#but if you're gonna called us 'pressed' and 'antis'

[loveindefinitely]

01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.

Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.

You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?

It had left you pissed off to no end, so.

Here you were.

"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.

You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.

"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.

Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.

"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."

Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?

"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.

"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.

There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.

"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."

A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.

You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.

"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"

"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.

"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."

"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.

You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.

There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...

They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.

Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.

Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.

Or.

One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.

Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.

Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.

Stupid, stupid girl, you think.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?

Then, there's a knock on your door.

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.

"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"

You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.

The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.

"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.

A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.

"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.

So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.

You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.

This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.

Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.

Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.

Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.

It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.

It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.

You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.

Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.

You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.

When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.

"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."

"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."

You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.

Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.

"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.

"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.

"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."

You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.

"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.

You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."

There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.

"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.

You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.

Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"

If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.

You softly shake your head.

"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.

Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.

"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.

"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.

You swallow, mouth dry.

"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.

Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"

Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.

Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."

The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"

All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."

He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.

The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.

He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.

"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.

You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.

"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.

His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.

You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.

When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.

"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.

You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.

His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.

It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.

He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.

"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.

He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.

When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.

Like kissing the four men he warned you about.

Like doing more, maybe.

...Maybe.

His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"

And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.

"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"

Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.

"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."

The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.

You feel filthy, and you love it.

Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.

He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.

You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.

"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.

"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"

"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.

Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.

Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"

"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.

Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.

"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.

With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.

"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.

It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.

"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.

Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"

You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.

Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."

There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."

With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.

"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.

"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.

Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.

"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.

Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.

"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.

"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.

Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.

You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.

"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.

Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.

"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.

Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.

"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.

"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"

Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.

As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.

"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.

Dangerous men.

Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.

He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.

Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"

Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --

"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."

You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.

Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.

"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.

You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.

It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.

Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.

"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."

Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.

You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"

Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.

Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.

It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.

The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.

Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.

If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.

Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.

Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.

"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."

"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?

No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.

You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.

Oh. God.

"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."

What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?

Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.

Oh god.

Oh. God.

"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."

There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.

You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.

The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.

It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."

You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.

His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.

Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.

"Get off me!"

Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.

And those specific words, what --

"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.

Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.

You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.

"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.

But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.

"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.

"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."

"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"

Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.

Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.

There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.

"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.

There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.

First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"

And then...

A bullet.

The sound of a trigger being pulled.

The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.

The sound of a final breath.

Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.

Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.

He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.

And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.

a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah

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[curtain-caller]

So I hyperfixated on 3 of the coven heads, but now that I've gotten sufficient content and information about Darius and Adrian, it's time for me to hyperfocus on and theorize about the last one until they make their appearance.

That third person is The Healing Coven Head.

So we don't know all that much about them or healing magic in The Owl House. When we've seen healing magic used, it's usually been very brief spell circles and/or involved with potions, like Eda's elixir. Heck, we didn't even get to see the Healing Hat, the item that could've removed Eda's curse, in action. It got shredded. We don't know the true extent of healing magic so I'm just gonna be spitballing ideas here that'll probably be contradicted once we meet them. But I'm gonna firmly guess that they're pro-belos. Mostly because: 1. We've got 1/3 of the coven being anti-belos already. 2. My dreams were crushed with Adrian so I'm trying to stay more realistic. 3. The coven heads are oxymorons/contradictory to the magic they control, and you'd associate healing with being good and/or helpful. So, here's how I imagine they'll behave. Maybe initially, they'll be soft and caring and sweet, akin to a gentle giant, and seem anti-belos similarly to how Adrian first appeared. However, unlike Adrian, who was just putting up an act, this is genuinely how the Healing Coven Head behaves most of the time, at least when it comes to their tone. They come off as genuinely harmless at first.

Emphasis on "at first". In reality, the Healing Coven Head is one of the most dangerous coven heads, able to deal damage both mentally and physically. The Coven Heads, being locked into their expertise of magic, means that they can only use that type of magic in any fights, so you'd probably underestimate them. Like, what, are they gonna heal you to death? But the thing is, what if they don't need magic at all to take you down, at least offensively? They've got a lot of their bases covered. They've obviously got the power of healing to keep themselves in top shape no matter how much you throw at them, but they're also physically built like a whole ass brick wall. Like LOOK AT THEM COMPARED TO THE OTHERS.

They're not only the tallest of them all(maybe the horns give them a bit of an advantage but they're still the tallest without them), but they look to be one of the strongest physically, only seemingly rivaled by the Construction Coven Head.

So imagine you get into a fight with them, and you seemingly have an upper hand, throwing all kinds of attacks at them. But for each spikey vine you throw at them, they tear it down without hesitation, without even flinching. They knock your abominations to the ground. They vault any constructed walls. Almost everything you physically throw at them, they press onwards.

And any damage you do to them? They heal themselves right back to normal, like an annoying boss in a video game with a healing-themselves gimmick. And that's not even mentioning what they do once they do damage to you, because then they get manipulative.

You're at your most vulnerable when you're injured, so what if they used this to their advantage? They'll sit down with you after beating you senseless, holding you comfortingly, carefully taking time to heal you bit by bit, but not enough to get you standing again. They'll keep you just barely weak and vulnerable to feel scared and helpless, and then they'll start to mess with you. They'll pepper in comforting pet names while calling you weak and impulsive, commenting on how you put yourself in this situation, and how everything will be fine if they stop fighting. How they didn't want to resort to this, when in reality they were already itching for a fight. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd put a sigil on you when you're too weak to fight back. They like having power over people, but it's a lot easier to manipulate someone when they've got a few broken bones or a concussion. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if they were the ones to heal Adrian back to health after the Hexside incident, since he seemed straight up unresponsive. Not sure if their healing magic extends to mental wounds and trauma, but it's a solid assumption. They'd probably softly put him down for going in without any of the other coven heads, especially when he's so scrawny and frail. "No wonder you got beaten by a 12 year old" they'd say.

So all I'm saying is, if they go by she/her pronouns in the end, they'll be an absolute gaslight gatekeep girlboss and I wanna see them in action soon.

#the owl house #toh #the owl house coven heads #coven heads #healing coven head #the owl house theory #long post #adrian graye #adrian graye vernworth #illusion coven head

[lesetoilesfous]

Akajsjjdhajja you're taking prompts!!!

I'm here with Fenders (shocked?) and the Anders themed list, Florence and the Machines #1. Happiness is uneventful. I couldn't post the whole quote on mobile, I'm too incompetent lmao.

Happy DADWc!

Hehe thank you so much!!!!!!! Ok so I MESSED UP and started writing the wrong thing, you're gonna get another one in just a sec.

The quote I thought you meant is "And I never wanted anything from you, except everything you had, and what was left after that too"

(I realise now you meant another one. Two cakes?)

If you want me to write a Dragon Age fic for you, send me a prompt!

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Tags: post-boom, angst, figuring stuff out

Rating: Mature

It's been three days. Fenris has been...almost entirely silent, speaking only to direct Anders - his bad knee, blind grief and uncomfortably silent Justice - away from some unforeseen trip hazard, or onto more stable footing as they make their way up into the Vimmarks. Anders doesn't know how much more silence he can take. (It's been a month by now. Surely they can't mean to keep him longer still?) Anders sets camp, taking time to set what wards he can think of: standard tripwires and anti-magic spells. Fenris does his own patrolling, though he doesn't say as much, muttering something about firewood. By the time Anders is done with his spellcraft, a small fire is already crackling in a little ring of soil-covered pebbles, snapping at the darkening sky.

Fenris gets up when Anders approaches, moving to his bedroll. Anders' voices gets caught in his throat, but he is not able to stop his hand from reaching to bridge the darkness between him and his one-time lover.

Fenris stops, and his white hair and lyrium are almost luminescent in the twilight. For a long, long moment silence stretches between them - filled only the sound of the mountains at night. The howling, mournful wind. A lone owl setting out in search of her prey. The trees, sighing their aches to the sky.

"What is it?" Fenris isn't looking at him. Hasn't done since -

Anders' voice is still trapped in his throat. His fingers curl, aching a little over where they were broken once (more than once, a long time ago). He shakes his head, looks down at his feet. "No, sorry, it's nothing."

Fenris lets out a sigh, explosive in the quiet, and steps closer. Anders watches his bare feet tread through the grass and scree, always amazed at how quietly he manages to move - even up here, where the ground crunches its discomfort at every footstep.

"Is something wrong, mage?"

"You used to call me Anders." He speaks without thinking, and regrets it when he does, watching a muscle in the corn of Fenris jaw twitch as he presses his lips tightly shut and slowly uncurls his gauntleted fingers at his sides. Anders' mouth as he breathes is full of the taste of woodsmoke.

Fenris shakes his head, and there's half an angry smile on his face when he lifts his eyes to meet Anders' gaze for the first time in - Maker, how long has it been?

Fenris' eyes are brilliant as emeralds in the dark, and they glitter with a tired kind of humour. "What do you want of me, m-," He stops, sighs, bares his teeth. "Anders"

"I- nothing." It's so cold.

Fenris looks away from him, down toward the tree covered slopes, shrouded in evergreens like a skirt billowing in ripples around the mountains. "I do not know what else I can give you." When he speaks, Fenris does so quietly.

"I never -"

"You did!" Fenris' voice echoes off the mountain slopes, and his chest heaves with the speed of his breath. Anders cringes, and Fenris leans away from him like an archer's bow releasing. "You never stopped. You never stopped asking for everything, from all of us, until finally you asked so much that -" Fenris stops, bites off the end of the sentence, and turns away from Anders entirely. "We both need sleep."

He walks away before Anders can reply. In Anders' mind, Justice's silence is one long howl of grief.

#fenders #fenris #anders da2 #dadwc #and NOW the happy one #da2 #fenders da2 #glowing-blue-feathermage

[alligatorjesie]

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

Whoa there Sparky. How about you take a minute and wipe some of the saliva froth off the keyboard there because it looks like your fingers slipped a few times.

So, what you're telling me is you're a 300 kill confirmed member of the navy seals, one of the highest ranked snipers in your class, presumably an adult man if any of this is true, and you're going to use all this skill and power of death and murder at the snap of your fingers to uhhh... Lemme check here again Take out a single furry reylo on the internet who told you to get the fuck out of the tags to a fandom you're not a part of if you're going to act like a complete set of cock and balls? I absolutely adore how vague this rant is. You're gonna have to be way more specific about what I called you and when because this is tumblr and I call a lot of people a lot of things on here. But I only ever yell at antis so either this is horseshit which is way more likely than the second option which is this full grown adult ass man who has killed a little less than a third of the people the whole United States Police departments have fatally shot in the last year (over 1,080 by the way) is just cruising tumblr and being a part of shipping wars and using all the deadly powers he gained from killing innocent people overseas to threaten death to women just trying to enjoy a fictional ship without dealing with harassment.

