, was something that had happened to her only a few hours before.

“JJ.” You called out her name, keeping your voice firm, trying to ground her in this reality.

Her eyes continued darting around, glancing into the hallway behind you as though she was expecting another rabid dog to suddenly appear there.

“JJ, it’s just me.” You told her, reaching up and gently easing the gun down.

She was still incredibly tense, so you reached up with your other hand and massaged along the inner part of her wrist with two fingers, getting her muscles to relax enough that she let go of the gun, dropping it into your hand. You made sure the safety was turned on before you placed the gun on the closed toilet lid. Then you turned and closed the bathroom door behind you, sealing the two of you into a quiet bubble to hopefully give her time to calm down.

JJ let out a harsh breath - a sound that was mostly a sob strangled inside of her chest. She ran her hands through her already wild hair, tears gathering in her eyes once again. She turned to face the wall and you instinctively reached out, running your hands gently across her shoulders.

One of your hands stayed as a comforting grip on her upper arm and the other rubbed an open palm up and down her back. You hoped you could soothe her in some way. You truly hated how she quivered under your touch, how you could feel those sobs trapped inside of her lungs; the echoes of cries she refused to release because she felt that she needed to put up a strong front.

“It’s so stupid.” JJ complained.

Her voice was wet with the unreleased tears as she held her head in her hands, still facing away from you. Her long blonde hair easily created a curtain around her face so that couldn’t properly see her.

“I grew up with dogs! I had dogs! I love dogs, I would never-”

“It’s not your fault, Jay.” You pressed, using your affectionate nickname for her. “When people train animals to attack like that, there’s nothing you can do.” You leaned in, gently resting your cheek on her shoulder, assuring her that you were there before you whispered the next words. “You had to shoot them.”

JJ let out a harsh whimper, clearly struggling even more now with holding back her sobs. You wanted to tell her that it would be okay to cry, but you knew that it would be useless. She was raised as the strong brick wall of a daughter in her family, and she was not used to showing weakness - especially not used to crying.

“I should have stayed with Spencer.” She announced quietly. “I shouldn’t have let him go off without backup. I should have-”

“Jay, that’s not your fault either.” You told her firmly, cutting off whatever self blaming rant she was about to go on.

She muddled in a bitter silence, her arms shaking lightly as she rocked her head back and forth - shaking her head in the negative in response to what you had said.

She had to believe it was her fault. If Spencer didn’t come back from this, her self blame would only be worse.

“JJ, look at me.” You demanded gently. She didn’t move, and you reached over and put a hand on her wrist, attempting to pull her hands away from her face. “JJ, please look at me.”

When your voice warbled out the plea, she finally wavered to your touch, and let you turn her around to face you. You caught a glimpse of the bright red stains soaked into the sleeve of her shirt, splattered up across her front, and you tried to ignore the sickly curl in your gut because of it.

You had the urge to lift her bandaged forearm up and lay a few kisses on it, like you would have kissed a child’s scraped knee - more so for the emotional comfort than any possible health benefits. But you knew that would have been more for you than for her.

So instead, you reached out, brushing past that tangled curtain of blonde to gently cup her face with both your hands. You handled her with an intensely delicate touch as you tilted her gaze up from the ground.

A few tears had managed to escape, and you brushed them away with your thumbs. JJ sniffled quietly, sounding quite small and defeated as she did so. For the first time that night, she felt a slight calm wash over her as the comfort of your presence truly settled in.

She was eternally grateful to have you there with her. She reached up and gripped onto your wrists, keeping you anchored there. She skimmed her thumbs along the top of your hands, enjoying the smooth feeling of your skin as you stared at her broken face - a tearful angel that made your heart ache for her.

You were called by the higher purpose to worship that angel - to turn her pain into pleasure.

Before you could stop yourself, you found yourself drifting toward her, leaning in and planting your lips on hers. It certainly wasn’t the first time you had kissed JJ, but it most definitely wasn’t the most opportune.

She easily returned the kiss, pressing her mouth into yours with a soft neediness. It was when she let out a small moan, the sound vibrating against your lips that you felt that sting of guilty panging at you once again. The fact that lustful heat and your grief for her were colliding so heavily inside of you made you feel like just as much of a monster as the man who had taken Reid and sicked dogs on her.

You pulled away from the kiss sharply, putting only an inch of distance between the two of you, not letting go of her cheeks. She didn’t let go of the hold she had on your wrists either - you wanted to keep her assured of your presence because she did need the comfort during this hard time.

“I’m sorry-” You gasped out an apology for kissing her so inappropriately, but JJ, ever the woman to know exactly what she wanted, didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t apologize.” She ordered sharply. “I need you.”

She kept her eyes closed, her brows tight with anguish as you gently laid your forehead against hers.

You couldn’t help but to question it.

“Now, Jay?” You asked quietly. “Right now?”

“I need to forget.” She whispered, her words so timid that her breath barely ghosted your lips, even with you so close to her.

Your heart ached at her tone, and when you didn’t reply or didn’t move to kiss her again, she continued.

“Every time I close my eyes, I just see… I just see those eyes glowing in the dark. I just hear growling.” She admitted, a few more tears escaping that you rushed to thumb away. “I need to forget it. Please, help me forget.”

“Anything for you, sweets.” You whispered, using another affectionate nickname for her.

You leaned in for another kiss, firmer this time.

You let your instincts take over then - all the lust you had been pushing down rushing to the surface and servicing you well. If she needed to forget, then you would certainly make her. You would make her feel so good that all she would be able to focus on would be the hot blood thrumming through her ears. The medicine that God intended.

You pushed her up against the edge of the sink, keeping one hand on the side of her face and moving the other to her hip. You skimmed your fingers along that tempting strip of skin right above the waistband of her low-rise pants, causing her to shiver at the teasing touch touch.

In a moment, your forceful dominance, the way you handled her easily had her moaning into your mouth again, much louder this time. You moved the hand on her cheek around to comb your fingers through her hair. You dug your knuckles in, setting a powerful grip at the base of her skull that held her exactly where you wanted her. It was a tender pain that had her gasping for you as you shoved your tongue past her lips, now on a very determined mission to fuck every last dreadful thought out of her head.

Your fingertips continued to dance along the waistband of her pants, gently teasing her skin in a great contrast to the forceful movement of your lips. Every single movement was cleverly calculated to make her mind numb. Right down to the way you tugged at her hair and yanked on her bottom lip with your teeth as you pulled away from the kiss, leaving her panting wildly.

Her eyes were closed much more gently this time, her eyelids fluttering lightly, and you hoped that you had already reduced those nightmarish visions to dust as she relaxed into your touch, buttery under your fingers as always.

“Thank you,” JJ breathed out, her voice sweet as ever as you bit a path down her neck. You wanted to leave noticeable marks that would stand out among the scratches and bumps she had acquired that night.

You truly didn’t care if anyone else on the team spotted one of those marks and knew what it was. You were paying tribute to her, leaving your own kind of thank you on her neck as you sucked the soft skin between your teeth. Your fingers finally found the button of her pants and easily popped it open blind, pulling the zipper down in a moment. Without a second of hesitation, you shoved your fingers past the barrier of her simple cotton underwear.

With one last sharp bite, you moved your head back up from the crevice of her neck then, pressing your forehead against hers once again. You kept that tight grip on the back of her hair, a small hinge of pain that grounded her, that assured her you were there.

Your fingers easily found her clit, and you made the bold choice to begin rubbing her without wetting your fingers first. You knew that it would be a pleasurable sting that would certainly push any other thoughts from her mind.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N-”

JJ gasped, arching her hips away from the edge of the sink to meet your touch, her lips falling open beautifully and her eyes still so gently fallen shut. She looked so fucking angelic like this.

More tears kissed her lashes as you pressed harder on her clit, moving your fingers in hard, slow circles. You could assure yourself that these were tears from pleasure, not from anguish or pain. You had rewritten the stony hurt inside her muscles, rethreading the cords tight with the need for an orgasm where they were previously pulled tight with stress.

“Please!” She begged so beautifully when she wanted to.

It felt like its own unique reward to know that you were one of the only people that all powerful Jennifer Jareau ever begged to.

You felt her becoming wetter around your fingers, flooding her underwear in response to your simple touches, and there was only one thing you wanted before you would make her cum.

“Look at me.” You told her, the words quiet on your lips but so utterly full of confident power.

JJ whimpered in response, not yet opening her eyes, and you stopped the movement of your hand altogether. She let out a very displeased sound and you began slowly pulling back, threatening to leave her hanging (which was a very empty threat in this context - not that she had to know that). It was something that immediately caused her eyes to shoot open as she reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. She canted her hips up, desperately trying to get your touch back where she needed you most.

“Please,” She pleaded again, all hot breath and desperation - all for you.

Staring into those blue eyes, lit with a desperate blaze of lust as she panted out humid breaths across your chin, you were only reminded of the fact that everything you did was for her. Everything in your life was a worship in her name, no act too small to dedicate to such a perfect Goddess.

“Good girl.”

You praised her, knowing it was exactly what she needed as you angled your fingers back between her wet folds. You gathered up that wetness, slicking up your fingers before you placed your determined touch right on her throbbing clit. This time, rather than being slow and calculated, you were quick and determined. You made speedy movements that you knew would draw her to the quick finish that would perfectly empty her mind.

“Always so good for me, Jay.”

“Thank you, oh! Oh, fuck!”

She started singing your praises in her own way as your touches sped up, the sound of her wetness just barely muffled by the fabric of her pants and underwear, becoming delightfully sloppy under your fingers. With the way she was unconsciously canting her hips toward you, humping against your hand, you knew she was so close.

You leaned in, and while looking her in the eyes the whole time, you bit down on her bottom lip and roughly pulled it out, letting the skin snap back in a rough possession of her as she panted and moaned the whole time.

“Cum for me.” You demanded in a rough growl, finding yourself comparable to one of those rabid dogs. Though you were consuming her in a way that renewed her life, rather than trying to end it. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

“Fuck!” JJ cried out, an epic prayer as she spiraled into the all consuming pleasure of her orgasm.

Though you wanted nothing more than to listen to those beautiful sounds, you had to silence her most pitiful orgasmic cries by clasping your lips over hers. You didn’t want the others hearing - you wanted to keep those sounds all to yourself. You muffled her noises with a tight suction of your mouth as you continued to work her right through the orgasm, keeping a tight grip on her hair the whole time to show her exactly who she belonged to.

With the crucifix mounted on the bathroom wall, the knowledge of Hankle’s God staring right at you as you did all this - you couldn’t find an ounce of shame inside you. Not now. You could find no better way to honor God than to lovingly dedicate your life to the embodiment of his best work.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind - this is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation of it or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written. I have not written any other fics about JJ at the time of this being posted, but if you like my writing style, definitely feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists.

#sundrop writes #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x gender neutral reader #jennifer jareau x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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captainofthedauntless · 2 months

Text

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Rise Leonardo x Reader imagine

Info + Warnings: Reader's having a bad time. It's fluff anyway. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader. Friends-to-lovers type beat, yearning era. Set a few years post movie. Suggestive comments, maybe.

Commentary: This is not proof read.

He loves this.

Not- not whatever your head's doing, with the grim skies and that far away look you get every now and again and the fact that your sleep's shit and- well, not that.

The way you're laying on his floor.

He'd left the room long enough to grab some snack mix- because it's easy, it's quick, you like it, and there's something almost like nutrition there, protein probably- and when he walks back in, you're on your back on the floor, arms draped by your head, one ankle tossed over the other knee as you stare at the ceiling.

He has literal benches against the wall of the old subway car. A bean bag chair. Your favorite chair is in the corner, the one he's all but verbally declared your seat, that he always throws a hoodie in (out of convenience, mind you. That's all. No ulterior motives here, no sir). His entire bed is free- and made, thank you- and yet you're sprawled on his floor as though social norms are nonexistent here.

He really, really likes that idea.

"Comfy?" He asks playfully, moving around you with ease.

You hum a yes, and he glances back at you.

You're tired. He knows that already. But somehow, the bags beneath your eyes look darker from this angle. The weight that's been holding your sunny smile back from its full force is almost visible here.

