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#I’m sure there are people who like and are more knowledgeable about every one of those specific things more than me but all together
teeth-cable · 1 day
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I need more people to talk about how just like the POC designs, the writing is terrible at clueing the audience what race and ethnicity the characters are.
Beside stereotypes, the racial coding in the writing is little to non-existence. The characters don’t have mannerisms from their cultures, speak in slangs or idioms relating to their group from their time periods, or make cultural references.
Without having to rely on outside sources (Livestreams, looking up VAs, leaked audition sheets, etc), the only characters I would successfully guess would be Vicky, Val, and Velvette, and even then, it doesn’t mean the racial coding is good.
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Vicky is the only one from this list whose racial coding isn’t atrocious. I can tell she’s Latino because she curses in Spanish, but that’s it. This is admittedly nick-picky , but I wish when cursing she would have used Salvadoreño specific slang and curse phases to signal she’s Salvadoreña.
Val, I can tell is Latino too, because of his accent and him cursing in Spanish, but it’s egregious. The accent fluctuates so much, it’s strong, then weak, then strong again. Not sure if the VA was struggling or if this was an intentional direction given to him, though the fact, I and other people were confused, at the direction, speaks for itself. Another issue with his accent is how it’s sexualized, contributing to the Latin Lover stereotype of his character.
Velvette, I won’t sugarcoat it. I wouldn’t even guess she was supposed to be black though the writing or the majority of her designs until the finale. The finale, the last episode of the season and the only time she has textured hair with her screen time being around two minutes and sixteen seconds in total.
Visual designs isn’t where race coding ends. This is important to remember because it ignores the good coded characters (King Dice from Cuphead, Darwin from TAWG, the Funk trolls from Dreamwork’s Trolls) and how Viv failed and could have done the racial coding better.
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For Viv, she has to rely on other coding methods too because there are characters who aren’t humanoid enough, or even humanoid at all, for visual coding to work. There really isn’t anything I can say to explain why the race coding sucks beside Viv doesn’t care about representing POCs.
I wanted to create this post to highlight how Viv fails at coding in every aspect. The fandoms and critics shouldn’t praised her for giving Velvette textured hair or darkening Sera’s skin from her leaked audition sheet. We need to stop praising creators, especially white ones, for doing less than the bare minimum (The bare minimum being making POC characters look POC) when creating POC characters, or worse, justify it. I’ve seen people tried to justify the terrible POC designs by using one of Carmilla’s daughters as an example, as if one decent POC design in a sea of ashy and euro-centric or erased features for the majority of the POC cast suddenly invalidates the criticisms.
I’m also getting tired of the fandom making posts questioning why people have and still draw the POC characters as white, as well as people harassing artists for accidental whitewashing. I’m hate the whitewashing too but in this case, it’s different because this is Viv’s own fault due to her poor racial coding. Not every fan will have the same intense knowledge you do or even should, to know what a character’s race or ethnicity is, that’s Viv’s responsibilities as the creator.
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Mind you, these were the human designs we had before the show aired. Alastor being mixed creole and Niffty being Japanese yet they look white as hell here.
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scorpihoe1111 · 13 days
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✨Astrology Observations✨
🔥Mars in Sagittarius individuals are more stubborn with their beliefs than earth/fixed mars.
🌍Speaking of which, those with mars/mercury in Taurus refuse to change their mind about an opinion they have. Even if they’ve been proven wrong, or know themselves that they’re wrong; they will still stand firm to the public about what they said.
🌍Virgo/Pisces men are usually Bisexual, bi-curious or just most likely to be completely in the closet.
💧Cancer women can be very big liars and I’m not sure why anyone hasn’t called that out yet. They’re more likely to lie about bigger things, in a way that benefits/manipulates the person/situation to their benefit rather than white lies tho.
💧Scorpio women on the other hand tend to lie unprovoked about small things, like what they ate that day.
🌪️Aquarius’ talk A LOT, but usually only about random little things. If they seem quiet around you it’s because they don’t feel comfortable yapping about non-sense with you
🌪️Libra’s are more 2-faced than Gemini. Especially the men.
🌪️Speaking of Libra men, they’re very feminine and sassy with other women. Usually the type to actually be jealous of women (for whatever reason) and try to bring her down in a subtle, backhanded; passive way. Especially in regards to how the woman appears. Kind of like how girls do to one another.
🔥Sagittarius suns can never stay genuinely mad even if they’ve started the fight. They’re the type of people to punch someone in the face and say “Let’s go get ice cream” to them 5 minutes later.
🔥Both Aries men and women find it difficult to be truly committed in relationships. More of the type to prefer FWB or one night stands rather than a genuine relationship.
🌪️Gemini moons are a lot more knowledgeable than people give them credit for. Their minds know an answer to question you have on every different subject. They’re both book and street smart imo too, they always know what someone’s true intentions are and can play along accordingly to get what they want or turn the tables.
🌍Capricorn men tend to have a very dry, harsh; dark type of humor that others would consider disturbing or offensive, especially in their youth.
🌍Capricorn’s can be just as judgmental as Virgo, maybe even more honestly since Virgo’s will give you some grace but Capricorns will straight up avoid you and not wanna be seen with you if they feel you’re below them.
🌏Capricorn moon men almost always have mommy/daddy issues that they tend to take out on women. Think back to your last toxic/narcissistic relationship or situationship; he was a Cap moon wasn’t he?
💧Pisces women can be very vulnerable around the wrong kind of people. They have a tough exterior and push away those that genuinely care about them but open right up to toxic individuals lol. Regardless of what kind of red flags the person has, Pisces women will always feel comfortable in their presence (even if they shouldn’t).
💧Cancer venus’ are the people who quite literally wanna baby their partners. Unfortunately this also includes not holding their partners accountable.
🌪️Aquarius venus’ love language is personal space.
🌪️Gemini mars tend to fight with their words more than their hands, and honestly? Their words hurt worse than any beating.
Part 2 coming soon 🌚
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signedkoko · 2 months
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hello, good afternoon/night!
I was wondering if you could do a vox x character (?) oneshot where the other person has royal status (something similar to stolas).
I’m interested to see if vox would change his attitude if he was interacting with someone above him, or if he would act the same as usual.
either way, I hope this makes sense and thank you so much!
Vox X Reader [Romantic]
In which you are apart of the ars goetia family, and Vox doesn't know much about royalty. Reader is genderneutral.
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Being one of the 72 members of the family didn't feel special from your point of view; you were royalty, yes, but what that actually meant was beyond you
Nevertheless, you were representative of innovation, and your role as an 'aristocrat' was quite literally the most dull of all: an archivist
Your role was to document, file, or archive every piece of information that has ever existed or will exist, and to protect it all in your library
You were a vast network of knowledge, not too different from a computer
That was where you and Vox became so similar, he was certainly an impressive overlord worth meeting.
You found yourself archiving logs upon logs of his creations, of his ad campaigns, of his scandals; he was always up to something
It piqued your interest, so you were sure to note the next time you were in proximity so you could meet him
Vox didn't give two shits about royalty, but what he did care about were the opportunities it presented
It was worth being nice to them and biting your tongue, and in all honesty, he wasn't much of a hot head when it came to people he didn't know
He had files on every member of the Ars Goetia, including yours, and he'd developed a bit of a 'celebrity' crush
You seemed so like him, but he knew pictures could only say so much about a person and moved on
Both of you knew the other would be at the same event, and like magnets, you came straight to one another
Vox used his television charm to lure you in, and just like you'd hoped, it worked
He is extremely nervous around royalty because, truth be told, they really are far more powerful than he or any other overlord
Not to say he doubts himself, but he understands his limits
And being technology itself, he also knows that your ability nearly pales his technology—computers are without a doubt more capable of storing information and processing it than any human or demon ever could, but you were beyond that
That is to say, he is extremely impressed with you and asks a lot about your ability, almost hoping it'll reveal some kind of trick he could use too
Unfortunately, no tricks, but he does find you to be just as kind as he'd imagined
Ars Goetia is extremely strict about the relationships they have, but fortunately for you, you knew every rule and loophole there was to know and managed to get by with 'one of hell's strongest overlords'
He is very adaptive to rules and customs, so it's no issue impressing your family with his seemingly infinite skills
" I didn't know you knew all that, Vox. "
" Yeah! You know, I didn't either! "
He absolutely goes autopilot a lot around other royals because he does not want to cause you any trouble, but you always tell him to relax and let him know you'd never let them get in the way
The hardest decision is who is moving, and when you eventually offer to abandon your lavish lifestyle for his minimalistic city style, he does whatever he can to help you adapt.
Really, you are his prince(ss), and he will treat you like the royalty you are
" So, does this make me a prince now? "
" Are you proposing? "
One of his favourite perks is that now he can really stick it to Alastor
Not that he would ever intend on putting you in danger—even if you'd win—but let's be honest
You would win against that stupid radio demon
Oh yeah, he's proud of that too
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Author's Note - I ended up doing headcanons because I felt the prompt didn't have enough for me to go off of, I apologize for disappointing!~ Even so, I hope this still catches your interest 🖤
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monzabee · 10 months
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hot girls support 44 – lh44
masterlist
Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.
Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff
Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.
That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.
The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.
It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.
In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”
The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.
You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”
The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”
“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.
Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”
You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”
“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”
As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.
Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."
With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.
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heartsofminds · 5 months
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my life is changing every day, in every possible way
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“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.
A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !
“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.” 
Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.
The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have. 
“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him. 
He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing. 
Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be. 
The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?” 
“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.” 
Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used. 
“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.” 
Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. 
It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving. 
Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options. 
Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more. 
In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time. 
And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .
Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 
So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt. 
He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is. 
Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman. 
“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop. 
“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him. 
He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.” 
“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs. 
“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed. 
He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that? 
“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy. 
Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once. 
“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.” 
And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go. 
Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason. 
“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans. 
“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.” 
Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 
Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?” 
Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.” 
“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”  
“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her. 
“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him. 
“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.” 
And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year. 
But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry. 
“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl. 
The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort. 
“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.
“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.” 
“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.” 
Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.
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Carrying a baby is harder than it looks. 
Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.
It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures. 
But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be. 
Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid). 
He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox. 
She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms. 
“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?” 
“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears. 
Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair. 
Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs. 
“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?” 
Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick. 
“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” 
Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween. 
“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.” 
He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated. 
A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is. 
Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest. 
God, this girl is so dramatic. 
“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness. 
Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.” 
And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can. 
Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why. 
Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.” 
Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby. 
“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.” 
Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him. 
“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.” 
He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return. 
“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” 
He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up. 
“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.” 
Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle. 
His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends. 
The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him. 
Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue. 
“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them. 
“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion. 
“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?” 
“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.” 
“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?” 
Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!” 
“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.” 
“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –” 
Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend. 
“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar. 
“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up. 
“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew. 
“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face. 
Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper  “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there. 
“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.” 
“You don’t mean that.” 
“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice. 
With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight. 
He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed. 
While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night. 
Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.
Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game. 
“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival. 
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello. 
He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume. 
His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley. 
He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak. 
“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” 
He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?” 
Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween. 
Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy. 
“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”
Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet. 
“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.” 
Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows. 
“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.  
“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm. 
“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!” 
Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize. 
“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically. 
“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.” 
She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head. 
Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in. 
He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.
Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley. 
And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened. 
“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles. 
Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her. 
“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.” 
Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.” 
Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in. 
All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead. 
Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway. 
“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses. 
“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips. 
“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.” 
“She’s what?” 
“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!” 
Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately. 
“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him. 
By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex. 
His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding. 
“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad. 
Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position. 
“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder. 
“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.” 
Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now? 
“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.” 
Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?” 
Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for. 
But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him. 
Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself. 
He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.” 
Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand. 
He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.” 
Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father. 
And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be. 
She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her. 
“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.” 
Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews. 
Who the fuck gives gum to a baby? 
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Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest. 
He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor. 
He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017). 
And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob. 
And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week). 
Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores. 
The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention. 
“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?” 
And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you. 
Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there. 
But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken. 
“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that. 
He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language. 
Fuck. Why do I always do this? 
“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in. 
From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend. 
But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces. 
Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind. 
“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.” 
He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –” 
“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off. 
Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you? 
“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”  
He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use. 
You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –” 
“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.” 
You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”
You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you? 
He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.” 
And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you? 
You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table. 
“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.” 
He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?” 
He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 
He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 
She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you. 
Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it. 
Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend. 
Some things just aren’t meant to be. 
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Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha. 
“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,”  Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth. 
Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth. 
“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks. 
Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?” 
Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry. 
“You what?” 
“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.” 
Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?” 
Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron. 
“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him. 
Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.
“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?” 
“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact. 
“You did what?” 
“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.”” 
Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say. 
“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.” 
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There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it. 
You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all. 
But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person. 
No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain. 
And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago. 
So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how. 
“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.” 
And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you. 
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heavenlyvision · 1 month
Text
More than friends
Word Count: 21.9k
Pairing: Johnny Cage x F!Reader
Read part one ˗ˏˋhereˎˊ˗
A/N: Okie dokie ! It is finished,,, I hope you all enjoy it and that it lives up to your expectations. I apologise for it taking so long ! I've been struggling with motivation to write lately but I am pretty proud of this big one and thank you for being so patient !!! <33
Summary: Temporarily living with Johnny has it's challenges, especially since he still isn't being upfront about his feelings or your relationship.
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of stalking (ex), alcohol consumption, minor harrassment (ex), mental instablity (ex), minor mentions of violence, arguments, mean!Johnny, possessive/jealous!Johnny, reader has a nightmare, masturbation, thigh riding, biting, cunnilingus, grinding, creampie (?), minor dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, minor overstimulation, no use of y/n
MDNI
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The past few days with Johnny have been good, you have mostly been watching movies and playing board games. He offered you a deal – for every movie you watch, you have to watch one of his after. A fine deal by any means… if you hadn’t already seen them. Being friends with Johnny means watching all of his movies at least once but it seems like staying here has given him the opportunity to make you watch them all again.
If he hadn’t been so kind and you weren’t so worried about being ungrateful or overstaying your welcome, you would complain and kick up more of a fuss but all in all, you don’t really mind. It’s not like his movies are bad… okay, some of them are definitely not good but he’s still in them so you don’t really mind. He’s a good actor and a good-looking man so it makes sitting through the lesser of his films bearable, that and he’s always so happy when you watch them together, how could you turn him down.
You needed a break from his movies though, which has resulted in a game of trivial pursuit and while you can’t prove it… you think he’s cheating, “This isn’t fun when it’s only two people playing,” you complain.
He’s leaning back on his palms and smiling cockily at you, you’re both sat facing each other with his coffee table in between, the game sat atop and looking at it, you can see just how far behind you are.
“You’re only saying that because you’re losing,” he snickers back at you.
You scowl at him, “Who knows things like…” you pick up another card and read it out, “When the first movie trailer was shown?”
He lightly rolls his eyes, “1913 and plenty of people would know that!”
“No! People don’t just know that?” You’re exasperated with him; he has to know that’s not common knowledge and it’s odd that he knows that off the top of his head.
He shrugs at you, smug smile on his face, “I guess I’m just that good.”
You squint at him, annoyed that he is apparently a trivia god, “Or just that odd.”
“I may be odd but you’re the one dying to get fucked by me,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.
You groan at him and feel yourself grow hot in the face, “Whatever, just pick a new card.” You flick the card you’re holding at him and he laughs as it falls flat before hitting him.
He’s incredibly happy with himself, now using your desire for him as some kind of punchline. He’s not touched you again, not since the incident on the couch. It’s not like you’ve not made your move either, you’ve tried enticing him and every time he looks so close to folding before he gathers himself and moves forward. For a man who flirts relentlessly with you, he sure does have a lot of self-control.
Your phone buzzes on the table and you pick it up to look, face immediately twisting into an expression of displeasure.
“You good?” Johnny asks.
Placing your phone down, you look to him and answer, “Mhm, yeah… it’s just work.”
He raises a brow at you, “Again?”
You hum at him because yes, again.
Work has been messaging you fairly frequently to see if you’ve gotten ‘better’, you haven’t gone back yet, you used a few of your sick days so you could get some time off after the traumatic event of your ex breaking into and trashing your apartment but management seems to be getting pissy with you, so you will have to go back soon.
Something that had surprised you was Johnny also taking a few days off work to stay with you, you think he’s apprehensive about leaving you alone, which you can’t blame him… you don’t really want to be alone. You haven’t told him that though, you would never ask him to put you above his work.
Johnny sits up, no longer leaning on his hands, “What did they say?”
“They’re just asking how I feel… if I’m better,” you hesitate slightly, “I think I’ll go back tomorrow.”
“I don’t think you should.” He replies quickly.
This is not the first time he’s shown upset at the prospect of you going back to work, “I have to, I still have to pay for my apartment you know.”
He looks at you sincerely, “You know I would pay for anything you need me to.”
“And you know that I’m not comfortable with that,” you retort.
He’s offered to cover the cost of everything for you multiple times now and every time he brings it up, you shoot him down.
“I just don’t love the idea of you going back there, not with your ex still…” his face turns up in disgust, “Existing.”
You chuckle slightly, “It should be fine.”
You say that but you are worried about possibly running into him too, you don’t know if he’s still lingering around your neighbourhood or not. Which, speaking of your apartment, you’re waiting to hear back from your landlord on whether or not the door has been fixed.You’re also dreading having to go back though, you’ve been putting it off for days now. You were supposed to go back for pyjamas but instead Johnny has been letting you live in his shirts.
“Just take tomorrow off, one more day,” he gives you puppy dog eyes. When you don’t immediately reply, he adds, batting his eyelashes at you, “For me?”
Your lips downturn at his stupidity, “Ugh fine, just stop looking at me like that.”
He smiles brightly at you, “Cool! We can watch more of my movies tomorrow.”
You shoot back, “Don’t you have a job?”
“Making you watch all my movies is part of my job,” he jokes.
You whinge out at him, “But I’ve already seen them all~.”
“And now you’re watching them all again~,” he mocks you, smile big and with how proud of himself he is, the weight of his pride might crush you.
“You’re lucky I think you’re cute,” you grumble.
He chuckles at you, “Is that the only reason you’re watching all my movies? Because you want to sleep with me?”
“I’m not going to say you’re completely wrong,” you tease.
He places a hand over his heart, “Do you like any of my movies?”
“Your movies, or movies you’ve starred in?” You clarify.
He’s examining you carefully, “Both.”
You don’t have to think about it, “I like your movies,” you admit, “But you have starred in some questionable ones.”
He points a finger gun at you, “Touché.”
“Are we done playing yet?” You lament, referencing the almost forgotten game of trivial pursuit.
“Are you done pretending you still have a chance at winning?” He counters.
“Never.”
He rolls his eyes playfully at your stubbornness, “What if I said I’d fuck you right now if you’d admit you’ve lost.”
Your heart stutters in your chest and if you felt like he was being serious, you would fold and tell him he’s the all-time winner of trivial pursuit but you know him and you know he’s only teasing, “I’d tell you that you’re being mean and that I’d also sooner die before admitting premature defeat.”
“That’s a real shame,” he hums.
You’re getting annoyed with him; he keeps doing this to you. Relentlessly teasing you with no follow through, not even so much as a kiss. You get up on your knees and shuffle over to him, you end up right in his lap, his hands move to your hips instinctually.
He smirks at you, “And what are you trying to accomplish right now, doll?”
“You’ve been really mean, Johnny,” you pout at him.
“How can I fix it?” he asks.
You feel timid, shy, “You can stop pretending like the other night never happened.”
He’s serious as he answers, “I’m not pretending anything; I know it happened.”
“You’ve not even…” You trail off, now worried that you read into things too much and that you’re still just friends.
“Sugar, I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” he confesses.
You hesitate but probe, “So, you still want me?”
He almost has an air of confusion about him, baffled by your doubt, “Never stopped.”
“Then why haven’t you even kissed me again?” Your brows upturn at him.
His hand moves to hold your face, his thumb stroking high on your cheekbone, “Worried I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”
You lean into his hand slightly, “Don’t want you to.”
He groans, “See, you saying stuff like that doesn’t help,”
“Can I have one kiss?” you mimic the way he bat his eyelashes at you earlier, tacking on, “Please?”
He groans at you, pained, “How could I possibly say no?”
His hand on the the side of your face tilts your head and his lips brush over yours, the small contact electrifying to you. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s kissed you and being this close to him is making you dizzy. He teases you with his proximity, holding you close but never actually kissing you. Just as you’re about to huff out in annoyance at him, he pushes his lips to yours.
The kiss is hot, his mouth insistent and full, your shock gives him the chance to stick his tongue inside your mouth, licking at you. You moan into him, your body relaxing completely, incredibly content to be placated by his lips. His hand on your hip holds you tight, his fingers digging in, attempting to ground himself.
His own moans are muffled by the kiss, you’re affecting him just as much as he thought you would. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, knowing if he keeps kissing you, he’ll lose his mind and end up making you cum for him in anyway he can think of. You whinge as he pulls back and he can’t help the incredibly smug expression on his face at the sound, forever feeling self-pleased by how needy you are for him.
He purrs at you, “Happy?”
“You could make me happier,” you retort.
He only chuckles at you in response before asking, “You gonna admit to losing trivial pursuit?”
You frown at him, “Absolutely not!”
“Then sit your ass back over on your side of the coffee table and answer your question like a good girl,” his tone is a teasing kind of firmness.
You plant a single full kiss on his lips before crawling back over to your side, Johnny’s eyes stay glued to your ass as you shuffle across the carpet. His mind immediately filling with images of his cock pile driving into you while your back is arched for him. This was supposed to be a wholesome game and now he’s thinking of fucking you into the carpet while making you answer trivia questions.
You grumble at him, “You’re so mean to me.”