You need a whole secret network of spies to do what any neckbeard can do in their own basement for free? This sounds like a massive waste of resources. I guess the navy seals don't have courses on doxxing. I don't think you need a whole ass network of spies of that shit yo, not when darthpussy69 on any random star wars forums can do it in like a minute.

You can't even figure out you only need to press send once for the post to go through. Bitch you can hardly figure out how to use fucking tumblr. I don't believe you can shoot a gun, much less accurately. You know better yet, how about you re-send this 5 more times using your actual account because I wanna see the person who typed this out. I'll bet like 100 bucks and one free smut drawing by yours truly that this is a teenage girl. Butt hay guys! We gotta update the banner yaaaaay!

If we're playing pretend I wanna be a real anthro alligator brought to life by hell magic and I can breath fire. My fursona can't breath fire and I feel like it was a really wasted opportunity.

#Anti Talk #reylo #furry #I've gotten some mean death threats #this is a funny one I wish they were all like this

[300iqprower]

I’m gonna have to heavily disagree on you re: the Harry Potter game. While normally I’d be like ‘sure whatever’ about pirating a game by a shitty franchise created by a shitty person, jk Rowling specifically seems to consider any sort of press good press for her, and even if you pirate it unless you proceed to never talk about it afterwards people are still going to end up discussing the game and giving her franchise relevance. Combined with how heavily antisemitic the game is and the fact at least one of the lead developers, (Troy leavitt) is known for being a far right YouTuber who used to make anti-feminist and pro-gamergate videos it doesn’t seem to be a game where you can separate the art from the artist. It needs to be allowed to waste away in obscurity in order to stop these people from continuing to profit off their hatred and bigotry-while piracy may prevent them from seeing some profits, by continuing to take about and engage with the work people will still be giving it (and the harmful ideas it contains) relevance. A lot of people like terfs and far right conspiracy theorists don’t care how their ideas are spread as long as they get spread-by pirating a Harry Potter game, or continuing to make fan content about the franchise, etc etc, they will continue to consider it a victory. It’s incredibly unfortunate given how iconic hp was for many people but we really, really need to just let it die so they can understand their bigotry doesn’t have a place even if it comes packaged side by side with a fun looking franchise

Sources for some of this btw I’m not just making this up

https://www.distractify.com/p/does-jk-rowling-make-money-hogwarts-legacy

https://kotaku.com/hogwarts-legacy-lead-designer-used-to-run-anti-social-j-1846316222

https://www.reddit.com/r/WitchesVsPatriarchy/comments/x0n0fn/even_if_the_transphobia_doesnt_bother_you_please/

(Sorry for linking to reddit but the post in particular explains the anrisemetic themes quite succinctly)

I appreciate the sources. That's clearly a rarity these days.

I think you're misunderstanding what i meant. The act of being curious and downloading the game to try it doesnt make you a bad person. I expect it to be hot garbage but i dont know it will be. I dont plan to try it either way but to act like it's a moral high ground to be aloof about it is asinine. It's a video game. It's not a transcript of the director's soul or a matrix with real lives and suffering in it. It's a game. Playing it is not an amoral act. How you respond to it can be, but to call the act of engaging with it (in a way that does not benefit its creator ie Yo Ho Ho) evil is about as grounded in reality as a Jack Thompson court case.

Now downloading it via piracy so you can engage with it on a broader level like social media and make content on it? Yeah. That's an issue. That's publicity for TERF Central.

#video games #never thought id get an ask

[trans-leek-cookie]

The most normal blog on Tumblr dot com. You can kill me with an axe to take my title

hi. I'm some guy on the internet

I dont really have a name I go by online so just call me CVS, J, or Slime, Abyss, or whatecer. I'm TME and some kinda nonhuman (trans) man, Chinese/White and use he/him, they/them, xe/xem, and whatever other pronouns (minus she/her). I'm also aro/ace

I'm regularly dealing with Mental Health Issues, primarily severe depression mixed with Grief. I'm also just kind of a cunt. This all means I am very Negative as a person.

Proshippers/anti antis, AO3 supporters, transandrophobia truthers, zionists etc. Given the chance I would kill us both.

Not as strong but I'll probably block you if you're a bi/mspec lesbian (and similar label) supporter, "toothpaste" (green+blue) gay flag user, or pro-endogenic systems. Just block me or whatever we shouldn't interact

Also no minors thanks. No hard feelings.

Also- for the love of God Do Not Interact or Follow if you are an ED focused blog. I'm not gonna make any judgements but that topic is just one that is BAD for my mental health.

If you follow me I may look thru ur blog. If I dont vibe I'll probably hard block this isn't super serious the block button is just so fun to press.

I try to tag common triggers as either #(trigger) TW / #(trigger) / #(trigger) ment. The TW form is most common. If I'm unsure it will be tagged "#ask to tag" BUT even if it's not tagged that I'm fine with tagging whatever. I do have a pretty bad memory so if you need a more obscure trigger to always be tagged that probably won't work :^(

Sometimes I talk about personal issues with mental health. I try to tag these but it's not super consistent. Big things are anger issues/compulsive skin picking/Severe Depression.

Transandrophobia isn't real but I'm also the world's biggest transandrophobe. It's a hard job but someone's gotta do it.

Final notes: let me know if I RB from someone fucked up (and if possible please give me a link to the post cause memory issues + tumblr search being Bad is a horrid combo). If I say something fucked up PLEASE specify what it was don't make me assume. I try to write image descriptions for most of the images I post in alt text but they might be bad. I will often say violent or very angry shit bc I have Issues so if that's a problem. Yeah. I'm an artist and art makes me so mad I wish I was dead. Also I'm not into Cookie Run any more I just like Leek Cookie.

#Hi thanks. This post. #Fun little note: I also use E/Im/Is pronouns (Same as he/him without the H). Ok thank you. #WHY IS THIS STUPID POST SO LONG #Oh before I forget: don't call me the q slur/the q slur is a slur/it's not a good umbrella term is everyone says ''trans and q****'' #insteas of just q**** bc that should b redundant. #Anyway here's this fucking thing. Maybe I'll clean it up some day

[malyen0retsev]

calling out people for abusing archie renaux’s daughter and being racist towards him is not ‘being an anti’, it’s called being a fucking human being with a moral compass

#i'm tired #'malinas are wasting time stirring up drama' we literally AREN'T if you would all stop being racist and abusive we wouldn't have to do this #anyway it's amazing to me how often this fact gets forgotten #this is *literally* the reason he took a huge step back from instagram #and it was one of that clique that commented 'don't you have a baby to feed' it wasn't a malina #SO. shut up. enjoy your villain fave idgaf like genuinely i want people to love their characters #but if you're gonna called us 'pressed' and 'antis' #for calling out racist abuse archie faces #AND abuse against his daughter #and then in the same god damn day you people try and pin the abuse on US the people who CALL THIS OUT #you can get stuffed #sarah rambles

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 || dark!jan (the edukators/die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) x reader

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 | in scoping out his next target, jan hadn't realised that you wouldn't be joining your family on their next vacation; in choosing to stay home, you hadn't realised what you were in for.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 | 4.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 | smut (noncon, with fingering and penetrative sex), innocence kink, virginity loss/first time, brief exhibitionism, degradation, daddy kink, spitting (in mouth and on pussy), breaking and entering/home invasion, touch of misogyny kink, slight objectification kink (petnames like babydoll/dolly being 99% of this), slight bleeding (from sex specifically), death mention (no threats, just the fear of threats if that makes sense?)

𝗔/𝗡 | you don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, as long as you know that jan and his friends break into rich people's houses as part of their anti-capitalist rebellion. note that the vast majority of dialogue is written in english for simplicity, but that these conversations would actually take place fully in german.

this is a DARK fic, if you hit 'keep reading' I don't wanna hear you upset about content listed clearly in the warnings section

It’s probably normal to hear a bump in the night, to wake up and be a little freaked out, but to ultimately just stay in bed and not do anything about it. At first you were sure you were sure it was nothing, though your gut told you otherwise; then, as you heard more and more you spent quite some time convincing yourself that it was just pipes creaking or the foundation settling. But the thing about pipes and foundations is they don’t speak German.

“Hier entlang, hier entlang,” someone whispered, and footsteps shifted all along the lower floor.

Maybe you were still asleep, and this was just a strange dream, a terrifying dream. You pulled the blanket up over your head and prayed to wake up, but the denial turned to terror when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

You jumped out of bed, but it was too late to go out your bedroom door— you could hear them walking and whispering outside. Your bathroom had a small window, but even if you managed to fit through it you’d be on the second story with no way to ropel down. Maybe in your mind you could be some daring adventurer with the perfect plan to escape, or with the skills to defend yourself with something random you could grab, but you knew better than to really think you could do anything but hide.

As the footsteps and voices got louder, your eyes frantically searched the room and finally landed on the large upright dresser— maybe it was a little obvious, but it had a handy little feature that made it lock from the inside. It had come in handy for a decade of hide-and-seek, and now it would hopefully serve you one last time.

With not a second to spare, you ran over and grabbed the golden handles, swinging the doors open but being careful to shut them quietly after you’d stepped inside and made room for yourself among the coats and dresses. You searched for the lock in the pitch darkness, only able to find it because it was right above the keyhole that glowed from the dim light outside. Just as you turned the knob and heard the metal lock slide inside the wooden door, you heard your bedroom door open.

Someone walked around your room briefly, you even heard them pick something up and set it down— probably your bedside lamp, based on where it was coming from, but you obviously couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care that much. Footsteps approached the dresser and you saw the keyhole light up as a flashlight passed over it.

“Let’s take all the clothes and put them in the fireplace,” a voice in the room announced. “We won’t actually light the fireplace, but it sends a message.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet when the doors shook briefly from an attempt to open them.

“Fuck, it’s locked.”

“Here, you go on to the next room, I’ll pick it,” a second voice decided, and you heard more footsteps as someone else approached the armoire. “Look how fancy the dresser is, they’ve probably got furs in here too— god knows people living in a house like this can’t miss an opportunity to destroy the environment.”

You heard something jiggle inside the keyhole, a clicking noise that went on for just a few moments before you heard the metal slide inside the wood again and the doors slowly opened.

A man, dressed in black and holding a flashlight in his gloved hands, stared at you from behind a mask that left only his brown eyes visible. You both stood still, staring at each other, until he did exactly the last thing you expected: he lifted the mask up to his forehead and showed you his face.

He was a lot younger than you would’ve expected, though he had the scruffy beard of a guy trying to look older; his teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled at you, and when he raised a brow while he gave you a quick look-over, you noticed the way they almost connected in the middle.