He gets hit with a wave of want- want to fix it, want to hold you, want to make it better- so hard that he feels it physically, just beneath his plastron, fierce and yearning in his chest.

An irrational part of him thinks you must feel it somehow, because you glance over at him as it happens. "What?"

"Trying to remember the last time I swept," He quips instinctively.

You roll your eyes- the way that means you're amused, the way that he chases like a dog after a ball- and they settle back on the ceiling. "Somehow, I think I'll manage a little dirt."

It's not quite right. It's off center. Off the mark. Your voice- it's just to the right of where it should be. It's missing its shine, the playful way you meet him where he lives and make his quips-and-wordplay house your home too.

Luckily, he's pretty damn mobile.

So he moves. He nudges you with his foot, and you move your arm to lay across your torso and clear a spot for him, and he easily drops down next to you and passes you one of the bottles of water he'd grabbed and sets the snack mix between you.

He lays down next to you in whatever this other house is, and he can feel the cobwebs trying to cling to you.

"Hi," He says softly, staring at the ceiling.

"Hi," You repeat, and it's monosyllabic and neutral and means nothing but he feels like you're making a space for him at your table.

It feels like an invitation, an acceptance, like a "why don't you stay for dinner?".

He thinks he'd stay forever, if it'd help. He's good with a duster. He can help tidy things up, if you let him.

Leo wants to ask why you moved in. What brought you here, to this dreary, haunted-looking old place.

"Wanna watch some Vine greatest hits?" He asks instead.

Not even half an hour later, your breathing has all but convinced him that you're asleep.

He's fighting the urge to check, not wanting to risk waking you up somehow.

Instead, he reaches up and into his little viewing-portal, turning his phone down slightly where it's resting on his bed. (No tired arms, no piecing together a makeshift phone stand, no risk of dropping it on your face. As easy as portals are to maintain these days, it's a no-brainer.)

The screen goes dark as another compilation ends, and instead of hitting "Play" on the suggested video, he finds your face in the reflection.

You look asleep. You look tired, and it aches a little to see.

He can let his eyes linger, now, with yours closed, so he reaches up to turn his screen off.

You're still gorgeous, he thinks with a fond half-hearted frustration. Even exhausted.

When he gets into these dark places, he looks like a wreck.

When you do it, he wants to pull you in by the waist and kiss it better.

Fucking ridiculous.

He finds himself trying to match his breath to yours. Inhale, small pause, exhale, longer pause, inhale, and in that second small pause he realizes this is how he always feels. Like you're synced, like you give him a rhythm to rely on, like you give him something to orbit around when he's knocked out of place.

It's not a new thought, but the analogizing makes something shift in his chest to make room for the sheer size of the feeling.

He loves you. That's not news. You're one of his closest friends- his closest, maybe- and he loves you.

But he's been having the dangerous thought that he might love you, lately.

Might be in love with you.

And when you do things like instinctively look at him right as he glances your way and play off of his jokes like a tennis match and text him pictures of the sunset just because you think it's pretty, he thinks it's more than a might.

But now, something's dragging rainclouds into your sky. And you've found your way to his floor, his space, his company. Again.

He'd barely even had to offer it on the phone earlier, hearing the gray in your voice and tossing the idea of company your way.

You'd barely even had to consider it. You'd just said you'd have to stop by your place, first, and set your stuff down.

You were tired enough to fall asleep, and still came.

You're comfortable enough on his floor, in his space, in his company to fall asleep.

And, if the way he knows in his bones he'd sit here for forever if it means not disturbing you is any indication, he's fallen into something else entirely.

Something that feels like listening to the ocean hit the piers, something that feels like the humming of all of Donnie's security gadgets, something that feels like brushing against his Ninpō. It's familiar, consistent, comforting.

You make a little moaning sound eventually, rolling your shoulders some and inhaling deeply as you rejoin the land of the conscious.

It sends blood straight to his cheeks, and he tries not to think about anywhere else.

"Sorry," you mumble, voice thick and syrupy from sleep.

For half a second, he thinks you're apologizing for the sound, and he's trying to figure out how to tell you to never apologize for that ever, and actually, do way more of it.

Then his brain takes over, shuts his body up, and points out that you probably meant for falling asleep.

"Nah," He says lazily, the picture of chill. You could commit a murder on his floor and he doesn't think he'd care much.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep," You continue, groggy as you dig the heel of your palm into your eye. "How long was I out?"

He has no idea. "An hour, maybe?"

He catches your eye in the reflection on his phone screen, and you tense, and then you soften again.

"You weren't just laying here, were you?" You ask, in that gentle hidden-guilt way of yours, and he kinda wants to shake you by the shoulders until your brain reconnects and realizes that he'd just lay there forever if you'd let him, attention span be damned.

He opts to tease you, instead. "Oh, so when you think the floor is comfy-"

"You have a shell," You point out dryly.

"You think a turtle can't enjoy the floor? Rude."

You grumble something about it being too early for this, and he doesn't even bother to bite back his grin.

"Thanks," You say after a minute, catching his eye again. Your features are soft and vulnerable and open, and he has to fight not to turn to you, to let you stay in the safety of a reflection. "For being here."

"Always," He says immediately, not even considering it. It's instinctive, reactive, true.

It makes you smile, and he thinks- knows- he's a goner.

He gets three proper laughs from you before you leave.

Two actual smiles, too. They're muted, but they're there, and he hopes he can keep his mental snapshots of them for forever. Longer than that.

You're still gray, still muted, still hazy, but you're here. You're bathed in the multi-colored light of his room and comfortable and safe, and he's wondering how he ever thought he might be in love.

And when you finally do leave- late, and only because you have life again tomorrow- he portals you straight to your room.

He catches your hand impulsively on your way out, giving it a quick squeeze, and smiling in what he hopes is a reassuring manner when you look at him.

You give him a small smile back, and it's resilient and strong and it feels like hope.

You're resilient and strong and feel like hope.

He's in love.

"Wanna do this again tomorrow?" He asks, sounding much more casual than he feels.

"I don't want to-" And you cut yourself off just as he feels an eyeroll building in his skull, bracing himself to hear bother you or be a pest or something similarly insane. "...Yeah. I do."

He squeezes your hand again and grins, and he has to swallow back something gooey and too-much. "Just say the word, and your chariot shall await," He says instead, tilting his head towards the portal.

You study him for a second, something calculating and scrutinizing in your eyes. "Thank you," You say softly, like you mean it.

"Always," He repeats softly, like he means it.

You step through the portal, your hand slipping from his, and he gives you a little salute before letting it close.

He glances at his bed.

He lays down on the floor, instead, and makes a mental note to actually sweep.

#leonardo #leonardo x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #aged up characters #idk technically he's also aged down bc of future leo. idc #imagines #*writing #2018

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whoishotteranimepolls · 3 months

Text

My observations after running this blog for a month

I have observed trends relating to multiple fandoms and how they behave/interact with my polls here's some examples. I hope someone finds this entertaining as I did. Because I do read most of the comments and tags

Black Butler, Jujutsu Kaisen and Dorohedoro. You guys are the most insane, feral, unhinged and I have debated marking my post as mature content simply because I knew what you will put in your tags and comment. I worry about you people sometimes Because I do read what you put in those comments and tags and now I know what you will allow these characters to do to you and what you want to do to them. (This also applies certain specific characters from other fandoms) But you three. My little unhinged trio. It's just fandom wide. Doesn't matter the character. You will go crazy. It's entertaining to watch. Don't get me wrong but I hope everyone is doing okay

One piece You guys request a lot and show up. You guys also like meme and cursed polls. Yes they are funny most of the time and you guys have plenty of characters to choose from for the meme and cursed variety. But your fandom also has a list of characters that fall under the should I mark this as mature content because of what is inevitably going to end up in the tags and comments. Because I have seen your characters referred to as "daddy" or "mommy" Way more than JJK or the other two members of the unhinged trio and those fandoms are way more crazy collectively.

Trigun is the most loyal ride or die fandom that will show up for any poll with one of their characters no matter what. With a level of enthusiasm that is impressive but lacks the pure crazy of the unhinged trio

Mob Psycho 100 I've only had one character submitted from your show but you guys show up almost as much as Trigun but I don't know if that loyalty translates to other characters

Jojo you guys either show up and vote and reblog quietly or are just as bad as the unhinged trio 50/50 chance also depends on the character so I never know what to expect.

Now Attack on Titan. Is that fandom alive? Because I have gotten a few requests to do their characters but they have never shown up to defend their character. Which is funny because they're still in the top 20 anime and Manga fandom charts. But as far as I can tell the fandom does not exist or they're invisible so are you guys doing okay? I know the final season was supposed to be traumatic or something but I mean so was JJK season 2 and it just turned that fandom into an unhinged mess so you all should be fine or at least have a pulse. Do you guys need to speak to the Hannibal fandom for support? I mean they're still alive all these years later even after their tragic ending.

Hunter x Hunter You're a fandom that shows up consistently. Vote and reblog but you don't make a scene. That's all I can really say. It's very similar to how the Trigun fandom behaves but not quite the same enthusiasm as Trigun that is ride or die no matter the character

Fate is another fandom where you either show up or you don't. There is no in between. I wonder if it depends on the character. But I don't know. There just hasn't been enough polls

Soul Eater. You guys are unhinged only when it comes to Stein any other character I don't know but Stein 100% ride or die.

Dungeon Meshi very similar to JoJo except if it's Senshi or Falin guaranteed you guys will be just as bad if not worse than the unhinged trio any other character there's a chance you might not show up at all

Now to all the people who find the Senshi polls annoying. I would like to apologize for the monster I mean meme I accidentally created. It was never my intention for this to get out of hand I hope you can forgive me one day. But apparently they're going to kill King Charles. I still don't get it I might be getting old

If I haven't mentioned your fandom, it's probably because your characters don't get submitted enough for me to notice a trend but I will be watching. This is just what I've observed so far I hope you enjoyed my observations. I found these trends interesting

#not a poll #just my two cents #fandom #fandom culture #poll analysis

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magicalrocketships · 5 months

Note

I adore your deaged max AU! Curious if while max is small, if daniel and him celebrate any holidays together? How does max feel about them? Do they establish any traditions? :)

I don't think this version of Max is particularly excited by Christmas, but he does like lights, and being with Daniel, so I've combined them together for them to have a little outing of their own. And because I personally love lights in the middle of winter.

This follows on - with a few days unaccounted for (because I haven't written them, but they've been staying with Christian and Geri) - from this part I posted yesterday. Max was a tiny toddler but now he's back to being seven.

(this link shows the stuff I’ve already posted in chronological order if the tag isn't working.)

Happy holidays, pals. 🧡

The day after New Year's Day, Daniel takes Max to visit an Enchanted Light Trail. It's only on for another couple of days, and a lot of local schools have gone back today so it's quiet when Daniel parks the car. It's already mostly dark, and Max, seven years old again and interested, almost stumbles out of the car. He's in his new wellington boots, with a puffy winter coat that Daniel has to spend two minutes talking him into getting zipped up. Then a scarf and a hat and gloves. Max is unconvinced by them all, especially the gloves, but when he sees Daniel wearing a pair too, he concedes to keep them on.

He slips his hand into Daniel's, and asks if it's going to be loud. Max doesn't always like loud. He's not loved sharing Daniel with the other people in Christian and Geri's house over the past few days, and he is not quite over being left behind with Monty and a babysitter when Daniel and the others went to the Red Bull New Year's Eve Extravaganza. So: a little treat that's just for Daniel and Max together, alone, now that Max is back to being seven.

"Not loud," Daniel says. "Just lots of nice lights, and a place to see animals, and we can have hot chocolate." He shoulders his backpack, which also has a thermos flask of tomato soup and some bread and butter in little pieces in a lunch box. He's learned from experience that Max will experiment with experiences more than he'll experiment with unfamiliar food in unfamiliar places. "But I've brought tomato soup too."