“I’d feel worse about it if you didn’t seem to enjoy it so much,” he’s incredibly glib right now, completely correct about his effect on you.
“You’re wrong,” you try denying.
“Really?” he raises a brow to you, “Because I seem to remember your pretty little pussy gripping my fingers awfully tight when I was ‘mean’ to you.”
Your face heats up again, “Just pick out a card,” you mumble.
His grin is Cheshire like, “Whatever you want, sugar.” He picks up a new card, “What is the literary term for a word that describes a sound?”
You know this one and you smile brightly, “Onomatopoeia!” you point at him excitedly.
He laughs at your excitement, “You got it.”
You have a small celebratory moment to yourself before you pull out a new card, “If you know this one I’m gonna scream.”
He’s confident in his trivia abilities, “Get ready to yell, doll.”
You read from the card, “What is the year of the first recorded flight?”
“1903,” he smiles cockily, completely sure that he’s right.
And he is, you glare at him and grumble out, “You’re correct.”
“I know,” his tone is self-satisfied.
You don’t win trivial pursuit but you do take pride in not giving up, you may not be good at trivia but you’re proud of yourself for seeing it through. Some may call it stubbornness but you think it shows strength to sit there and try like hell to win even when defeat is right in front of you. You gave it your best shot and you had fun. You will get better at trivia though… he won’t be winning next time. Not that you’re competitive or anything.
✰ ✰ ✰
In the morning you’re woken up by your phone buzzing by your head, sleepily you squint at your screen and see that it’s work trying to call you again. You grumble annoyed at how persistent they are but relent and answer.
“Are you feeling better yet?” Your managers voice is sharp and his question is straight to the point. You’re a bit taken aback by how direct and grumpy he is, you don’t even get to say anything before he continues, “Listen, we’ve been swamped here, unless you’re actively dying, it would be best if you came in. Best for you I mean.”
You don’t miss his threat, your job is now on the line if you don’t go in but with how he’s being such a dick you try to negotiate, “I can come in tomorrow.”
“Today would be best,” he sighs, you don’t answer him and he grunts at you, “Fine, come in tomorrow, if you’re not in tomorrow, you’re getting cut from the roster.”
“Alright, see you–” he didn’t even let you finish your goodbye; he’s already hung up on you. Bastard.
You stare up at the ceiling, your mood for the day already completely ruined, you feel badly because you know you’re lying to work and they do need help but you’re also having a hard time bringing yourself to leave Johnny’s apartment, let alone go back to your neighbourhood. The thought of him being there sends a cold spike of anxiety through you, he did all that to your home, what is he planning to do to you? It’s a frightening thought.
You lay motionless on your mattress for a while, too anxious to go back to sleep but also too tired to get up. Clattering can be heard in the kitchen though and you’re concerned as to what Johnny is attempting to do so you haul yourself up, out of the bed and into his kitchen.
When you make your way into the main area you can see Johnny making pancakes… you think? Mostly, it just looks like he’s making a mess, “What are you doing?”
“Shit–” He jumps at the sound of your voice, dropping the spatula he was holding onto the ground, “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake so early,” he mumbles out as he bends down to retrieve it.
Your tone is amused as you ask again, “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast,” he sighs.
You walk over to him and see he’s made a complete mess of the kitchen; he’s used far too many bowls for what he’s made. He also seems to have made up some pancake mix two separate times before using the one he is holding now.
You come up beside him and look over what he’s doing, “Why did you make so much mix?”
“The other ones had a weird texture,” he’s focusing hard on tipping some of the mix into the pan.
You want to comment on how he could be doing things better but you’re so appreciative of his efforts and you don’t want to sound like a know it all. But you can’t help but cringe as the bowl slips a bit and gets all over his hand.
He groans out, “I dunno how you did this so effortlessly, I’m killing myself here, doll.” You’re distracted by how he lifts his hand to his mouth and licks some of the batter off, he notices and smiles at you knowingly, moving his hand in front of your face he asks, “Want a taste, sugar?”
Wordlessly, your wrap your lips around his index finger, sucking it clean. Johnny groans at the sight of it, not expecting you to be so willing, he was only joking around but now you’re gently suckling on his finger and he’s about to pass out over it.
You pull back slowly and kiss the tip of his finger when you’re done cleaning it. He’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky and you can only huff out an amused laugh at him.
“Move over,” you shoo him away, “I will make the pancakes, you can start cleaning up,” you reach out for the mixing bowl he was holding.
He hands it to you reluctantly, “I was trying to make breakfast for you.”
“And I appreciate it so much but you’re going to make a mess of yourself if you continue,” you place the bowl off to the side and flip the pancake that was still in the pan, it’s too thick and also a little extra crispy thanks to the both of you getting distracted.
He comes up behind you, his arms trapping you against the bench, he leans in over your shoulder, “Would you clean me up if I did?” His words are suggestive, far from innocent.
You turn it back on him, “Would you let me?”
His head drops to your shoulder, resting there, “I want to, doll. Bad.”
“You’re the only one stopping it,” you hum out, focusing on the task at hand, trying to ignore how close he is to you.
He stays close to you as you make the pancakes, his hands move from the bench to your hips, his hands hold onto you, lightly pawing at you, “Why are you up so early anyways? I thought I had more time.”
“Work called me again, woke me up,” you mutter, already knowing Johnny’s going to be pissed that they’ve rung you again.
“Was it that asshole again?” He asks, referencing your manager.
You flip a pancake over in the pan, “Yeah, they’re short staffed and need my help.”
Johnny’s arms wrap around you more, holding you to him as his head turns into your neck, “I hope you said no.”
“I did but I feel bad, I have to go in tomorrow,” you tell him.
“You do not, not if you aren’t ready to be back there,” his arms squeeze you just the tiniest bit tighter, comforting you. He knows how frightened you are to go back to that neighbourhood.
One of your hands reaches down and holds his hand for a moment, “I appreciate the sentiment but I do have to go back, he threatened my job.”
“He what?” Johnny bristles behind you, moving to stand tall, turning you around to face him, “What the hell did he say?”
“It’s nothing that bad, he just said it would be ‘best’ for me if I came in tomorrow,” you wince slightly as you repeat your managers message.
Johnny’s scowl deepens, severely pissed off with your manager, “He’s such a dick, I don’t like him.”
“Not many people do but I can also understand his frustrations at the moment, plus… I’m not even sick, so…” You feel sheepish and you turn away from him, pouring the last of the batter into the pan.
Johnny scoffs from behind you, “So what? As far as he’s concerned you are sick and it’s not like you’re taking the time off for kicks. After what you’ve been through, you deserve some time off.”
He’s making you feel emotional, you don’t like thinking about what happened too hard, it’s still too fresh. You purse your lips and focus on the pancake sizzling in the pan instead of the slight burn in your eyes from holding back tears.
He places his hand on your shoulder, “You deserve to go to work without fear.”
Now why did he go and say that? You can’t help but cry silently as you flip the pancake, you’re trying so hard to hide it, blinking away your tears as soon as they form. Johnny knows though, he knows he touched a sore spot for you but he was genuinely only trying to help.
“Oh doll,” he sighs out at you, pulling you into his arms. You turn into him and cling on, needing the comfort right now. He lets you cry into his shirt for a moment, your tears no doubt soaking into the fabric. His hands rub up and down your back, trying to soothe you.
You remember the pancake though and sniffle into his shirt, “The pancake is going to burn.”
He takes the spatula from you and flips it onto the plate, “All better,” he places the utensil back down and moves his other hand back to you, “You worry about the silliest of things.”
You laugh dryly into him, “So do you.” He holds you in his kitchen for a bit as you will yourself to stop crying, you’re worried about the pancakes getting cold, “Hot pancakes are better than cold ones.”
His hands stop moving on your back and his head tilts down to you, “Is that your way of telling me you want to eat the pancakes now?”
“I am worried about them getting cold,” your face is still pressed into his shirt, your words slightly mumbled.
He shrugs at you, “I’m not.”
You make a face that he can’t see, it’s one of displeasure, “You should be… cold pancakes are bad.”
He dismisses, “They aren’t that bad.”
You’re still teary eyed but you pull back and look at him with as serious an expression as you can muster, “Cage… don’t eat cold pancakes.”
He smiles at you, happy to see your face again. His hand cups the side of your face, “There she is, my pretty doll.”
His words make your skin grow hot and you look away, he’s smiling big though, always happy to embarrass you.
You look at the pancakes on the bench, “Let’s just eat, yeah?”
“Whatever you want, sugar,” he pulls his hand away but not before booping the tip of your nose gently.
You sigh at him but move around the kitchen getting ready to plate out breakfast, Johnny comes up to your side and stops you, “Go sit down, I’ll plate it up.”
“But–”
“Don’t ‘but’ me, you ended up making them all so go sit down,” he points over to the breakfast bar.
You want to argue with him, about how you didn’t put nearly as much effort into making them as he did. How he did the most annoying part but based on the look on his face, you wouldn’t be able to convince him to let you plate it up anyways. So, you sulk away and around the bench, perching yourself atop the stool and wait for him to give you your pancakes.
As you watch him move around the kitchen something occurs to you, “Did you tell me the wrong cabinet when I was first here just so you could see my ass?”
He stands to face you, his smile sly but his tone faux offended, “I would never do that, how dare you.”
You roll your eyes at him and his response, “You would do that.”
“Can you blame me? You’ve got one hell of an ass, sugar,” he places your plate down in front you, wiggling his eyebrows as he does.
You try to be offended but you end up feeling complimented, “Thank you,” he smiles deviously at you and you squint back at him, “for the pancakes, not your gross compliment.”
“Ah, but you took it as a compliment,” he throws a wink your way, his demeanour pleased.
You roll your eyes at him and eat your pancakes, they aren’t bad. He did an alright job with the batter… third times the charm, it was just the actual cooking part he seemed to have the most issues with. Well… that and the mess he made.
You realise he spent his time clinging to you instead of cleaning like he was supposed to, “You didn’t clean…”
“I got distracted,” he mumbles, mouth full.
Not looking at him, you reply, “You do that a lot.”
“Stop living here and it won’t be a problem anymore,” he nudges your arm with his elbow.
“Alright,” you agree easily, you’re only staying for as long as you’re welcome.
Johnny doesn’t flinch, “No.”
You turn to look at him, questioning look on your face, “No?”
He still doesn’t look to you, mindlessly eating his breakfast as he explains, “Yeah, no. Keep staying here, I don’t mind being distracted.” He turns to you and smiles, “I like it, actually.”
His smile and words fluster you; you’re still concerned about overstaying your welcome though. Turning back to your food you mutter, “If you get sick of me and need me to leave, tell me, I’ll go.”
“You are always welcome in my home, not gonna ask you to leave, doll,” he picks up his plate and walks into the kitchen, stopping behind you to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Not now or in the future, stay as long as you like…” he puts his plate in the sink, “…hell, stay forever.”
“I’m not staying forever,” you giggle, taking it as a joke.
He smiles fondly at you, “Do whatever you like, you’re always welcome here.”
✰ ✰ ✰
Waking up is hard, especially since you know you have a shift later, one you are none too keen to do. Images of your ex grabbing at you, of you punching him, the feeling of the impact, it’s all still so fresh in your mind and the idea of maybe running into him, or worse, him waiting for you, is horrifying. You might have to look for a new job but you like where you are, you like your co-workers. It’s also convenient, within walking distance from your apartment but now think that may not be such a bonus anymore, especially if you decide to move.
You’ve been considering getting a new place but your apartment is rent controlled and a decent price and it’s close to everything, moving is such a hassle but the idea of going back there and living day to day life frightens you. You’ll be constantly on edge in that apartment, you know what needs to be done but that doesn’t make it easy.
Lying in bed and thinking about this isn’t going to make it better though, you’re just stressing yourself out. You groan dramatically to the empty room as you pull yourself out of bed, your limbs feel heavy. If you had your way, you’d stay in bed a little longer but you know Johnny will be leaving for work soon and you want to see him before he goes.
You find him looking like a mess in the hallway, trying to shuffle himself out the door, his phone is balanced between his ear and shoulder, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. He smiles when he sees you, mouthing a good morning. You smile back at him and shoo his hands away from his shirt, one drops to his side and the other hold his phone properly.
There’s some kind of issue with one of the actors in his films, you could probably gather more if you weren’t distracted by his skin peeking out from under his shirt. His voice is stern on the phone, a tone you’ve only heard a handful of times, one that’s rarely, if ever, directed at you. You want him to stay home and have his way with you right now but you’re starting to gather that the begging isn’t really working as well as you want it to, that and you do actually have to go back to work today.
When you’ve buttoned his shirt you pat his chest, he mutes his side of the call and holds his phone away from his ear, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you’re fighting to keep your eyes on his and not look at his lips.
His free hand holds the side of your face, “I’ll be back late today,” he looks away from you for a second, “I’d prefer if you didn’t go in today, I might not be available if you need me.”
You roll your eyes at him lightly, “I probably won’t need you, plus my shift is only short and I need money.”
“I can give you money,” his tone is slightly exasperated, his hand moves to hold your shoulder.
“I don’t want your money,” the idea of taking money from him, while also living in his home… is uncomfortable, you don’t care if he’s offering, you are not taking his money.
He looks you over carefully, ignoring the voice coming from his phone, “You really not going to take another day?”
“Nope, I can’t… not without risking my job,” you place your hands on your hips and raise a brow at him, you told him this yesterday.
His head rolls back and he groans a bit, the hand on your shoulder shakes you slightly, “Fine, but finish early and come straight back here,” his face pulls up in disgust, “I hate that, that little rat of a man is still out and about.”
Your lips twist from holding in a laugh, your hand salutes him as you say, “Yessir.”
He squints at you before putting his phone back to his ear, unmuting himself, the person on the other end had started to yell at him through the phone, “I am coming! Geez…”  He spins to leave but quickly turns around and presses a kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you later,” he rushes out the apartment after that.
You’re left shocked, staring at the door he just left out of. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed… obviously but the casualness of it has your stomach erupting in butterflies. He kissed you like it was the most natural thing, like it was a part of your routine, like you’re a couple. Your relationship with him has left you completely confused but how he doubled back just to kiss you goodbye has you smiling to yourself like an idiot all morning.
✰ ✰ ✰
The trip to work is nerve wracking, you’re worried about being back, you’re extra cautious of everyone around you, eyes scanning every face quickly, it’s not until you’re actually at work and can hide in the backroom do you feel the slightest bit better. Having people around you and being behind the counter puts you at ease, it’ll at least be harder for your ex to get at you, hopefully he doesn’t show up though.
You’re waiting the extra few minutes for your shift to start, as you sit and stare at your feet, you see another pair approach and stop in front of you. You’re scared it’s your manager but as you lift your head up to look, you realise it’s just one of your co-workers. Your shoulders drop, relaxing, knowing that you aren’t about to be scolded for you absence.
Your co-worker smiles down at you, “You’re back! Are you feeling better?”  
He is so chipper compared to your general unease about everything, “Ah, hey Michael, yeah… I’m all better,” you give him a polite smile.
“Are you sure? You don’t look so well…” he leans down slightly, as if to examine you closer before moving out of your personal space, “Sorry! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, you still look great! Beautiful, even… uhm, what I mean is… you just look a little run down,” his hand awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck.  
“I’m alright… thanks though?” You’re a little confused and aren’t sure what the appropriate response to him would be.
Michael is a nice guy and you’ve known him for a bit now, long enough to consider him a friend but he’s horribly awkward around you sometimes and you can’t figure out why, or what the suitable way to react to him would be.
He stands in front of you, rocking on his heels slightly, hands stuffed into his pockets, “I can take most of the orders and serve if you like? So, you don’t have to talk to as many people. You can hang back and wipe tables and stuff, the work people do when there is no work,” he laughs lightly.
You protest, if it’s been as busy as your manager says then you don’t want to put it all on Michael, “You don’t have to do that!”
He waves his hand dismissively at you, “It’s not been that busy, I’m happy to do it.”
The offer he makes sounds perfect to you, normally you would protest more but the risk of having to serve your ex is high and Michael has just unknowingly given you an out, “That… would actually be great, thank you. If things get busy though I will be on top of it!”
“Don’t worry about it, take it slow and let me know if you need me to cover for you or something… like if you need an extra break,” he’s still shuffling on his feet but he’s calmed a bit, “To be honest, if you aren’t feeling well, I don’t think you should be here.”
“Tell that to big boss man,” you snark out humourlessly.
His face pulls up in a sympathetic grimace, “He call you in, huh?”
“Yeah, he said you guys have been really busy and not so subtly threatened my job if I didn’t come in,” you wear a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes as you speak, sharing the bitten back annoyance you feel towards your manager.
Michael rolls his eyes, “That sure is one of his favourite moves, you know he wouldn’t have fired you though, too many of us would also leave if he fired you for being unwell.”
He’s right, most people would walk out, you know you would but you also don’t doubt your managers hubris, he probably would have fired you just to prove a point, even if it caused him to lose other employees too.
You half smile at him, “I dunno, I think he would fire me still, I also wouldn’t want people to leave here because of me, the pay is too good compared to other service jobs.” You glance to the clock behind his head and place your hands to your knees, pushing yourself up, “Oh well, time to start.”
Michael rolls his head and groans slightly, dreading the shift as much as you, “Great,” he looks to you again, “Seriously though, take it easy and let me know if you need anything.”
You smile and thank him again before the both of you clock on and walk out of the backroom.
The first half of your shift is uneventful, everything is quiet for the most part, busy your ass. Michael kept true to his offer and has been manning most of the orders while you hang back and make the odd drink or coffee, which you don’t mind, human interaction is not something you were looking forward to today and you somehow always end up with the weirdest customers.
The customers today, however, are mostly older people, you notice that there are only a few other people working, which is odd. The place is a small café/restaurant kind of gig, it’s nice but it can get busier and it can get busy quick, so you’re surprised by how slow it is today.
While you’re on your ten-minute break, your manager approaches you, “Glad to see you back.”
“It is good to be back,” you try to be as inoffensive as possible but you think your disdain for him is something that cannot be easily hidden.
He stares blankly at you for a moment, “Can you stay back today? Our closer called out.”
You remember Johnny’s words and how he had asked you to come back early, “I don’t think–”
“–It would be helpful, if you could, otherwise Michael will be alone.”
“Michael is staying back too?” You’re confused, normally you’d both be swapped out, actually, normally there would be at least another server on around this time.
Your manager looks exasperated with all this back and forth, “Yeah he’s already covering for someone else.”
Damn, Michael is such a pushover and you feel bad for him, you know you said to Johnny you would go straight back to his after your shift but you feel bad for your co-worker, that and the extra money is pretty enticing after not coming to work for a bit… plus… you still technically would be going straight back to Johnny’s, it would just be a little bit later.
You sigh out before answering, “I suppose I can stay back.”
“That’s great, thank you, take an extra ten,” he pats your shoulder and shuffles off.
You guess what he meant by “swamped” was actually “understaffed”, sounds like a lot of the servers have been calling out. Which kind of has you understanding his frustrations with you, you’re still pissed at him for handling it poorly though.
You use the extra ten-minutes to sit and zone out, staring at the bleak wall of the backroom. Distantly, you consider messaging Johnny to tell him you’ll be back later than you thought but he’s also meant to be late, so chances are, you’ll get back before him.
Before you have more time to think about it though, your break is up and you’re heading back out onto the floor. The hours tick by… so… slowly, the afternoon picks up a bit in business and you help with serving but then it dies down again not long after and you’re back to a coffee every now and again and cleaning.
The bell on the door dings as it swings open and closed, Michael greets them, their voice catches your attention and as you look at them, your blood runs cold. Your ex has just walked through the door and moved to sit at a table, Michael goes over to take his order and your heart feels like it’s about to pound out of your chest.
You aren’t sure what you should do, the cops weren’t helpful last time and you don’t want them coming to your place of work, you’re frightened and uncertain of what to do. He looks to you and you catch his gaze, he smiles at you and wiggles his fingers in greeting, you frown back at him and storm off to the backroom, giving yourself time to calm down.
Deep breaths in and out, in… and out… you focus on things around you, the feel of the wall under your palm, how your feet feel in your shoes, how your apron scrunches in your fist, your racing heart calms down, slowing to a more reasonable pace. You roll your head and crack your neck, trying to remove the stiffness in your bones, you think about Johnny, you think about how safe he makes you feel and you think about calling him. You won’t, you don’t feel like you should, he’s busy today and he said he would be unreachable… and you’re worried about what he may do, how it may upset him that you’ve agreed to stay back later.
Your energy is better spent calming down and pretending like your ex has not upset you, it’s a power move on his behalf, showing up here, he’s trying to scare you and while it is working, you are not going to let him know that, he will not be getting anything more out of you. He doesn’t deserve any sort of satisfaction, what he does deserve is another smack to the head but you will control that urge too, you really need your job.
Taking one last deep breath, you leave the room and go back to doing the odd jobs cleaning up, you continue your shift, ignoring him the whole time, you don’t even look at him, all of your focus is put into whatever you’re doing in that moment. You can feel him watching though, he stays the whole of your shift, watching you and hoping you’ll look his way, he makes your skin crawl.
Towards the end of your shift, when you’re closing up and everyone has left, Michael approaches you, “That guy from earlier, he comes in a lot lately and he’s usually fine… but today he was unsettling, he wouldn’t stop watching you,” he pauses and looks out the front window, “and I think he’s waiting outside.”
You groan, this is something you would rather not have to tell anyone about but since he’s picked up on it and you really don’t want to leave alone, you confide in Michael, “He’s my ex… and he’s been stalking me? Of sorts… it’s why I hadn’t come to work for a bit, I was worried he would come here.”