Under his gaze, you suddenly felt very aware of how little your lacy, baby pink nightgown protected you from the chilling night air.

"Well, what's this?" he asked coyly as he watched you shiver. "Guess these capitalist pigs left one of their little piglets behind." He put on a cooing sort of voice as he addressed you directly: "Did mummy and daddy leave you all alone while they went on holiday?"

He stepped closer even as you tried to shrink away, examining you carefully.

“Get out of there, silly, what are you hiding for? I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured, not that you found it especially comforting. When you didn’t step out of your own accord, he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you forward; he slammed the dresser doors behind you, and you whimpered in fear as he pinned you down against them by each arm. "Shh, hey, don't worry— I'm here to take care of you, you can call me daddy instead until your heartless banker father gets back. Go ahead, tell me what's wrong."

"I—"

"Ah ah," he tutted with a mix of bemusement and disappointment, "I already told you how to address me."

You shuddered but finally responded, "Daddy, I'm scared."

He gave you a demeaning little pout, but you continued.

"Some men broke in and I'm alone and… and I don't know if they want to hurt me."

"No, baby, they don't want to hurt you," he promised with a gentle smile, but it turned horrifically sinister as he leaned in to add with a whisper: "but we will if we have to."

You swallowed thickly, your gut twisting when you felt him breathe out against your neck.

"So you're gonna be a good girl, right?"

You nodded quickly, turning away when he leaned in closer, looking down at you with darkened eyes and running the fingers of his black gloves over the neckline of your pyjamas.

“You were just waiting for me, huh? All tucked in in your cute little nightgown, dressed up like a doll,” he grinned. “I bet you want daddy to play with you, hm?”

He laughed cruelly when you shook your head, fighting harder to get away again as he squeezed your arms tight enough to leave marks where his fingers had been.

“Wanna play, little dolly?” he continued, pressing his body into yours and roughly shoving his leg between your thighs. “I know you do… c'mon and give me a kiss," he requested.

“N-no,” you stammered, but he grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand and forced you to look ahead, slamming his lips onto yours and ignoring your muffled protests. When he pinched your side you gasped instinctively, and he shoved his tongue inside your mouth roughly— but that only lasted for a moment, before you found renewed strength and managed to shove him back. It wasn’t far enough to free yourself, but enough to get a break from the oppressive kiss.

“Aw, don’t be mean,” he pouted, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “You said you’d be good for me, remember?”

“Just stop, please,” you whined, gasping before you could stop yourself when he rubbed his thigh up against you— hitting right on your clit which throbbed in spite of everything. Somehow the fear made you more sensitive, or at least something had because you’d never felt quite like this before.

“See? You’re all worked up,” he explained, “I’m gonna help you.”

This time when he leaned in he started to kiss and suck at your neck instead, starting right beneath your ear and moving down slowly until his tongue laved over the crook where your shoulder began. As much as you hated it, it made arousal pulse between your legs where his thigh continued to push hard on you.

When he moved even closer, you could feel his erection against your hip; you didn’t even realise that you’d let out a gasp until you felt him smile against your neck. “Oh, babydoll… you want daddy’s cock inside you, I can tell.”

“N-no, I don’t— just stop,” you begged.

“If only it were so easy, to just ask someone to stop,” he mused. “You know how many times we asked people like your father to stop before they fucked us? You know how far that gets us? You don’t just get to ask nicely, you have to fight for it…”

He chuckled as you writhed in his embrace.

“But you’re too weak to fight, poor thing.”

"Please, I'm not a part of whatever you’re talking about,” you tried to explain, “I don't know much about what Papa does at work—"

"That's your problem, baby, you're blissfully ignorant! Not all of us have that luxury. But the good news is, I'm here to educate you." He pushed up even closer to you, speaking lowly right into your ear with rage starting to bubble up in his voice. "Your father is a piece of scum who feeds on the working class and then robs them blind. You live like this, unquestioningly, and the rest of Germany suffers. Stuck-up bitch like you wouldn't even notice me if you saw me on the street, would you? Wouldn't even give me the time of day, but now you're at my mercy. That’s what you people need to learn: that you’re not gonna be on top forever.”

Suddenly you felt his hand cup your sex through your nightgown, and you choked on your gasp. “No—!” you started to shout, but his right hand covered your mouth as the left hastily pulled your pyjamas up and reached under them.

“Stop fucking squirming,” he grunted as he reached between your kicking legs and slid quickly up your thigh. “Mm, bet you’re hiding a pretty little cunt under this nightgown— hold still, baby, you’re gonna like this.”

Finally maneuvring his way into your panties, he abruptly shoved two gloved fingers inside of you, watching closely as you scrunched your face up tight in discomfort. He thrusted and twisted them around for a bit, carelessly stretching you open as you tried desperately to squirm away; it stung a bit, and the leather of the gloves was cool and awkwardly firm against your walls. For some reason, when he dropped his free hand from your face, you didn’t try to scream again— maybe because you knew no one who cared could hear you— and you just panted heavily instead.

As quickly as he’d pushed them in he pulled them out, bringing the glove up to his mouth to take it off with his teeth with a little growl before rubbing his bare hand over your pussy again. You whimpered when he slid his fingers inside you again, this time feeling the texture of his skin as he curled the pads of his fingers right against your spot. “Yeah?” he mumbled his taunt around the leather between his teeth before spitting the glove out onto the floor. “Fuck, so warm… you’re so wet already, dolly, has nobody been giving this pussy any attention?”

He stopped moving his fingers inside you to pull out and give your clit a few slaps, licking his lips when you cried out from the sharp sensation.

“Huh?” he reminded you to answer when you never gave a response.

“N-no,” you shook your head, finally, and he smiled like he was proud of himself.

“Yeah? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

You only looked down at the floor, blinking a few times as you focused on the teal carpet, and heard him laugh darkly.

“Oh, dolly, I might break you,” he warned roughly as he pushed your gown up to your waist, ignoring your sobbed pleas for him to stop. “We don’t usually take anything from the people we visit, but if I take your virginity maybe your people will finally get the message.”

“Please— you don’t have to do that,” you stammered, rushing through whatever you could think of to make him change his mind, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. You can have whatever you want, if I call them they can send you money—”

“You aren’t even fucking listening to me, we don’t want your expensive bullshit and we don’t want your dirty fucking money!” he corrected sternly, clutching your sleeves tighter and shaking you slightly with the intensity of his movements. “We just want you to be afraid, because the revolution is coming.”

But you were afraid of something much more imminent than a revolution.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he demanded, though you couldn’t do much else considering he was already roughly tossing you onto it, climbing on top of you and pinning you down when you started to crawl back instinctively. With his legs resting on yours and keeping you (somewhat) still, he only needed one hand to grab your shoulders while the other rushed to open his jeans.

Your eyes got a little wide when you saw his cock— before that, it was almost like some part of you didn’t really think he’d go through with his, but now you could see clearly that he was hard and ready… and big enough to make you question how that thing was even supposed to fit inside you.

He tore through your panties like they were paper; he lifted and spread your legs as he sat between them and, much to your humiliation, just stared down at your pussy for a moment. You’d never felt so exposed and it made you feel worse than ever. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he announced smugly, “can’t wait to see it all stretched out and covered in my come— I’m gonna ruin you, babydoll.”

You weakly struggled as he held your hips down with one hand and haphazardly stroked his cock a few times with the other, rubbing himself over your opening before pulling his hips back to spit right onto your clit. After spreading the improvised lubrication around with his head for a moment, he pushed down on it with his thumb to line up with your hole and, without any further warning, slid inside in one motion.

You bit down on your lip hard, and even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the sting; it felt like he was ripping you open, not to mention going so deep that you could feel him in your stomach.

He groaned loudly, head falling back for a moment as he started to thrust into you. “Fuck, I can tell you’re a virgin— it must be hurting you, huh?”

But the question was a bit redundant, since tears had already begun to stream down your temples and your fingers were clutching tightly onto the sheets beneath you; if they were any less expensive, they probably would’ve ripped.

“Maybe a little pain will be good for you,” he decided with a smirk, “I think a spoiled brat like you has been spared the rod a few too many times.”

It was definitely more than a ‘little’ pain, and it only seemed to sting more each time he pulled back and pushed in again— he wasn’t going very fast, yet, so that was one thing you could almost be thankful for. That said, he wasn’t very gentle either.

He hastily reached up under your nightgown to grope your breasts, quickly moving from one to the other as he squeezed them just a bit too hard. “You like how daddy plays with your tits, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say, ‘yes daddy.’”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mumbled awkwardly; maybe being embarrassed to say that was superfluous considering everything else happening right now, but your face got warmer regardless.

A whimper almost caught in your throat when he pinched your hardened nipples, but it broke through when he seemingly-randomly gave a spank to your inner thigh.

He looked down at where your bodies were joined, where he was stretching you out with steady pumps of his cock that filled you to the brim, before reaching up to quickly pull his black sweater off over his head— a t-shirt underneath came off with it as his chest was exposed. He wasn’t unreasonably pale but he clearly wasn’t the type to get a ton of sun, and he had a thin scattering of dirty-blonde hair over some of it. It was sort of embarrassing, now, seeing how thin he was and yet he was still so much stronger than you.

"You're getting so wet, babydoll, look— you're making a mess on these expensive sheets," he grinned. And he wasn't lying; the sting of the stretch had slowly faded, replaced with a friction you actually couldn't help but enjoy. Each time he moved, he seemed to slide right over a spot that made you tighten up your legs so they wouldn't shake.

But, apparently, there was still plenty left that he could do to hurt you.

You cried out, so louder it echoed across the room, when he suddenly thrust into you hard and deep, hitting the very end of you as your body involuntarily jolted— he clapped his hand down over your mouth instantly, muffling your cries to near-silence as he set a punishingly fast pace out of nowhere. You couldn’t turn your head when you heard your bedroom door open, but you could glance to the side and see another burglar appear in the doorway, staring forward at the scene in front of him.

A new sense of shame burned inside you for being seen in such a way; oddly, it came with guilt, too, as if you were doing something wrong yourself, when really it was just something wrong being done to you. The man on top of you didn’t seem to feel much of either, though: he didn’t even slow down.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" the other man asked his partner, face still hidden but his voice a mixture of bewildered and disgusted. "This isn't how we roll."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," your attacker scoffed. You tried to use the distraction to fight him again— you swung your arms to try to scratch his face or push him away, but without even hesitating he simply stopped covering your mouth to pin your wrists at either side of your head.

"Is this really what you think the revolution is about?" the man in the door sneered. "Or does that even matter to you when you think you might get some ass? Jesus, I always knew you were a creep but this is��" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should take a turn with her, might fix your attitude," the man on top of you suggested. "She's real tight— trust me, you'll feel better."