"Okay," Max says, only semi-dubiously. He's so serious sometimes. Daniel lets him think through whatever he's thinking about as they wander through the car park and up to the little ticket booth. He'd bought tickets for them online, so he only has to wave his phone screen at a bored teenager who wishes them a desultory happy new year to be given a little trail map and a token to get through the gate.

Daniel lets Max feed the token into the entrance gate, and then they're inside the farm park, and at the start of a path lined with trees wound with hundreds of tiny, coloured lights. The branches are also lined with lights, and even Daniel is almost floored by how pretty it is.

"Oh," Max says, in sheer unadulterated wonder.

Daniel for a single, desperate second, wants to cry. Every moment with Max might be his last. It had been awful enough when he'd been sitting next to a little chunky three year old Max a couple of days ago, and he'd had to squeeze his eyes shut and almost couldn't bear to open them again in case it was a grown up Max sitting next to him, desperate to get away from him.

But it was this Max, Daniel's Max, his seven year old, his favourite seven year old on the planet.

It doesn't mean grief doesn't sit, tentative and yearning, on the edge of everything he experiences.

"Do you like it, Maxy-Max?"

Max nods so hard his hat almost falls off, and Daniel has to stop to make sure it's on properly and keeping Max warm.

"Good," Daniel says, and he lets Max set the pace as they wander down the track towards the barns. The next part of the path doesn't have little Christmas lights, but the trees are lit in purples, greens, and are wrapped in starlight skies, little spotlights along the ground turning the trees into beautiful swathes of colour.

Max looks up at him in wonder. "Like the nightlight at home," he says, clutching Daniel's hand. The nightlight in Max's bedroom at Daniel's projects colours and stars across the ceiling. Max hasn't been home with Daniel in a while. It doesn't mean it isn't his home too. It'll always be his home, even if Max grows up and stays grown up and stays a long way away from Daniel like he does now.

"Just like the nightlight at home," Daniel agrees.

The Enchanted Light Trail is supposed to be a 60-90 minute experience, but it takes them almost half an hour even to reach the barns where the farm animals are. Max loves the colours, and the trees, and the lights — just like Daniel had hoped he would. Max had liked going to the zoo that time, and he likes colouring in, and he likes things that are just him and Daniel, so it had made sense when Daniel googled that this was the thing he would pick to get them out of Christian and Geri's hair for a bit.

If Max doesn't get big again in the few days or so, Daniel's taking him back to Monaco, and he doesn't care what Christian says about the pre-season work Max is supposed to be doing here. Daniel's Max's guardian, nobody else. And he wants to take Max home.

"What happens if you are scared?" Max asks, before they go into the barns. He always asks about Daniel being scared, and not him.

"If I'm scared or if you're scared," Daniel tells him, just like every time, "then we can come back out here. That's fine."

"Okay," Max says, and his face is a picture of fierce determination. Daniel's seen that face before, a hundred thousand times, before and after races. It's funny to see it reflected on such a little Max, a Max that just doesn't have any of grown up Max's competitive spirit in him. Daniel gives him a moment to acclimatise, and then Max nods and they go inside.

The barns have also been lit up in swathes of pretty colours. The animals seem quite happy, and they see the rabbits and the sheep and the goats. Max refuses to go near the goats, even though the farm staff say he can help feed them. That is a solid no, which Daniel understands entirely because the last time they met a goat together at the zoo that time, it had tried to eat Max's hair for dinner and Max had cried. Instead, they stand against the opposite wall of the barn, as far away from the goats as possible, and Trixie, who works at the farm, points out each of the goats in turn and tells Max their names.

Max puts up with this for three minutes, which Daniel counts as 150% a win, and then they say thank you and move on to the next barn. This one has cows in it, and one moos loudly as they come in. Max bravely does not nope out, but they stay away from the gates. One of the cows is called Strawberry, which Max finds hilarious. Daniel suggests some other very silly names for cows even as they go and look at the pigs and meet a horse dressed for the season in a big knitted scarf and blanket. There are chickens, and more rabbits, and a dog, which Daniel suspects isn't part of the attraction in general and that Max is very cautious of. Daniel is too, but he tries not to let it show.

Then it's time for the 'things to do' barn, which has some little tables for crafts and a cafe at the other side. Max doesn't want to make Christmas crafts and he doesn't want to join a table with other people on, but there are some tables with pictures to colour in and some crayons and pencils. He settles himself at one of the tables, and tells Daniel that it's okay if Daniel crosses the barn to get them some orange juice (Max) and some hot chocolate (Daniel). Daniel keeps turning around to find Max watching him with his little serious expression on, and so Daniel makes a series of increasingly silly faces just to make him laugh.

"You've got yourself a serious one too, then," the woman behind the counter says as he pays for their drinks. "Mine's the same."

"Yeah," Daniel says. "Best kid in the world, though."

"Fight you for it," the woman says, laughing, and that grief is back, hovering, desperate, endless. Daniel tries to smile. He wishes her a happy new year and goes back to sit beside Max, who's picked out a farm picture to colour, with lots of trees and some animals. He's got one for Daniel too. He doesn't want to try Daniel's hot chocolate, but he does like the smell. He's industriously colouring in one of the trees in purple — like the ones outside — when one of the farm staff comes over to ask if he'd like to make a tree at one of the craft tables.

"No, thank you," Max says, attention focused on his picture. "Me and my daddy are colouring."

Daniel has to swallow down an actual sob. "We're good here, thanks," he says. "But thank you."

After she leaves, Daniel has to use one of his hot chocolate napkins to blow his nose. Max looks up at him.

"Can we go home soon?" he asks.

"To Christian and Geri's house?"

"No," Max says, giving him a withering glance. "Our house, Daniel."

Daniel leans in and kisses the top of his head. "Yeah," he says. "Promise."

"Okay," Max says, content with Daniel's yes. Daniel doesn't lie to him. Except, maybe, about the growing hole in his chest. Max goes back to colouring. Daniel swallows, tries to get a hold of himself, and resorts to naming all of the animals in the picture the stupidest names he can think of, just to make Max laugh.

Later on, they walk along a little pathway through the lit-up woods, and drink a cup of tomato soup at a picnic table. Max is amazed at the idea of drinking soup outside in the dark. They don't stay at the table long because it's cold, but Daniel takes a thousand pictures of Max beaming at him, soup around his mouth, and lets Max take some of him in return.

"I love you," he tells Max as they walk back towards the car. It seems important to tell him, urgent, imperative.

Max swings their joined hands. He's got his coloured-in picture and a glowing stick with a star on it clutched in his other hand, a present from the farm shop. Daniel's got one too, and a bag with some in for Monty and Olivia and Bluebell even though Bluebell's probably too old for it.

"Love you, love you, love you," Max says back, kicking his feet in his new wellingtons. He looks up at Daniel, sleepy but happy, and Daniel's heart twists in his chest. "Can we go home now?"

"Tomorrow," Daniel says, making a decision. Fuck it all, he thinks. I'm taking Max home.

Thank you to Zoe and Lena for reading this through for me. 🧡

#my fic #de-aged maxiel #baby max #fic that i wrote

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theperfectawful · 1 month

Text

Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool.

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

(212) 555-4325 [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly.

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously.

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface.

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera.

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party.

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around.

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat.

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass.

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass.

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left.

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention.

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone.

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight.

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed.

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes.

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again.

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment.

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning.

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you.

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off.

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off. The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own.

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

#blind item #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x reader #putting this out into the world and definitely also shitting bricks

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pxrxcxa · 2 years

Text

Mean to the bone

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+.

Post summary | Y/n feels like her and Eddie are on the path of normality (finally), but when feelings get just a little too real and intense, it sends Eddie running back into the comfort of his old ways.

What to expect | Angst, Jealousy, Eddie being a bad liar and shutting off because he can't handle his feelings (and is a dick about it yes).

Post Warnings | 18 + smut, f oral, p in v unprotected, drug and underage drinking mention.

Word count | 5.2 K words

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Take care, P. x 🌻

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Authors Note | Once you've read this, please don't worry lovely's, I have decided to turn this into a series with quite a few more to come. As long as you'll keep reading them, I'll keep writing them. Enjoy x 🌻

I didn’t have to turn to sense Eddie behind me, the tingle his presence sent up my spine and seeing my lab partner shrink under a hidden glare across from me, was enough to tip me off. I rolled my eyes as he gave a quieted yelp and practically ran away from where we were standing at my locker, exchanging biology notes.

“Do you try to scare people on purpose, or does it just come naturally to you?” I pretended to scowl as he slid from behind me into view, his sarcastic smirk set a genuine smile across my face as he leaned against the open door of my locker, blocking it to demand my attention. His hand shot up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear as I shoved my books in past him, his fingers brushed lightly against the skin of my cheek, leaving a burning red mark behind as he devoured the sight. I dropped my eyes as the intensity of his stare sent butterflies through my frame.

“Only the ones that try to steal my girl.” His words sent a thrill through me, but I held my breath, hardly daring to believe his words. Even after yesterday in the woods, in the morning light of clarity while I tossed and turned in my bed before school, I had struggled to wrap my head around my feelings, or his.

“Jealous much?” I choked out, glancing up through my lashes to see his expression darken. I back pedalled because he shot me a grimace that said he wasn’t in the mood for my jokes.

“And I don’t think Simon’s much of a threat Eddie, kid is five foot and scared of his own shadow, much less yours.” I tried to move him so I could close my locker, but he remained rooted to the spot. I gulped as he moved closer to me, wrapping his hand around the side of my neck and resting his fingers along my jaw and behind my ear to tilt my head back.

“I don’t care.” My breathing faltered at his words as I felt the stares of our classmates passing us in the hallway pressing in from all sides.

“Everyone needs to know you’re mine.”

His lips leant down to brush against mine when the bell rang, I jumped back from his grasp in fright, letting the cool air that swirled in the distance between our bodies wipe away the heady desire that threatened to take over my logical sense of mind. Eddie looked disappointed as his hand hesitated in the air, the bright spark in his eyes flaring as I swung my bag up higher on my shoulder and turned away from him.

“I have to get to class.” His firm hand shot out to trap my wrist in a surprisingly soft grasp as he tugged me back, spinning me around until he had me pinned against the metal wall of lockers, practically hiding me from view behind his wide shoulders as he closed the distance between us. The bustle of students loudly making their way to the next class drowned out my embarrassing whimper that escaped me as Eddie grinned down at me.

“Just, wait a second.” He tapped my chin with his finger as I dropped my gaze.

“I want to see you again… woods?” He smirked as I smacked at his chest, shoving him away slightly before he pushed back in against my body even closer than before.

A mistake.

I could feel every hard, seductive, plane of his body rubbing into mine. I dug my nails into my palms to clear my head.

“Uh uh, no way. It is freezing. I’m not going out there until next summer Eddie.” I laughed as he watched my lips.

“Okay… well I’m seeing you one way or another tonight so unless you want me turning up at your doorstep with flowers to ask your dad for permission to take you out on a date…” He gave a condescending half smirk as he let his words trail off like they were a bad thing, but the image they painted sent an aching longing and sadness through me.

“Fine.” I chewed on my lip as a familiar light laugh tinkled over the raucous noise, bouncing off the walls of the corridor. I squinted through the crook of Eddie’s elbow, spying Nancy’s buoyant curls bouncing as she hung off Steve’s arm while they thundered down the corridor, headed straight towards us. Panic shot through me as the intimacy of our position made it feel like there was a bright light shining down on us, exposing us to every pair of prying eyes.

I wasn’t ready for Nancy to find out about Eddie, not this way.

“Okay fine.” I spat again, speaking quickly before Nancy could notice us huddled against my locker.

“I’m going to a party tonight, come with me.” His breath washed over me as he pushed off from against the wall, crossing his arms as he rolled his eyes at me.

“It’s not exactly a party, not really. My friend Nancy… She’s kind of dating Harrington, you could come and meet her?” My own question quietened as he stared back at me with a mean, patronising look.

“What? Cause… we’re kind of dating?” His words sounded right, but the way he laughed them at me sent a stabbing pain of rejection through me as my face fell.

He laughed loudly again, earning the attention of passers-by as he leant forward to wipe the wetness his lips had left against mine with his rough thumb.