He makes a shocked face, “That’s horrific, have you told someone?”
“The cops know but they’re about as helpful as nipples on men,” you’re completely frustrated and you also don’t want to talk too in depth about this.
He chuckles at your statement, caught off guard by it, “Sorry, this is not funny but I’ve not heard someone say that before while also looking so serious.”
You also crack a smile, it was the first thing that came to your mind, it is a bit ridiculous, “It’s fine, it’s a stupid saying.”
“Definitely true though,” he adds before his expression turns more serious, sympathetic to you,  “I am so sorry this has been happening to you… you don’t deserve this, can I do anything to help? Do you want me to give you a lift home?”
You appreciate his offer deeply and while maybe you would accept it if you were staying at yours, you don’t feel comfortable giving him Johnny’s address, “No, that’s okay, I’ve been staying with a friend so I’m just gonna catch a cab to their place.”
“Are you sure? Do you want me to at least wait with you?” He seems a little apprehensive at leaving you on your own.
“I would like that, please,” you don’t want to wait on the side of the road by yourself, not with him right outside.
The pair of you walk outside together after double checking everything is packed away properly, Michael makes sure he’s on the side your ex is when you leave the building, not wanting him to possibly get at you. Your ex only watches, he doesn’t approach you, he just stands there, you don’t know what he’s doing but you feel like he may be waiting for you to be left alone.
You don’t speak, you don’t have anything to say, you’re trying your best to not show how unsettled by him you are, all of your focus put into keeping yourself calm. The sound of a lighter flickering is oddly loud in the quiet street, cigarette smoke lingers in the air, your ex has lit up a cigarette and the smell is making you feel sickly, though that might just be his presence altogether.
Michael places an arm around you before leaning in, “Are you okay? You sure I can’t just give you a ride?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” you smile at him and then pull out your phone, getting ready to order a cab.
A loud car is speeding up the street, the sounds make you roll your eyes, asshole, you think. It’s getting closer though, and then it’s pulling over right in front of you. The expression on your face is annoyed, pissed off, you want to curse out the asshole driving like a dick, you even go so far as opening your mouth to say something but as they get out of the car, you realise it’s Johnny, and then you’re shocked silent, your mouth closing very suddenly.
Michael is just as shocked and confused, his arm coming off you as he asks, “Holy fuck, is that Johnny Cage?”
Johnny walks straight to you, ignoring Michael, “Are you okay? Why are you still out? I told you to come back early,” his brows are set in a deep frown, eyes scanning you quickly, hands holding your face tenderly.
“I’m fine and I got asked to stay back, I was about to catch a cab–”
“–Why didn’t you call me?” His hands come off your face but one of them reaches down to your hand and grips it in his.
“You said you were going to be busy and unreachable,” you shrug, you know you could’ve sent a text or something but you didn’t want to be a nuisance, not when it seemed like his start to the day was already rocky.
“Not that unreachable,” he sighs, he looks around your surroundings properly, you think he may finally take notice of Michael who has been very patiently waiting to be acknowledged.
You try prompting an introduction, “Uhm, this is my co-worker, Michael.”
“Why the fuck is he here,” Johnny ignores your words, gaze set off to the side where your ex is, his hand grips yours a little tighter, he moves closer to you, glaring at your ex.
You don’t want there to be a scene, you want what you wanted before, you want to leave and go back to Johnny’s, you just want to feel safe again, “Johnny–”
“–How long has he been here for?” He barely glances back at you, still staring your ex down.
“Most of her shift,” Michael answers for you, it makes you cringe because you know Johnny is going to have a lot of thoughts about you not telling him.
Johnny finally acknowledges his presence, “What?”
“He’s been here all day… and then he was hanging around after close…” Michael looks to you, “Did I say something wrong?” He asks you a bit quieter.
“No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” you get Johnny may be a little on edge and severely pissed at your ex but he’s being overtly hostile towards Michael for no reason.
Johnny hums, “Get in the car, doll.”
You prompt him, “Johnny,” he looks to you and you keep talking, “Don’t do anything, I just want to leave.”
Johnny scowls, thinking on it for a moment, wanting so badly to walk those few steps over to your ex and beat the fuck out of him, he looks back to you and sees the way your eyes plead with him and he recognises you’ve probably had the worst day of work in your life, the psychological torture of having your ex watch your every move exhausting and frightening.
He concedes to you, “Fine, we’ll just leave.” He turns around to open the car door for you.
You turn to Michael and place a hand on his shoulder, “Sorry about everything and seriously, thank you for today, you made it easier being here.”
“Anytime, I hope the cops do something about your ex soon, I hate that you’re going through this,” he looks worried for you and you can’t blame him but you think Johnny does enough worrying about you for ten people.
“Have a good night,” you pat his shoulder before walking to the car.
“Hey!” He calls out to you before you sit down, “Uhm, if you need anything, text me.”
You smile at him as Johnny closes the car door, you give him a thumbs up from inside the car, you don’t think you’ll ask for his help but it’s kind of him to offer, he’s a very giving person.
Johnny takes a bit longer to get in the car, it doesn’t look like he says anything to Michael but he stares at him for a bit. When he does get inside the car, he wordlessly starts the engine and drives you both back to his. It’s tense and it feels like you’re in trouble, your leg is bouncing up and down with your nerves and he reaches over to you, placing his hand on your thigh, attempting to comfort you.
It works, slightly, you would feel better if he broke his silence and got his thoughts all out now but you know he’s going to wait until you’re both back at his apartment. His thumb rubs along your skin, soothing you, it calms you enough to sit still the rest of the drive.
Still, no words are spoken the whole way up to his apartment, nothing other than your small thank yous when he opens a door for you, mostly you trail behind him. When you reach the door he lets you in first, locking it and walking into the living room, you linger awkwardly but ultimately follow after him.
He must hear you follow because he doesn’t turn around as he asks, “What were you thinking? Your ex shows up while you’re working and not only do you not think to tell me, you also stay the whole shift and even work late?” He’s exasperated, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
You shuffle into the room more, “…We are understaffed and I didn’t want to make Michael handle that on his own, plus it’s good money… and I need the money, so I can pay for the apartment.”
He turns around to look at you, “But you didn’t tell me any of that? Just left me in the dark to come home to an empty apartment?”
Your brows knit together, starting to get frustrated with him, “You said you were going to be unreachable, of course I wanted to call you as soon as I was asked to stay back, as soon as he showed up, but I thought about your words this morning… and honestly, I thought of how you’re reacting right now!”
“So, you rely on some stranger?” His hands gesture angrily.
“Who?” you’re confused.
He grimaces, “The fucker with you tonight.”
“Michael?” He nods and you make a perplexed face back at him, “He’s not a stranger? He’s my co-worker and I have known him for a bit now,” you hesitate before adding quietly, “He’s a friend.”
Johnny crosses his arms and raises a brow at you, “A friend, like how I’m a friend?”
“What–”
He cuts you off, not even letting you ask your question, “­–Like how you’re begging me to fuck you any chance you get, kind of friend?”
You’re deeply frustrated with him, you don’t like his tone, or attitude, “What are you attempting to imply right now?”
“Nothing, I’m not implying anything,” he glowers at you, nothing secret about how he’s feeling right now, everything he feels is on his face.
He’s cutting you deep, your feelings run deeper for him than just physically and he has to know that by now, “I feel like you’re being incredibly unfair, I like you a lot and I want you in more than just one way.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling back from him.
He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there looking at you, still angry for no good reason. You turn around and leave him there, if you stay here looking at him while he does nothing but glare at you, you’ll cry.
You’ve just told him how you feel, you were honest and he doesn’t give you the same courtesy, not just now but ever, he’s not told you how he honestly feels and you can only put up with that for so long. You’re not a dog with a bone but he makes you feel like one, saying sweet nothings to you but not actually saying what he means or how he feels.
You head back to the guest room and flop onto the bed, allowing yourself a moment to sob, you’ve had such a shitty day and you wanted more than anything to come back here and tell Johnny about it, to be held by him while he told you everything is going to be okay. Now, you’re not only just upset about your workday, you’re also pissed at Johnny for how he just treated you.
From in your back pocket, your phone vibrates.
✰ ✰ ✰
You don’t really know how you’ve ended up here… well, you do, some of the girls from your college course invited you to a party and you were pretty keen to jump at the idea of escaping all your thoughts for the evening, you have tomorrow off so what’s the harm? Is what you had thought. You ended up sneaking out of Johnny’s apartment and ubering to the address you were given, from there it’s all a bit more hazy, you’ve been drinking a lot. Not typically something you do but you think after the day you’ve had, you earned it.
You do remember you left a note for Johnny to find, telling him you were fine and would be back late, you initially weren’t going to leave him anything but you thought that would be unkind, plus, it would only serve to worry him. Which, you genuinely don’t want him to stress about you so much, you are perfectly capable of caring for yourself, you’ve done it this long.
The night started out fun, drinking and dancing with these girls, but now you’re past drunk and they are nowhere to be seen. The people around you are getting handsy too, now that you’re alone on the dancefloor you’re an easier target. All the people in your personal space is starting to get to you and you end up pushing through the crowd of people to try and find some familiar faces.
It feels like you search the whole house twice but you can’t seem to find any of them, which is odd, you don’t know where they went or why they haven’t so much as messaged you about where they are. If you weren’t so far gone, you might worry about them more but the world is starting to spin a bit and you find yourself walking out the front and sitting on the stairs, you’re alone out here, well, alone besides the few people passed out on the lawn but you don’t think you’re going to count them.
The fresh air will hopefully help you feel better, you pull out your phone to order an uber and see a bunch of missed calls and texts from Johnny. You go to swipe the notification away but accidentally press it and your phone starts calling him back. Your attempts to hang up before he answers fail, especially since he picks up so quickly, the line barely ringing twice.
Johnny sounds pleased and pissed off to hear from you, “Thank god! Where the hell are you?”
“It said in mm note, at friends party,” your words are coming out slurred even though you’re trying to sound sober.
You can almost feel his glare through the phone, “Your note was stupid, why did you leave without telling me?”
You counter, “Would you have let me leave?” He doesn’t say anything, the other end of the phone in complete silence, “Exactly, plus mm still mad at you,” you state.
His tone is scrutinising, “Are you drunk?”
You ask him stupidly, “Are you?”
“What? Obviously not?” He sighs into the phone, irritated by you, “Just tell me you’re safe at least.”
“Mmmm, I think so? I dunno… actually can you come get me? I dunno where mm friends are and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you lean your head to your shoulder, closing your eyes for a second.
He sounds relieved, “Yes, I can come get you, send me the address.”
You like listening to him talk, “You have a nice voice, sometimes when you talk it gives me butterflies in my tummy…” your words are lazy and you trail off.
Johnny urges you, “Hey, focus, tell me where you are, doll.”
“At a friend’s house… hmm hold on,” you think he may still be talking but you’ve pulled your phone away from your ear to text him the address, you hold the phone to your ear again, “Did ya get that?”
“Yeah I did, I’ll be there soon okay, hang tight.”
“Mm not moving, too comfy,” your head rests back to your shoulder, your eyes slow blinking with how tired you’re getting.
Your eyes slip closed and you switch between hearing all the things around you and hearing nothing at all, your head is somehow swimming with every thought you’ve ever had and not a single thing. You rub at your eyes, trying to stay awake and present but you lose the fight and they slip closed again.
You aren’t sure how much time passes but it feels like no time at all has gone by when Johnny shakes you awake, him standing in front of you so soon feels like a hallucination, he leans down to you and your hand reaches up and pokes his chest.
He makes a confused face at you, “What was that for?”
“Jus checking you’re real,” you murmur out.
“Jesus, sugar,” he shakes his head at you, “Come on, let’s get you home,” he reaches down to you.
“Mmkay,” you take his hand and he pulls you up, you fall into him slightly.
He walks you back to his car carefully, worried about your balance the whole time, his hands stay on you, assisting your steps.
“I’m glad you called,” he says.
You mutter back at him, “Didn’t mean to, fingers are stupid.”
He huffs at you lightly, “Okay, well…I’m glad you asked me to come get you.”
You’re hesitant, “Thank you… for coming,” your lips are downturned, still pissed off at him but grateful all the same.
He opens his car door for you, the second time today and you get inside, “I’ve said it before… but I’ll always come… when you call.” He leans over to buckle you in, when he pulls back his fingers hold your chin, “You just have to call me.”
You’re still pouting and you look away from him, he makes you weak and you’re not ready to forgive him, especially when he’s not apologised, “Can we jus leave?”
He sighs softly to himself, “Yeah… let’s leave.”
He gets you both back to his in one piece, you felt a bit dizzy in the car but you’re feeling sturdier by the time you’re back in his apartment. He leads you into the kitchen and gets you a glass of water, he makes you drink it all in front of him.
You watch him as he takes the glass from you and puts it in the dishwasher, you feel tempted to tell him, “Mm still mad at you.”
He holds onto the edge of the bench, “I know.”
“You really hurt me,” you add.
“I know,” he repeats.
His unwillingness to look at you or give you a better answer has you tearing up, “Are you even sorry?”
He still won’t turn your way, the sink more interesting apparently, “We can talk more tomorrow, it’s late and you’re drunk.”
“I’ve never been more sober in my life,” you argue.
“I somehow doubt that,” is all he says.
You roll your eyes at him, you’ve had enough, “Whatever, thanks again… for picking me up,” you leave the kitchen after that, not willing to stay and let him ignore you more.
You just want to collapse into bed and pretend like everything is fine, you want to pretend you’re back to a couple days ago, when you and Johnny were playing trivial pursuit. You want to think of how kind he was to you yesterday, when you cried in his kitchen while making pancakes and you’re not going to think about how he implied you were interested in sleeping with all your friends and minimised your feelings for him.
Talking to him again is not something you’re looking forward to, not if tonight is anything to go by, he takes up such a large place in your heart and to be treated like this by him feels… shattering. He’s always been so kind to you and to be spoken to like this, it’s devastating, you want to understand but you also want him to leave you alone for a bit, you’re not certain you’re ready to listen to whatever he has to say.
In your very slowly sobering state, you manage to get yourself into the shower and fresh pyjamas, having to do this tomorrow while hungover is going to be hell so your sober-self better be grateful to drunk you because this is far too much effort when you’d rather be curled up in bed crying over a stupid boy.
✰ ✰ ✰
Banging sounds in the kitchen jolt you awake, your head pounding from the hangover you’re currently sporting. The clanging not helping your current state at all, your eyes squint against the minimal light seeping into the room. The furrow set in your brow not helping the pain in your head, you must look incredibly angry right now… and remembering yesterday… yeah, you are incredibly angry right now.
Groaning you flop onto your side and notice that Johnny must’ve come in earlier because there’s some ibuprofen and water sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. You hate how thoughtful he’s being after saying some pretty thoughtless things, he’s not being fair to you at all. Just to get your ducks in a row, he implied you wanted to sleep with your friends, devalued your feelings for him, gave you the silent treatment, got upset that you left the house, wouldn’t talk to you last night, and then again disregarded you all while knowing he had hurt your feelings… yeah, you’re pissed.
Talking right now, or today, might be a bad idea, you’re not in the best headspace, whatever reason he has may not be enough for you. Ignoring the ache in your bones and head, you get up and pack away your bags, stuffing everything in haphazardly, staying here… might not be best for either of you. Being in a home with someone who is upset at you but not willing to speak about it… makes you uncomfortable, you were already worried about overstaying your welcome when things were good… now it feels almost unbearable.
You are thankful to drunk you for getting clean last night, it’ll make leaving easier, you change out of your pyjamas and crack open the door to scope out the area, double checking he’s not in the way. He doesn’t seem to be in the main areas, you think you may be able to leave without him noticing. Grabbing your bag, you quietly shuffle to the front door, it feels ridiculous, like you’re attempting to pull off some great heist, it’s not lost on you how stupid you’re being but you’re hurt, mad, and hungover, you get to be a little stupid.
“What are you doing?” Johnny’s voice makes you jump in place, you hadn’t even heard him approach you.
Slowly, you spin to face him, “…Nothing?”
His eyes look you over before focusing on the bag you’re holding, “Really? Because it looks like you’re trying to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Well, I just thought… after yesterday… it may be better if I leave… quietly,” your head is too sore to be standing here talking about this right now.
He frowns at you, his hands on his hips, annoyed by your choice, “Better for who? I don’t want you to leave and I never said that I did.”
“You haven’t said anything actually,” you point out, you don’t even know why he cares if you stay, he’s the one who started the ‘argument’ or whatever this is.
He sidesteps your statement, instead asking, “Where are you gonna go?”
You roll your head and look away, “Back to mine… probably.”
“While your ex is out there… actively stalking you?” His tone is dubious.
He’s annoying you with his logic, “I don’t know, Johnny, all I know is that you’re not talking to me and I don’t feel welcome here.” You’re starting to tear up and you curse yourself for it, “I was already hesitant to stay here and now you don’t look at me and when you do, you look so… angry and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you so much.”
He’s quiet and it seems like he’s not going to say anything… again. You sigh and turn to the front door, choosing to leave anyways but Johnny grabs your wrist, stopping you, “Don’t leave… please.”
You close your eyes for a moment, the light hurting your head, You turn back to him, waiting for him to continue talking; he lets go of your wrist when he’s certain you’re not going to walk away.
He adds, “I’m not upset at you–”
“–It feels like you are.” You interrupt.
He’s beginning to get exasperated, “I’m angry with myself, I’m pissed off and I took it out on you, and I’m annoyed that I did, I want to talk to you about this, I want to explain.”
“Explain then! I’ve given you chances to explain and all you do is stand there silently, I want to be able to forgive you,” you sigh at him again, “You’ve fucked up, if you were anyone else… I would’ve walked away already but I want you to give me the chance to forgive you.”
“I got pissed when I saw you with that– with Michael, it wasn’t rational but it made me realise… people your age are interested in you, there are people out there that are better for you… I– I had already known that… I just didn’t expect…” He’s getting pissed again, you can tell by the way he crosses his arms and his mouth pulls down into a scowl, “I didn’t expect the anger I would feel at seeing you with someone else, I didn’t… the idea of you being with someone else, of someone else touching you how I have, it makes me physically sick.”
You take a deep breath, “So… because you got jealous… you implied I wanted to sleep with my friends and ignored me when I told you I liked you?”
He looks like he wants to touch you, his fingers thrumming against his bicep, fidgeting, “I wasn’t thinking properly, I’m so sorry, doll.”
Your shoulders drop, your bag slipping, “I don’t know… how to react to this–”
He cuts you off to add, “–I like you too, a lot.”
His words make your heart skip a beat but you hold steady, “You can’t say that and expect me to just forgive you.”
He moves closer to you, “I know, that’s not why I said it.”
“I’m not forgiving you.”
“That’s okay,” he hums, “Can I touch you?”
This man does not play fair, “I–”
He touches you anyways, his hand holds the side of your face before he pulls you to him, hugging you tightly, “I am really sorry… I don’t feel good enough for you, you deserve better, you deserve more but I can’t help but feel incredibly selfish because the idea of someone else having you… it literally drives me crazy, doll.”
Being held by him, regretfully, has you feeling so much better, your bag properly drops from your shoulder, and you hug him back, missing his warmth. “You were mean.”
“I’m sorry,” he replies.
“I’d had such a bad day and all I wanted was to tell you about it,” your eyes start welling with tears.
He repeats, “I’m sorry.”
“I missed you,” you sniffle out.
His head leans down to you, nosing at your cheek, “I missed you, too.” You move to pull back, but his hands hold you still, one of them grasping your face, his lips brush against yours before he pulls back himself to say, “You know, I was also seriously concerned for your safety, I came home and you still weren’t back and I had no messages from you, nothing letting me know you were okay.”
You suppose, you can apologise for that much, “And for that, I am sorry.”
“I forgive you… this time.” He jokes, taking it lightly.
You look at him carefully, considering everything, “Johnny, I need to know what we’re doing.”
He’s confused by your sudden question, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are we more than friends?” You need clarity, after having none for so long, you just need to know what the hell you’re doing.
His brows furrow and he pretends to think really hard, “Considering I’ve made you cum multiple times and stuck my tongue in your mouth… I’d consider you more than a friend.”
You groan and roll your eyes at him, pushing him back by his shoulder, it barely moves him, his hands instead grabbing your face and pulling you to him. He takes your lips in his own, his kiss full and passionate, it takes you by surprise and you make a small sound reminiscent of a whine.
He presses his forehead to yours, “Do you wanna be my girl?”
“Ugh, corny,” you complain but you hate how badly you want that.
He chuckles lightly, pressing kisses to your lips again, “I want you to be.”
You’re not fully paying attention, temporarily distracted by his kisses, “Mmm... Sorry, what?”
He simplifies, “Mine, I want you to be mine.”
You agree easily, “Okay.”
A smile spreads across his lips and then he moves to press kisses all over your face, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“Somewhat,” you answer cryptically, mostly because you’re annoyed by how easily he fixed everything.
“I’ll take it,” he breathes out a laugh.
You wince involuntarily, your head still pounding, your body reminding you of your adventures last night and the consequences that come along with them, “I need to lay back down.”
Johnny’s tone is worried, his hands hold onto your shoulders, putting some distance between you both to look you over, “Are you okay?”
You deadpan back, “Yeah… you’re just exhausting.”
“Not nice,” he complains.
You smile cheekily at him, “I’m kidding… mostly,” he forces a smile back at you and you laugh lightly, “I’m hungover… I just wanna lay back down and die."
"Bit dramatic don’t you think?” He asks.
You glare at him, “Says you.”
He raises his hands in a placating manner, “Completely correct, let’s get you back in bed hmm?”