"I promise that raping that girl isn't gonna make me feel better, Jan," he frowned.

"Fine, then just go so I can finish and I'll meet you guys in the yard," Jan— apparently that was his name— instructed.

"Don't go," you begged the man in the door, seeing the concern on his face— you could tell he wanted to stop Jan, maybe if you asked him to, he would.

"Shut up, bitch," Jan growled, correcting you with a slap to the face.

The man in the doorway just shook his head and sighed, stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. You cried harder, more sure than ever that Jan was right when he said you were at his mercy; and he didn’t seem to have much.

He fucked you rough and fast, recklessly chasing his own pleasure with no regard for yours. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that you didn’t feel any pleasure, though… it was building, in fact, sort of like when you touched yourself but so much stronger, and deeper, and threatening to overflow at any moment. “Oh fuck, you’re close,” he noticed with a tilted grin, “you love it so fucking much, huh? Wanna cream on daddy’s cock?”

You shook your head but he slapped you again, spinning your face to the side as he held both your wrists above your head in one hand and gripped your jaw with the other.

“Stop lying,” he growled, “I can feel it, I can feel your cunt getting tighter… you’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, aren’t you, babydoll? God, what a nasty fucking whore you are…”

He held your face to look straight ahead, up at where he hovered above you and bared his teeth in a snarl, before forcing your mouth open and spitting into it. You grimaced and tried even harder to squirm away but he quickly clamped his hand down over your nose and mouth so you couldn’t try to spit it back out again.

“C’mon, swallow it,” he instructed roughly, voice a bit strained from the force it took to hold you down. You could hardly breathe with his hand this way, and when you tilted your head back to try to get away from it, you accidentally swallowed his spit with a disgusted, muffled grunt. “There you go, good girl,” he purred as he watched your throat bob a bit involuntarily, “that’s it, I know you wanna come— say it! Say ‘daddy I wanna come.’”

He let go of your mouth and slapped you again before you even had a chance to hesitate. “D-daddy,” you whined, “I… I—”

“It’s not that fucking hard,” he hissed, “just say it, you dumb fucking slut!”

One more slap was apparently all you needed to just choke it out: “I wanna come, daddy!” you cried, back starting to arch as the pressure of holding back your release became too much to bear.

“Then fucking come,” he demanded, “come for me, baby, right fucking now.”

You tried to hold out just a moment longer, just to spite him, just so you wouldn’t obey him so easily… but it only took one rough thrust right into the end of you to make it all spill over. You came with a sob, shaking and jerking beneath him for a moment before a warmth spread through you; it started right where he filled you and spread everywhere until your mind was all foggy and your fingers started to go numb— or maybe that was just because of him pinning you down at the wrists.

Much to your disgust, you could hear how wet you had become with every stroke inside you, a sickening squelching noise that made him laugh as your face tingled with numbness and burned with shame all at once. “Oh fuck, that’s it,” he praised, “naughty little dolly, making a mess on daddy’s cock with that dirty fucking cunt of yours… I’m gonna cover it in my come, are you ready, baby? Ask daddy to come on your pussy, don’t make me hit you again.”

“Daddy, please,” you mumbled quietly, “come on my pussy…”

“I can’t hear you, babydoll, you need to speak up,” he mocked.

And you were just so exhausted and overwhelmed and his thrusts inside your sensitive walls were starting to get painful again— that was why you really meant it when you sobbed through your begging: “Please, daddy, come on my pussy!”

With one more panted moan he pulled out and only had to give his cock one blur of a stroke before white, warm come began to paint over your sore opening, your swollen clit, your bruised inner thighs. “Fuuucckkk…” he groaned under his breath as he watched himself coat you, and you caught a tinge of pink from your blood on his cock and hand as he slowed down to a stop. "Sheiße," he sighed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and close his eyes for a moment before looking down again at where you were limp and splayed out on your bed beneath him. “See? I’m getting reckless, I really shouldn’t be leaving evidence…”

Even without that, you knew his name and face, but apparently he was focusing on the copious amounts of DNA he’d just left on you.

“I suppose it won’t be a problem, because you’re not going to tell anyone,” he posited, leaning down slightly to hover over you as you swallowed around the rock that had suddenly formed in your throat. “You know how I know you won’t?”

You weakly shook your head, already terrified to imagine what the answer to that question was going to be. Of course, your first assumption was that he was going to kill you, or threaten to do so if you involved the police. He knew where you lived, he could threaten your family, too: the thought made your skin crawl as he leaned down further to whisper right against your ear as you instinctively turned your face away from him.

“Because if you tell someone that I raped you,” he finally continued, “then you’ll also have to tell them that you liked it.”

Speaking right against your ear, it took him no effort at all to stick his tongue out and lick you right on it, making you squeal with fear and disgust.

He quickly hopped off the bed and recollected himself, stuffing his softening and blood-stained cock back into his pants before gathering his discarded clothes from the floor. "Your folks won't be home for two more nights, right? I should come visit you again," he winked when he spared a glance at you. “Now get some rest, baby, you deserve it. Don’t worry, I’ll lock the front door behind me when we leave… wouldn’t want anybody unsavory getting in, now would we?”

#jan (the edukators) x reader #jan x reader #lol that's not broad at all #jan weingartner x reader #thanks chris for that handy name for him #dark!jan weingartner x reader

[timextoxhajima]

Not For Sale: Week 9

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Genres: Fluff | Slice of Life | Comedy | Angst | Teenage Romance | Thriller

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2.5k

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @reallysmolrenjun @hrrhmay-primaryblog @rosie112703 [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

Jay is reeling from: Anti-Romantic - TXT

"You're a piece of shit, do you know that?"

"Did not need to tell me that for me to know I made a shitty choice."

"Mhm, and then what? Now that you've kissed him and he's kissed you, when are you planning to tell Jay?"

"I'll tell him when the time comes."

"'When the time comes'?! The hell's wrong with you?"

"Look, I have a test later and I'll see Jay tomorrow-"

"Then are you going to tell him to back off or are you going to play damsel drowning in guilt and keep your mouth shut?"

"Are you finished?" Finally halting in your movements, you stop yourself right outside the lecture theatre, fingers tight around the phone pressed to your ear.

"Are you?"

"I don't have the time for this-"

"You're the one who called me!"

You sigh with a heavy huff, lungs emptying themselves as someone from your MH class walks past you and into the lecture theatre.

"You know what? Call me when you've told Jay, and if you haven't, don't bother," Byeol snaps, her voice cracking over the phone. "You're one of those girls we used to shit on who don't fucking know when to stop playing with people's feelings. You like the attention and you don't want to tell Jay because you want him to pamper you like the fucking baby you are."

Another student walks past you as you suck in a deep breath.

"Are you done?"

The weight is heavy on your heart. Byeol has never lost her temper nor gone off on you like that.

"Yeah, because I have nothing else left to say if you're not."

Then the line goes dead, the sharp beep ringing through your ear drums like an alarm. As you pull the phone away from your face, you're left to stare at your reflection in the blacked out screen.

Great. And it just had to be on the day of your second test.

"Hey."

You turn around upon the call, and your cheeks immediately flush when you note Heeseung taking large strides towards you.

"What are you doing out here? I thought you'd be inside trying to shove the rest of the content into that brain of yours."

Offering a small smile, you slide your phone back into your pocket. "I was talking to Byeol."

"Oh?" Heeseung begins walking towards the door, signalling for you to follow. "What about?"

The door creaks open when he pulls on it, standing aside to allow you entry first. Cold air greets your face as you step into it, chills running through your body as you take a look at the people in the class.

Some using their phones, some on their iPads or tablets and the rest probably sleeping or chatting.

"I'm gonna take the silence as confidentiality," Heeseung's voice rings you out of your zone-out, and he walks past you towards the stairs. "You alright? You don't look too... bright."

Heeseung scans your face, stone-cold with a void of emotions and you're trying your best to recap the information you need for the test - which is all set in your brain this time, you're not gonna let Heeseung beat you again - but you can't help but imagine Jay standing right next to him.

But he snaps you out of your imaginary projection by waving a hand before you, even taking a few small steps to you and reaching out to hold your arm.

"Hey," With a gentle breath, he lowers himself, trying to meet you in your eyes. "Whatever's going on with Byeol... or in your head- you can worry about it later, okay?"

The warmth in his palm seeps through your pullover, and he carefully tugs you forward, pulling you behind him as he walks you up the stairs.

But it's inevitable that his grip drops to your wrist, and then your hand where your skin is cold compared to his. He can probably feel the difference in temperature, so he rubs your fingers in his palm, rolling his fingers over yours with his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

When you reach the row where you usually sit, Heeseung releases you and steps back, nodding into the row first - asking you to sit where he usually does.

So when he sits next to you and watches you pull out your stationery, he can't help the tiny smile of comfort that surfaces on his lips.

Jay finds himself alone in the basketball court when he's shooting hoops for the fun of it. He doesn't usually come down often unless it's with Heeseung, or occasionally Jake or Sunghoon when they were bored.

But Jake and Sunghoon's out running rounds on campus to collect information for their anatomy classes and Heeseung said something about studying with that girl of his.

It's a nagging parasite in the back of his head though, when the only person's panting he can hear is his. It's his own footsteps he's listening to, his own heartbeat in his head.

Nobody to laugh with when someone misses a shot or trips over their own feet.

If only you were here, right?

Maybe you'd laugh at how shit he was at basketball even though Heeseung's probably taught him enough to play an actual match. You'd laugh at him striking the perfect pose as he hurls the ball through the air - only to miss it.

Maybe.

He catches the ball when it rebounds off the backboard and straight into his hands, sweat glossing over his forehead and brows as he wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Jay turns, dribbling the ball casually as he looks up, and spots Heeseung.

"How long have you been standing there?" A smile breaks across his face, noting the cup of bubble tea in Heeseung's grip. "You brought her to the bubble tea store?"

Jay smiles, dribbling the ball a few times as he recalls the day he met you. The bubble tea store owner even teased him about you.

"She wanted to go."

"Ah," Jay grins, stopping the ball with his foot and resting it on the ball. "Was it on the house?"

Heeseung offers him a tired smile, seemingly unable to look at him in the eye. "Yeah, it was."

"Expected," Jay shrugs and rolls the ball under his tip of his feet. "The aunty's too nice to us not to."

"Yeah, she um-" Heeseung swallows, stepping forward and taking a seat on the upper most step leading down to the basketball court. "She recognised her. Well, and me."

"She's a frequent patreon of the bubble tea store too?"

Heeseung pauses, glances at the ball, then looks back up at Jay.

"No."

It takes Jay a second.

Then two.

And then he finally feels the weight of the atmosphere when Heeseung hasn't dropped his bag to come snatch the ball from him.