“Sure y/n.” He humoured me, pressing his cold fingers against my cheek harshly before spinning away from me, his vest flung out behind him as he strode away, shoving people out of his path.

“Hey y/n.” I snapped my eyes away as I watched Eddie disappear around the corner, Steve and Nancy had pushed through the throng of bustling students as they came to a standstill in front of me, his aqua puffer vest crinkled as he slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side to keep her close. I groaned and rolled my eyes as Steve nestled his mouth against her neck, making Nancy giggle as his styled hair tickled her chin, her eyes met mine as an annoyed sound tumbled from my lips at their sickening PDA.

“Harrington.” I nodded in greeting, pressing my lips together. They looked great together, and she’d been pining over him for our entire three years of high school, but I was worried that he’d hurt my sweet best friend. Steve didn’t exactly have the best reputation when it came to women, I’d spent too many days of my life watching him chase and throw away a tonne of girls over the years like they were interchangeable objects.

“Are you coming tonight?” Nancy’s face was flushed with excitement as Steve shot her a side look.

Shit

Eddie might have had a joking tone when he brought up hanging out tonight, but I knew he’d hunt me down whether I was at home or Steve’s party, I couldn’t leave Nancy on her own tonight, but I also couldn’t have him rocking up at Steve’s doorstep with a pocket full of drugs, a cheeky smile and bad intentions.

If he actually decided to come tonight, I had to warn them.

“Yeah I am, but uh Steve, d’ya mind if I bring someone? A plus one or whatever?” I bit down on my lip as Nancy shot me a puzzled look.

“Sure. As long as they bring grog or weed, they’re cool. Anyone who provides is welcome at the Harrington residence.” He spread his arms wide as a cocky smile shot across his face, his basketball teammates thundered down past the hallway at that moment, slapping him on his back as they swept him up in the crowd, hoots of laughter echoed down the corridor as Nancy raised her hand in a small wave as Steve disappeared with them.

“Who is your friend?” She turned back to me and lifted her hand to pinch a stray thread off my shoulder, smoothing out the material as I wrapped my fingers around her arm, quickly tugging her down the hall towards the girls bathroom.

“I have to tell you something.” I dropped my grip from her as we shot through the entrance and quickly pushed open each stall door, checking that we were alone before I dropped my bag against the tiled floor as I spun around to face her.

I took a deep breath to calm myself as Nance knotted her brows together in concern, a confused smile playing on the corner of her lips as I let out the shaky breath.

“Y/n, what’s –“ she started before I waved my hands in the air.

“It’s Eddie.” I cut her off, watching her eyes dart around us as she processed my words.

“What?” She blinked in surprise.

“It’s Eddie, he’s my plus one.” I let out a heavy gust of air as I told her the truth.

“Oh. Oh. So he asked you out?” Her eyes lit up in excitement before they clouded with doubt and confusion. “Wait, I thought when you took Mike to their club it didn’t go well?...” She trailed off.

“It didn’t…” I admitted, crossing my arms and turning to stare out the dirty small window sitting high on the wall behind us. Nancy was silent as she waited for me to continue.

“He was really rude and mean, but we… hooked up. Or half hooked up I don’t know. We didn’t have sex we just did stuff and…” There was a sharp intake of a breath before her voice cut through the air in a shrill.

“WHAT.” My eyes widened and flashed to the door as I made a shushing gesture at her.

“Why the hell did you hook up if he was a jerk?” She whispered back fiercely at me as she moved closer. My stomach dropped as I wrestled with my answer.

“Well, I don’t know, I ended up confronting him about it and the way he looked at me I just – and then he…“ I stumbled over my words as they made me blush.

“Oh. My. God.” She squealed, reaching out to wrap her thin, bony fingers into my arm.

“…was it… good?” She grinned, I let out an exasperated sigh at the glowing interest on her face, the memories of the feeling of Eddie’s body above mine made me shiver.

Was it good? He had me going back for more in less than a day.

My thoughts must have shown on my face because Nancy let out an ear bleeding squeal of delight.

“You have to tell me everything. So is inviting him tonight about… going all the way with him?” She questioned, raising her brows at me.

“Well…” I bit the corner of my lip and avoided her eyes

Nancy shot forward to smack my arm, her mouth dropping open in shock and surprise. She walked backwards towards the bench, swiping paper towels out of the way as she leant back on her hands and pulled herself up to sit on the tabletop as she watched me, swinging her legs back and forth as she waited in high anticipation for me to dive into the dirty details.

“After his Hellfire thing, I went to his place. It was… bad. Not the sex.” I shook my head at her as her mouth turned down in pity. “No, the sex was… incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Or him. But he was just so mad… and cold. We were making out and he… bit me.” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I steeled myself to tell Nancy the rest of it.

She made an approving noise in the back of her throat and muttered the word Kinky as I laughed.

“I hit him.” I admitted with a guilty scowl, I was slow to look back up at her through my fluttering lashes as she stared at me in confusion, with just a little disgust clouding her features. “I know – I know. It was fucked up of me to do it, he just hurt me and caught me off guard.” I paused to let it sink in as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking over my words.

“And then he hit me back – it wasn’t right! What either of us done, I don’t know what happened we just both so heated and then –“ Her eyes shot back up to mine in a flash, anger and hurt radiated off of me and flowed between us as she shuffled off the bench towards me.

“What happened after?” She pressed, cupping my cheek as they flamed in embarrassment.

“Actually…” I grinned sheepishly as her arm dropped, peering into my clenched hands as she stared back at me, scandalized.

“No way. Were you guys not like? Angry?” She scoffed.

She gasped as I nodded and smiled. “Is that what you’re into y/n?”

“I mean, sometimes yeah. It’s… intense and passionate. Every other guy is so boring compared to him Nancy. Yeah its rough and it feels so good it painful, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” Nancy’s own face flushed at my words as she pursed her lips to hold back a smile.

“I just thought you’d be into someone gentle and caring I dunno… Did he at least apologise?’ I strode over to the sink to splash some cold water against the back of my neck, patting the palms against my cheeks as my skin burned.

“He did.” I nodded, leaning against the bench to face her. “Yesterday we met in the woods, and he told me how sorry he was. He also showed me that he was sorry.” She puckered her lips and smiled at the look on my face.

“He kind of opened up a bit as well Nance, told me a few things. I know he seems angry and mean all of the time, and he can be, but he’s a good guy. At least I think he is.”

“Okay.” Her light laughed tinkled in the space between us as her eyes flashed with something deeper. “As long as he’s not going to hurt you again.” I shook my head quickly, clenching my hands around the lip of the bench.

“He promised.”

“Okay… so are you guys like dating or what?” She giggled, skipping over the tiles to grab my hands and swing them between us.

“I honestly don’t know, he so… confusing. He has the worst mood swings of anyone I’ve ever met. I think I’m going to talk to him tonight at the party.”

If he actually shows

The bathroom door slammed back against the white paint chipped wall springing me out of my thoughts and breaking Nancy and I apart, we both swiped up our bags in a panic that it was a teacher busting us for being late to class, but it was just a confused freshman that haltered at the door as we shoved past her, the last bell ringing throughout the now empty corridor.

“Nancy, there’s like, a lot of people here.” It looked like Steve Harrington had invited the entire population of Hawkins, were there even this many high school students at our school?

I grabbed her arm and moved closer to her as our heels clicked into the cold night air, seniors that I vaguely recognised littered the front lawn of Steve’s house, cheering on some jock that was upside down and guzzling a beer keg. We side stepped empty cans and cigarette butts as we made our way up the driveway, shivering as the cold wind riffled our short dresses around our thighs.

I tightened my grip and swung my head around as a wolf-whistle erupted on our right side, spying one of the basketball guys that regularly hung around Steve, raising his drink in greeting towards Nancy and me.

“Looking good y/n.” He smirked, taking a drag of his smoke and raising an eyebrow at me. I gave him a small smile and sped up, dragging Nancy along as she giggled in my ear.

“I didn’t think it was going to be this big.” She promised , cringing into my side as a group of drunk guys stumbled across in front of us, nearly barrelling straight through us. The night sky was clear, and the moon beamed down onto the scene beneath it, illuminating each crevice and exposing the bad behaviour. We didn’t bother knocking over the loud music as we reached the front door, I reached out to turn the handle and shoves it open, tripping immediately into the packed hallway as the dancing bodies that swayed back and forth jostled us as we made our way slowly through it.

“Where’s Steve?” Nancy screamed in my ear, twisting her hand at the edge of my jacket that ended just beneath my rib cage. Her lips quivered as she ducked and weaved behind me as some random girl pushed between us, pressing her palm to her mouth as she her cheeks filled with vomit. I clutched the grocery paper bag filled with our mixed drinks tighter against my chest as they clanged together quietly. The mixed stench of weed and tobacco and sweat assaulted us as the thick haze settled over head. The yellow glow from the patio lights seeped into the kitchen as we pushed through, grouping at the marble countertop to catch our breath.

Nancy tugged on my sleeve as she pointed out through the open glass doors, Steve was laughing and chugging something dark out of a red cup. I slid my bag further up my shoulder as I followed her out into the cold night air, the music was less loud outside but the deck beneath our feet vibrated with the bass. Steve spied us and waved Nancy over, smiling wildly as we crossed the grass on the balls of our feet as we wobbled in our high shoes dangerously. I swung my eyes across the crowded yard as I looked for the flash of a familiar denim vest or thick head of dark curls.

She disappeared into the arms of Steve as his friend slid up beside me, with a jolt and a cautious smile as I recognised him as his basketball teammate from earlier.

“We meet again.” He smirked, handing me a full cup of amber coloured liquid, I took a careful sniff, I shook my head and gasped as the fumes nearly knocked me on my ass, turning my back on him so I could keep my eye on the back door in case Eddie decided to show up after all.

“Uh yeah. Sorry what was your name?” His response was lost on me as I noticed Eddie by the back gate, he was dressed head to toe in black with chains lining the pocket and heavier ones around his neck that matched his rings. His cigarette dropped low from the corner of his mouth as his eyes were locked on me, Tommy H slid a large bill into his large palm and pocketed the small bag that slipped through his fingers. My stomach twisted uncomfortably as his heavy gaze flickered between me and jock next to me as he swung his arm around my shoulders, I stumbled under his weight as something dangerous flashed in Eddie’s gaze. I quickly shook it off as Eddie took an angry step towards us and my breath froze in my throat as I watched something fight behind his eyes, he seemed to settle on a decision as he spun on his heels, turning his back on me as he tromped across the concreted stones beneath him towards the back door.

I shoved the bag of alcohol in my arms into the unsuspecting ones of the guy next to me without a word, tearing across the grass after Eddie as he quickly disappeared into the crowd. I shoved screaming girls out of my way as a new popular song started up on the radio, dodging their hands that waved in the air to accompany their embarrassing dance moves.

“Eddie.” My yell was drowned out as the rift of the music blared off the walls.

His jacket shook as he roughly shoved people up against the walls as he passed them, leaving a wake of outraged cries as I followed behind, muttering apologies for him as I closed in quickly. His hand shot out to wrap around the circular doorknob of a nearby door, slamming in shut in frustration as he peered in to find a bathroom.

He paused as he reached out for another door, flexing his hand around it as I reached his elbow and tugged on his arm. Eddie shook me off angrily and thundered through the door frame, swearing as he stumbled into the middle of a vacant guest room, I followed him in quickly and spun around to slam the door close behind me, sliding the lock into place as it drowned out the music and cluster of drunk voices.

“What are you doing?” I asked gently as he took in his surroundings, the soft glow of a reading lamp casted long shadows along the angry panes of his face and lit up his bright brown eyes as he spun back to face me with an annoyed look on his face.

“Looking for the goddamn front door.” He spat, running his hands through his hair roughly.

“What’s wrong?” He stared at me with a scathing look as he reached for his cigarettes in his vest pocket, I wrapped my arms around my chest as the cold anger radiating off of him made me tremble.

“Was it that guy? So you are jealous Eddie.” I tried to laugh it off to lighten the mood as my own nerves hiked up, wanting to go back and join the party and have fun, maybe even to introduce him to Nancy as more than a friend.