The rest of your day is spent recuperating in bed, you’re in and out of sleep, sometimes only ever up long enough to eat or drink something. Johnny brings you… way too many snacks but he insisted on you eating, it was nice and also so much for your pounding head, you ended up asking him to leave you alone to rot for the day, which he reluctantly did. You think he’s still concerned you’ve not forgiven him and if you’re telling yourself the truth, while you really want to forgive him, it’s not that easy and your heart sits heavy, the ache he caused not forgotten.
You’re going to try really hard to move forward though because you can understand, while he didn’t go about it well… at all, he’s struggling with his feelings for you and you can understand that much. It also wouldn’t have helped that tension would’ve been high for him, with you out later than expected, no messages, only to find you and see you with a stranger, while your ex lurks in the background… hmmm, maybe Johnny held it together better than you’re giving him credit for.
✰ ✰ ✰
It’s late in the evening when you wake up properly, your heart racing as you sit up suddenly, you can’t quite remember what your dream was of but you remember it was not pleasant. Anxiety crawls up your spine and you think it may have had something to do with your ex, the unease that sits in the pit of your stomach reminds you of the way you felt while at work. You hug yourself, rocking back and forth for a moment, trying to calm down… it’s not helping.
Crawling out of bed, you head the few doors down to get to Johnny’s room, wanting to seek comfort from him. You knock lightly, trying to see if he’s awake, it’s late though so you doubt he’d still be up. You consider entering his room and waking him up anyways but you aren’t sure he’s been sleeping well lately so you turn around and head for the lounge room instead.  
You grab the remote off the coffee table before flopping onto the couch, laying on your side, completely stretched out, you aren’t going to be able to sleep anymore so you might as well find something to watch and get comfortable. There isn’t much on at this time of night though, nothing good anyways.
Somehow, you find yourself heavily invested in the channel that only sells things, all advertisements for stuff that nobody feasibly needs or would use more than once but for some reason, you are completely involved in what the man is waffling on about. Why yes, you definitely do need a little bear named ‘Tiddy Bear’ for your seatbelt so it’s less annoying… you don’t own a car.
You’ve somehow become so absorbed in the crap commercials that you jump slightly when Johnny leans over you from behind the couch, “Holy– Don’t do that,” you gasp.
His voice is deep with sleep, “Sorry sweetness… but what the fuck are you watching?”
You state simply, “Tiddy bear,” and then point at the television.
Johnny sleepily looks where you’re pointing, squinting against the bright light, “…Right,” you can practically see the thought enter his head as soon as he thinks it, “You know… I could always be you–”
You groan at him, “–Shuddup!”
He laughs as he looks down at you, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”
“I’m fairly certain I did,” you raise a brow at him.
He wears a lazy smile as he rounds the couch, he taps your legs and you tuck them up so he can sit beside you. Once he’s seated, he pulls your legs into his lap so you’re stretched out again. His hands absentmindedly massage your calves, he watches the advertisement with you for a bit, a new one playing, something called the wearable towel, it looks like a dress… but towel material.
Johnny frowns at the infomercial, confused, “Seriously, doll, what the fuck are we watching?”
“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I was watching some tv and somehow got really into the infomercials,” you shrug.
He puts all his attention on you, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
You shrug again, “It was nothing, just a bad dream.”
You don’t look at him, still watching the lady talk about how annoying traditional towels are, Johnny squeezes your calf so you look at him, “Could’ve woken me up, if you wanted to talk about it.”
You hum at him, “I didn’t want to disturb you, I did knock… on your door, to see if you were awake.”
“Hell, sugar, next time just crawl into bed next to me, I really wouldn’t mind,” he smiles at you and then asks, “What was it about?” He keeps massaging your calves, fingers digging into the muscle, it’s nice.
“I don’t remember… but it was… scary,” you feel embarrassed to admit that, you’re a grown adult, it seems silly to be frightened by a dream.
He considers you for a moment, not really sure on what to say, “Yeah, sometimes it’s like that.”
“I just felt dumb, having a bad dream, it feels childish,” you sigh, frustrated with yourself.
“The feeling was real though, it’s not childish, I’ve had nightmares before.” He rests his head back on the couch, “You’ve had the most stressful time lately… I’m honestly surprised you’ve not had more nightmares.”
You watch him, he’s looking up at the ceiling, “I was scared,” you admit.
“That’s normal–”
“–No, not tonight, I mean at work, when he came in and stayed my whole shift,” Johnny looks to you, his attention focused solely on what you’re about to say, “I was scared but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of effecting me… so I ignored him and I thought about coming back to you, I thought of how,” you take a breath and look away from him, “I thought of how safe you make me feel.”
He sounds emotional, “I make you feel safe?”
You look back to him, feeling bashful, “Johnny, you feel more like home to me than any place ever has…” You’re nervous, feeling open and vulnerable, but you add, “Yes, you feel safe, you feel like home.”
It feels like he looks at you for too long, his eyes looking over you, full of so many emotions that you can’t read. When he does speak, all he says is, “Move over.”
“What?”
“Move over, I’m getting in beside you,” he starts shuffling to lay down next to you on the couch.
You laugh, “Johnny, there is not enough room.”
“Yeah there is, lemme in,” he continues to lay down.
You roll your eyes but shuffle back as much as you can on the couch, your body close to slipping off the furniture entirely. He lays down on his side next to you, his arm coming around you, tugging you close and supporting you so you don’t fall off.  
You look up at him, “Why are we doing this?”
He huffs at you, “I wanted to cuddle with you.”
He looks sleepy right now, it’s endearing, “Why so suddenly though?”
“You said something cute and it made me happy,” he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath against you makes your skin prick, “I’m glad I make you feel safe… and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, having him at your place of work… I should’ve been there.”
“I don’t blame you for that, I didn’t tell you,” you reach up and comb your fingers through his hair, “I– I wanted to call you but I worry so much… I worry about how much I burden you.”
He presses a soft kiss to your neck, it sends a shiver down your spine; he pulls back to look at you properly, his arm holding you as close as he can, “You aren’t a burden to me,” he holds intense eye contact with you, trying to show you how serious he is with one look.
“I just don’t want to worry you with silly things,” you tuck your head into his chest.
He vibrates with a hum, “Well, for starters, being scared of your freaky ex who is stalking you… is decidedly not silly, secondly, I’d much rather you tell me about the silly things, I want you to tell me everything that worries you, I want to help… can’t do that if you don’t confide in me, sweetness.”
“I’ll talk to you more… but you have to promise to do the same, you keep so many things to yourself and I want to support you, however I can,” you mumble into his shirt.
His tone is light as he agrees, “Deal, now can I make out with you, or is this an inappropriate time to ask?”
You scoff at him but pull back and press a gentle kiss to his lips, he groans as you move back too soon, “All you get,” you snicker.
“Not kind at all,” He complains.
You give him another quick kiss, “Funny though.”
“So funny,” he repeats humourlessly, scowl on his face.
You laugh at him and his hand moves up your body to the back of your head, his mouth crashing onto yours, the sudden contact takes you by surprise. You sigh against him and he licks into your mouth, his kiss deep. Your leg moves to hook around his waist, pulling your lower half closer to his, he groans into the kiss, his hand moves from the back of your head, down your front and under your shirt. He gropes at your chest, fingers pinching your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.
He moves his head down to your chest, pulling your shirt up and enveloping your nipple in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue flicks at you and you push towards him, soft sighs slip past your lips, your mind hazy. He bites at you lightly, his forehead resting against your sternum, he presses his face between your tits and sucks a hickey into the skin between them, his hand back to pawing at you.
He sighs against you, and then your world is spinning, he’s sitting up and taking you with him, you end up straddling him. His hands trail your body, tugging your shirt up and off your head, you lift your arms to help him. He leans forward and begins to leave more hickeys on you, marking your chest completely, your fingers thread through his hair, pleasured sighs leaving you.
He mumbles into your skin, “Take your pants off.”
You pull him back by his hair, “Excuse me?”
“Please?” He smiles at you. You look at him sceptically but he only continues to smile at you, “I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”
You concede and hop off his lap, pulling your pants off, you go to sit back on him but he tuts at you, “What?” You ask.
“Panties. Off.” His eyes are looking directly at your underwear, waiting for them to be gone.
You sway side to side, feeling timid but you comply and slip the garment down your legs, Johnny smiles brightly as you do as he asked. He makes grabby hands at you and you move closer to him, he grabs you and positions you over one of his thighs.
You’re a little confused, “What are you doi–”
“–Want you to ride my thigh, doll,” his hands encourage you to straddle his thigh properly.
“Johnny… that’s embarrassing,” you pout at him slightly.
“What happened to my eager little thing hmmm?” He grips your hips and starts dragging you back and forth on the material of his pants, “Promise it’ll feel good.”
You twitch on him slightly, it feels depraved to rut into his thigh while he watches but you start grinding down onto him lightly, your movements still uncertain. Johnny’s hands help facilitate your movements, wanting to see you do it yourself but also wanting control of the situation. Your cunt begins leaking onto him, the material of his sleep pants darkening under you, shudders run down your back and muffled whimpers get caught in your throat.
Your hands reach up to his shoulders, holding onto him to ground yourself, your fingers digging into his skin. His eyes watch how your pussy grinds into his thigh, smile still present on his face, absorbed in how you’re getting his leg all slick, the grey of his sweats now a dark grey. The friction the material of his pants give you is driving you insane, your need clawing up your spine, Johnny can tell you’re getting needier, based on how your eyes get glassy and your hips rut down into him more freely.
“There ya fuckin go, thas a good girl,” he comments.
His hands push you into his thigh firmer, the sudden change has you moaning out to him. You fall forward and tuck into his neck, your whimpers are breathed against him and he grunts at how wet you’re making his pants, at the little noises you’re making against him. You’re doing a lot of the work yourself at the moment, in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed at how you hump down onto him, at how damp you’re getting everything but Johnny seems so fucking pleased about it all.
You twitch into him and moan at the friction on your clit, the sound spurs him on, his hands grip your hips tightly and he moves you back and forth on his thigh quickly, your slick making the slide obscenely easy. Johnny’s own eyes are glassy, dizzy from how much you’re leaking on him, he moves one hand to pull your head back to look at him, he’s in awe of the fucked out look on your face.
“Mmm you always make the prettiest faces for me,” he compliments before taking your lips in his.
The kiss is messy, his lips demanding and desperate, his tongue in your mouth searching, consuming. He swallows down all the sounds you make for him, his own sounds shared in the kiss, when you part for a moment, strings of your saliva connect your mouths together. The evidence of how depraved in manner he kisses you sets you on fire, a whimper pulled from your chest. He smiles lazily at you, his thumb rubs over your lips, spreading your shared spit over them.
He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you take it, sucking on it gently, his eyes look wild as he watches you, “Need you to cum on my thigh, sugar.”
Your eyebrows pull up at him, your cunt clenching on nothing, your fingers dig into him as you continue to rock back and forth on him. Your stomach tensing, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and runs it down your chin, sternum, torso, all the way down to your clit, his thumb rubs circles into you, it makes you twitch against him. Johnny closes his eyes and seemingly remembers his goal very suddenly because he grabs you tightly again and starts forcefully dragging you back and forth, his leg bouncing, adding to the stimulation.
You gasp out to him, “Hah– Johnny~”
“Jus take it like this, cum like this, want it all over my leg, doll, want it stained into my fuckin pants.” His eyes are honed in on your cunt again, involved in how you’re dripping on him, how easy you slide on him.
Your voice pitches higher, “Johnny– I– mmph–”
He encourages you, already knowing, “Go on, soak my thigh, sweetness.”
You gasp and shudder against him, your hips desperately grinding down into him, your high so close. Johnny’s intense, greedy gaze on you is what undoes you, you twitch on him as you cum, pathetic whimpers sound from you as you rut down into his leg, he supports you as you finish, helping you ride out your high, feeding you praises about how well you did and how cute you look.
Once you’ve come down though, he keeps moving you into him, enjoying the way your body jolts in sensitivity at the action. You slump forward into him, small whines leaving your lips as he overstimulates you. He turns his face into your neck and lightly bites you, your cunt clamps down onto nothing, the pain shoots straight to your drenched pussy, a sad little moan slipping from you.
Johnny’s hands rub up and down your back, soothing you, “How you think you’re ever gonna be able to take my dick when you get fucked out this easily is beyond me.”
“I could take it,” you argue.
You can feel his smile against your skin, “I’m not so sure.” He pulls your face back so he can see you properly, “Yeah… I’ve missed that.”
You’re kind of hazy, mind making static noise, “Missed what?”
His smile turns devilish, “That cute little fucked out look you get on your face when I make you cum, a sight for sore eyes, doll.” You don’t get to say anything back, he picks you up and carries you with him back to his room, “Bet you’ll sleep fuckin fantastic now.”
You giggle against him because yeah, this might’ve done the trick.
✰ ✰ ✰
When you wake in the morning, you’re alone in Johnny’s bed, you lay still for a few more moments, enjoying the warmth of his large bed. You assume he’s gone to work; he’s probably messaged you but your phone is in the guest room and you don’t really feel like moving right now. You feel warm and safe wrapped up in his sheets, sleeping next to him was the best you had slept in weeks and you think he’s going to have to put up with you being in his bed more often now.
Eventually, after a few more moments of tossing around in his bed, you get up and wander down the hall to grab your phone. You were right, he had texted you saying where he was, he had to head in early and didn’t want to wake you. He should be back at a normal time though so you’re happy for that, it gets lonely in his big apartment.
You also have a message from your manager, telling you that you’ve got a few more days off… which is, surprising to say the least. Michael might have had something to do with that, which is kind but you need to figure out a long-term plan, on if you want to stay or go. Ideally, your ex would leave you alone, or the cops would arrest him for trashing your apartment but seeing as how they’re not all that useful, you don’t really know what to do.
At least now you have a few more days to consider your options, you were not looking forward to your afternoon shift. You’ll have to thank Michael next time you’re on with him, you don’t know what he said but you’re trusting that he didn’t divulge anything too personal, you didn’t even want to tell him about your ex, it was just unavoidable.
The day is uneventful for the most part, you clean the kitchen and guest room, you also make Johnny’s bed, you’re still a guest, it’s only polite that you clean up after yourself. There isn’t much else for you to do though, so you’re back on the couch, scrolling your socials and watching something inane as background noise. It shouldn’t be too much longer until Johnny gets back, you’re hoping anyways, you’re bored and want to talk to him regarding what you should do about your ex.
Speaking of… a text from that awful little man comes through, you forgot you hadn’t blocked him, you click on the notification and read it. Obviously, it’s all senseless anger, mostly name calling, not at all pleasant to read but after having him trash your home, this is not as scary as it would’ve been a while ago. You consider blocking him but then you think, this may help you actually.
He continues blowing up your phone on and off all afternoon, you end up silencing his messages so you can use your phone without being yelled at through the screen. It shouldn’t be but some of the messages are hilariously laughable, the fact you were with him for a whole year and he was like this? It’s almost inconceivable to you, how could you miss so much of his problem behaviour and why has he gotten so stuck on you.
One of his messages in particular sticks with you, ‘I deserved better.’ It makes you scoff, what a jackass. The rest aren’t as funny, they’re threatening and abusive and if you spent all your time reading them it would probably induce a panic attack.
Brushing it off, you put your phone down and involve yourself in the show you had put on hours ago, whatever his problem is, is not your fault and you shouldn’t bend over backwards trying to understand the motivations of someone so clearly mentally unstable. It’s not your fault, it’s something you have to repeat to yourself, so you don’t forget… because it’s not your fault and you won’t let him make you think that it is.
The front door rattles as Johnny unlocks it and walks into the apartment, you call out to him, “Welcome back!”
His shoes clack against the floors as he walks to where you are, “Hey, doll,” he pats the top of your head from behind the couch.
You bend your neck to look back at him, “How was your day?”
“…Annoying but thankfully shorter than some others,” he smiles at you, “How was your day?”
“Good, uneventful for the most part… well except…” You trail off as you watch him.
He steps over the back of the couch, it’s quite the show how his footing wobbles a bit on the plush cushions, you give him a quizzical look as he sits beside you, “What? Couldn’t be bothered to walk round.”
Laughing and shaking your head, you say, “You would’ve expended more effort climbing the couch than walking around it.”
He brushes you off, “Yeah whatever, just tell me about your day, what were you gonna say?”
Were you going to say something, “Hmm?”
“Uneventful day, except…?” He prompts.
You begin, “Ah, yeah, my ex started blowing up my phone, harassing me today–”
Johnny’s face twists into a disgusted scowl, “–You’ve not blocked him?”
You squint at him, silently admonishing him for interrupting you before you could finish, “Well, I had honestly forgotten to, he hadn’t even reached out until now but I think it may be helpful, in getting a restraining order on him, that way I can go to work and if he shows up the cops will actually have to do something about it.”
He considers your words for a moment, “Hmm, not a bad idea, want my help with that?”
“Please,” you smile sweetly at him.
He pinches your cheek and tugs lightly, “Of course, though…” he lets go of your cheek and you rub at it, “…I would prefer he were dead.”
You can’t help but laugh at the abruptness of his statement, “Right, well… I guess you’ll just have to settle for this.”
“Whatever makes life easier for you, doll,” he opens his arms for you to hug into his side, which you do.
He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, you sigh against him, “I really just want him to leave me alone, so I can forget about him and move on, I don’t want to confront him, I don’t want to fight him, I just want to be left alone.”
“I understand that, we’ll make it happen,” he kisses the top of your head and you believe him.
You cuddle on the couch for a bit, enjoying his comfort but then your phone rings, checking the screen you see it’s a friend from college, “I should take this,” you tell Johnny.
He nods at you easily and lets you get up.
Taking your phone, you walk off to the guest room to get some privacy, “Hey! It’s been a while, what’s up?”
Her voice is chirpy through the phone, “It has been and nothing much, I just wanted to see if you were free to come round mine tomorrow? I need help with an assignment for that one class… with that one professor…”
You can practically feel how her eyes glaze over, you’ve already taken the class and catch on immediately, “Yeah I’m more than happy to help, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be… I’m still surprised I passed.”
She laughs from the other end, “But you did and at this rate, I’m closer to running away and living by the seaside on an isolated island than I am to passing this course.”
“Well then, I can be around tomorrow? Like, maybe midday? Can’t have you moving away, you’re like the only college friend I have… that I like.”
“Sounds good and I feel exactly the same about you,” you both share another giggle but she trails off, “…Have you been okay?”
You’re a bit confused by her sudden question, “Yeah I’ve been all good, why?”
She seems hesitant, like she’s not sure how to word what she wants to say, “Well… I’ve been hearing some… things… about you and it’s got me a little confused.”
You frown, “What kind of things?”
She sighs, “People in our circle have been saying you were cheating on your ex and that you’re broken up?”
“I mean we are broken up… but I did not cheat on him, I ended things with him for different reasons but if anyone cheated in that relationship, it was definitely him,” your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, you have a feeling you already know who’s spreading the rumours.
“Yeah, I didn’t believe it but it’s really odd… that people are saying that, I always thought he was a little… freaky, so I got worried hearing about the rumours.”
You huff quietly, mostly to yourself, “Thanks for asking though… and not just assuming,”
“I like to think I know you well enough to discern what rumours are and aren’t true,” she lightly chuckles and it makes you smile.
Scratching the back of your neck, you ask, “A lot has happened but I can tell you about it all tomorrow?”
“I’d like that, you know I’m always here for you right?”
“I know,” you smile lopsidedly, you think you may need to get better at confiding in others.
You both share your goodbyes and hang up, you’re glad she reached out to you, honestly, if she wasn’t campus living and you didn’t have Johnny, you probably would have stayed with her, she’s one of the closest friends you have. It’ll be nice, telling a friend about everything.
Distantly you wonder how long the rumours have been running around and if this may be why you got ditched by those girls at the party and still haven’t heard from them, even after messaging them asking if they were okay.
This is such a frustrating position to be in but you think, if anyone believes the rumours without even asking you about them then they aren’t people you really want to be friends with anyways, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though.  The only thing you’re really worried about is if Johnny is included in the rumours, you don’t want to ruin his career, or hurt his image, at the moment the rumour doesn’t seem to mention him but you don’t know how long it will stay like that.
You waddle through the apartment and stand in front of Johnny, “There are rumours about me circling,” you pout.
“What?” He’s confused and you don’t blame him.
You slump onto the couch, your shoulder bumping into his, “Saying I cheated on my ex and that’s why we are broken up.”
He grunts, “What a load of bullshit,” his arm comes around you, pulling you close, “Are you okay?”
Sighing, you say, “Yeah, I mean, if people believe it that’s not my fault, I’m just so exhausted, it feels like it’s one awful thing after another at the moment.”
He turns to you and kisses the side of your head, “Would you feel better if I fucked you?”
Your voice feels small, “Yes.”
“That’s too bad,” he smiles against you.
You pout at him, “Don’t kick me when I’m down.”
He chuckles, “How about I cook you dinner instead?”
You smile at him, “That would be nice too, I guess.”
“Could you help?” He’s worried about it not being edible.
You let out an airy laugh, “Sure.”
✰ ✰ ✰
When you had told Johnny you were going out today to see a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, he has today off and he was hoping to spend it with you. He wasn’t about to stop you though, you need to see your friends, he’s glad to see you’re willing to talk to someone else about this. Sometimes, he worries that if he hadn’t heard your ex over the phone that first time, you wouldn’t have told him anything and that’s a scary thought to him.
He's left in the apartment alone and he’s bored, you’ve not even been gone long and he feels like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. Maybe he should feel a little pathetic about it but he’s pretty happy about where is, he’s scared… about the future but he’s also looking forward to his relationship with you. All he has to do is keep himself busy until you get back and he’s golden.