"Are you... okay?" Jay frowns as he stops rolling the ball. The elder exhales, emptying his lungs as he brings his hands together between his opened legs.

He looks up and locks eyes with Jay, rubbing a hand behind his neck.

"Jay, I- I gotta tell you something."

The tension picks up, and Jay's frown deepens further as he squats to pick up the ball. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

He climbs the steep steps (that were meant for seating) and places the ball in between his feet as he sits next to Heeseung. This is new for the both of them - usually Jay's the one with a problem that he sounds out and Heeseung's the one who provides valuable advice but - apparently, not this time.

Jay's waiting for him to talk but Heeseung can't bring himself to look at the younger in the eye. He's already kissed you on the cheek and held your hand, what kind of a friend was he if he let Jay chase you despite all the moves he's made on you?

The anxiety comes in the form of Heeseung rubbing his right fist into his left palm, fingers coming interlaced together then being pulled apart.

Jay's eyes dart between Heeseung's side-profile and his hands, awkwardly listening to the crickets chirp and the fluorescent light illuminating the court buzz from the electricity.

"Uh... Heeseung?"

"It's the same girl."

Bzzzzz.

Chirp.

Chirpchirpchirpchirp.

"Uh-"

"No, look, I'm sorry and I should've told you earlier, okay?" Heeseung's brows furrow back and guilt washes through him, motivating his hands up to his eyes to cover his face. "God, I should've told you the moment I-"

"Heeseung."

He stops, calming his breathing as he removes his hands to look at Jay.

"I kind of already knew."

Bzzzz.

"What?"

Jay breaks out into a small, wry smile as he looks down at the ball. "I kind of already knew it was the same girl when neither of us gave a name. Plus her tests always seemed to match with yours on Mondays. Plus, I kind of knew Sunghoon was mad about you not telling me. I knew the whole- under-the-table situation when we went out for supper."

Heeseung's eyes are wide, filled with confusion, and the whole person's in absolute shock.

"What do you mean you 'kind of already knew'? You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"I just figured you didn't say anything to protect my pride or my feelings. Like, I knew that you wouldn't deliberately hide it from me because you wanted her for yourself or anything. You must've had your own thought process to wait it out for so long."

Heeseung's breath is shaky when he exhales. His palms are sweaty against one another and he's simply at a loss of words.

He had imagined Jay flaring up, possibly throwing him to the ground and yelling at him for being a shit friend (though Heeseung knows that's mostly his imagination).

Jay's taking it a lot more gracefully than he thought he would.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Jay carefully asks, raising a brow at the ball though directing the question at Heeseung.

"Um, I don't-" He licks his lips and tightens his temples, eyes coming back to focus on the distant court ground. "I don't know."

A pause.

"If- If you really like her, then-"

"No," Jay purses his lips and shakes his head, turning to Heeseung. "That's not fair."

Another pause.

"I'm all for a fair fight, man," Jay flaunts his arrogant grin, eyes sparkling with a balanced determination. "That is, if you're all up for it."

Heeseung frowns again, trying to process the suggestion.

"So- so what? Are we going to just do what we want to do to win her over and we'll just see who emerges the-"

"Yep," Jay nods with a strange sense of enthusiasm, inhaling a sharp breath. "Each man for their own."

"Jay- I gotta tell you man, I-"

"Kissed or hugged or held her hand or something already?"

"You're not supposed to make me feel worse when I didn't even finish my sentence."

Jay chuckles heartily, teeth glistening under the lighting. "Sorry. Thought it'll help you out."

"Jay, I just... The day I went out with her to the beach, I sent her home and she- she kissed me on the cheek and I gave one back. Earlier today, she seemed like she was in a zone too and so I- well, I held her hand."

Jay's eyes widen and his lips curl downwards in ironic impression.

"Damn, you're like 3 laps ahead of me."

"Jay-"

"Stop, stop, stop, stop!" He raises a palm and stops Heeseung. "We're just two basketball players trying to get the ball into the hoop. You're just a little bit better than I am, alright? Think of it that way."

He offers Heeseung a friendly pat on the back as he stands. "So, fair fight?"

Heeseung looks up, watching Jay hold out a palm in the form of a handshake.

"Shake on it. She out of bounds once she makes up her mind."

Heeseung puffs his cheeks, looking up at Jay whose hair is stuck to his forehead because of his sweat.

"If you don't shake on it, I'll just give up straight away."

"Ahhhhhh-" Heeseung grumbles to himself, shaking his head and taking Jay's hand reluctantly. Then, with the tiniest amount of hatred, Heeseung hisses, "asshole."

A hearty giggle thrums through Jay's chest as he pulls away, bringing the ball up to his chest and raising a brow at Heeseung.

"1 on 1?"

Jay's chewing on his straw opposite you in the school cafe he suggested for lunch after marketing. He's staring at the folder containing the details for the project that you'll need to submit before the end of the semester.

Your fingers are interlaced, reminiscing the warmth of Heeseung's palm despite your eyes on Jay.

"How was your beach date last week?" The question snaps you out of your sensory dream.

"Huh?" Your eyes widen, blinking the consciousness back into yourself. "Oh, well... it was okay. It was fun."

"Was it like a hang-out or like a date date?"

I wish I knew too.

"Hang out," You respond nonchalantly, turning to look back at your cup of cold tea.

"He's probably interested, y'know," Jay smirks at you, looking at you through his lashes with the sheet of paper between his thumb and index finger. "Beach dates are like- an unspoken couple dream kinda thing."

"True," Smiling to yourself, you lean back in your seat and take in a deep breath. "But... I don't know. Nothing's been said and I don't want to jump the gun."

"Well, did he make any moves? Like- touch you or anything?"

He didn't make any moves, I did.

"Uh- well- I may or may not have- well..."

Jay's smirk grows into a sneaky grin as he closes his file, resting his cheek in his hand as he raises a brow at you. "Did you kiss?"

You stare at him, somewhat blanked-out.

Shaking your head after a few moments of silence, you blink the eye contact away. "Just on the cheek. That's all."

"He kissed you first or-"

"I kissed him on the cheek first, then he did it."

"Huh!" Jay's Cheshire grin glistens under the fluorescent lighting, a spark flashing across his eyes. "That's cute."

"Do you think- I don't know-"

"What, that he likes you?"

A pause.

"Yeah."

Jay inhales sharply, dropping his arm to rest them both on the table. "I'm positive he has feelings for you, if not he wouldn't have reciprocated your kiss."

You purse your lips and glance at the table, momentarily recalling the hold of him around your arm when he turned you around to peck your cheek.

"How do you know though? What if he's just toying with me?"

Jay blinks. A thought zips across his face.

"He's not," He offers you a comforting smile, then says, "Because I would've done the same."

A frown creases your forehead.

"I like you too," He blinks, nodding a little at the confession. "And as long as he hasn't won you over completely, I'm gonna keep trying."

#enhypennetwork #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #jay scenarios #jay imagines #heeseung fluff #jay fluff #heeseung x reader #jay x reader

[oldscratch-thebigd]

Hello there! This is a general blog for the Solar System! A system! You can call us Cosmo unless we sign off on stuff like our posts! We have a few special interests that we may talk about occasionally (music, rollercoasters/flat rides, the pokemon series, your turn to die, mob psycho 100) but other than that you're likely gonna find misc posts we rb, posts abt stuff we like, silly stuff with our mutuals, and posts abt system stuff!!!

If we're mutuals tag anything to do with fire — or someone being burned — with any sort of tw tag like #burning, #fire, #tw burning, #tw fire, etc. Also tag hydraulic presses with cosmo dont look.

dni if you are anti-endo, proship, an exclusionist against ANY good faith identity (including mspec lesbians/gays) if you think that narc abuse is a thing, fans of hp/dsmp/fnf/aot etc. homestuck and fnaf fans you're on incredibly thin ice and very likely will not get a follow back, and friends with/interact with any of the cishet aa crowd — especially RJ, Eimear, Miles, or Byrd. THIS INCLUDES DRI.

We own a discord server for image describers and a public discord server just to talk in — so let us know if you want to join either of the two!!!!

Uhhh some notable sideblogs of ours:

Fandom blogs:

@pokemon-picked-pride-flags

@autistic-blue-oak

Image describing blogs:

@accessible-pokemon-posts

@deltarune-described

@yttd-described

Some of our personal blogs:

@lethal-omen (Aero's blog)

#intro post #siren dont look #siren don't look #matrix don't look #matrix dont look #ve dont look #ve don't look

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

It's A Long Road to Recovery.

(post Dark-Cream story)

"How's the water my Love? " Cross asked, dipping the tips of his fingers into the bath.

"perfect" Dream replied sinking slightly deeper into the water. The warmth wrapped around his bones and felt amazing on all the aches and pains.

"you got it just perfect"

The guard smiled wide "I'm glad to hear that, soak as long as you want, you deserve it"

The two had returned to the place they called home and Cross had drawn his beloved a bath. If Cross had it his way, he would have attempted to create a full spar treatment to pamper the bruised guardian. However, Dream had been more then happy to have something simple and the way he sighed as he relaxed in the water filled Cross with warmth.

It was so good to be home, even if it was mostly just a void with some rooms and things, it felt like home now. Though Cross wondered, with no anti sanses did that mean that him and Dream could settle down? They were engaged after all.

That thought make him smile wider. it had definitely been a long journey, but now that it was over him and Dream could finally be together. A family.

The gloopy mass had mostly washed off him now, though his joints where not completely free of it. Sadly, the lack of gloop now revealed just how damaged Dreams body was. There where huge cracks running across many of his bones and many bruised and stained areas. Then there was his eye.

Cross was trying hard not to look at it, but he didn't want Dream to know he was. Of course Dream was still beautiful, he always would be, but that didn't make it easy.

The wound was large and caused Cross to think about how it must have felt for him during the transformation. He hadn't seen the whole thing, but the sounds of Dreams bones splitting and his cries of agony became present in his mind whenever he looked at the eye.

It made him shudder to think of the pain he must have, and still was in.

"how's the" he started glancing away "the.... Eye?"

Dream sat up a bit.

"it's fine.... Mostly numb really"

He could sense his partners concern and didn't want to tell him the whole truth. It was painful and throbbed slowly, especially when touched. It threaten to hurt for a long time, not that it was a punishment he didn't deserve.

As soon as he was done in the bath he'd have to bind it.

Dream felt no shame in Cross being there while he bathed. He knew he wanted to stay in the water for a few hours, and those where hours that he wanted to spend with Cross. So therefore he'd asked Cross to join him.

The guardian stretched, wincing slightly as his back bones slid together. It ached and probably would for quite a while.