He sighed heavily and slammed his hand against the wooden panelling of the cupboard, making the mirror attached to the doors shake. He turned to face me, running his penetrating gaze up and down my body, tracing the lines of my curves that the skin-tight red dress that I’d stolen from Nancy, clung to. I shrunk away as his eyes flicked back up to my face, biting down on his lip as his chest heaved and he smirked.

“What’s wrong is you in that fucking dress y/n. It should be illegal to look that good. I don’t want anyone to see you like this again except for me.”

In a split second he tore across the room, wrapping his hands around my hips as he pinned me against the door, making me lean up on my toes as he reached down to caress the sides of my thighs and hitched the dress to bunch up around my waist. I gasped as he locked his arms around the back of my knees, lifting me up so that I was straddling him while he took long strides across the room. Eddie untangled my hands from behind his neck to lower me softly onto the made bed, pulling back as he traced kisses over the dress to stuck to my stomach. I moaned and reached out up to him, curling my fingers as he straightened up and smirked down at me.

“I am going to fuck you so good that you’re ruined for every guy after me y/n.”

His hands fell to his belt as his promise sounded in my ears, making be blush as he shrugged out of his jacket, letting it tumble to the floor as he reached up to tear his shirt over his head. His shook his stuck curls out of the collar as he crawled back down on top of me, Eddie reached down to pull up my leg around his waist as he grinded me into the mattress through our clothes. His loose belt banged against my clothed slit as he traced his fingertips across my jaw, trapping my lips beneath his, the scent of smoke and whiskey invaded my mind as his tongue swirled around mine. He wrapped his arm around my wrist as I reached up to pull on his hair, pinning it against the sheets beside us as his mouth trailed over my sternum.

I gasped and moaned his name as free hand traced along my stomach and across my inner thigh, moving agonizingly slowly until his fingers flicked across my pulsing clit. His dark eyes flashed up to meet mine from where he hesitated between my legs as a begging whimper tumbled through my lips.

He wasn’t gentle, or soft or even patiently teasing like he had been in the woods as he ripped my panties to the side and buried his face against my puffy lips. I arched and gripped at the sheets next to me to keep my body floating away, his head moved in time with my grinding as I moved against his face, moaning, and screaming his name with each warm and rough lick he flicked up and down my slit. Eddie devoured me like a starving man, like the second he walked out of the room I was going to disappear. His groan sent a violent vibration throughout my frame as my orgasm threatened and lapped at the edges.

I swore as Eddie pounded his long, skilled finger far inside of me, curling it up against a spot that made me squirm in the same pattern as his tongue rolled along my throbbing bud.

I felt him grin against my thigh as my walls fluttered around his finger. I had barely whispered his name before he shot up and pinned me beneath him, wrenching my legs apart as he shimmied his jeans down his legs a few inches and wrapped his hands around my hips to angle me towards him.

“Eddie please-“ My begging was cut off in a sigh of pleasure as he buried his dripping length inside of me, he collapsed against the crook of my neck as he thrusted against me, burying my deeper and deeper into the mattress as I begged for more. He grunted my name over and over into my soft skin and I twisted my fingers in his hair, brushing the strays out of his eyes as I turned my head to meet his stare. I flash of nerves and happiness shot through me as his eyes met mine and he slowed to a stop. Eddie leaned back up to hover over as he reached down to press a kiss to my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut as a tear sprung to the corner of both them.

“Look at me.” His voice was sturdy and forceful as he wiped a fallen tear away.

“I can’t lose you.” I murmured, griding my hips back and forth until I could feel him rubbing against my sensitive spot inside of me, something I’d never seen before flashed in his eyes before Eddie groaned in defeat and pounded me harder before, burying his head against my chested as he ripped the dress down to take my nipples in his mouth. I turned to bury my head into the silk pillow as my high ripped through me, digging my nails into Eddie’s back and he swore and tensed up. He tore himself away from me with a rude gasp and the instant cold air swirled in the new space between us.

“Eddie?” I sat up to fix my dress as he ripped himself up from the bed, fiddling with the belt of his jeans as I slowly pulled the straps off my dress up my shoulders.

“You should stay away from me y/n.” His voice was cold and distant as it sent a horrible shiver through me.

“You promised.” A sob was barely hidden in my throat as he bent down to grab his shirt. “‘Never again’ remember?” I quoted him, anger rising in me as I wiped my smeared lipstick from the corner of my lips.

“Eddie… I thought this wasn’t going to happen anymore. I thought you were like that just so you could protect yourself but you – why are you acting like you’re mean to the bone Eddie?.” I flung up from the bed, trying to block the doorway as my dress rode up against my hips, I pulled it back in frustration as he avoided my eyes, looking over my head as he softly shoved me out of his way.

“Because I am, and always will be.” He snapped, his voice breaking.

“Go find someone who deserves you.” He glanced down quickly to where I stood beneath him, shaking as his words curled around my heart like poison.

“No. You are not doing this.” I shook my head as my yell built in my throat as I shoved myself back in his way.

“Y/n… we’re too different. Look at this fucking place, your friends wouldn’t look twice at me if they didn’t want drugs. I’m just trailer trash to them. Your destined to be with some rich jock and have three kids and live in a perfect house with a white picket fence. You’ll get bored eventually… and leave. I’d rather do it my fucking self than hang around and wait for you to get tired of me.” He swung his arms wide as I recoiled from him, he wasn’t making sense, I couldn’t see where this was coming from, my breathing slowed as I stared back at the mussed sheets where our warm, entangled bodies had been moving in perfection just mere moments ago.

My anger and hurt hit a boiling point.

“You think I’m going to leave? After everything you’ve done and said I stayed Eddie, have I not proved that? You’ve hurt me a lot of times Eddie, but I’m still here.” I yelled up at his jaw, reaching up to pull his face down so he could see what he was doing to me.

“That’s exactly right, I hurt you. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” He pulled my hands away from him, tightening his fingers around my wrist as I fought to hold back tears. The lines of his face were hard and unrelenting as he closed his eyes to take a breath.

“You were right before, I was jealous. Because you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met and deserve everything in the fucking world. I can’t give that to you. I am only ever going to live up to the Munson name y/n.” His stare was full of generational pain as he let go of me and nudged me out of the way, taking a step forward to walk out of my life completely.

He froze with his hand wrapped around the door handle, the muscles in his back tensing through his shirt as my yell echoed around us.

“I’d take you over everything in this goddamn fuckin universe… I love you Munson.”

Part 5

GUYS - don't worry because I want to write a part 5 & I'm going to load you up with so much fluff and lovesickness and cuteness and Eddie being a softie that you're not going to be able to handle it. I just needed him to realise how strong his feelings are & that scared him back to being a dick :) stay tuned for the next one x

Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series :)

➢ Eddie Tag List } Let me know what ya'll thought about part 4 :)

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#eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #you're being mean #why are you so mean #I know why you're mean #mean to the bone

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we-are-maladaptive · 9 months

Text

Scraped Knees & Silk Sheets

Prince!Shouto ♡ Maid!Reader - Chapter 1 out of ??

-> You've always been kind, wanting nothing more then to spread warmth into a cold castle. When you were a child, you had given some of your kindess to a boy in need. It was because he recognized your kindess, that you live to tell this story today.

fiction contains: fluff, angst, romance, reader is almost executed because endeavor is a piece of shit, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, assassination, pining, shouto is a little too in love with reader, shouto is also an extreme romantic, reader is almost killed again because, you guessed it, endeavor is a piece of shit, pining, izuku + bakugou are shouto's right hand men, little bit of violence chapter contains: nothing extreme worth mentioning, shouto n reader are so cute omgomg PROLOUGE

COMMENT ON THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE NEXT CHAPTER'S TAGLIST.

chapter word count: 4.4k

Flowers fall salubriously over the skies of Venora, the sun’s warmth spreading over the fingertips of anyone sauntering outside to perform their duties for that day…or to any of the many children that decided to skip around their village knee-level of the citizens with flowers in their hair, engaging in anything that excited their blooming curiosity. Venora is one of- if not the most flourishing of countries, being outstandingly large, and having one of the most capable and efficient militia. It is a strong belief here that everyone has their purpose in life, and everyone has their own “talent” or gift given to them to serve that purpose. Many people are aware of their gifts from an early age, some without, and have hairs turning silver and still letting life lead them in whichever direction the wind blows. All in all, it’s a safe country to live your hopes and dreams in.

Besides, you learned the punishment for breaking some of the laws can be quite severe, and said punishments are severe enough to strike terror into the citizens who consider tampering with them.

“Really?? We get to visit the palace??” A little child squealed into their mother’s lap, that child just so happened to be you. Playing princesses with your friends was entertaining, yes, but it couldn’t compare with the real thing. It played over and over inside your feeble brain, the diamond chandeliers, the gold-plated statues, the doors, the throne room. Just the thought would make any insouciant child like yourself shake with anticipation.

“You mustn't make a scene when we get there, dear. As much as I understand your excitement, the palace can’t be mistaken to you as a place of fun and games, it’s quite serious. Your father is attending a meeting, so you and I get to stay for a while to attend the holiday. If you’re lucky, you might be able to attend the ball with me.” Your mother almost immediately regrets the last few sentences of her speech, now having to deal with a squealing 5-year-old who cannot control their emotions any longer. After a long sigh, she scooped you off her lap, walking over to the bedroom to place you into bed. There were paintings with stars and sparkles adorning the ceiling above your bed, and you convinced your mother to help hang stars from the faded paint spots. The dim lighting in a shade of dark blue truly did make the stars sparkle, including the ones hanging in your room and the stars that dance together in the sky. It made you wonder if they had the same paintings on the palace walls, maybe even more. With a kiss to your forehead, she tucked you in your bed and tried to step away, but failed due to you reaching out your tiny hand to grab onto her yellow sundress. “Do you think I can be a princess? Like the ones in the big palace?” “I'm sure you can, and I bet you’ll be the prettiest princess ever. However… I'm afraid princesses get beauty sleep, and at this rate, you’ll turn into a gremlin with baggy eyes!” She smiled when your body immediately went lax, and you flopped onto your bed sheets and snored as if you’d been sleeping for over a hundred years. With that, she left your room.

Your father was in a state of alamort, putting in as much effort as his soul allowed him to move your family higher status and reputation, but to no avail. His majesty had barely spared a glance at him, and he hoped that this ceremony would be an opportunity to bring his family higher. Your family was by no means struggling with money or bringing food on the table, more so struggling to maintain the reputation that's been withheld in your bloodline for generations.

Nobility was a hard bargain. Your surname was well known in the village you lived in, but it didn’t advance any farther than that. The family’s worth compared to that as a bystander you’d see in royal events, just slightly over a commoner, nothing to ever be placed near the grand royalty of the Todoroki bloodline.

The annual Crescent Moon ceremony was taking place in just a small amount of time, a celebration to symbolize family, fertility, empowerment, and to appreciate life’s lavish graces. It most certainly wasn’t the most important of events, but the meaning behind it gave reason to be very…lavish, and thriftless. A perfect event for a child to witness, as it romanticizes royal life to the utmost degree.

So, in the restless dreams of a 5-year-old girl, you’d be sitting on a throne adorned with diamonds, and a version of yourself that you would assume is an older you. A crown so shiny that if angled towards the sun, would blind anyone looking in your direction. It sits atop your perfectly placed strands of hair, not a single one out of place. Maybe if you thought hard enough, you’d be able to visualize a chromatic ring wrapped around your 4th finger, followed by the lips of a handsome prince pressed against the front of your hand.. is there a prince at the castle? Even a little girl can be bashful sometimes, maybe he’d be like the books, with a prodigious sword attached to his hip and weighty boots that slammed against marble floors, signaling his arrival earlier than his presence could. So.. speaking like a 5-year-old girl, this place is gonna be super duper awesome!!!