Some of your clothes are piled in his room, ever since he took you to bed with him a couple nights ago, you’ve been sleeping in here with him instead. Not that he minds, in fact, he’s got the opposite of complaints, the fact that you’re staying close to him and confiding in him, it makes him ridiculously happy.
The bag filled with your clothes sits on the floor in the corner, you’ve been here for a while now and you still won’t unpack, that bothers him. He won’t unpack for you, that’s invasive and will also probably upset you but he will pick up the clothes you left on the floor this morning, he’s just going to take them down the hall so they can get cleaned with his but as he picks them up, your panties slip from the pile.
He feels so ridiculously ashamed of how incredibly quickly his dick chubs up at seeing just your underwear, they’re cute… and now he’s thinking of you in them and nothing but. He rolls his shoulders and looks up to the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing ache in his cock but now all he can think about is you and how wet and needy you get for him.
Shamefully, he drops everything onto the ground and picks up your panties, his mind running wild. He feels like a fucking creep how he shoves them into his face and inhales deeply, his mouth salivating, he wishes you were home, he wants to fuck you with his tongue, it feels heavy in his mouth as his need grows.
His other hand slides down his body and undoes his belt before unbuttoning his slacks, he shoves his hand into his pants and groans as he grabs himself over his underwear. Your scent overwhelms his senses and he can’t hold off, he tugs his boxers and pants down, only enough so his cock is free, he’s desperate now, his dick twitching in need.
If he weren’t so stupefied by his thoughts of you, he’d probably recognise this as the creepy behaviour it is but right now he doesn’t care, he didn’t get to cum the other night after making you finish on his thigh and he’s been hesitant to try anything since but he’s so wound up it’s insane. After you had fallen asleep next to him that night, he’d pitifully moaned when he squeezed the base of his cock, just to get some kind of relief.
He's honestly not sure how long he’ll be able to hold off on fucking you, he wants it to be special for you, he wants it to be memorable, he doesn’t want to be just some guy you give your virginity to and regret… but in saying that… the need that claws at his insides every time he makes your pretty, cunt cum for him, is getting harder to control.
His hand not holding your panties grips onto the dresser for balance, his other hand reaches down to his cock, his tip leaks precum into your underwear, they’re soft as he moves them with his fist up and down his shaft. He sighs pathetically at the feeling of jerking off into your panties, his mind reeling with what it would be like to taste you, he wants to cum inside you and then lick you clean. His head falls back and he groans at the thought, his muscles twitch as he thinks of how pathetically you’d whine for him, your complacency with all the filthy things he does to you always makes his head spin.
With the amount he’s leaking into your panties, the glide is easy and his hand speeds up, a gasped grunt escaping him. He’s already on the edge of cumming just from thinking about tongue fucking you, he talks big game about you not being able to take him but he’s concerned that as soon as he sinks balls deep in you, he’s going to cum.
His chin falls to his chest and he watches how he fucks into your panties, his eyes are glazed over and his hand moves faster, he needs to cum, he knows it won’t satisfy him, not how he wants but if he doesn’t see your underwear coated in his cum, he thinks he may die. He thinks of you watching him cum into your panties, how embarrassed and turned on you’d be, it drives him wild and his cock jerks as he shoots his load into the fabric of your underwear. He groans deeply, his hips spasming, thrusting forward to ride out the euphoria.
He sighs, temporarily satisfied but his thoughts are still plagued by complete filth, he wants to make your pussy a complete mess for him. He wipes up his cum with your panties and tugs his pants back up, he’s going to need to calm down, he can wait for you to get home.
✰ ✰ ✰
The uber back to Johnny’s is boring, you’d had a good time with your friend though, you both pulled your hair out over the assignment and over your ex… but it was good, talking to someone. She was supportive and kind and she’s offered to sneak you into campus living with her if you need, which made you giggle. You told her about your plans to hopefully get a restraining order though, so you think you should be fine to go home soon.
It turns out, those girls… the ones you were at the party with, they’re apparently helping feed the flames of the rumour going around about you. At least you weren’t all that close to them, they just gave you a reason to go out and get drunk for a night. Whatever, you don’t want to put any more energy into all this, you’re going to go back to Johnny’s, you’re going to hang out with him and you’re going to trust that the court will let you get a restraining order against your ex.
When you get back to Johnny’s, it’s eerily quiet, you were expecting him to be watching a movie or listening to music… anything but it’s silent in the apartment and it’s freaking you out a little bit. Walking further into the main living area, you place your bag down and continue to wander around, looking for him.
You call out for him, “Johnny?”
He stumbles out of his room pretty quickly at the sound of your voice, “You’re back! How was it? Did you have fun?”
You squint at him a bit, his mannerisms odd, “…Yeah, it was good, I’ve missed her so it was nice… catching up.”
He fidgets in front of you a bit, like he’s antsy, like this is all a formality and he doesn’t really care, “That’s good! I’m glad you met up with her, I’ve been worried about you a bit lately…” His eyes roam over you, his fingers tapping against his skin.
“…Johnny?” He hums at you in reply and you ask, “Are you okay? You seem… on edge.”
His eyes flick back to yours, “Yeah, doll, I’m groovy, easy going,” he gives you a big cartoonish smile, it’s a little strained.
Frowning, you walk closer to examine him and he intakes a small, sharp breath, “Are you sure? Because you’re really twitchy right now.”
“Did anything else happen? Do you want to talk?” He’s clearly changing the subject.
You decide to let him, “No? I’m fine, we talked, I helped her with her assignment, nothing special,” you shrug at him.
“Okay, good,” is all he says in response. Just as you’re about to ask him what he means by that, his hands are on you, pulling you close, his mouth hovering right over yours, “I missed you, sweetness… bad.”
Your voice shakes slightly, the proximity getting to you, making your skin all hot, “I’ve not been gone lo– mmph–”
He cuts you off, his lips on yours are demanding, his kiss searing, like he’s been waiting his whole life to kiss you like this. You reach up and grab a hold of his shirt, hands fisting the fabric, trying to ground yourself. His hands are on you… everywhere, they grope and pull at the skin of your hips, at the fabric of your shirt, even palming your breasts, his touch is heated and needy, it’s making you dizzy. A small, whimpered moan leaves you involuntarily and he takes the chance to lick into your mouth, deepening the kiss.
With how he’s kissing you and how he’s touching you, your faculties are eluding you, your mind foggy. You’re the one to pull back first, needing air. Resting your forehead against his chest, you catch your breath and attempt to think straight again. Which is, surprisingly difficult, your eyes feel wet, everything about you feels malleable right now, he could probably say the stupidest thing on Earth and you’d still be weak in the knees with hearts in your eyes.
You lightly giggle against him, “Feeling needy?”
He grunts at you, “Doll, you got no fuckin clue.”
You think you may have some clue, “Bold statement coming from the man who still won’t fuck me even after I have asked so nicely, so many times.”
He rolls his eyes at you, only a little bit amused, you’re waiting for his smartass reply when he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking back to his room with you.
“Wow, talk about desperate,” you joke.
“Keep talking, sweetness, enjoy the upper hand while you can still talk coherently,” he drops you onto his mattress, his form standing over you from the foot of the bed.
You know he’s right, and yet, the need to challenge him like he doesn’t render you speechless from a kiss hits you anyways, “Cocky, much?”
“Could say the same thing to you, at least mine isn’t false confidence,” he winks at you and begins unbuttoning his shirt.
You lean on your elbows and watch him intently, his skin slowly being revealed to you, he’s being a tease on purpose. Summoning your courage, you tug your pants down your legs and toss them off the bed, not stopping, you tug your shirt off completely too, your bra following not long after. Johnny stops what he’s doing, his shirt fully undone but still on.
Smiling up at him, you ask, “Something wrong, sugar?”
He rolls his head back, a sigh coming from him, “Feeling mean today?” He asks, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders.
“Only a little bit,” you’re honestly a little bit shocked with yourself, you feel nervous and exposed.
He climbs onto the mattress and you shuffle back as he moves up, his form large over yours, he leans down and places a hot kiss on your lips, “Gonna stick my tongue in your pretty pussy, babe.”
Somehow, the crudeness of his words always shock you, “Okay.”
His smile at your reply is wolfish, giving you one last kiss before he’s moving back down the bed and pushing his face into your panties. You squeak and jump at the feeling, he only hums against you, seemingly pleased at your reaction.
“Wanted to put my mouth on you all day,” he mumbles against your core.
You can only gasp in reply, his mouth opening and latching onto your cunt over your underwear, his tongue wetting the fabric, his nose rubbing into your clit. His hands hold you open and you fall flat onto the bed, not able to hold yourself up. When he detaches it’s only to pull your panties down your legs and off, his eyes are wild and he stumbles over his movements in his rush.
He's right back in between your legs as soon as he can be, his mouth not wasting anytime in how he immediately licks at you, fucking his tongue into your hole. A hand reaches down and threads through his hair, you give it a light tug and he moans against you. Your back arches for him, hips moving against his face slightly, your body moving on its own accord.
Johnny’s own hips covertly rut into the bed below, his senses overtaken by you, how you smell and taste, it’s making him dizzy, he’s been looking forward to this all day. He’s practically drooling into your cunt, his skin on fire, how you writhe and twitch on the mattress isn’t helping. Knowing he’s making you a needy, whimpering mess is making his cock ache even worse than it did this morning.
You’re gasping and whining for him and he moans into your pussy, his hips humping into the mattress in a more obvious manner as his desperation grows. His hands push on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs up and giving himself more access to your gooey cunt. He’s eating you like he might die if he doesn’t, like you’re his only salvation and you’re already so close to cumming for him because of it.
The grip you have on his hair tightens and he borderline whimpers into you, his movements not ceasing, if anything they pick up, his tongue moving quicker. Your stomach twitches and pulls, your orgasm fast approaching, Johnny can tell, he knows by how slick you get, how pitched your whines get.
You want to tell him, “Johnny, mmm–”
He grunts into your cunt, already aware and actively trying to have you finishing on his tongue, he wants it all. He wants you to cum directly into his mouth, he wants to drink it all down and then he wants to shove his tongue in your mouth and make you suck on it, tasting yourself through him. His cock twitches in his pants, his mind moving a million miles a minute, shamefully, he’s close to cumming in his pants.
Suddenly, he shakes his head against you, his nose moving over your clit, the stimulation shocks your orgasm from you, stumbled syllables vaguely reminiscent of Johnny’s name tumble from your lips, sounds that he relishes in, his hips stutter against the mattress as your cum floods his senses. The way your pussy spasms and creams on his tongue undoing him completely, his cum no doubt staining the front of his slacks, shivers running down his spine.
The orgasm he gives you and how taken by surprise you were, renders you wordless and thoughtless, only the sounds of the blood pumping in your ears can be heard, everything else is like white noise. You huff and shake slightly, the buzz in your veins delicious, he was right, about rendering you completely speechless, you knew he would be.
He licks at your pussy a bit longer, until you’re jerking away from him, too sensitive, you close your legs, knees touching, giving yourself some reprieve. Johnny pulls up and off the bed, once he’s standing, he yanks his pants off. You don’t miss the way his slacks and boxers are damp with his cum, he’s made a complete mess of himself.
You feel shy, “You came from that?” You’re completely shocked that he’s managed to finish just from humping the mattress and tongue fucking you.
“Got such a pretty little pussy, I’d cum from watching you play with yourself,” he plays it off easily, not an ounce of shame in his bones at the moment, only a large grin plastered on his face.
The embarrassment his words cause you is immense; your face feels warm and you can’t tell if it’s from your orgasm or what he’s just said. He crawls back on the bed, his cock already hardening again, apparently… he’s not done. His cock is shiny and slick from his own cum, his tip red and already leaking again, it’s making your head spin.
Your voice feels small, you feel small, “Are you gonna fuck me?”
“No.” His answer is dead on, no room for argument, as per usual when it comes to this topic.
“Then what–”
“–Gonna play with you how I like,” he strokes his cock as he looks down at you, “Open your legs, sugar.” You pout slightly, and he rolls his eyes at you, “Come on, sweetness, I’ll make you feel oh so good. Promise.”
You scowl at him lightly but open your legs for him, one of his hands moves to hold you open further. “You said you would fuck me,” you complain.
“I said maybe,” he counters.
He doesn’t wait for you to continue arguing with him, already moving his tip through your folds, he skates against your wet pussy and it has him shivering. He leans down over you, the length of his fat cock resting against your cunt, he holds himself up over you by his forearms. His hips begin slowly grinding down into you, everything is so slick and wet, your skin slipping against each other. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue entering your mouth straight away, wanting you to taste yourself. You moan into him, soft sighs also leaving you.
When he pulls back, you try again, “I want you, please.”
He groans, his hips stuttering, “You have me right now.”
“Want you inside me,” you nearly sob.
“Fuck– Not today,” his voice is hoarse.
“Always– mmph– always feel so empty,” your eyes are wet and glassy as you look at him, not so silently pleading, “Ngh– Wan you to fill me, please, Johnny.”
“Fucking– no, hnng– why– god– why do you want your first time to be now? Of all times?” He huffs against your skin, his cock painfully erect, throbbing and leaky for you.
“Don’t care mmph– don’t care when or where, just who,” a tear slips down your cheek, your need practically tearing you apart at the seams.
Johnny nearly whimpers, his cock jerking against you, his tip sliding over your clit makes your skin itch, the desire to be fucked full of him overwhelming you. It’s cruel, it feels heinously cruel how deprived of him you are, is it so much to ask to be so full of him you’re sobbing? You don’t think so, your breath stutters as he continues rocking back and forth between your folds.
“I care when and how,” he bites back, nearly snarling at you.
You share your frustration with him, loose lipped in your pleasure and need, “I jus wan –­ngh– you to fuck me blind, I can’t, I need it– mmph– Johnny please!”
He actually does whimper this time, “Fuck– doll, you can’t– don’t do this to me,” he’s in such a weak state today, his desperation for you driving him insane.
The way you’re begging for him to stuff you full of his dick, is going to kill him, he already wants so badly to feel your tight, wet cunt wrapped around him but he wants to do it right. Your begging is chipping away at his resolve, his mind filling with images of how he’d stretch you out on his cock, how your eyes would roll back in your head as he fucks you just right.
His cock is making an absolute mess of you both, your lower halves completely coated in slick and cum, his head ducks down to look between the two of you. The underside of his cock glazed with your cum nearly sends him into a frenzy, he moans at the sight, forehead falling to rest on your sternum.
You hook your legs up on either side of his hips and he chokes at the change, his thrusts speeding up, one of his hands reaches down and digs into the fat of your thigh, nail biting into the skin. You gasp and whine, your mind slipping from you, you want to beg him more, you want to plead with him to have mercy but you’re not sure you can find the words anymore.
You sob over and over, begging him, “Please, please, please, please–”
He looks back at you, eyes sharp, “You’ll take what I fuckin give you or I’ll never touch you again,” he cautions, his tone harsh.
“Johnny~” you whimper, eyes large and dazed.
He tuts at you, his tone mocking, “Poor thing, not being satisfied sexually?”
You could almost cry, his words feel so mean.
He glares at you, “Know what I did while you were gone, sugar?”
You shake your head at him, a gasp leaving you as his cock head catches on your clit.
“Got me so fuckin– so needy,” he ridicules your usage of the word from earlier, “that I got hard at the sight of your panties on my bedroom floor.”
A strained and small noise leaves you, not at all expecting him to admit to something like that. His hand holds onto the side of your face and tilts you up to look at him, he’s looking down his nose at you and it really shouldn’t arouse you as much as it does. His hips don’t stop, never stopping, he couldn’t, not even to punish you, it’d be hell for him too. He needs this, it’s as close as he’s going to get to fucking you and he’d have to be put in the fucking ground before he’d remove himself from you, he needs you to cum on his cock like this.
“Wanna know what I did with them?” He asks suddenly.
You’re distant but not gone and you nod in response, curious.
He smiles evilly and leans down to whisper into your ear, “I fucked them, tugged on my cock until I came in them. Only thinking about your cunt and how fucking divine you taste, how badly I wanted to stick my tongue in you,” He licks the shell of your ear, “I think– ngh– that you’re getting off easy.”
“Johnny,” you whine at him, the only thing he’s succeeded in doing is making your hornier for him.
“One day. One day I will fuck you open on my cock but today and right now, you’re gonna fuckin behave and cum like this,” it’s a promise, one he intends to keep.
A shiver runs down your spine at how low and authoritative his tone is, a pathetic moan leaving you, one that Johnny doesn’t miss, not if his smile is anything to go by. He doubles his efforts into sliding his cock through your folds, his hips moving quicker, more weight put behind them, it makes you whine and wriggle under him. The hand he had on your face moves back to your hip and grips you tight, forcing you to stay still for him.
He's moving desperately, wanting so badly for you to cum like this, he wants to fuck his whole cock into you but is too damn stubborn to do it now, he doesn’t want your first time to be like this. His abs clench and twitch, his own end fast approaching him, his head leans down to your neck and remembers the other night, he pays extra attention to how close you’re getting, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he continues thrusting against you.
Your pussy is throbbing for him, you’re so unbelievable close and it has you seeing stars, Johnny can tell you’re right on the edge and just as you’re about to cum, he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, harder than the other night. Your cunt jumps at the shock of pain and you moan pitifully loud, tears that had been sitting in your water line slip down your cheeks as you spasm and cum for Johnny. He groans at the sounds you’re making for him, at the way your cunt gushes with your orgasm, making an absolute mess of yourself and his dick.
He holds off to let you ride out your high and then he’s pulling back onto his knees, jerking his cock while watching the way your pussy clenches on nothing, he whimpers and wishes he was fucking you full. In just this moment, he wishes he were a worse man but he settles for this, he fists his cock, and just as he’s about to cum he notches his tip at your entrance, not pushing in at all, just resting it there, his cum entering you as much as it can from this position.
You wriggle your hips at him, pushing down slightly, his hand immediately shoots out to push you down, knowing you’d absolutely attempt to take him all, even if it hurt. He can’t help how aroused that thought alone makes him, you’re willing to hurt yourself to take him all and it tugs at something ugly and primal inside him.
After he’s dumped his load on and partially in you, he pulls back, watching the way his cum has coated you. His finger moves to collect it and he begins pushing it inside you, his finger stretching you open as he stuffs you full of his cum.
The grip you have on him is making him lose his mind, “God, you’re so fucking tight.” He groans.
You can’t offer much else but blabbered words, nothing you say very coherent, not for lack of trying though.
Johnny only chuckles, amused by how stupid you are right now, he’s not able to control himself and he begins opening you up on both of his fingers, fucking you with them. His cum making it easy, his only aim was to fuck it into you but now he wants you cumming again, the sounds you make when you cum, they’re something he hopes he never forgets. He’s playing with you, his fingers leaving to spread his cum around some more before re-entering and pulling you apart by the very fibre of your being.
You’re whimpering at him, trying to tell him you’re sensitive, that it’s too much, that you’re going to cry but he either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care and based by how pleased he looks when you begin sobbing for him, you’d safely assume it’s the latter.
He smiles brilliantly at you, “You’re such a pretty doll.”
It’s too much, “I can’t– ngh–”
“–Hmmm? What was that?” He’s taunting you; he knows what you were going to say.
 Your eyes roll to the back of your head, another orgasm already fast approaching you, sadly you think it’s significantly spurned on by how cruel he’s being to you. Your body shakes, your legs try to close but he holds them open easily, his eyes intently watching how you take his fingers.
“Sucking me right back in, got such a needy pussy, I swear,” his fingers move quicker, stroking into one spot that has you gasping out a shocked moan, “Making such a fuckin mess, sweetness, can you hear how fuckin messy you are, hmm?”
You can, the obscene noises of your shamefully wet cunt fill the room and you still find it in yourself to be embarrassed, even when reduced to a sobbing, whimpering, state. Your arm moves to cover your face and Johnny tuts at you, disapproving of the action.
He directs you, “Wanna see your pretty face, doll, keep looking right. at. me.”
Forcing yourself, you look at him, your eyes barely able to stay open, everything you see is blurry anyways. Johnny moves his thumb to circle your clit, you’re sensitive and it makes you jump, your instinct to move away, not that you get very far. He is insistent, his hand never slowing and his thumb never moving, the added stimulation has your stomach doing somersaults.
Your cunt clenches down on his fingers and Johnny groans at you, “Atta girl, there you fuckin go,” his voice is soft, encouraging.
Your orgasm wracks over your body, mind hazy and nowhere within reach, everything you moan out isn’t even close to sounding like words, the only coherent thing being Johnny’s name. Your back arches and he pins you back down again, his fingers and thumb still moving, aiding in your orgasm. It’s becoming too much but you can’t even move away from him, only able to take the overstimulation until he’s satisfied. Everything is… dark and you can’t hear a damn thing.
He does eventually show you mercy, removing his fingers from your pussy, he taps your clit a few times just to watch how you jump and spasm at the contact though, and then he really does pull back. His eyes stay on your cunt though, watching you for a moment before his gaze wanders all over your body, taking in how blissed and fucked out you look.
Wistfully, he murmurs, “I’m gonna shove my cock so deep inside you, you’ll feel me in your stomach.”
“Johnny–”
“–Not now but one day,” he laughs airily, leaning down to kiss you tenderly on the lips.
He gets off the bed and pulls on some pants, leaving to grab a cloth and water, you lay on his mattress completely gone, not a single thought in your head. When he comes back, he cleans you up and makes you drink the water.
“You make me drink a lot of water,” you mumble around the rim of the glass.
He’s watching you, completely charmed by you even though you’re a naked mess drinking water in his bed, “Need you to stay hydrated, don’t want you passing out on me.”