He pressed his fingers into the crook of his elbow joint, sighing in relief as more of the gloop stuck there gave way. The slime had dried and jammed up most of his joints, making him feel stiff and useless. It would take hours to clean, but it seemed like the warm water was helping it give way.

Taking a breath, he ducked his whole head and body under the water. Laying there under it for a few moments to soak, before resurfacing for air.

There was a trickle as Cross continued to flick the surface of the water with his fingers. Dream lent forward to shake the water from his skull and felt a sharp pain in his back. It didn't last very long but it was quite a surprise so it caused him to suck in air quickly through his teeth. Cross looked up straight away.

"Dream!?"

Dream took a breath and slowly moved his body back so he was lent against the bath again. The pain stopped.

"j-just moved to fast.... It will be fine, Nightmare said the first day was the most painful"

"right" Cross said, still concerned but with a slightly harder tone. "Rest...."

"I will Crossy, if Night was able to run, I'll be able to take care of myself" Dream replied, trying to sound reassuring.

He scooped up some of the bubbly foam from the waters surface in his hand and blew it in Cross' direction. Cross batted it with his hand in a playful cat-like fashion.

Dream smiled, seeing Cross acting playfully with him, it had been a long time since they'd been able to just exist as a couple. He would have continued to blow bubbles at him, but an intrusive thought ruined the momentary joy and it made him freeze.

" ¿Estaba él en este dolor?" he asked quietly. Cross glance sideways at him.

"hm?"

"Nightmare..." Dream clarified "......was he....is he in this pain?" Cross sighed.

"Dreamboat, you need to focus on your own recovery" he said, once again flicking the bath water with his fingers, though slightly more aggressively.

His tone was firm and slightly bitter "I know you worry, but he has Killer"

Shifting his legs around a bit, Dream sighed. He knew his partner was right, he shouldn't let himself worry about Nightmare to much, they would be in contact in a few days.

Yet he just couldn't help it. If he was in this bad of shape after a few months, then how bad would it be for Night after hundreds of years.

"but what if he-

-just drop it!"

Startled at Cross' tone, Dream flinched slightly. He wasn't used to Cross speaking to him like that and he didn't like it.

He narrowed his good eye at him and the soldier sheepishly looked away. Dream sensed shame from him, but also anger. His emotions were a mess.

"sorry i just meant-

-You're still thinking about what he did to you....."

Cross' shoulders tensing confirmed to Dream that he was right. His expression softened.

"Cross..."

"it's not just what he put me through" he said, still avoiding Dreams gaze "it's what he did to you... And heaven....." his voice trailed off and his eyes watered slightly.

Dream felt his soul twist as the memories flooded in. Feeling suddenly very cold, he lowered his legs deeper in the water.

Cross squeezed his eyes shut and shook the tears away. Before opening his mouth to keep speaking, but closing it again.

"oh.. Cross" Dream said, reaching forward in an effort to comfort him. But he soon lowered his arm when Cross continued to speak.

"I know he's your brother... And I know you want to reconnect with him...." he swallowed and turned back to his lover. "I'm not gonna stop you... And I'm not going to hold a grudge, I just need.....

".... time" Dream said finishing Cross' sentence. Cross nodded in response.

He felt selfish just saying it

Even if Dream seemed to understand he still felt bad.

The reality of everything was still catching up with him and it was a slightly rough reality.

He'd been on happy to see his beloved gloop free and happy, that he'd completely pushed aside any kind of confrontation he'd had in mind for Killer or Nightmare.

Both had serious partaking in his pain and he hadn't realised how much he resented them until now.

But the reality that had just hit him was that Dream was going to reconnect with with his brother and if Cross was going to be Dreams husband then Nightmare was going to be a part of his.... Family.

"........"

That thought hurt.

Dream stared at his partner for a long time, as Cross watched the water flicking under his fingers. Cross' emotions were very negative, Dream knew he needed to say something.

"it's ok Mi Soldado, you aren't the only one. .."

Cross looked up at him again.

"I may have forgiven him in my head, but I still need to forgive him in my heart". He struggled to keep his voice steady.

"I-it's been so many years"

he bent over his knees and hugged his legs tightly.

"just like my face, there are a lot of cracks to heal..." he'd sighed "it's not just you"

Cross' emotions calmed slightly and he relaxed at Dream's reassurance.

"Its going to be a long road to recovery Crossy, for all of us"

Cross gave him a soft smile, and reached forward to cup his soapy cheek.

"I'll be here every step of the way" he said in a gentle tone.

Dream melted.

He leaned over to catch Cross in a kiss and the soldier happy obliged. It was a soft and affectionate kiss. Something that they had both been needing in that moment.

After pulling away Dream sank back into the water with a sigh. For the first time in a long time, he felt that things were going to be OK.

So here I am was another little bonus Dark-Cream scene. I came up with this recently and sketched it out. I wasn't originally gonna finish it but @zu-is-here asked me to so I did. I'm not really 100% satisfied with it you know? The bubbles was horrible to draw, I'm proud of the water and the bones though. The writing was just a cute Scene I came up with. Because it can't just be all fine and dandy can it? Nightmare put them both through hell and everyone needs time to heal. Idk if that makes sense? But I hope you enjoyed.

Original cross and dream belong to jakei95 and jokublog

Original shattered dream belongs to @galacii-gallery

Based off the Dark-Cream ship by @zu-is-here and the comic by @zu-is-here

#undertale au #my art #undertale multiverse #So please enjoy some post dark cream #Originally I came up with the idea of dream asking cross to get into the bath with him #While being playful #Cross is embarrassed but decides to #But he does it fully clothed #Both of them share a laugh about that #And then a kiss #It's a PG bath scene people #Keep it cleab #shipping #sansest #cross x dream #dream x cross #dark cream #Post Dark-Cream #cross x shattered dream #Hope you enjoyed

[juicebox-sys]

hey um we're a system with unknown origins and we're finding it hard to navigate the interwebs with all of the gatekeeping and fakeclaiming and anti-endo stuff so 2 things 1) are u a sysmed or something and 2) how in the heck do we navigate any of this without getting stressed over f*keclaiming for not knowing if we're traumagenic/what that trauma is

First off, if you ever use the term "sysmed" at me again, anon privileges are getting revoked. That term was appropriated from trans culture and y'all have absolutely no right to use it the way you are. It comes from the word "transmed," short for "transmedicalist" which means a person who thinks that if, for any reason at all you cannot or will not fully medically transition, you are not trans. They treat transness as a disease or disorder, which it is not, and it has caused real world harm. People were harassed, doxxed, sent death threats, and some have even committed suicide.

"Sysmed" means someone who thinks systems form from trauma, and I have looked and found absolutely no sources credible that say systems can form without trauma.

With our current understanding of how systems form, you cannot be a system without trauma. Maybe one day that will change, there still isn't a lot of research on systems. Maybe one day there will be multiple credible sources out there that say this can happen, but as of right now there aren't and I am inclined to believe the science.

On the day when multiple research studies have been done and peer reviewed and published officially and all of that good shit, then I will believe that systems without trauma can exist.

Until then, I really don't give too much of a fuck about people calling themselves endogenic or mixed origin or whatever. It's not my life, I've got my own shit to deal with, so I mind my own business. Let them handle their shit, I really could not care less. If you call yourself endogenic or whatever and follow me, I'm not gonna get pissy, just don't drag fucking syscourse into my inbox.

Speaking of syscourse, in regards to your second question; stop engaging with syscourse. I promise your life will get so much easier.

Here's a dose of reality. Regardless of who you're talking to, singlet or system, traumagenic or endogenic, black or white, gay or straight - we're all just trying to live our lives and find a way for the world to make sense.

Syscourse is fucking stupid. Someone says they're endogenic? Okay, whatever, that doesn't affect me. Someone says persecutors are evil? Damn, they're a shitty person, I hope I never meet or talk to them. Someone says introjects aren't real? They're very uneducated, but it's not my job to educate them, and I'm hungry so I'm gonna grab something from McDonald's down the road.

I have never had any of these problems in the real world, and I know like 3 different systems IRL. That's a lot when you live in the ass crack of nowhere. They only exist online because people love to argue and fight and blow shit out of proportion, and that can make those problems seem way worse than they actually are.

I also recommend taking a step back from the Internet. That doesn't mean leave it completely, or forever, but just step back for a bit and think about you, your system, what being a system means to you, etc.

If you have decent communication within your system, have this conversation with them, too. You're part of a team now, a team whose goal is to keep everyone in your body safe, happy, and healthy. You may have different ideas on how to do that, and that's okay, but you need to talk that out between yourselves at some point, if and when you can.

It will be far easier to focus on yourself and your life if you stop giving a shit about things that don't matter in real life. There are far more pressing issues for systems in the real world then whether or not that alter is a protector or a caretaker. Have you ever tried looking up "DID in the workplace"? It's tips for therapists on how to deal with systems, not tips for systems on how to find and maintain a steady job.

There aren't many resources out there for systems right now. We don't have much, so we make do with what we have. The last thing we fucking need is to be arguing over shit that, again, does not fucking matter in the real world.

Any further syscourse shit in our inbox is getting deleted. I don't want to give it any more of my time than I already have.

#tw suicide mention #eli speaks #syscourse #did system #ugh fuck tags im gonna go make food

[jaefmin]

Treat you better | N.Jm

Treat you better - Na Jaemin

↳ Pairing: caretaker!Jaeminx fem!reader [sick!reader]

↳ Genre: fluff, angst, fever, humor (if you notice mine😭), friend!au, anxiety, childhood!friends, tattooed!Jaemin sadlkf they don't even kiss-

↳ Synopsis: It's your stupid, ugly and imperfect body that's giving up right before attending an important meeting with your boss. This could give you a promotion, but your body's in a state to just lay in bed all day. Will you be able to get to the meeting?

↳ WC: 2.7k

Header made by: @vantaengelic Go follow my baby rn!!

↳ Pairing: caretaker!Jaeminx fem!reader [sick!reader]

↳ Genre: fluff, angst, fever, humor (if you notice mine😭), friend!au, anxiety, childhood!friends, tattooed!Jaemin sadlkf they don't even kiss-

↳ Synopsis: It's your stupid, ugly and imperfect body that's giving up right before attending an important meeting with your boss. This could give you a promotion, but your body's in a state to just lay in bed all day. Will you be able to get to the meeting?