This… however..was not very awesome. It'd been almost.. 5 hours now? The sun is still high in the sky, burning down at the wooden carriage you rode in. It was hot, and your mother said that if you whined one more time about the heat, she’d make sure you’d get none of the palace desserts when they got to the capital of Venora, also known as Solaris. It was the diamond of the country, and where the tremendously large castle stays solemn. It’s where the royal family of Venora has resided for years. There are neighboring castles, much smaller, reserved for the high nobles, and your mother promised you’d get to see them when the carriage reached Solaris. Some were located on the way to the main castle, but some were buried deep in the wispy green forests, lakes, and hills that were outspread in Solaris, practically smothering the land. The only exception being the main village, which is said to be the largest city in the country. Your mother said that it’s not the best or most habitable place to live in. Tourists, and merchants, all of them practically suffocate the city, leaving little to no room for long-time inhabitants. If you want to live close to the castle, it’s best if you build your own place.

“Are we there-”

“Don’t even start, missy.” Your mother quipped before you could finish your childish statement.

“But-”

“You know, princesses are very calm and patient people. They ride in royal carriages all the time, simply waving at passersby. How could you be a princess if you can’t even make it to the castle without whining, dear?” Comparing you to a princess is the only way she knew would always get you to behave, it always worked well, proven by the silence the rest of the trip.

However, the mind of a little girl never stayed quiet, and as you peered out of the lights that the wood would allow, you could see your father’s carriage right in front of your own. It seemed that he was a quiet man, always thinking, but never speaking. Unless it was towards your mother about mundane things, he was always in his study, thinking. You couldn’t fathom what he could be up to, what could be so interesting or demanding that a simple nobleman as your father would be locked up inside the silence of his stone-walled office.

Sometimes at home, you’d see fathers - laughing and playing with their children, but that was never the case with yours. In fact, he never really spoke to your mother either. In contrast, your mother was as warm as a white fur blanket, like the ones she said were common in the palace, but rare and expensive to find in your own village. She always spoke with you, seeing as you had no other siblings. Speaking of which, you asked her about that idea once, having siblings. Quickly your mother hushed you of the idea, saying that it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, almost looking hurt at what you said, so you never mentioned it again.

Having many children was a miracle at this age, why was she so against it-

The sound of faded cheers and chatter dragged you out of the deep reflection of your thoughts. Are we there yet-?

You slammed a hand over your mouth when you realized you had said that last part out loud, slowly turning your gaze over to your mother, who narrowed her eyes at you. Yet the look on her face quickly softened as she sighed, and announced; “Yes, we are here!” Even she couldn’t contain her excitement, yet she quickly had to compose herself and grab you, as you were just about to leap out of the carriage. “We are in Solaris, not near the castle yet. I can’t let you go out into the village, it’s filled with people for the ceremony and you’d surely be trampled. If you want to view the commotion, simply watch through the carriage.” She simply grinned at you as you whined, and pressed your face to the carriage glass.

The sun was still in the sky, but much lower. You had made it to your temporary estate, and you were astounded at the sheer size of the exterior. It was nearly thrice as big as your regular estate, with gardens on each side with their own unique plants, your favorite being the dazzling lilies on the left side, and the charming gladiolus on the right. There was even a butler waiting for you, and you scampered up to him with a smile, which he gladly returned to you. Your mother was, discreetly, also amazed at the size, simply internalizing her emotions, with nothing but soft upturned lips and a slight sparkle in her eyes. Your father, though, had the exact opposite emotions. He looked rather displeased, evident with the slight scowl on his face, what could he be so upset about? You decided to tug on his suit pants, directing his scowl at you, but he loosened his angry face at the sight of your frown.

“Why are you sad, pa? This place is so big!” He lost his scowl completely, opting to look at you with a neutral face instead to not upset you anymore, and walking towards the front door of the estate, lamenting to himself instead “It could have been bigger.”

The inside was just as impressive, ancient paintings with gold plated frames, silverware decorated in intricate patterns and designs carved into the metal. The thing that caught your eye the most, was the stunning piano in the foyer of the estate. You had half the mind to climb the piano stool, and mash your little fingers against the keys, you were almost successful too, if it weren’t for your mother holding the collar of your dress. …

Much to your mother’s delight, the length of the trip ended up giving her a tuckered-out 5 year old. This was good anyway, the ceremony was tomorrow evening, and they wouldn’t be leaving the estate for another 3 weeks, anyway. This part seemed to be the only thing that pleased your father, maybe it was because this gave him more time to talk with The King himself.

Your mother had a very difficult pregnancy regarding your birth. Infact, the birth itself was a blur in her memory. From what the midwives had told her, the bleeding was what almost caused her death. Luckily, her having held onto the strings of consciousness for just a few moments longer was what caused her to recover just enough for the healer to arrive intime. Due to the heavy bleeding, it was highly encouraged, almost demanded of her, that she never conceive again.

This had angered your father to no end. He had at least one child, but it wasn’t a male..an “heir” to his legacy. No matter how many times you had promised him to carry on his legacy, he wouldn’t listen. His anger got so severe, he had almost forced himself onto your mother- completely disregarding her safety, all for the chance of an heir. From what little bit of morals he had left, he stopped.

This was the reason why he was quite desperate in his attempts to raise his family’s status and reputation, but in this day and age, a daughter and a title can only get you so far. He watched as his once peers outgrew him in their own rankings, no longer speaking to him and throwing away their companionships as if it had only been brought together by a scroll, waxed stamp, and word from the king.

Deep down inside, he wanted to be able to disregard people like that- and throw them away. He’d never admit it, though.

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but the whirlwind of activity never slept on a day such as this one. Your estate was over a mile away from the bustling city, and yet the cheers could be heard as loudly as the chirping birds outside the windowsill. Your mother must have heard it too, as she appeared in front of your doorway.

“I'm glad that trip wore you out enough to have you sleep in early, I'm afraid that was all the amount of soundful sleep you're going to get until the cheers die down in a few days.” She smiled at your little pout, walking over to you and gently pushing your fists away from your eyes as you rubbed them.

“Nonetheless, I bet you’ll be glad to hear that we get to enter the palace early, so it’s best you get yourself ready now, that is if you want to be princess material.”

“…Do I get to pick out my dress?”

“Of course you do.”

The sun was now peeking above the horizon, almost as if it was hiding from the beautiful chaos to come. The fear collides with the sky in an ethereal array of colors, the exact same array of colors as your dress. A shimmering light yellow, something lighter and purer than golden honey, but just as divine. It’s adorned with coral-like pink colored designs, and the prettiest golden shoes to go along with it. A dress, truly, fit for a princess.

The maid finished the final touches of the curls in your hair, so defined that they bounced on your head whenever you jumped in delight, much to the maid’s displeasure.

The sun had finally crept from its hiding place, now sitting lowly in the sky. It’s still well before noon, and you were stepping outside the estate with your mother’s hand holding your own. She wore a dress similar to your own, but fully yellow. Your father stood in front of you both. He was..suspiciously quiet, to say the very least. It was one thing to be in your own head, but his eyes seemed dark, like he was thinking about one thing only.

However, he snapped out of it when he realized the carriage wasn’t coming as soon as he expected it to.

People with high reputations get invited to the castle far far earlier than commoners get the chance to even get close to it. The earlier you get in depends on your status, and clearly your father thought he’d be escorted by now, and his pride would not allow him to go back inside to wait. Even the butler was starting to get concerned, it had now been over an hour waiting outside. Your mother had tried to persuade him 30 minutes ago, but was met with a rather harsh lecture, and didn’t dare to press further. He wouldn’t allow you two to go back inside either.

Finally, after about an hour and thirty minutes, the carriage arrived at your estate. Luckily the sun still wasn’t high enough in the sky, and the air still had a slight chill to it, so you didn’t overheat too much, it was just a little bit too warm for your liking.

The carriage was beyond anything you’d ever seen. It was laced with gold and diamonds beyond comparison to anything you’d ever seen. It was lavish, and the seats were laced with cold silk, much to your delight.

There were no words to describe the castle, none at all. Well, if you could explain it in one way… large. It took nearly 30 minutes to just get out of the carriage, due to the huge lineup at the side entrance. That was another thing your father hated, that he wasn’t “noble” enough to use the grand front entrance. You couldn’t even register his anger though, as you stepped out of the carriage the only thing you could think about was the sheer size and elegance at the massive structure standing proudly before you eyes. You clutched onto your mother tightly, as it felt as though you’d get lost if you so much as moved an inch from her body.

This was the moment you separated from your father, as though he had other plans, and stuck to your mother, heading towards the ladies’ hall, a portion of the castle where all the noblewoman and their ladies-in-waiting sat together for tea, from what you heard. It was strange though, why didn’t your mother have her own lady in waiting?

When inside the hall, you followed you mother to the room where the commotion was coming from, and were surprised by the sheer elegance of the woman inside. Did they go to galas all day? The ballgowns and tiaras they wore told you so, there was no way they could sit in such attire all day without dying.

You were almost intimidated by them as the silence built up and your mother walked in with you in her grasp. However, a breath of relief washed over you as some of the women smiled at you and your mother with a courtly wave, and a small portion just simply decided to ignore your existence, and go back to whatever conversation they were having moments prior.

Your mother seemed even more relieved as you did, surely feeling the anxiety building up about her own place in the room. She was older, but still had the girlish tendencies of wanting to fit in.

One of the noblewoman was very welcoming, opting to stand up from her loveseat and make her way over to your mother with a warm smile and curtsey. She even smiled down at you, which made your heart leap at the thought of being greeted by a princess.

“I see you’ve come right on time, and you’ve brought us a gift, too.” notioning at you, “she’ll fit in well with all of our children, the little girls out in the garden. It’s safe here, if she wants to play with them.”

Your mother curtseyed back, “I’m sure she’d like that, do you want to go [Y/N]?”

“Mhm!” The lady in front of your mother giggled at you, and notioned her head towards the entrance of the side garden. Your mother nodded at you, giving you permission to go, and so you skipped off.

The garden was filled with children playing and flowers of all colors blooming from every direction. Some children opted to go a little too high on the large garden swing, others chased butterflies, which is what you did. You got along well with a blond-haired blue-eyed girl, her hair tied up in pigtails and wearing a bright blue dress with gold accessories on it. She had some freckles on her face too, as she proclaimed to be “the professional of catching butterflies”. She taught you how to do it as well, and ushered you to catch the white and red colored butterfly, what an interesting color.

So you followed it, as it fluttered away into the forest-like part of the garden, with trees for what felt like miles. There were no children here, except for you and the childish butterfly slipping from your grasp at every chance.

Well, you thought you were the only child, until you heard crying from a distance.

A boy, about 8-9 years old, was sitting under an oak tree with tears in his eyes.

You hated it when people cried, you always ended up crying with them, but you’d try to keep your composure for the sake of this boy.

A light tap on his knee had him flinching, looking up at the person who had just dared to disturb him and his privacy. Almost regretting it, as he didn’t want to scare the intruder with the horrid scar on his face, but to his surprise, you didn’t flinch or widen your eyes at all. He was even more surprised at the person who was in front of him-

It was just a child.

“…What do you want?”

“Why are you crying?”

He didn’t answer your question.

“Is it because you're lonely?” “..No.”

“Are you nervous about the ceremony? I know it’s pretty scary, but can’t you believe how big this place is? As long as you have your parents by your side, you won't get lost! What’s your name?”

You didn’t know who he was, he was sure of that now. Giving away his last time would reveal who he was. He’d never had an outsider talk to him like a normal person before, and he wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the informality, in contrast to the formality that he was forced to drown in all his life, up until now.

“..Shouto. This place is big..but I am used to it.”

“Oh! Do you come here often?? Oh- and my name is [Y/N]!! Unlike you- I am TERRIFIED! I feel like I might get lost here! Like I might get sucked up into a painting or something!”

“..You can’t get stuck in paintings.”

“Of course not silly! I’m just joking!”

“Oh.”

“Uhm.. is it because of your injury? Does it hurt?” you pointed at the scar on his eye. Clearly this wasn’t the best thing to have said, as the boy looks like he’s going to cry again.

“No.. it doesn’t hurt..well..not in that way I don’t think.” His voice is wobbly.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry Shouto. I hope it doesn’t hurt at all. When you grow up, though, I’m sure people will respect you alot with that super duper awesome scar!

“…What?”