“Keep making me cum like that and I just might,” you pass him the almost empty glass and he places it on the nightstand. He hands you one of his t-shirts and you put it on, appreciating the cover. 
“So… you’re into biting, huh?” He’s teasing you, his grin large.
You pout at him, “Don’t be mean… panty thief.”
“Oh, how you wound me, sugar,” his hands dramatically clasp at his chest over his heart. You roll your eyes at him and he instead asks, “Wanna watch a movie?”
“I am not moving,” you say, stretching your achy muscles out.
He offers, “What if I carry you?”
“…I could be amicable to that.”
“Yeah, I fuckin bet,” he chuckles but carries you to the lounge anyways.
The movie you end up watching is one of his, which should be a shock to no one, it’s not like you’re entirely conscious of the plot though, you’re still off in the clouds. Something Johnny admonishes you for, “Pay attention!”
You argue back, “I’m tired, plus I’ve seen this one before!”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he jokes.
“I could say the same to you,” you sigh, snuggling into his side, he wraps his arm around you and holds you close.
This is the most peaceful you have felt in a while, you feel safe and cared for and you think, you could stay like this forever.
✰ ✰ ✰
Thank you for reading it all !!!!! I know it was quite a lot to get through >v< Let me know your thoughts/feelings and reach out if you have questions !!! ily and have a beautiful day/night <33
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bubblebaththoughts · 4 months
Text
Oral
Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader
kinkmas masterlist
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warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral!fem receiving, masturbation, voyeurism
Neteyam couldn’t lie, he was always curious about you, more curious than he was spider, as the two of you were both sky people. But he figured that Na’vi males were similar to human males, but you? How did human females function? He wanted to know.
Kiri once told him that human females bleed a lot every month and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was true or if she was just messing with him.
You were his gateway to knowledge.
But as of recently, you two haven’t spent more than five minutes alone together. He would try and catch you out at the base, where you and spider would spend some time there, but you brushed him off, using any and every excuse in the book.
Neteyam called it simple curiosity. Lo’ak called it a crush.
“Next time she goes to use the bathroom just corner her.” Lo’ak suggested, lowly so you wouldn’t hear.
“No, that’s creepy.” Neteyam elbowed him in the side
“You’re never going to get her alone if you won’t even talk to her.” Lo’ak shrugged, rubbing the spot Neteyam had elbowed
“Why are you such a bother today, baby bro?” Neteyam seethed
Lo’ak put his hands up in surrender, “Whatever.”
You spotted a tree with fruit about, thirty or forty feet away, and you ran as fast as you feet could take you, it had been hours since you had eaten at this point and you would take anything.
“Lo’ak! I need help!” You yelled back
“Ah! Now is your chance bro! Go help her.” Lo’ak urged him
“Thanks bro.” Neteyam smiled back at his brother
You stood waiting, facing the tree with your back turned.
Neteyam came up behind you and picked the fruit for you.
You saw the blue hand and arm and smiled, turning back to greet Lo’ak Neteyam? “Neteyam?”
Neteyam’s heart wrenched as your smile fell.
“Is there something wrong, Tawtute?” He asked, not letting the growing frown over come his face
“No.” You grimace, “I was just expecting Lo’ak.”
“Ah, well I’m taller, better for fruit picking.” He smiled down at you
“Better for fruit picking?” You giggle, teasing his choice of words “You’re so funny Neteyam.”
You take the fruit from his hand, placing it in your bag. “Can we head back? I’m starving.”
“Yeah… me too.” Neteyam shakily whispered, his eyes trained on your hips as they swayed away from him
He could smell you from here, his mouth was watering. It was a relatively short and quiet walk back to the place you called home, it was an old botany lab that Jake and Mo’at had let you move closer to the clan.
It was definitely less of a lab now, more like your own haven that you could always retreat to. Neteyam loved to visit you in there because you didn’t have to wear that damn mask.
“Where did Lo’ak run off to anyways?” You asked
Neteyam shrugged, looking around for his baby brother, who had seemingly disappeared.
“Oh well, just me and you for today then?” You smiled up at him
“Yeah… Just me and you.” He couldn’t find it in himself to smile back down at you, not with the disgusting thoughts that ran through his mind, how could he let himself think about you like this?
Like right now, he wants to bend you over a tree root, rip off all of your tawtute clothing, and then take you to his heart’s content.
The rest of the walk to your home was mainly silent.
Neteyam had to duck through your door to get in, closing it behind him so you could take of your bulky mask. He turned around to grab one of the masks that you had saved for them, putting it around his neck and taking a small inhale of the “CO2” as you called it, before bring it back down to let it hang around his neck.
Meanwhile, you were busy cutting up the fruit he helped you pick.
Well, struggling to cut the fruit. You had a simple knife, much smaller than his, much duller than his.
He removed his own knife, scooting you out of the way and began to cut the rest of the fruit.
“I had it, you know.” You pouted up at him
“Sure you did.” He smirked down at you, finishing up the rest
He brings a piece to you, close to your face, expecting you to take it from him.
“I’m not eating from your hand, Neteyam, just give it to me.” You tried to take it from him but he held you back
“Such a violent and stubborn girl aren’t you?” Neteyam chuckled
You roll your eyes, letting him feed you the deliciously juicy fruit. The juice dribbled down your chin as you took another bite and suddenly all of Neteyam’s dirty thoughts returned.
Like how you would look with the tip of his cock in your mouth, with his cum dribbling down your chin instead of fruit juice. Or how well he just knew you would be able to take him.
He knew at this point, he was hard as a rock, but his pelvis was against your counter so you didn’t know, yet,
Neteyam cleared his throat, swiftly turning around towards the door with a strained “Sorry, I have to leave.”
You watch him in confusion as he practically ran away. Frantically you put on your mask to tell him goodbye but he was too quick. He didn’t go in the direction of the clan, so you followed him, like one does.
He was up against a tree when he stopped. Sweat very lightly covered his forehead. You had to stop yourself from gasping as he palmed his hard-on.
Quickly, his loincloth was discarded, letting his hard cock out.
Wow.
Your jaw dropped, he was so big.
The sun is setting behind the trees, and his silhouette is illuminated by the golden light, and his body is still and tense. You know what he's about to do, and you feel an odd thrill pass through you.
You see his shoulders rise and fall with each breath he takes, and you can sense the intensity of the moment.
Before you can truly process what's happening, his hands move faster, and his breathing becomes heavier. You can see his body trembling, and the tension radiating off of him is palpable.
Suddenly, a low moan escapes his lips, and it's enough to make your heart race. You can feel your own body heat rising, and a strange ache blooms in your belly.
You watch, mesmerized, as he writhes and moans in pleasure. His motions become faster and more frantic, and you can't help but be fascinated by the intensity of the experience.
When he finally reaches his peak, you watch in awe, feeling a strange combination of guilt and pleasure. You can't help but admire the beauty of the moment, and you feel strangely connected to him right now.
Suddenly, his eyes snap in your direction, he can sense you’re there, but he hasn’t exactly spotted you, yet.
Another sound makes his head snap the other way, so you took the opportunity to sneak away.
You thought you’d gone unnoticed, until you had almost reached your hime and felt a very large, sweaty hand on your shoulder.
“Sevin…” He whispered breathlessly
Your head turned back to him, almost scared to face him. “Neteyam… I-“
“Shut up.” He mumbled, pulling your back against him, he was still hard
His whole hand covered your neck, lightly choking you.
“But-“ You tried
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up, Syulang?” He rumbled
You stay silent.
“Mm, good girl.” You could hear the smile in his voice, “Walk.”
He walked you back to your home, once again ducking to get in the door. He closes it behind him, letting it air lock once again.
“Well, were you watching me?” Neteyam looked at you expectantly
“Didn’t mean to…” You mumbled, unable to meet his eyes
“Oh you didn’t mean to? Is that why you stayed and watched the whole time?” He teased, leaning in real close, definitely towering over you completely
“I, I don’t know…” You sighed
He only laughs at you, picking you up by your hips and placing you on your counter, next to the forgotten fruit.
He gets on his knees in front of you, but he’s still at a good height.
“You wanna tell me the truth?” He tilted his head up at you as he played with the button of your little shorts
“I followed you to make sure you were okay, And I, I saw that…” You explained, “It took me by surprise, I didn’t know what to do.”
He scoffed, reached up to your face and unlatching your mask from your face. Immediately he sticks his thumb in your mouth, you let him. He explores your mouth, focusing on your tongue, asking you to suck on his thumb. You comply, sucking on it gently. He couldn’t help but imagine how good you would look with his tip in your mouth.
“Such a good girl aren’t you?” He smiles
His other hand had unbuttoned your shorts, and he was beginning to pull them down.
Suddenly he’s yanked them off.
“I hate your tawtute clothes.” He mumbled. “Doesn’t show enough of you.”
He pulled at you panties gently, “I like these, very pretty and delicate, like you.”
“Mmm.” You whine
You gasp as his hands begin to roam around your inner thighs, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His palms are hot and his fingertips are gentle as he slowly spreads your legs.
A blush spreads across your entire body as his places soft kisses on both legs, leading himself to your needy pussy.
You were definitely smaller in comparison to the Na’vi women he had been with before. He used two of his fingers to separate your folds to get a better look.
Pretty and pink, definitely different from what he was used to.
He leans back in, his mouth watering as he prepares himself to finally be able to taste your sweetness.
“So good.” He growled, licking his chin before diving back in
“It is?” You ask, almost confused
“You don’t believe me?” He removed himself, looking up at you, also partially confused
You shake your head, “I- I can’t imagine it tastes good…” You doubt
“Mmm what a shame.” He shrugged, going back in, nose first.
He takes his time, lapping and flicking his tongue over every bit of your beautiful folds. You can't help but moan in pleasure as his lips and tongue explore you. Every lick sending a wave of pleasure rippling through your body.
Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, he removed his mouth from your center with a small “pop”. And reached over to take a piece of the forgotten fruit.
He brings it to your wet folds, with a mischievous smile on his face.
“W-what are you doing?” You attempt to close your legs
With a grunt, he forces them open, “Trust me.”
He slowly rubbed the fruit around your folds, making it even more slick with the fruit juice.
Neteyam separated your pink lips with his fingers and eased the fruit over your clenching hole, and he lets the tip of the fruit pop in and out.
He leans back in, lapping up your slick and the fruit’s slick. His eyes flickered to your shocked face. You were shocked about what he had done, that fact that he had done it, and that you were enjoying it.
He removes the fruit, his eyes analyzing it before bringing it to your mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern he nodded at it to urge you to take it.
You let him feed it to you hesitantly, but you ate it.
“Believe me now?” He smirked up at you, cocking his head to the side
You moan in response.
“Mm, good.” He whispered, immediately going back to your needy pussy
His hands grasp your hips, and he moves his tongue lower. You arch your back and gasp as his tongue teases your little hole. Untouched by anyone except yourself and now him. His lips and tongue are relentless as he licks and sucks, exploring your body with expert precision.
“So sweet.” He mumbled against your slit, making you throw your head back
Your breathing quickens and your body trembles as pleasure builds inside of you. You moan and gasp as he works his way up and down your body, teasing and tasting you until you can't take it anymore.
“Neteyam!” You call out to him, your hands found his hair and you pushed his braids out of his face, making brief eye contact with him, before you threw your head back again, heaving.
The pleasure is intense and overwhelming as you reach your peak. Your body trembles and quakes as you cry out in ecstasy. The intensity of the experience is almost too much to bear.
“Doing so good.” He praised, his hands gently rubbing your shaky thighs
As your orgasm fades away, you feel yourself coming back down to reality. You open your eyes to see him smiling up at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. He looks satisfied with himself.
“Maybe I should spy on you more.” You tease
“Maybe you should.” He shrugged, though he sounded more serious than you.
His head laid on your thigh as he stared up at you. His eyes practically piercing through your soul.
“You know, now that I’ve got a taste of this sweet pussy, I can’t give it up.” He smirked up at you
You would never get tired of that cocky smirk from him.
taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut
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ladyofthenoodle · 1 year
Text
oh, look now, there you go with hope again
Adrien Agreste was sitting alone in the cafeteria.
Again.
The sight made Marinette want to pull her own hair out. Hadn’t she publicly stated, as Ladybug, that Adrien Agreste was as much a victim of his father as anyone who had been akumatized? That in the end, he’d shown remorse and helped her? Hadn’t she urged the people of Paris to embrace him, to give him a second chance?
Sure, she hadn’t exactly practiced what she’d preached, but—she’d excused herself as the exception. After all, no one had been more hurt by Chat Noir than Ladybug herself. No one else had felt the sting of betrayal or the sharpness of his claws the way she had.
So she’d told herself it wasn’t her responsibility to extend an olive branch more than she already had. Surely, someone else—someone who didn’t have vivid memories of fighting against a boy meant to be her partner—would step up and be his hero. It wasn’t Marinette’s job.
Except, apparently, it was.
Because he was still eating alone.
If no one else was going to step up, then she had to.
The next day, she marched right up to his table in the cafeteria.
He looked up at her, wide-eyed and frightened.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know this table was taken. Please, let me move my things–just a few seconds, I promise.” 
He’d already started packing up by the time Marinette processed what he’d said—and the hunted look in his eyes as he said it.
“Stop!”
Adrien froze, instantly, then raised both hands in the air: the universal sign for ‘I’m unarmed.’
Marinette felt a pang of guilt. Snapping at him like she was apprehending a criminal was not the approach she was going for. So she tried again.
“I mean,” she kept her voice as soft as she could, the way one would approach an injured stray on the street, “you don’t need to move. The table isn’t taken by anyone except you.”
Adrien nodded, his hands lowered slightly, but clearly still on guard for whatever she’d say next. She hated that, but she couldn’t blame him for expecting the worst when a girl he’d never spoken to before arrived at the table.
Still, the idea of him being scared of her—plain-clothed Marinette—felt wrong. He’d never even been scared of Ladybug, though she’d had her fair share of nightmares about him.
“Can I join you?” she asked.
He nodded again, but unlike the relief she expected at her question, his posture remained guarded and tense.
Did he not want company? Is that why he still ate alone?
She found that hard to believe. Chat Noir, even at his worst, had always been gregarious—often trying to make conversation with her even as he attacked her. There’s no way this same boy could be satisfied eating alone every day, with no one to talk to. 
He must just not know what to do in this situation—it was common knowledge, after all, that he hadn’t been allowed to go to school before this, not even a fancy private school.
Luckily, Marinette had come prepared with the perfect icebreaker.
So after she took her seat next to him, she pulled it out of the bag: two croissants, baked fresh this morning, and better than any of the baked goods in the cafeteria menu. She put one on his tray.
Adrien eyed it warily.
“It’s for you,” Marinette explained.
“You want me to eat it?” he asked, which she thought was a bit rude, but she supposed Hawkmoth wouldn’t have taken much time to instill his son with proper manners, so she decided to let it slide.
“Yes, I brought it for you.”
He nodded, then picked up his knife and fork like he was preparing for battle. He closed his eyes, breathing in deep, as if he were bracing himself.
Marinette had a hard time pushing back her annoyance at that. Not thanking her was one thing, but acting like her parents’ baking was some kind of chore to eat?
“Just eat it!” She took a bite of her own, for emphasis. “It’s good.”
Adrien set his knife and fork down again, then gingerly picked up the croissant with his fingertips. 
Irrationally, Marinette felt her heart racing as he slowly inched it towards his mouth, like it was a design contest and she was watching the judges circle her piece. 
Which was stupid, because she wasn’t trying to impress him. She was just trying to be nice. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not.
But by the time his teeth sank into the croissant, she was on the edge of her seat.
He took a bite.
Chewed.
And swallowed.
Then looked at the croissant again, with wide-eyed wonder. Marinette couldn’t stop the smug, satisfied grin from spreading across her face.
Which quickly slid back down at his next words.
“It’s… just a croissant,” he said, and if he hadn’t said it with such awe and reverence, Marinette would’ve chewed him out.
Instead, she was just baffled.
“What else would it be?” 
“Nothing,” he said, too quickly. “Of course it’s a croissant, I just—there’s nothing else in it.”
Marinette frowned. “Were you expecting pain au chocolat? It’s a whole different shape.”
“No, of course not, I—” He stopped, then, and looked away, as if he was scared to say more.
And really, this whole exchange had been weird, from the beginning.
“Adrien,” she said slowly, “why were you afraid to eat the croissant?”
Because that’s what it had been, hadn’t it? Not ingratitude. Not snobbishness.
Fear.
He mumbled something into his lap in response. She couldn’t quite make out the full sentence, but what she did hear was chilling: “...last croissant had…. in it…”
Just a croissant. Because he’d expected her to put something in it.
She’d known her classmates avoided him. But she hadn’t realized how bad it was.
When Marinette was 10, their class had gone on a field trip to the zoo—not the one nearby, but the big one, on the outskirts of the city. She’d been so excited that she’d packed her bag filled with everything she could possibly need—snacks, sunscreen, her favorite magazines for the bus ride.
And then she’d been stupid enough to leave her bag unattended for a few minutes.
The memory of squeezing her bottle of sunscreen in the heat of the day and having a dollop of mayonnaise fall into her hand instead had never left her. It hadn’t been the worst prank Chloe had ever pulled, but the scent of mayonnaise that’d been sitting in the sun—sour and rancid—never left her. 
She still smelled every bottle she opened now, years later, even ones she knew no one else had touched.
She didn’t know what had been in the last croissant he had been given, but she knew exactly why he’d been wary—why he’d tried to go in with a fork and knife first.
What she didn’t understand was why he’d drop them and eat it with his hands anyway, if that’s what he expected.
“Why did you take a bite if you thought I’d put something in it?”
“Because you told me to,” he whispered.
Marinette blinked, disbelieving. He’d blindly taken a bite, expecting the worst, because she’d told him to? Even at the peak of her victimhood, before she’d learned to stand up and fight back, Marinette had done her best to avoid falling into any traps she could see coming.
“Why?!?” she all but shouted. “Why would you just let someone do that to you?”
His answering smile was brittle. “As long as I’m willing to play the victim, they don’t see me as a villain.”
Marinette’s stomach dropped in horror as he continued—as she realized the true extent of what she’d let Adrien Agreste go through for weeks, while she’d turned the other way and told herself it was someone else’s problem.
“When I first came to school, no one wanted me here. They didn’t feel safe, even though Ladybug assured everyone I was powerless now,” he was looking away, now, voice hollowed out like his insides had been scooped out, “For a while, I was scared they’d make me leave school. But then, they started playing pranks. And after they’d play one, they’d laugh at me, and it hurt at first—it still does, but—one day, I realized, when they laughed and taunted, they didn’t look scared of me anymore. So, I let them. If this is what it takes to stay, for them to feel safe and accept my presence here, I’ll eat whatever they serve me.”
Her insides churned at the thought of him—sitting on the ground, surrounded by the faceless peers laughing, and somehow deciding that was for the best.
“Why would you want to stay, when everyone treats you like that?”
Why would he want to stay, when no one had shown him even an ounce of kindness?
Adrien shrugged. “It’d be the same anywhere, probably. And…”
“And?” she prompted, reaching out to lay her hand on his white knuckles gripping the edge of the table.
He turned a wistful smile to her now. “I’ve always wanted to go to school. To be with other kids and make friends. My parents wouldn’t hear of it—they said it wasn’t safe, that the kids I’d meet at school weren’t worth knowing.”
Something in her heart—some wall that she’d built up after that second battle with Stoneheart—cracked.
“I can’t let him be right,” Adrien confessed, his own voice breaking with the weight of it.
She’d been wrong before, when she’d thought he’d sounded hollowed out. Maybe his father had hollowed him out before, to better fill Chat Noir with Gabriel Agreste’s own darkness, a croissant ruined by something unsavory shoved inside.
But this Adrien wasn’t hollowed out. 
He was carved into. And he’d submitted to it, willingly, just for a chance to stay.
Luckily for Adrien, Marinette did two things better than anyone else in Paris: proving Adrien’s father wrong and rebuilding what has been destroyed.
She squeezed his hand, in promise.
“He wasn’t right. We won’t let him be.”
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Text
Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? (Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader x Ghostface! Peter B Parker) Part 1
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RAAAAA! Excited about this one! Based off this post. Inspired by this drawing from Andalusia_Lu on Tiktok. Not proofread. Tbh I’m kinda nervous about this one but…Enjoy! Also in this story MJ and Peter are just friends. This is probably the darkest think I’ve written.
(Y/N) - Your name.
NSFW!!, Cursing, use of alcohol, death, murder, yandere behavior, Reader has a bf who does die, violence, blood, said reader’s bf calls her derogatory remarks behind her back, religious imagery(I think???), stalking, male masturbation, invasion of privacy, reader being drugged, panty stealing, stalking, implied kidnapping, gore, cameras being placed in readers home without their knowledge, it’s a horror one shot so… you know what you’re walking into. Dead Dove Do not eat, MDNI!
Word count: 2.5k
Part 2
Masterlist
October 31st, Halloween night. Also know as the night that gives college students an excuse to get fucked up while in a shit quality costume that cost 50 bucks at spirit Halloween.
That little rule you are not exempt from, that’s how you found yourself in a random college frat party at NYU, a bottle of beer in one hand, and your boyfriend’s in the other as you drag him through the crowd so you both can dance. The alcohol in your system made your whole body relaxed and your cheeks glow with a dash of red over them, your eyes half-lidded and your smile wide as you looked up at Daniel while Promiscuous from Nelly Furtado blasted through the house. You looked like an angel straight from heaven, although that might be due to your customer, being dressed up as Juliet from the 1996 movie, while your boyfriend was clattered in armor as Romeo. The costumes being your idea after having rewatched the movie a few weeks ago.