↳ WC: 2.7k

Ajdjksj- why dId I mAkE tHe syNoPsIs sO cLIcHé

@intokook 🙃🙃

As soon as you're about to pass out from exhaustion, someone knocks at your room's door. Not now. Please. You're barely left with the energy to open your eyes. Your eyelids feel heavy, but soon lift up wide awake when the person enters your room. Those usual creaky sounds of the doors reach your ears only to make you quiver, and, you're blessed with a sight of a pale faced man, hair neatly arranged on his face with a worried expression. Your eyes fall on the man's outfit, a pair of cargos, with a black shirt covering his torso. His facial features seem pleasuring- beautiful orbs with round specs, muscular hands, and beautiful tattoos on them. You immediately recognize the man by his tattoos, and he seems to recognize you too. His appearance disgusts you now that you've realized him. But it's too late to analyze and hate the man in front of you more deeply. Before knowing anything more, you fall asleep.

You feel a hard splash on your face, and in seconds, and you're wide awake. A chill runs down your spine and you begged for the person to have thrown warm water on you. Your eyes witness a standing Jaemin, with a mug of water in his hands. His tattoos attract your eyes towards them, and you can't help but stare at them. "So this is how long it takes to wake you up? I've been shaking you for the past half hour and you are like some big old chimpanzee that doesn't feel anything when an ant's trying to move it." Jaemin baffles. "Hey!" You stammer "Anyways, why are you here?" You ask back. It was oddly strange of Jaemin to be here. "Some man called Jaehyun sent me here. I'm originally taking care of old sick people in an old-age home, but Jaehyun told me about your situation. Trust me, I didn't expect it to be you." Jaemin explained in a high tone. He paused a bit after a comeback again. "And If your condition's hell, then didn't you think of paying the doctor a visit?" His tone seemed like he was sick because of you, and he was criticizing you for even breathing. "That's not how you talk to a sick person." You stood up in your defense "Yeah yeah. 'Sweetie, would you like to visit the doctor? 'Cause I really think we should go there.'" Jaemin mocked you, and you could really see the same young, frustrated Jaemin in him. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

Jaemin made sure you were seated properly in the car. He drove the seatbelt around you and continued to the driver's seat. He turned on the heater, and asked "So, what's wrong? When did you get your fever?" His tone seemed to have calmed a little bit. "Yesterday night. I had a headache, the night was full of surprises every hour." You replied to him in a voice low pitched. "Don't worry we'll get you all fine. And Jaehyun told me that you had a really important meeting... Or something like that? Would you like to tell me more about it?" Jaemin asked. "Oh yeah, there's a personal meet my boss wants to host with me. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have exaggerated it, only if it wasn't in Vegas." You ended with a sad tone, knowing that you'll never make it in there. And losing your job... for another season of hunger games until you get the next one. You sighed. "Don't worry sweetheart. I'll take you there." Jaemin boldly let out.

"No need to worry Y/N. You're absolutely fine. It's just a viral. All those bacteria are kinda fighting inside your tummy, and you've gotta let the good one win and then bam! Y/N's all back!" Jaemin exclaimed. "Which one's the good one?" You ask him only to have been receiving a weird reply from him. At first, he stammered a bit, and then let out. "Not like you're gonna go and dance with pom-poms inside your tummy to cheer them up. Do you even know how much Jaehyun exaggerated it?" He immediately changed the subject. He kept on talking, and indistinct sounds entered in your ears as you were in your own world, lost, thinking something. Although a smile did appear on your face upon hearing Jaehyun's name, and how he'd taken care of you. He was the best colleague ever, and you had your own little crush on him.

"J-Jaemin?"

"Yes?"

"I really need to clean up my bedroom. You've witnessed how soiled it is. Would you mind doing that for me?"

"While you will...?"

"...Watch the telly?"

......

"Alright, JUST because you're sick. Keep in mind I don't really be so kind to people like you. I hate those years when you're in your twenties. A big judgmental couch potato stuck to your screen."

"Well, you are in your twenties?" You replied after calculating a bit. "Not for long." Jaemin replied. "A decade passes like this." He snapped his fingers to indicate how the years pass, and you seemed to be fascinated with his answers. You knew the old Jaemin, the one that used to bully you in high school, but this one seems interesting. Feels like he's gotten over the series of unfortunate events that you both went across. His aura was different. The kind that would make you jump into his personality's fathomless ocean, and plunge into it. Somehow, he made you feel like he had changed a bit, but at the same time likewise the old Jaemin. The days you spent together, the fights both of you had, all those memories kept haunting you. You never forgot what he meant to you. "Earth to Y/N?" Jaemin snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back at the tattooed man. "I'm not going to clean up your room." "What?!?! Why?!?" You stood and stared at the air, thinking what happened to your voice. It got harder, huskier, a sense of cough in it. Before you knew it, you were coughing your lungs out like crazy, and that just made Jaemin panic. He started going around in circles, and you immediately asked him to bring water because you knew he wasn't going to do that on his own. "Alright, shh calm down. Relax. Here's your pill. Have it and take rest." Jaemin shortly laid you on the bed after that. His face was on top of yours, and he was about to get your medicines to you, when you felt it coming. You were about to cough. You were trying your best to control it, but Jaemin wouldn't stop lecturing you on relaxing.

Bam.

"UGH!! GROSS Y/N!!!!!!" Jaemin's face was a masterpiece from down where you were looking from. After a couple- err well a lot of 'ewws', 'ughs', 'you're so damn gross' , 'who would want to even take care of you', he finally calmed down.

"What kind of person coughs on the face of their own caretakers?" Jaemin asked after wiping his face for the tenth time. "Face-cougher." You were all giggly and jolly before hearing that name. "Excuse me?" You said. "What's wrong, Face-cougher?" You did not like the new nickname. "You did not call me that." "Yes I just did, face-cougher." Jaemin replies and you are not staying quiet in this. "Y/N is a face-cougher!! Face-cougher!!" Jaemin started teasing and that's all you were taking.

Another bam.

And it isn't good this time too.

This time, you landed right on Jaemin. He put the couch cushions for his defense, but the anger inside you told you to throw the cushion and throttle him right away. And you decided to do that. Of course, not the whole 'throttling' part. He was quick enough to find another good defense. This one was a vessel, the one he decided to cook pasta for you in, but that never progressed further more than deciding. So, physically preparing yourself, you grabbed the spatula and dashed towards Jeno. A thought tingled inside you and you tried to push it away, but it forced you to look at it.

You're sick, Y/N.

You almost forgot about that. Your body was filled with a wave of energy to fight back. This thought didn't last too long, and not before you're outta the dreamy world and back at Jaemin. You were right above him right now. Jaemin immediately used his defense, the closed side facing towards you. You hit the vessel making a loud noise, and it sort of felt that you were getting your panic attack again. It hadn't been a long time since you knew that your spatula wouldn't last against his vessel and now you didn't even have the time to go and change again. He took the advantage of your a-bit-too-late-realization and pounced over you. "Damn it! Is this how girls are when they're sick?!?! Oh pity those male doctors!!" It was kinda weird to hear these things from a guy's mouth, but you knew what an anti-girl person Jaemin was. It reminded you of your colleague Jungkook, who had the same behavior towards girls. Jaemin's arm slipped over, and he landed right on you. There was a worried expression on his face, to get close to you again, a fear of whether you might 'bam' him or not again. He immediately held you for support, but your body was doing nothing other than feeling weak- no mood to stay strong, so you got pulled away with Jaemin. He landed on ground with his back facing it, and had you in a such a position that his body was pressed against yours. Jaemin's face was centimeters apart from yours, and it reminded you of this days when he used to hold you this close. You both stayed still in the moment, processing what just happened. He waited a while, before he stretched out his hand to cup your face. He stroked your skin with his soft hands, a feeling of shiver running down your spine. "Everything's still the same, Y/N." Jaemin muttered. "I'll be here."

"Alright, have this, you'll be fine within half an hour." Jaemin gave you a huge tablet. "Are you sure?" You asked, nervousness filling you up. "Yes, the doctor's prescribed it.'' After having the medicine, you had a nice sleep while He cleaned up your room, and you woke up around six. "Morning, sleeping beauty." Jaemin's voice was heard across the room. Its like he knew that you were going to wake up right at this moment. Freaky how he does that.

Does he have to get back the flirting mode on? You rub your eyes, and try to get up, but due to the weakness inside, you fall back. Jaemin immediately notices and rushes towards you. "Does the medicine make you feel any better?" He asks, a caring tone occupying his voice. He puts his hand under your waist and tries to get you up, the bridal style. "What are you doing!? Move!" You shove his hand away, a stiffness taking shield over your body. "What? I was helping you get up." You saw the innocence in his voice and calmed down a bit. "It's alright, I can handle that."

He gives you a perplexed look and turns to the soft toy in his hand. "Alright, but I must admit, you have a great soft toy collection." Jaemin faces you again, this time with puppy eyes.

"NO. You're not going anywhere with Dolphie. Keep it back."

He turns towards the shelf while mumbling something to himself.

...

"HEY! I'M NOT A MEANIE!"

Jaemin left the dolphin on the shelf and your eyes were forced to shift their gaze towards the whole room. It was way cleaner than you could ever keep it. Everything was finally clean, not dust-coated as it used to stay. Your study table attracted your attention- looking brand new, as if it were just made yesterday. Jaemin must have some experience of helping old age people with their stuff back at his old house. "Wow. It's... pretty." You complimented his efforts. He smiles to you and lays over your bed. "You have pretty great stuff."

"I liked your journal the best."

You felt like throwing yourself outside the window. Or, it might be great to take him in too so he doesn't go around telling everybody about your crushes. "Literally, Y/N," You weren't prepared for what's next. What's he going to reveal? The time you crushed on your math teacher? Or when you imagined a boy naked? But what came out was way worse than all of the book.

"You had a wet dream with me?"

Oh no. Out of all of it this one was what he asked? The tension on your face rose up, blood rushing up to your cheeks. He looked at you and smirked. "Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I've read all of it." You couldn't handle a second before you smashed a pillow right at him. He took it by surprise, and actually got hit by the pillows. "Do girls hit people when they're shy?"

Crackhead.

A thought rose up in your mind. "Yes. They do. And if you get them too shy they might even stab you." Jaemin mocked a scared look on his face and then went, "Heh. You and your stupid girl jokes." You quickly needed something against him... a secret, maybe. You try to recall something embarrassing that he told you, and it strikes faster than you thought.

"I think you might die."

Jaemin's face was left expressionless, "Oh, all because I read your journal and now you're gonna stab me?"

"Close, but not exact."

Before you could tell him the exact reason why he might die, he pulls out a pink book, and turns out, it's nothing but your journal.

"Y/N-" Before any word could come out of that beautiful mouth of this crackhead, you reach out to grab the book from his hands. It seems like he doesn't even want to try, and you have the book in your hands within a flash.

You keep the book with you, hugging it as tight as possible, so that even if he tries to make a grab at it, he would fail. He lays down on your bed, the body-fit shirt hugging him tight. It seemed like his mood had completely changed. He chuckles, "You're still the same, you know? Nothing has changed." He held out your hand. Was he trying to change the topic?