“Well..your scar, it looks cool!”

“It..does?” He looked at you like you had grown a second head. He’d never been told that his scar looked cool before. When the incident happened a few years ago, the only thing he was ever met with was horrid looks and fear.

“Of course it does! It’s like you battled one of those big dragons and came back to tell the story! Or- or you're an amazing knight who battled an entire army!”

“A dragon..an army.” He wasn’t frowning anymore, and maybe it was just your imagination, but you swore you saw his lips turn upwards just slightly, thinking about the idea.

“Yeah! Even better if you saved a princess along the way!” That striked an idea to your head, and you began to climb up the tree he was curled under a few moments prior. Only making it to the middle of the tree, you started to faux cry.

“Heeeelp me Shouto!!" The dragon is going to eeeeatt me!!! I’ll become dinner to a hungry dragon!!!”

He looked at you, “There’s no dragon?”

“You have to pretend, silly.”

“Oh, okay.”

He tried his best to climb up the tree, and to your surprise, he did it alot better than you did. He grabbed your hip and pulled you out of the tree, placing you back on your feet.

“You saved me! You are a true heeeero, knight Shouto! The king will surely reward you for your greatness!” with that, you attempted to flash him your best princess smile, you’ve been practicing.

He giggled at you, which nearly surprised himself. It’d been years since he genuinely smiled, let alone laughed at anything.

His laughter was cut short though, with the sound of someone calling your name, in a rather panicked fashion.

“Oh… I have to go..or my mama will be soo mad at me, Shouto.”

“That’s… okay.” He frowned. “You're going to the event, right..?”

“Mhm!” You beamed up at him.

“..What’s your family's name?”

“Uhm.. my last name?”

“Yes.”

“Ohh! It’s [L/N].”

“I see. [F/N],[L/N] is it?” He thought to himself for a moment, then looked at you.

“Yep! That is mee!” You smiled once, again this time he smiled back.”

“[Y/N]!!!” The voice that was calling you got louder this time, startling you both.

With a final wave and a “Goodbye Shouto!! I’ll see you at the ball!” you ran back in the direction you came from, or, where the voice came from? You hoped you were running in the right direction.

“..Goodbye..[Y/N].”

Now he was left by himself again.

Shouto had his own fears and insecurities, all bundled up inside his broken heart and he didn’t have the strength to piece them back together alone. The people alongside him didn’t do much to help, not even his own prestigious family, the ones who were always supposed to be incharge and handle the country with diamond crowns on their heads.

He knew that the same neglectful family would come looking for him soon after they found out he wasn’t isolated in his room like they had thought he had been doing.

And he didn’t think that the one who would even try to piece his heart back together would be a girl 4 years younger than him. That she would make him happy.

Shouto Todoroki was happy with you, and you alone. Even if it was just for a moment, he remembered it well, and he would for the rest of his life.

AUTHORS NOTE: aerhsbdv eliusbfdv awilsubdf fkdbv its 12:34am please i want to be tumblr and a03 famous i put my whole constanceussy into this

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measuredingold · 9 months

Text

fallingforyou

authors note: finally finished this folio piece i've been working on for about two weeks!!! i enjoyed writing this a lot and wish i had wrote it a bit longer, but i'm trying to work on not writing as much for short one-shots (unless you guys like longer writing!) as always enjoy and feedback is appreciated :)

pairing: nick folio x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 4.8k

cw/tags: friends to lovers, p in v, unprotected sex (be safe!!!!! wrap it up folks!!!), fluff, nick being a sweetie, drinking/alcohol consumption, 18+ minors do not interact

The whiskey hit the back of his throat with a burn. Nick's face scrunches up in displeasure as he swallows it down, body tingling from the alcohol. He didn't expect himself to end up here, but his friends wanted his first few nights at home to be exciting. His friends told him he’d have enough time to sleep later. He had been touring almost for five months straight, and the thought of getting the next almost three months off was pure heaven to him.

Someone next to him called for another round of shots, probably whiskey again, and Nick had to say a prayer to himself before bringing his beer bottle up to his lips. He cleansed his palette, which is hilarious when he realizes he's doing it with more alcohol, but it tastes better than the whiskey his buddies have been pounding down for the last hour.

"So, Folio," One of them said, leaning towards him across the table. "Meet anyone special out on the road?"

He snorts, head shaking. "Nah, man. Barely had any time."

"Seriously?" Another one says. "Thought you'd have hundreds of people throwing themselves at your feet."

"We're not like that, dude." Nick responds, a tipsy laugh tumbling from his lips. "I mean, don't get me wrong - we've hooked up with people before but," He shrugs. "We're kind of really boring."

"You? Boring?" His friend across from him snorted, throwing his head back in laughter. "Dude, you were fucking crazy in high school."

"Yeah. High school." Nick rolls his eyes. "I'm 26. I'm old, man, I can't keep up anymore."

The table breaks out in mumbled agreement. It's clear that they're all getting older, and things aren't how they used to be, and Nick kind of likes it that way. Yeah, he likes to party, he fucking loves to drink, and a hook-up here and there is nice every once in a while. It just doesn’t do much for him anymore.

He likes to take it slow; he likes exploring with his friends when they’re in a city they’ve never been to before, and he really likes to sleep. A lot. Jetlag is a bitch and the more you fight it, the more screwed you’re going to be. Trust him, he knows.

The conversation switches and Nick’s only half listening, eyes scanning the bar to see if there’s anyone he may know here. It’s a long shot, because most of the people he knows is already here with him, but he looks anyways.

His eyes find you before you ever find him.

You look as beautiful as ever and the smile adorn on your lips has Nick's stomach turning in a way he hasn't felt in ages. Probably since the last time he saw you. You met in high school and became somewhat friends, you had been dating a buddy of his, he eventually dated a friend of yours at one point, and so on and so forth. You were always around, and he liked it.

He had seen you at a wedding last summer, no date just like him, and the two of you had spoken for hours that night as if no time had passed. It was nice, but he won't forget the ache in his heart when you called it a night. He walked you out to your car and you had left him with a kiss on his cheek and a playful threat of fighting him if he doesn't text you the next time he's in town.

He never did.

Your eyes finally catch his and something crosses your face, but he can't quite put his finger on what it is exactly. He's nervous, scared you'll be upset with him for not letting you know he's home - and for a while at that - but your lips are stretching into an even wider smile and his shoulders relax.

"Look what the cat dragged in." You say, a teasing grin settling on your lips as you walk up to his table. He smiles up at you.

"Long time no see, stranger."

"And who's fault is that?" You tease before sliding in the empty chair beside him. He's sure his buddy can find another place to sit.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" Your head tilts, feigning innocence. "I'm not the one who promised to tell me the next time they'll be in town."

He gives you a sheepish look, leaning away from you as he slumped back into his seat. "You got me there."

You smile at him now, a real one, and place a hand on his arm.

"Hey," You say softly, "I was just joking. I know you're busy flying around the world being a fucking badass. I'd probably forget, too."

"I won't forget next time. Swear." Nick holds his pinky up for emphasis and you immediately wrap your own around his. He smiles. "Plus, I'm home even longer now."

Your brows quirk up in interest. "Oh?"

"Mhm." Your pinkies are still wrapped around each other's, and his gaze drops down to them before looking back up. "Almost three months. You're gonna be sick of me."

"Holy shit." Your eyes widen. "Finally gonna take me out to lunch then, huh?"

His brows scrunch together in confusion before realization dawns on him. He laughs, unwrapping his pinky from around yours to bring his hand up to run through his hair.

"How the hell do you remember that?"

It was yet another promise he made at that wedding last summer, when the two of you had sat by each other at the reception. A few beers in, feeling a bit tipsy and a lot brave, Nick had brought up one of his favorite lunch spots at home. You'd never been there before, only heard of it in passing, and he had told you he'd take you there the next time he was in town. His treat, he had said.

"You promised!"

His pauses for a moment, eyes locked on yours and he can't help but smile to himself. You're seriously the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes on, he decides right then and there.

"Looks like I'll be taking you out then."

Before you could reply, Nick’s buddy is back with shots and handing them out to everyone at the table. He groans to himself when one finds its way into his hand, and he gives you a look. You’re already laughing.

“What? Can’t do shots anymore?”

“Dude, this is like my 4th one. I’m not sure how many more I can take.”

His friends held one out to you, brow raised as an offering. You take it.

“Here,” You turn your body towards Nick, holding the shot glass out. ”I’ll take one with you. Only one,” With your free hand you hold one finger up, lips curling into a smile. “Still gotta get my ass home.”

Nick groans again. “I wish I had that excuse. My buddy drove me here, so now I’m literally forced to drink.”

“Oh, you poor baby. Whatever shall you do?”

He rolls his eyes but knows his cheeks are heating up, the term of endearment getting to him. The table cheers in unison and he clinks his glass against yours before bringing it to his lips. You keep eye contact as you do the same, and the both of you swallow down the shot. You make a face first, visibly shaking, and then Nick follows, laughter soon escaping him.

“Holy shit, that was terrible.” You cough and Nick only laughs harder.

“Who can’t take shots now?”

You glare at him, though he knows there’s no malice behind it. “Watch it, Folio.”

He’s already feeling good, the alcohol slowly getting to him, and he leans into your space.

“Or what?”

You pause, gazing into his eyes. His heart thuds against his chest when he watched your eyes drop to his lips but in a split second they’re back on his, and you lean forward.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

This cat and mouse game between the two of you has been going on for years now, but Nick was too scared to make the first move. You were friends, who’ve been kind of flirting for years, and he’s seriously thought about kissing you ever since junior year. It’s crazy how he hasn’t… yet.

“Actually, I think I would.” His arm settles around the back of your chair, but he doesn’t touch you.

You don’t budge, holding his steady gaze, but Nick can see the flush beginning to form on your cheeks. You don’t respond and he tilts his head, giving you a pointed look, and before he could say anything that could get him in trouble his friend is shouting across the table.

"Folio!" The both of you turn your focus to his friend, and Nick's brows furrow together. "You guys wanna play?"

He holds up a pool stick and Nick grins before looking back at you, raising a brow in question.

"You wanna?"

"I don't know," You say with a shrug, your lips already curling at the end. "You any good?"

"Oh, sweetheart." He coos softly. "I'm the best damn pool player in Maryland."

"Is that so?" Nick nods proudly and your lips stretch into a grin in which he returns, and you push your chair back. "Well, isn't it my lucky day?”

"It sure is." He pushes his own chair back and stands up. "I hope you're ready to kick some ass."

It wasn't too hard to beat Nick's friends, them being a bit too intoxicated to really take the game seriously. It also helped that he was actually good at pool, not fibbing to make himself seem cooler in front of you. You were a pretty decent partner too, getting a few balls down yourself, and when the two of you came out triumphant for the third time in a row, Nick didn't stop himself from wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

"We make a pretty good team, huh?"

You look up at him and smile prettily, and it has Nick's stomach turning, and lean into his touch. "I say we do, Folio."

A few more rounds, all won by your team, the group finally decided to call it a night. Nick walks you out to your car, telling his friend who drove him here that he'll be back in a second. He was a gentleman, so of course he'd make sure you made it back to your car safe. He also wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, chest already heavy at the thought.

"You free Friday?" Nick shoves his hands in his pocket, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "We could get lunch then. If you'd like."

You look up at him through your lashes and he feels his heart thud sporadically against his chest, but he tries to play it cool.

"I'd like that a lot." You say softly.

"Cool. I'll actually text you this time." He teases and you laugh, and it sounds like music to his ears.

Nick watches as you pull your bottom lip in between your teeth, trying to keep your smile from spreading. His body warms at that, and he finds it becoming hard to look away from your mouth and the curve of your lips, wondering what they would feel like pressed against his own. He finally gazes back up to find you staring at him intently, brows furrowed as if you're in deep thought.

"What's going on up in that head of yours?"

"Tell me if I'm crossing any lines here." You rub your hands nervously together, “I kind of don’t want tonight to end just yet… I really like talking to you.”

His cheeks flush. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile, all shy and cute and it has Nick wanting to reach out and kiss you right then and there. “Do you… want to come back to my place? To hang out. Me and you.”