You both had lost the rest of your group in the crowd, Jess and MJ had said they were going to the kitchen while Miguel and Peter had said they were going outside to get fresh air but you haven’t seen them since, you wouldn't have extremely worried, if it wasn’t for the reason sightings of the ghostface killer that had been popping up on the news though. Sure maybe going to a party wasn’t the best idea either but you figured you would have been fine since you were going in a group, I mean, what wouldn’t you be okay? It’s not like an actual serial killer goes after a group of young adults who are all drunk right? But now you’ve lost 4 out of 6 people in said group. But maybe in the small chance you do get targeted, you should be able to stand a chance since your Daniel was always in the gym with Miguel, so he was pretty jacked (not as jacked as Miguel though but you’ll never say that out loud).
One song turned to two then to three, just like the beers in Daniel’s hand, you had slowed down so you could at least be sober enough to order a Lyft for when the night was over. Eventually you were whisked away from your boyfriend by MJ and Jess, thankful that they were still at the party and nothing happened to them.
“Hey, have you guys seen Peter or Miguel?” You shouted over the music after a while, Jess just shrugged, before MJ answered.
“They texted me that they found Daniel and he’s like, fucked up apparently.”
“Please!”
Stab.
“I don’t want to die! Please stop!”
Stab.
“I’ll give anything! Just don’t kill me!”
The begs and pleads become more desperate and sloppy with every second, the words slurring more together from the alcohol and the crimson red liquid dribbling out of Daniel's mouth. The sight was almost enough to make the two men feel pity. Almost.
“Anything?” The shorter one asked with an agonizingly slow head tilt, his voice altered from the voice changer attached to the plastic mask, signaling for the other to stop plugging the knife into their victim’s stomach. Despite not liking being told what to do, he dropped Daniel on the floor with a snarl. Daniel quickly retracted into a small ball, shaking arms going to cover his bloody wound with a groan and whimper.
“We want (Y/N).” If it weren't for him being in excruciating pain and bleeding out, Daniel would have thought they were joking, but the tone in which the words were spoken made his blood that was spilling out from his stomach and mouth run cold.
“W-what?” He asked as he tried to keep his breathing from becoming shallow and his head from becoming too dizzy, but he was failing miserably.
“You heard us. We. Want. (Y/N).” The larger one spoke this time. How badly, he wanted to emphasize each word with another stab, the knife in his hands twitched a bit as he tightened his grip on the black handle. He was itching for an excuse, but he’ll refrain.
For now.
Maybe it was the way he responded to a stressful situation, or maybe it was the lack of blood finally affecting his brain, but Daniel had the nerve to laugh. Fucking laugh. The laugh was breathy, and in between coughs and groans, causing Miguel and Peter to look at their prey like he was the crazy one. Rage filled their bodies when Daniel finally composed himself enough to talk again.
“Y-you can’t be serious? …Right? You-you’re gonna kill-kill me over some bitch?”
How fucking dare he.
How dare he speak about you like you were some random skank, like you were a pile of dirt. You were a fucking goddess, Miguel and Peter knew that, because they worshipped you like one. They didn’t see what you saw in Daniel, he didn’t deserve you, no one did, except Miguel and Peter, they would treat you better than any other man that roamed this stupid planet, and especially far better then the sorry excuse of a boyfriend that they had on the ground like he was a wounded animal.
For someone who was about to die, he sure had a lot of nerve.
He didn’t love you like they did, he didn’t know your every move like they did. They were like your real life guardian angels, always following behind you to make sure no one would harm so much as a hair on your pretty little head, and how lucky were they, that you were juuust oblivious enough that you don’t notice them, just enough to brush of your rummaged trash as raccoons, just enough that you didn’t noticed when a pair or two of your dirty panties go missing, you had too many to keep track of all of them anyways. Never knowing that one of the two would sneak into your apartment while you were asleep to grab them from your hamper, no matter which boy had decided to embark on their mission, both of them had to fight against the struggle to not stay and watch you sleep, fighting the urge to release their painful hard members and stroke while watching you sleep. They’d be lying to themselves if they said they haven’t lost the battle at least once before, biting into their free hand to stop any moans from escaping and waking you up, while they fist fuck their cocks with the other, but can you blame them?
They just loved you so much and you loved them too, you just haven’t realized it yet. How could you when that pest of a boyfriend of yours was pumping your head full of false thoughts? He didn’t love you like Peter and Miguel did. Sure Daniel might seem like he loved you so much, going as far as to get you flowers and gifts from time to time, but Miguel and Peter’s gifts they would give you were so much better, because these gifts were all given to you with the same purpose. To help them watch over you, make sure you were safe, strategically planning to make sure to eventually fill your entire home with cameras right under your adorable nose. The teddy bear that sits on your bed and the light up mirror over your bathroom sink were first of course.
Peter couldn’t help himself, with all of his force, he kicked Daniel right in the balls, causing him to curl up more in pain. Miguel was going to do the same when his phone pinged in his pocket, he quickly took it out and checked it, your name filling his screen made his heart skip a beat.
“It’s (Y/N). She’s asking where we are, and wants us to meet her at her apartment after she drops off Jess and MJ in 15 minutes.” Miguel mumbled as he looked down at his phone, before looking up at Peter then down at their prey on the ground. “She probably thinks we’re still with him, what should we do with him?”
Peter’s eyes followed Miguel’s gaze down to the half- conscious Daniel, silent as if thinking about what to say, or more likely what to do with him.
“We could leave him here for dead?” Peter suggested, but Miguel shook his head at the thought, too risky, they couldn’t have the chance of him being found by someone and taken to the hospital, that could ruin everything.
“You both… ar-are fucking psychotic! Killing me over some-some bitch who doesn’t eve-even give good fucking… fucking head!” Daniel yelled between coughs, more blood falling from his blue-turning lips, he looked like he had seen a ghost due to how pale he was becoming from the blood lost, and now he’s gonna become one. Miguel’s phone buzzed again, this time you only sent a single question mark, looking down at his phone.
“I want you to know that if I wasn’t about to be late to see you, I would beat this guy bloody, for the way he talks about you.” Miguel said out loud as if you could actually hear him, as if you were actually here to hear how true those words were, but instead Miguel raised his knife with one hand and grabbed Daniel’s hair with the other. Enjoying the way the Dani’s eyes widened in fear, his weak arms flailed around as he tried to fight the larger man off of him, but it was no use. “Guess I’ll just have to cut straight to the point.” He said, the smirk evident threw his altered voice before putting his knife against Daniel’s throat and slashing it open. Watching whatever life that was left in him drain from his eyes.
Peter being the skilled photographer he was, took a selfie of the two with their slayed animal, now it’s time to go claim their trophy.
Something was off.
Like seriously off, ever since Peter and Miguel disappeared at the party neither of them had answered their phone, and as soon Dani disappeared neither had he. Maybe the party wasn’t the best idea in retrospect, you let out a sigh as you entered your apartment, and collapsed on your couch, wanting to try and calm your racing thoughts a bit before you changed out of your costume. Closing your eyes, and taking in a deep breath.
Your phone started to ring.
Usually, you didn’t answer calls from people who weren’t already in your contacts, so the “blocked number” would normally set off red flags, but maybe the alcohol was still making your brain foggy, because without thinking you answer the call and put your phone to your ear.
“Hello?”
No answer.
You left out a huff and tried again.
“Hellooo?”
When you didn’t get an answer again you rolled your eyes.
“I think you got the wrong numb-“
“Wanna play a game?”
“I’m-I’m sorry?”
“I said, wanna play a game?”
“Um no thanks. I'm hanging up now.”
“Hang up and you won’t get to see your special surprise though.” Oddly enough, you grew a bit curious.
“Wha..what do I have to do?” You asked.
“It’s simple, We’re gonna play a small game of hot and cold.” You had a feeling this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you shouldn’t answer the call. “Right now you’re cold.”
Without another word, you slowly got up, and made your way down the hall, your floorboard creaking underneath your heels.
“Warmer.”
Your heart begins to beat in your ears, you bring a shaky hand up to the doorknob of your bathroom, you go to open the door when the voice from the other end of the phone spoke again.
“Colder.”
You quickly bring your hand back down to your side and let your heavy footsteps make your way into your bedroom.
“Hotter.”
You swallowed the thick lump of saliva down your throat as you made your way to the left side room, your eyes dead set on your closet.
“Hotter.”
You closed the gap between you and the closet, and brought your hand to the handle, mentally preparing yourself for whatever hides before the wooden doors.
“You're on fucking fire baby.”
Your hand drew back the door, the sight made you let out a blood curdling scream, almost dropping your phone in the process. Your Daniel, dead, sitting on the closet floor, gutted out like a fish. The voice on the other end of the phone let out a sly chuckle before speaking once again.
“Sorry about your boyfriend, guess all those muscles didn’t help much.” He mocked before the call went dead, and you finally released your phone, it falling to the floor, as your body began to shake and your breathing became rapid.
You let out a sob and began to stumble away from the mangled corpse that you once called your boyfriend, only for your back to meet with a what felt like a wall of muscle, you quickly look up over your shoulder, being met with the infamous ghostface mask that has been plastered all over the news.
“What’s the matter (Y/N)? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The altered voice taunted. No, no, no,no. This cannot be happening. You shook your head as another sob left your lips stumbling away from the masked killer and into the hallway, expecting him to follow after you, but instead he just watched you. If you were thinking straight. You’d probably realized that this was a trap, but you weren’t thinking straight, as you finally reached the front door, you went to unlock the door and leave your apartment, but before you even stepped foot out of the door a large hand came and grabbed you around your waist. You take in a deep breath and open your mouth to scream, but instead a white cloth came and covered your nose and mouth, the strong smell of chemicals quickly filling your lungs.
“Surprised (Y/N).” This voice was a bit deeper, then the one from your bedroom, your head became dizzy as you eyes fluttered, your vision was beginning to blacken, before you were fully go under, you saw the man holding you still was a lot larger than the other one, it clicked, there were two of them.
You black out.
“She out?” Peter asked Miguel as he slipped off his mask, Miguel following suit.
“Like a light.” Miguel smirks as he goes to pick you up bridal style, your body limply laying in his arms. The two couldn’t help but smile as they watched your sleeping form, so peaceful looking, like an Angel. Their angel. Their plan played out just as they wanted, you were theirs now, and theirs alone. No one could come in the way of you three anymore, all they had to do now was make sure you wouldn’t leave them. But how would you do that if you didn’t know where you were? You couldn’t. That’s why Miguel gently placed you in the backseat of Peter’s car, before getting into the passenger’s seat. They were going to make sure you were far, far away from your old life, so you could start your new one with your lovesick killers.
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parrythisucasual · 5 months
Text
What About Me? Ch. 1
___HERES THE STORY SO FAR!!! NOT BETA READ SORRYYYYY___
PAIRING- JAX X READER (ROMANTIC)
Something is wrong. This isn't right. You were just lying in bed, starting a new VR game. Where are you now? There’s… music playing. Chipper, happy music. And every single color is like your mom’s phone screen- full-on brightness. You blink a few times, staring around. There’s a group of people… But they aren't people, exactly. They seem more like children's toys.
You're suddenly feeling very, very overwhelmed. You can feel your body shaking as panic punches you hard in the gut. You’re going to scream, you're going to have a breakdown, you're going to- 
“Where am I?” Oh. Well, that wasn’t so bad. Until the motley group turns and looks at you. The fear only rises as a doll woman steps closer to you “Another one? But Pomni just got here last week…” You blink, utterly dumbfounded. She spoke to you. You can understand her.
“Who are you?” a second question makes its way past your lips, your mind searching desperately for some kind of clarity. “This one’s taking it pretty well. Unless you count the crying.” another voice piped up as a purple rabbit sauntered over, stopping right next to you, “at least they aren't screaming like someone did when she got here.” 
“Jax!” the doll snapped at the rabbit, “I’m sorry about him, he’s just a bully. I’m Ragatha.” she gently placed an arm over your shoulder, causing a small bit of relief to flood through you. Something grounding. “I know this is really scary and off-putting, but I promise you’ll be okay.”
“Except you can never leave.” Jax’s smile widened. Your heart dropped rather suddenly “N-never leave?” you asked, looking from Jax to Ragatha. “Afraid not, my dear!” a third voice, a rather loud one, came to your attention. You turned to see who this could be and almost jumped out of your skin.
A set of teeth with bulging eyes staring at you, hovering a few feet in the air, “Welcome to the Amazing Digital Circus! I’m your ringmaster, Caine!” he greeted enthusiastically, spreading his arms in a display of showmanship. You think you’ve had enough.
Reaching to your face, you try to pull the headset off. But… it's not there. It’s just your face. But it doesn't feel like your face. It feels like a soft silicone rubber, almost like the Gumby toy you’d had as a kid. “It’s not there!” you yelp, now simply holding your own head.
“It’s okay, I promise you’re okay,” Ragatha gently reached over and took your hands from your head, “Just take a breath, okay?” You nodded, taking a deep breath and relaxing a bit, “Why isn’t it here?”
“Who knows? You’re stuck either way, why bother thinkin’ about it?” Jax walked past you, shrugging. You can already feel a twinge of anger at this… man? Rabbit? You’re clearly terrified and he can’t bother being kind for one second? 
Oddly, that anger only serves to calm you more. You ignore him and turn back to Ragatha, “Okay. I’m stuck here… in the circus… we can’t leave. You’re Ragatha. That's Jax. That’s Caine,” you list your knowledge, nodding with each statement. A small smile spread across her face, “Exactly.”
Nodding, you glance to the other circus members “What about… them?” you ask. Ragatha points to each member “This is Zooble, that’s Gangle, there’s Pomni,” she gestures to a pile of pillows, “Kinger is in there.” You made a mental note of each, making sure to introduce yourself later.
“Ya know, it's kind of refreshing not having to deal with some crybaby freakin’ out on us,” Jax mused, waving a finger in your general direction. The anger twinged once more, and before you could stop it, a realtor shot from your lips, “It would be refreshing if you shut your mouth. Nobody wants to hear your opinion.”
Shock spread across his face momentarily, then he frowned “I don’t care what anybody wants to hear or not. I say whatever I want to.” Ragathe interrupted suddenly, “OKAY! Let’s not fight… Um, what did you say you wanted us to call you?”
“I didn’t say. I’m- uh… My name…” you couldn’t remember. Terror gripped your chest once more. You could see Jax smiling, and that only worsened it. They knew you wouldn’t know. You pressed the anger back. No fighting.
“Um… just… just call me (Y/N),” you spoke quickly, taking the name off the top of your head. With a nod, Ragatha smiled, “Alright. Well, welcome to the circus, (Y/N).” You couslnt help but return the grin. She was too kind, making you feel so welcome. 
“Why don’t I show you your bedroom, then?” she offered, “if you’d like me to?” “Sure,” you accepted, following her away from the group. You couldn’t help but notice Jax staring at you as you left. Something about his face made you feel off. You couldn't place it, maybe he was angry? But it didn’t feel like he was. Oh well. You could deal with that later. For now, you focused on getting to your room, getting settled, and simply taking in your situation. After all… you were here to stay, weren’t you?
______HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! ANY IDEAS?? SUGGESTIONS??? COMMENT!!! WANT TO CHAT??? DM!!!!___________
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Kit to Jace
Jace—
I don’t know why I’m writing, I don’t know why I’m writing to you, I’m just sitting here trying to stay calm but all these thoughts are in my head repeating over and over and I need to put them down and send them somewhere. You said you would always be there if I needed to talk so hi, yes, hello, I need to talk. I can’t go to Jem and Tessa, they’re just as traumatized as I am, maybe more. And Emma and Julian were there and they were having such a good time, enjoying their house that was finally safe and pleasant and comfortable and then suddenly a baby is kidnapped right out of that safe and pleasant house without anybody noticing anything.
The truth is—I haven’t wanted to admit it, but the truth is Mina’s always been in danger. Because of me. Because I have some long-past faerie ancestors, so everyone close to me is in danger. Nothing I can do about it, nothing I did to deserve it. And it means Jem and Tessa, because they adopted me, because they love me, got their daughter kidnapped for their troubles.  
By the way, since you are someone I care about, you’re a member of the group of people I’ve put in danger. Sorry about that. But you’re Jace Herondale! You eat danger for breakfast. You eat danger flakes topped with perilberries. You’ll be fine. But Mina…she’s so little. And she’s never been away from her family before.
I keep telling myself they won’t hurt her. It’s not her they want. It’s something else.
Every indication is that she was grabbed by faeries. Most of Round Tom’s workers have left and we don’t know if one of them maybe did it, or helped whoever did it. Round Tom himself says he doesn’t know anything and is as confused as everyone else—never concerns himself with politics. Everyone is suspicious of him anyway, but, well, he can’t lie, and the sentence, “I had no knowledge of anything to do with your daughter’s kidnapping,” is hard to interpret any other way.
But it may not matter. If Mina was kidnapped by faeries…especially faeries under direct orders by one of the Courts…that’s a violation of the Accords. And that means war with Faerie. Another war with Faerie.
How do you live like this, man? How do you get through the day knowing that you endanger everyone, just by existing?
I guess I can answer that myself. You are who you are because of everything you’ve been through. You handle stuff because you’ve had to handle stuff. Jem and Tessa adopted me thinking they could keep me safe, but maybe nothing can keep me safe. I’ve been drifting along, playing happy families, but the truth is I have to change. Be harder. Stronger. More powerful. Be someone the bad guys should be afraid of. Not a kid who has to be protected. That has to end.
I’m not a kid anymore.
Anyway. I just realized that you know the whole situation already, because I’m sure Alec has filled you in. But it helps to write it down myself, like I said. I don’t think there’s anything you can do, and I’m not asking for help. I just thought of all people, you’d get it. That you could be someone for me to talk to about this. Hope it’s okay for you to be that for me.
Kit
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jess-the-vampire · 1 year
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i’ve seen a few people claim Philip stripped caleb’s jacket off his body after his death as some morbid memento, but we already have his memories on the matter and he had caleb’s jacket pre-fight and was wearing it when he first arrived.
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even in his shadow form you can make out he’s wearing the coat.
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Not to mention caleb is never seen wearing it in any of the memories on the isles
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Nah, as much as i know people love finding new ways to make philip even more morbid, if the story holds any weight, and it probably does, it seems far more likely caleb left it back on earth with philip. There’s no evidence to suggest philip stole it or rid him of it, but that caleb ditched it when he left.
and when philip assumed a witch kidnapped his brother, he put it on, probably as a form of comfort and keeping his brother close at a time where he assumed the worst could have happened to him. Kinda in the same vein of how luz was wearing eda’s jacket to keep her close during their separation.
It seems to be quite an important object to him, being what looks like his only link left to caleb as he was on earth. With the thought he also grew his hair out to have a ponytail like his older brother it appears to be less like “Stealing” and way more like a sign of what was originally his admiration and love for his brother.
A strong desire to be close to him and be like him through his appearance, tho only the version of him that he remembers best, which was the one back on earth...not the one that left him for the isles,
(Which def fuels even more why he didn’t appreciate luz insulting it, because it was basically also insulting the brother he’s trying so hard to recreate, the one that didn’t leave him)
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This isn’t even out of character that philip likes to keep mementos of his brother, he even seems to have taken his old childhood mask his brother made him to the isles judging by his memories. Tho i’m sure the jacket holds more significance because it was caleb’s first specifically.
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I think it’s definitely easy now to accuse Philip of every bad thing ever, and his obsession with his brother screams serious attachment issues. But it doesn’t appear he had that jacket on originally for anything but genuine love and care for him, at first at least.
There’s no evidence to suggest caleb told philip he was leaving, or any evidence that he even tried to talk to his brother about what was going on with him. As far as we know, he left, and philip, from his pov, went out to save the person he considers his entire world from what he believes might kill and/or hurt him.
And if philip wasn’t the villian of the show, i think a lot more people would be willing to sympathize with that part of his character.
His relationship with his brother has both a lot of resentment for leaving him behind and alone, but also a lot of the original love and admiration for him he held for years.
But with the knowledge he only became a hunter because he felt he needed to fit in with society for survival purposes, combined with the fact caleb was his only family and caretaker...while only being a few years older then him at the very least....you can see how this probably fueled so many of his issues.
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Wanted to make a post about this cause while he deserves the crap for the bad stuff he actually does, it’s at least worth mentioning at one point he was just a naïve child raised in a bad community who originally just wanted to keep the one person he loved the most....safe.
and at one point, that jacket was not some morbid prize he got for what he did, or something he seemingly stole, or him trying to steal his brother’s look, it was originally just something he wore....because he did love him.
And to this day, he still kept it.
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prismatic-bell · 16 days
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Something happened at work the other day that I feel like Tumblr would enjoy.
So I have a Native coworker we’ll call D. (I actually have several Native coworkers, but D is the subject of this story.) This woman has forgotten more about this industry than I’ll ever have the chance to learn; you know that post that goes around about how in every office there’s one petite motherly lady with a title like “secretary” or “assistant” and she’s the one who actually runs the place? At my job, that’s D.
D often gets a lot of shit because she’s deeply sarcastic and can be biting because she doesn’t suffer fools. But the truth is, that’s just her—learn to accept that her humor is dark and based in irony and you’ll quickly find she’s actually pretty funny and knowledgeable. So in January I submitted her for employee of the month, and she won.
A couple days ago I was walking by the board where they post pictures of honorees for stuff like employee of the month, employee of the year, letters from the CEO, that kind of thing. And I noticed they’d updated it, and there was D’s photo.
First of all, I have never seen this woman BEAM before. I think she was stunned someone looked past the veneer to recognize the skill beneath, and was thrilled to know it. But second of all?