His eyes widen. Oh. You’re asking him to go back to your place, alone, and even though you could very well just want to talk, it still has his body heating up.

“Oh.” He says dumbly, still in shock.

"Fuck. Did I read this wrong?" You begin to panic, your cheeks heating up with color. Nick notices immediately and is quick to shake his head, eyes widening.

"No! I mean," He clears his throat, giving you a bashful smile. "Um. No. I don't think you read this wrong at all."

He catches your eyes and sees you visibly relax, but the flush to your cheeks deepens.

"Oh." You drop your head, hair falling in your face to hide your burning cheeks. Nick can't stop himself from smiling. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He laughs. "I like hanging out with you. I always have."

He hasn't had a sip of alcohol since the shot the two of you took together hours ago and he knows he can't blame this bravery on that, but he likes to think that maybe there's still some liquid courage coursing through his veins. You look up again, a shy smile on your lips.

"So, you’re saying it wouldn't be too crazy to ask you to come home with me?" You ask softly.

Your words have Nick's body tingling, excitement running through him. He's not sure what you mean exactly, and maybe you seriously just want to hang out more and talk - in which he's completely okay with - but there was a look in your eyes, something he caught the last time he was with you, and his stomach turned again.

"Not crazy at all." His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip one more time before looking off to the side to hide the growing smile on his lips. "Let me just... Let me go tell him you'll be taking me home, okay? I'll be right back."

You nod, still smiling prettily, and he watches you get into your car. He turns to find his friend leaned up against his car a few spots down already staring at him, brows raised in question.

"Uh, I think she's taking me home tonight."

It takes a moment for the words to settle, his friend’s eyes widening. "No fucking way."

"Not like that!" Nick's quick to get out, but he knows he's lying. It's definitely like that. "We're just catching up."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be catching up alright." His friend teases and Nick rolls his eyes.

"Dude. Shut up."

Nick waves him off as they both say their goodbyes and he made his way back to your car. He takes a deep breath before getting in, giving you a smile while he buckled himself in.

“Ready?” You question, already putting your car in reverse.

Nick settles back against the seat, getting himself comfortable, and nods.

...

The two of you sit across from each other on your couch, beers in hand as Nick goes on another story about his recent travels. You had been the one to ask him, curious about what life is like on the road, and with the alcohol still coursing through his veins it was pretty hard for Nick to stop talking.

"...Sorry," He lets out sheepishly, head dipping down to hide his blush. "I'm probably boring you."

"No!" You quickly get out; your cheeks now flushed a light crimson shade. "No, it's fine. I like hearing your stories."

"Yeah?" He lifts his head up and gives you a smile, which you return easily.

"Of course. It's so exciting to hear about all the places you've been," You pull your legs up onto the couch and rest them underneath you. "I also just like hearing you talk."

"So, what you’re telling me is that you like my voice?”

"Mhm." You nod. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Nick looks at you, and your eyes meet, and he feels the world kind of... stop. He can't even blame this on the beer, because even with the alcohol flowing through him, he's always thought you were beautiful. Especially your eyes, a shade of green he wasn't familiar with, all round and pretty and welcoming.

"I don't think I've ever told you this," His fingers grip around the glass bottle in his hands and he shifts on the couch, subsequently moving closer to you, "but I think you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."

This catches you off guard and you laugh, light and airy, and Nick loved the way your eyes crinkled. Your face flushes a deeper shade of pink, probably from the alcohol mixed with the unusual compliment, and he smiles.

"No, you've never told me that." You say once your laughter has died down, eyes landing back on him. "Thank you, Nick."

"Of course."

A pleasant silence falls between the two of you and he's just noticed how close you were, your legs pressing against each other. He tries to ignore the way his heart hammers against his chest, and he sucks in a breath when your hand comes down to rest against his thigh. He drops his gaze to your fingers before flicking them back up to yours, and you’re already staring, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Nobody moves for a solid minute, just the two of you staring at each other to see who makes the first move. Nick doesn’t miss the way your eyes dropped to his lips like they had in the parking lot, the way your chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and he leans over to grab the beer bottle still secure in your free hand but surely forgotten. You don’t say anything when he places both your forgotten bottles on the coffee table beside the couch before turning back to face you, shifting his body closer to yours.

He places a hand against yours that still rests against his thigh, and your fingers easily slide in between his own. He looks down at them, smiling softly at the way your hands fit together almost perfectly before he feels your hand underneath his chin, tilting his head up.

“Wait.” He says suddenly when he feels the two of you start to lean in, lips barely inches apart. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Nick,” You huff out, your hand now moving to cup the side of his face. He leans into the touch immediately. “I don’t think you understand how badly I want this.”

He laughs. “Oh, babe. I think I do.”

You lean in closer now, nose brushing against his and if he just tilted his head down just right your lips would be touching. His stomach swirls with butterflies and squeezes your hand that’s still in his.

“Then kiss me.”

Fuck it.

He tilts his head down, capturing your lips against his own. You let out a noise, something mixed of a sigh and a whine, and your hand squeezes his. Your lips moved together slowly, unsure, before Nick released his grip on your hand to reach up and cup your face. He was determined now, tongue darting out to swipe at your bottom lip, and you made another noise. It went straight through him, body buzzing in excitement at this newfound territory that he didn’t want to lose just yet.

You pull away, only to your shirt off of your body, and then you’re leaning back against the couch, pulling Nick with you. He follows, the two of your shifting around for him to easily slide in between your legs before his lips are back against yours and with a purpose.

You feel soft in his hold, and the way your body pressed against his was something he’s never experienced before. His hands shook as they gripped your hips, rolling his flush against yours, and the sound you let escape was heavenly. He groans, his cock hardening with each roll of your hips and he has to pull away to catch his breath.

He looks down at you, your eyes hooded, and lips parted, and he has to bite down on his lip to hold in the groan that’s threatening to escape. You look so fucking beautiful underneath him, the fucked-out expression you wore on your face is something he’s never going to forget, tucking it into the back of his mind for another time. He sits up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room and you’re already shimmying out of your jeans, kicking them off.

“Eager much?” He teases, though he’s a little breathless at the sight of you only in your underwear. He’s already messing with the zipper of his jeans before you even respond.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s why I’m trying to do here, darlin’.”

A whine pulls out from deep in your chest and it goes straight to Nick’s already achingly hard cock, and he’s quick to rid himself of his jeans. He’s on you again in seconds, lips finding yours again as he finds solitude in between your thighs. He rolls his hips down and moans against yours lips, the feeling of your clothed and already damp core against his cock has his mind going hazy for a second or two.

“Fuck,” He grunts out, pulling away again briefly. “Do you have a condom? I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.”

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling him back down to you. “I’m on the pill, and I don’t think I’m patient enough to dig around for one. I need you now.”

His cock twitches at your words.

“Are you sure?”

“Nick.” You groan this time, annoyed, and you nip at his bottom lip before pulling back, head pressing back against the arm of the couch. He sucks in a breath when your eyes meet. “I trust you. And if I’m being honest, if you’re not inside me in the next ten fucking seconds I will lose my goddamn mind.”

Nick lets out a surprised laugh and your cheeks flush. He sits up to pull his boxers down and watches you shimmy your underwear down, sitting up briefly to remove your bra before falling back on the couch. He settles back in between your legs, lifting them up to wrap around his waist.

“Demanding little thing, huh?” His voice is low as he wraps a hand around his aching cock, the tip glaringly red as he gives himself a few strokes. “I like it.”

You keen at his words, eyes fluttering shut and he has to collect himself and not pound into you immediately. He takes his time, though, slowly sliding the tip up and down your already soaked folds. The moan that rips from you the second he pushes in has something beneath his chest twisting, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering around wildly.

He’s not even all the way in but you already feel incredible, your cunt clenching around him as you take him inch by inch. He’s sure by the scrunch of your face and the way your nails dig into his forearms that the stretch isn’t the most pleasant, and he leans over, fluttering kisses around your face.

“Okay?” He questions, voice already strained. You give a little nod but don’t bother opening your eyes. “Taking me so well already, baby. So fucking good.”

Your whole body flushes at his words and you clench around his length again, and Nick’s vision blurs briefly. He’s not sure how he’s going to last longer than thirty seconds at this point. He sucks in a deep breath when he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flushed against yours, and you whine.

He stills, worry rushing through him. “Feel alright?”

You finally open your eyes, lids heavy and gaze hazy, and give another nod of your head.

“Mhm. Just feel…” You whimper out, hips wiggling down before you gasp. “So full.”

“You feel fucking incredible.” He groans out, forehead pressing against yours. Your arms reach up to wrap around his neck and he kisses you, soft and gentle. “Tell me when I can move.”

“Move.” You whine, hips wiggling again. “Please move, baby.”

The first roll of his hips has you moaning out, but Nick swallows it with another kiss. His hands roam over your body as you move together and he feels you shudder in his hold as he gives a rather deep roll of his hips, gasping out his name softly. He can’t help but whine into your mouth, wanting to make you say his name over and over and over again. It sounded like you were meant to say it, all pretty and fucked out, nails now digging into his shoulders as he picks up speed.

He reaches down between the two of you, pressing calloused fingers against your throbbing clit and rubs circles in time with his thrusts. You throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as a low, deep moan falls from your now swollen lips, and Nick leans forward and presses open mouthed kisses along your exposed neck, his thrusts or fingers not letting up.

“Nick…” You whimper out, nails digging even further into his shoulders that he’s sure there will be a mark tomorrow. He’ll be surprised if you don’t break. “Fuck.”

“I love when you say my name.” He groans against your neck and gives another deep roll of his hips, causing your back to arch off the couch. “You close, baby? Tell me what to do, wanna make you feel good.”

You moan. “Keep doing what you’re doing, please. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t, continuing to rub your swollen clit in time with his thrusts, your cunt clenching around him so tightly he almost forgets how to fucking breathe. You feel other worldly, like something he’s never experienced before, and he swears he sees fucking stars the second he feels your cunt clench around him one last time. You come with a shout of his name, body shaking under him as your orgasm spread throughout your body.

He moans, pressing his face against your neck as he chases his own high, and he somehow remembers to pull out, fisting his cock and giving it a few sharp tugs before he spills all over your stomach. His chest rises and falls heavy with each breath he took, hair falling in his face as he tries to come back to earth. He looks down at you and his heart skips a beat, as cliché as it sounds, at the fucked out grin on your lips.

Nick can’t help himself and he leans down, lips catching your own in the most tender kiss he can muster up at the moment.

“Where’s your bathroom?” He questions once he pulls away, moving some hair out of your, and tsks softly when you try to push him back and sit up. “No, no, no. Stay here. I got it.”

You pause, peering up at him before you slowly lay back down. “Down the hall, first door to the left.”

Nick pulls himself up from the couch with a groan, eyes scanning the room to find his boxers before he reaches down for them and puts them on. It doesn’t take him more than a minute to get to the bathroom and find something to wipe you off with, and he comes back into the living room to find you right where he left you. He wipes up the mess he made on your stomach and is gentle in between your legs, lips curling in a slight smirk at the way you squirmed when he did so.

You’re quiet when you finally stand from the couch, searching for you shirt. He can’t help but watch, the curves of your body forever embedded in his mind, and his eyes linger when he notices the bottom of your shirt barely covers your ass. You turn to look at him, cheeks still flushed, but you wore an expression as if you were in deep thought. He thought it was the cutest thing ever, his lips tugging into a smile.

“What?” He questions, leaning back against the couch. You shrug, a smile slowly creeping onto your own lips.

“…Would it be crazy to ask you to stay the night?”

His smile only widens at your words, heart thudding against his chest.

“As long as you let me buy you breakfast in the morning.”

“Breakfast and lunch?” You reach out for him, and he lets you tug him up from the couch, lacing your fingers together as you drag him towards your bedroom. “Sounds almost as if you like me or something, Folio.”

“Maybe I do.”

You pause in the doorway, looking up at him with wide, pretty eyes and he doesn’t stop himself from leaning down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You giggle when he pulls away and tug him into your room.

“It’s a date.”

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