She was wearing a bandanna, which I have never seen her do before, and it was in Native colors. I’m not sure what her tribe is, but people who’ve lived near Southwestern indigenous tribes will know what I mean when I say there’s a certain richness and boldness to Native color and design that isn’t really present in white Southwestern culture, and when you see it enough you start to recognize the patterns and colors as being distinctly indigenous. I’m confident when I say it was of Native design.
I don’t think it was official regalia in the sense of “this is what she’d wear if she was performing a ceremony at a powwow” or “this is something ancestral her great-times-five-grandparents would recognize,” but the colors and what little I could see of the design on it suggested she saw a chance to dress up a bit and represent her people and was happy to have and take it, and it made me happy to know it made her happy. It wasn’t a thing that was on my radar when I submitted her—what I was thinking was “if she ever leaves this company is going to fall apart in like five minutes flat”—but I’m glad it became part of her win.
It made me glad, and I feel like there are people here who’d also be glad of it, so I’m sharing it with you. Be kind today, or at least only call someone a dumbass if they really deserve it. (It’s what D would do.)
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thetallkiwi2 · 11 months
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SHORT ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS
Note: I like to preface (albeit quite late) that I will not respond to comments, asks/inboxes until I feel like it. On the other hand, there are times when I may post excessively. I’m trying to break my social media addiction😅. As per usual take what resonates and leave what doesn’t.
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🖤Taurus mars are so freaking sensual, it’s insane. The way how they’re so synced (for lack of better term) with their body and the messages, feelings, cravings, etc. Not only that, since Taurus is a fixed sign, I like to think that they develop the relationship with their body more thoroughly and it will be hard for anyone to change their mind.
Come to think of it, fixed sign placements really do exert this air of independence because their value system is something they cherish with their soul.
🖤 Virgo suns are just aries that think before they speak, Taurus suns are basically sagittarius suns since they never gaf about almost anything, and Capricorn suns are just libras that is just grounded and really takes their time.
🖤I think that Capricorn Venus goes well with Scorpio and Leo Venuses. From my knowledge, Capricorn venuses will put in the work if they genuinely see a future with you. They may not be vocally expressive of their affection, but they surely will show it, mostly through acts of service, quality time, etc. (Basically every other love language except words of affirmation??). With Scorpio and Leo venuses, they are pretty much the same. They both love to serve their partner with a great desire to do so. However, this is also only when they also see a future with you. All three signs are dedicated to their lovers. They may show it in different ways, but they all will be the type to be severely heartbroken if the relationship they’re in suffers.
🖤No one really talks about how saturn in the 6th house in Aries can be interpreted as your health deteriorating because you fail to initiate boundaries. The 6th house is the natural house of Virgo, a sign that likes to give. So keeping that in mind, Saturn in the 6th house as Aries can be interpreted as a placement that tends to *overgive* and that can, in turn, take a toll on your mental and physical health. This can also signify a codependency. Aries is naturally equated to independence, so saturn restricting the qualities of that sign along with being in the 6th house, can also create codependent tendencies.
🖤 When someone has all three modalities in their big 3, you can really see the different aspects of a person. I have a friend who is a Gemini sun, Scorpio moon, and Cancer ascendant. She knows how to appeal to many types of people, expressing the mutable modality. Her fixed moon allows her to be stable, so you never really see her suffer emotionally or feel anything. With her cancer ascendant, this also talks about appealing to people..like she has this inviting energy and it kind of inspires people to take an approach to her! Definitely multifaceted (Sorry this is a bad explanation😭).
🖤Mercury aspecting any planet (especially inner planets) can add an erratic youthfulness or organized youthfulness. Remember, the rulers of mercury is Gemini and Virgo. This can be definitely emphasized if mercury or any other planet is in Gemini/Virgo, or they’re at those degrees.
🖤I had seen a post that said Aquarius ascendants have nothing compared to Uranus-ascendant conjunction. i find it interesting, honestly. Aquarius ascendants will have something physically different about them, while Uranus-ascendant has this uranian aura to them. It’s like their energy is actually “outta this world.” I like to think of some type of scenario where someone can’t quite put their finger on why they feel such a way towards a person who has this aspect. This can provide the native with refreshing energy because it’s something that people never really experienced and never really forget when it becomes a memory.
🖤 I don’t know if R&B is still listened to as much as pop music, but I would genuinely listen to the song “Lonely” by Glenn Lewis. This is specifically for my Saturn and Pluto dominants. (Scorpio, Capricorn/Libra/Aquarius dominants can also resonate with this.) The lyrics really describe how it’s like when someone who did a pluto/saturn dominant dirty and they try and come back. I know I keep saying it and I will continue to say it: Karma does NOT play around when it comes to these dominants. She understands that they are here clear up their debt and make a life for themselves, if anyone gets in the way of that, she will f them up. Here are a few of the lyrics that personally stood out to me since I’m both lmao:
“Baby, how you been? I been doin' fine/Been takin' my time to get myself on track/Why you’d never call, you used to have my back/Whenever I fall, you we’re always there for me/Now you’re not at all so it’s been awhile/Was tryin' to figure out when it’s my turn to smile/I think that time has come be careful what you say/If it’s game you want then you know I came to play.”
“Now you say what's up/Because you know the deal/What you think I feel when I lay down at night/Because I don't have you/You think I'm not alright/I say this for myself I don't need nobody else/Before it's too late/You better think twice/Love or you can hate me all that you like…”
“Don’t think too bad of me/It’s just so sad to see you used to be proud of me/Now you're gonna be lonely/ without me as your friend/Goes around, it'll come back again/when I was your only/Now you're gonna be lonely/Now you’re alone/Now you're gonna be lonely/Now you’re alone/Now that I have gone.”
🖤I swear to god, the Pluto in Libra generation is bad…but not. I think it goes along with our last two pluto generations: Sagittarius and Capricorn. Libra is all about justice and balance, so the generation that has this placement, could possibly be very much into protesting, human rights, etc. I was researching this generation and one thing i learned was the Iranian Revolution! Happening in 1979, the citizens of Iran went through a series of events that led to the overthrow of the authoritarian government, taken after the shah of Iran, Mohammed Reza Pahlavi. On the other hand, people in this generation may have been passive towards certain issues and try to stay away/not associate themselves with it.🥴
🖤 Pluto-saturn aspects are insane. If that doesn’t scream power, control, and leader…then idk😅. Harsher aspects may have a strong urge for it, or completely deny it, while the softer aspects may not have a hard time with it.
🖤 I really wanna meet someone who is a Taurus sun/Scorpio moon/Pisces ascendant and a Taurus sun/Cancer moon/pisces ascendant. The first one is such an interesting mix because that makes the native like hyper aware with their surroundings. Very empathic vibes and prone to easily taking on other people’s feelings. Despite the sun and moon being in fixed signs, the pisces ascendant helps them open up a little easier. For the latter, that person must feel like HOME. They will know how to listen to you and can really empathize with your pain. Cancer in big three already screams ‘mom friend,’ and the taurus sun can make one quite analytical. It makes me think of mom instincts. Additionally, Pisces ascendants have gemini in their 4th house: they may not live in a typical house or it may not look like a typical house. Consider yourself lucky to experience the habitat of a pisces ascendant. Home is a mental experience.
🖤 People with moon square ascendant may not display their emotions as easily as the softer aspects. They can literally start at you like ‘😶’ and be feeling a whole wave.
🖤Mercury retrograde is kicking earth signs butts so hard right now. This mercury tribes my mars. My personal lesson that is occurring right now is to learn how to hold my peace. I have been feeling tried and tested especially when the shadow period started. I told off some people but like I said, my lesson is to learn what to use my voice on. Additionally, it opposes my venus and trines my chiron. Definitely some time to chill out haha.
🖤Pluto in Aquarius is already striking. In my hometown the bus system is going to go on strike by randomly stopping service and not going to their jobs. The reason for this strike is for better pay and benefits. Apparently the bus system has complaints that they haven’t been paid enough or just they get treated like 💩. Striking and protesting sounds very much Aquarian in nature, so that’s one thing. Pluto also rules extremes, so by taking this strike, they will let people find their own modes of transportation until they get what they want.
🖤 I am watching a documentary on black holes and I forgot that the black hole in our milky way universe is Sagittarius A* (star). I think it makes sense considering that Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, and Jupiter rules expansion. Black holes also expand (their singularity—the part of the black hole where everything is compressed to an infinitely small point and there are no concepts of time and space.)
Alright, I think this is enough. This is definitely not short😂. But enjoy!
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likelilacwine · 3 months
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senku x f!reader. senku and reader are both 25, reader has a hair that can be tucked behind her ear. wc 1.5k
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You aren’t sure what time it is. The sun has been set for long enough that you know it is well into nighttime, stars twinkling right outside of your window. The oil lamp in your home is still lit and you sit next to Senku on the floor, pages and pages of plans he has drawn in front of the two of you. He has spent most of the evening and night explaining his plans to you, each of them a bigger and bolder leap than the last. Usually you’d be listening to him raptly and you have done so for most of the evening but right now you feel a little…sleepy.
You keep catching yourself shutting your eyes and fluttering them open, the smooth and mellow sound of the scientist’s voice doing little to prevent your relaxation and comfort. Maybe you listen to him too much, wrapping his knowledge around you like a warm blanket, letting it keep you believing in the world the two of you desire for the people you care about. This is your usual evening routine, anyway.
He walks you to your home once dinner is done and the two of you talk all through the night. Neither of you sleeps easily; this is the first thing you learned about each other all those months ago. Racing minds with big plans rarely rest but the lead up into the summer has been grueling, planting and assisting with the late spring births of the horses and one of the cows.
It’s nothing personal against him. Tonight, you’re just sleepy.
“We would need to do some significant clearing of the forest around 38 kilometers away from here for this one, so we will need to build machinery first.”
Humming your response your eyes fall shut again and Senku chuckles when he turns to look at you. Your arms are folded over your chest and your eyes are shut so tightly it has to be painful. Exhaustion seeps from you and he moves closer in your direction, sliding across the floor until your hip touches his. The touch startles you awake and you smile when your eyes pop open and see him glancing at you fondly.
“Hey,” he mutters quietly. “You tired?”
You shake your head stubbornly and he smirks, watching you make a show out of straightening your slumped posture. Sighing, you smile again and wipe your thumbs over your eyes to keep them from closing again immediately.
“You said clearing the forest a ways out, right? We could probably do that now if we went with larger groups of people for shorter amounts of time, it would just take all summer.”
He nods, humming himself and scribbling your notes down on the plans he created for whatever he wants to build there. You can tell he’s writing because you hear his own handcrafted pen nib scribbling over the scratchy paper the settlement has been using ever since yourself and your friend, the doctor, started taking the time to make it.
It’s a reservoir, you remember and your eyes fly open with a gasp. Senku looks up at you and furrows his eyebrows, still scribbling away without even looking. Rather than show his concern, he turns it into a joke so he can gauge how exhausted you really are by how hard you laugh.
“You like the idea that much?”
Giggles bubble out of you uncontrollably and he cannot help but chuckle along at a few of them. It’s official, you are deliriously sleepy, laughing over nothing.
“Alright, let’s get you to bed…” your friend (although the blurry edges of friendship and lover seem more and more smudged every day) starts to rise to his feet but you grab his hand and stop him, pulling him back down to the ground beside you gently.
“No, I’m fine and I’m listening. Keep explaining.”
You have shown him this isn’t true but who is he to deny a willing audience? Settling back down, he begins talking about his second summer project which are technological improvements for the grain bins and corn silos to keep them climate controlled. Humming your interest every few words, your eyes feel heavy again and you no longer fight them, slumping forward. You just need to rest your eyes.
“Minor changes may help us keep larger quantities fresher for lon…”
Senku cuts himself off when he looks over at you. He dares to reach out, brushing a strand of hair that has fallen over your face behind your ear. This far the motion hasn’t startled you so he presses further, brushing the cold tips of his fingers against the shell of your ear. This startles you enough that your eyes open again and he feels the skin beneath his fingertips heat as you realize he’s touching you.
“Cold fingers.”
Your sleepy remark makes the man chuckle again and he brushes his thumb down the remainder of your ear lobe, feeling hardened cartilage and soft skin and long closed holes where earrings once resided.
“Let’s go to bed.”
You perk up slightly at the suggestion that he’ll be joining you. It would be far from the first time the two of you have shared this intimacy, falling asleep in shared space before either of you were aware of the other's feelings. Well, Senku was aware of your feelings at least considering that you’re pretty bad at hiding them. For a moment you worry you’ve overestimated his want to be around you and you pout, looking up at his now standing form and the hand he’s holding out to help you up.
“Will you stay?”
He nods, wiggling his fingers to make sure you know to grab his hand before standing. Tired legs are wobbly ones and it finally strikes him as funny that this is the moment you’re vulnerable enough to ask for what you want from him. Not the nights you’ve cried while talking about how much you miss your family or when you were sick with fever that made you babble half awake for days on end in the wintertime.
“Good,” you mutter while grabbing his hand. Your head swims with even the simplest touches from him and it makes you feel incredibly immature and silly, more of a girl pining so hard even a glance makes her giddy than the grown woman you are. He helps you over to the small area you sleep in, grateful you’re already in your pajamas, and helps you into the heap of furs and blankets.
Rolling into the mess of blankets, you pat the space next to you and he laughs at your eagerness to be this close to him, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it over his head. You are too sleepy to stay alert but your eyes, heavy as they are, simply cannot shut fully when he is half clothed standing this close to you. He unfastens his belt and lets it fall to the floor, keeping his pants on and crawling into the pile beside you.
“If you aren’t sleepy, you can keep talkin’.”
Your voice is thin and more of a mumble than it is anything else but Senku laughs, rolling over to face you and tucking the same unruly hair that keeps sticking out back behind your ear so he can look at your face. Your eyes are shut far more gently than they were moments ago and your mouth is relaxed and suddenly he realizes that your face is illuminated a little too brightly for likely the wee hours of the night…damn it he left the lamp on across the room.
He isn’t particularly sleepy anyway and he sighs, using his light touch on your head as a means to guide you in his direction, stopping just short of pressing his lips against your hairline. This wouldn’t be the first time he kissed you, the other time was during a far less chaste and aphrodisiac fueled scenario the two of you mutually agreed to never mention again after it happened, but he stops himself.
Senku has considered every mathematical possibility. Every scenario, every tried and true and tested theory, every last trail he could possibly chase in his own overflowing brain to figure out how he ended up in a situation he could ever be this close to you. It was improbable before petrification and probably close to impossible after it yet it happened.
He closes the small gap between your hair and his lips and kisses you so gently all your face does is twitch in response, sleep finally winning over your willingness to listen to your very good friend explain his thought processes until dawn.
Quickly rolling out of bed, he scurries across the floor as fast as he can to shut the lamp off and heads back into the warmth of the space next to you. You shift and smack your lips together, eyes closed and brows twisting.
“Senku?”
He gently brushes your arm with his index and middle fingers, lying on his side and watching you get settled back in.
“Right here, don’t worry about it.”
The assurance is enough for you to relax and he watches you return to sleep, smiling wistfully and considering how he could do this every night. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility of forever, knowing how quickly people one cares about can be ripped away in the new world, but it’s something to at least entertain while your breath comes in soft puffs at his side.
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pettyprocrastination · 10 months
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The Deathly Devout
Pairing: Executioner!König x Nun!Reader (Medieval au) 
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Religious themes and settings, talk of death, religious guilt, nothing much this is pretty tame. I have very little knowledge of how catholic confessionals actually go especially in a medieval setting forgive me. probably many spelling errors im sorry. 
Author’s Note: was talking to @thesadvampire about @hffhifjou fucking amazing art of the 141 as knights and now we have Executioner!König. This is mostly just a word burst from this morning but I really like this concept and wanted to share with you all 
Tagging some mutuals I think might enjoy this: @sprout-fics @humanransome-note @moondirti @fnny-bnny @yeehaw-djarin @captainsamwlsn
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     It was quite amusing to see the executioner in the confessional booth. 
     That isn’t to say that he doesn’t visit often, no. If anything it’s the exact opposite, Father Montomgery sees him more than any pious banker or self-hating gambler in the city. But the man was monstrous, broad in his shoulders with thick arms and legs to match, resulting in him having to twist and fold his body to properly fit into the little wooden booth. He could see the silhouette of the poor man’s shoulders hunched in and head tucked low. 
     It almost made up for how absolutely aggravating he was to listen to. 
     “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” 
     “May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you know your sins and trust in his mercy.” 
     König swallows. 
     “I killed a man this week.” 
     The priest, knowing this voice better than others and the hulking silhouette it belongs to, sighs. 
     “The thief, then?” He asks, voice dripping with indifference. “The little painter who was caught stealing?” 
     “Yes father.” 
     The “little thief” has been a blossoming apprentice under a most respected artist within the city, only for the truth to come out that he had been stealing funds from his mentor for months on end.  The king had suggested König simply cut off the painter’s hands and let him live out the rest of his days in poverty. “What better punishment for an artist than a life where he cannot create?” 
     But the end ruling was for the artist to lose his head in the town-square and König’s hands delivered the blade to his neck. 
     “That was simply an act of your work, my child.” 
     “But-” 
     There is a deep sigh from the opposite side of the booth and König falls silent, like a scolded child. 
     The irony isn't lost on the priest, that a man who must associate himself with the macabre so often is incredibly devout in his worship. But the humor was drowned out by how astonishingly self-loathing the poor bastard was. 
     “My child, do you believe our king is the one true king?”
     “Of course father.” 
     “And do you believe our God is the one, true, God?” 
     There’s a garbled noise that comes from the larger man, an incredulous sputtering at how the priest would ever assume he would say otherwise. 
     It makes the man chuckle. 
     “Of course father!” 
     “Then acting out the King’s law is acting out God’s law, is it not?” 
     There’s a pause, the priest can see the man shrink down into his seat even further, if that was even possible with how he contorted the bulk of his body to squeeze into the wooden booth. 
     “I’m not saying you cannot feel-” He waves his hand in the air, despite the fact that König cannot truly see him. “-conflicted, about your career. It’s not one that comes easily, I’m sure. But it is not one that makes you a monster, despite how many people would try to have you believe that.” 
     “Yes father.” 
     The man’s voice is a shred of what it should be- all but a trembling whisper that makes even the exhausted priest frown. 
     “Being an executioner isn’t an easy job. But it’s one that is needed nonetheless.” 
     König says something softly to himself, but the priest cannot be bothered to ask what. 
     “For your sins I-” 
     “Actually, father-” the wooden step creaked under his weight as he shifted on his knees. “There’s something else.” 
     “Oh?” 
     “I’ve been having impure thoughts about a woman.” 
     “Oh.” 
     The priest blinks. He had never heard the man speak of any sin aside from the violence he acted out on the King’s word. Truth be told he had begun to think the lad was so devout such a concept was all but foreign to him. 
     But this?
     “I’m listening, my child.” 
     This was far more interesting than listening to him bemoan about a town square beheading. 
     “She is-” König chews on the inside of his cheek, chipped teeth digging into the formed scars he has had since childhood from the nervous habit. “Promised to somebody else.” 
     The priest hides a snicker behind a well placed cough. 
     “Married?”
     “In a manner of speaking, yes.” 
      “I haven’t…acted upon them.” The man who has killed week after week fiddles with his hands, face turning bright red as simply speaking of his attraction toward the woman. The priest couldn't help but wonder who she was. Whether it be a kind tavern girl who ignored his gaze each day he walked by or a local prostitute that urged on his affection as long as he could afford her time. 
     It’s no secret that few women would concern themselves with the local executioner, if not even look him in the eyes. 
     “She’s a good woman of proper virtue, I would not sully her name in such a way.” 
     This poor bastard. 
     “Is she beautiful?” 
     “I’m sorry?” 
     “The woman you speak of, do you find her attractive?” 
     König swallows. “Yes, incredibly. Her smile rivals that of the sun and-” 
     “That’s more than enough.” The priest grins into his hand as the airy tone the executioner’s voice took on, like a poet reciting his latest venture. The man was properly lovesick, how charming. “I do not believe you have committed any sin in appreciating a woman’s beauty.” 
     “I haven’t?” 
     “Admiring a woman’s beauty is like admiring a piece of art, is it not?” The priest offers. “You are simply taking in the art that God has created with his own hands, my child.” 
     Before König has a chance to respond, through the lattice he sees a flash of white through the corner of his eye. A soft voice humming a tune fills the air, echoing through the church hall like a well-respected hymn. In a panic, König begins to stand his full height before he is halted in his tracks as the top of his head slams into the confessional roof. 
     “My son?” 
     “Ah, apologies father! But I have to leave because of-” 
     The priest nods. “Yes, yes of course.You are absolved of your sins, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.” 
     The final word is drowned out by the slam of the confessional door opening the man’s thundering footsteps receding from the booth. 
     The executioner stands to his full height as he exits the church. He shields his eyes as he steps outside, suddenly overwhelmed by the burst of sunlight. 
     In his haste, he did not see the figure at his side. 
     “Good morning to you, König.”
     The man jumps, twisting around to face you where you stand at the bottom church steps, broom in hand and a smile on your face. 
     “Ah! Yes! Good morning to you as well, sister.” 
     “A lovely day, is it not?” 
     Heat creeps up the back of his neck and he struggles to find the words he wished to speak to you. But you, ever patient and kind, wait without judgment. 
     “Yes, quite lovely.” 
     As König stares down at you, his heart beating as he watches the sun shine on your figure and your smile, he finds himself thinking of the Holy Father’s words.
     “You are simply taking in the art that God has created with his own hands”
     What beautiful art indeed. 
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