You try to indulge into the conversation, asking "How? Everything has changed over the last decade."

Jaemin had changed completely, and that fact made you think that he would feel the same towards you. You saw a sense of maturity, more of responsibility in him. Ever since both of you separated, it had been hard to move on, every day and night spent in grief. But as usual, life strung the both of you along with it, and you both followed. You suddenly had flashbacks, that night in the club, the pool party... you immediately shook your head, wanting to forget all of the embarrassing moments of your life.

"Y/N, You know that the meeting's tomorrow, right?" Jaemin's face grew serious. "Do you have any idea how you're going to manage?" There was a tone of worriedness in his words. "C'mon! I almost became your wrestle buddy! I can handle it!! I'll just gulp down some of my medicines, and I'll be okay." Your conditions were streets ahead after you got some sleep. Everything felt finer, specially when you woke up to the perfect sight of the room you never had. You played with Jaemin's fingers and then reached out for his arms. You assured him, "Everything's going to be fine, only if I can control myself for puking on you." Not being able to control yourself, you giggled at Jaemin's widened eyes.

"I'm going to wear plastic on me then." You burst out into fits of laughter, "Like JYP?" Jaemin smiled upon you, "Yes."

After all of this, you were sure the trip would be fun, and you probably won't upload the next season of hunger games.

#jaemin #kpopfics #jaem #jaemnet #nct #dream #nctdream #jaemjaem #nct jaemin #kpop #jaemin tattoau #sickreader #Feedbacks appreciated

[c-atm]

Who the hell breaks into a prison? Let alone ' Megalomax' ?"

 

This was the question on everyone's mind and lips, inmates and staff alike, as they heard the carnage from the first floor. The sound and smell of rapid gunfire from pistols, assault rifles, and shotguns filled the air as alarmed flashed and blared all through the elite correctional center for the supernatural.  

 

Screams of officers resounded throughout the halls. Blood-curdling, pain-filled, last time alive screams, all followed by a feminine voice calling for her lover. Her call only brought more officers to her, soon finding herself surrounded by another battalion.

 

"Stand down!" A large man in Kevlar armor called out. Stepping closer to her, his voice full of authority and anger as he walked up to the hooded girl. 

 

"Hey, do you know where they’re keeping Bisky," The girl asked as she looked at the towering man. A small expectant look on her face. She smiled a bit when the man stepped back, fear on his face

 

"You…" he whispered in terror. " Oh God, you really survived?"

 

"Survived?" She tilted her head before her mouth opened in acknowledgment, her visible black eye narrowed as her grin grew. " You were there, weren't you.." She flicked her wrist, and a cloud in the form of a pink blade with a star hilt appeared, solidifying and transforming into an actual sword, once she grabbed the handle. "Yeah, I remember you. You led a whole battalion just like this to our home…" Her gleeful tone dropped to that of frigid tundra, and her eyes zeroed in on the large captain. " Then you let use a hailstorm of anti-magi bullets through our bedroom window." She started to step forward. "I still feel the heat searing and tearing my flesh, everything I lay in my lonely bed...It replays."

 

Another step forward. "The glass shattering."

 

Another " The Bloodstained sheets ."

 

Another. "The dragging of his unresponsive body after he protected mine."

 

She paused, placing her hand on her scarless abdominal. "The lost."

 

The captain felt his heart dropped; guilt overtaking his fear for the moment. "I...You were...You aren't supposed to be..."

 

"Another false assumption," she glared at the captain. "You fear what we're becoming. Even after we chose to run and hide...Create our own lives...You feared us, hunted us, and tried to eliminate us…" Before anyone could react, the girl grabbed the captain by his jaw and pulled him close, staring directly into his eyes. "All because you couldn't control us…" She sneered, "I know all of you, in your ivory towers, can see me through this group of lummoxes. So let me make  this clear."

 

'What just happened?'   was the thought of the Captain as sudden weightlessness hit him. He tried to speak, but all he could make was gargle and choke up words. He could not turn his head; he gawked as blood sprayed on his captor's brown face as her black eyes bore into his smokey gray ones.

 

"I'm going to get my Bisky; we're gonna burn this hellhole down..." She grinned widely. "Then we'll be moving on to you."  She increased her grip on the skull, crushing the jaw under force. "Congratulations, you got our attention, your little weapons are coming home, lucky you!"  She yelled as she threw the skull to the floor, watching the inorganic light fade from its eyes. She turned her head to the group that surrounded her, all of them too scared to make a move—the chilling look from before back on her face.

 

"Well... Show me where Steven Universe is kept, try your hand at taking me out, or run away. It's your damn choice." 

 

"It's gone silent." He mused as he sat in his cell, hands behind his head. He wasn't worried about the commotion up above, unlike the others. No...He knew what was happening. Who was doing it. He felt their presence every day since they pulled him from their bloody, bullet-filled bed and left her for dead. 

 

Every second of every day for the last two months, he felt her getting closer, attometer by attometer, and now...Now it was as if he was enveloped by it. So when everything went quiet and all the other fools were whispering about what could have gone down or if they killed the attacker. 

 

He stood up from his bed.

 

Washed his face and hair with the faucet in his cell. 

 

And waited patiently with his back to the force field. The fools will tell him when she's on this floor.

 

"Who's that?" "She's gonna join us in here?"  "She's the one who attacked?"  "Damn, baby. Help me outta here I'll give-

 

Steven smirked at the sounds of a console being destroyed and a garbled scream that filled the hall, followed by small whispers and the clacking of heels that got closer by the second.

 

"Bisky?"

 

He grinned at the reassuring voice as he turned to her, his heart soaring at the cloaked visage. "Hey, Berry."

 

"Wait, hold on!"  She called as she rammed her sword through the control console, destroying it and disengaging the yellow force field. 

 

"Ah, man...it's good to be-oof!" 

The large pink-skinned man was interrupted by the force of his lover, tackling into him with a desperate trembling hug. The feel of her tears on his torso from silent sobs shook him to his core as he held her back just as desperate.

 

"You're safe... It's been too long." She cried through tears before reaching up to his face with a gloved hand. "They didn't hurt you, right?" She looked at his pink bearded face with his small side smirk that displayed a few of his teeth, his pink mystifying pink eyes that, usually full of mischief, now held an endless well of love The way his brows were slanted inward, pressing the space between them a bit.

 

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Diamond Inc. at least knows how to treat their guests." He joked with a chuckle.

 

She growled, "That's not funny!" She clenched the back of his black shirt in her fist, holding him closer as if she was afraid she'd lose him again. "Not in the least."

 

"Yeah...Just trying to be playful."

 

"There are better ways, you know." The twinge of seductiveness in her voice brought his mischievousness to the front.

 

"Is that so?"

 

"Yeah. It is." She nodded with a grin, wholly immersed by his husky voice and their mutual affection. She hummed and felt his toes curled as he gave her passionate and urgent lip lock. She basked in the feeling of his palm caressing her cheek and the gentle yet carnal suckling and nibbling upon her upper lip as he pulled down her hood. After a few more 'Chu' making kisses, he took a good look at her now uncovered face.

 

Despite having blood splattered on her on the lower left half of her face, her large, black love-filled eye(the right one, the left was covered by an eye patch) shined like stars. Her brows rose as she displayed a broad, toothy smile that radiated endless adoration for her pink skin love.

 

"What?" She asked, voice full of bashfulness. The smile, never faltering as her cheeks heated up. 

 

"You are so damn Beautiful, Cloudy ." He grinned before stroking her left cheek. "Even when you're  messy."  He held his index finger up to show her the blood he wiped off.

 

 "Oh...I can't believe I finally saw you and I'm such a mess. "she flushed, turning around, hands on her cheeks. "Just give me a moment to- Mm~MmhAahh!!"

 

She was interrupted by him slipping his arms around her waist as he sucked and bit on her collarbone. Her hand instantly found his nape, keeping him in place as she shivered in bliss. " Rosey," She moaned in arousal and yearning.

 

"I missed you, Cloudy." He hungrily whispered into her skin as he trailed his manipulations upward toward the back of her ear.

 

"I missed...haha." Her chest and breath hiked when he hit a particular spot. "You as well, Rosey. So much." She leaned into him, sighing. "We..have to stop..WOOHOHO..." She bit her lip before pulling her neck away but staying in his arms, looking at him in his eyes before pecking his lips. " We'll continue this later...I promise, but we have to leave before.."

 

"Freeze!"

 

The reunited lovers turned their sight to a team of armed guards, ready to strike them down. 

 

The two looked at each other and silently agreed on their course of action. After sharing one more kiss, the two gave the group their full attention.

 

It would later be reported that Megalomax correctional center was burned to ashes. The news articles worldwide would show the image of the place ablaze, with the silhouette of an unknown couple engaging in an intimate act in front of the flames.   

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #steven and connie #older steven #older connie #connverse fanfic #antihero #100faceschallenge #dark hero #mentions of attempted murder #imprisonment #rescue #prison break #lovers reunited #soulmates #pink steven #cloud connie #pinkxcloud #Cloudy Roseau? #superpowers #connverse one shot

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy

Word count: 4.1K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, explicit sexual content

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I excitedly jump up and down, seeing the mass of hair stepping into the hotel lobby.

Stevie’s the first one in and I’m nearly tackling him, hugging him tightly because of how much I’ve missed him.

He’s tightly hanging on to me, letting out a happy sigh before pulling away to look at me.

“You look good, babe. Tired, but good.” He assures me, pinching at the tip of my nose and I smile, kissing his cheek for a second before I’m hugging at Slash as he smiles and says, “hey, Viv.”

I look at Izzy when I pull away from Slash, and he looks me up and down once.

“Viv.” He says to me in greeting.

“Izzy.” I reply.

I’m even excited to see Axl, and he tenses up a little when I hug him, but relaxes and asks, “are you dying or something?” in reference to me hugging him.

“I love you, and I’ve missed you, and I’m being driven insane and being that you’re already batshit, I know you can sympathize.” I tell him.

“Ha. Ha.” He sarcastically lets out but doesn’t go to pull away until I’m good and ready. “Oh, by the way, I’m telling folks in L.A. we’re siblings.”

“Why?” I raise a brow, pulling away.

“So you can also be known as ‘Axl Rose’s sister’ when I get rich and famous.” He grins. “‘Nikki Sixx’s wife’ is losing it’s oomf, ya know?”

“Especially once the D-I-V-O-R-C-E is filed.” I add.

“Exactly. So, I’m making sure you’ll still have a name to drop to help you get stuff for free.”

“Gee, thanks.” I nod, my eyes shifting to Duff.

He’s got the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey.” I say to him.

“Hi.” He replies.

“Alright.” Doc’s starting, stepping from the elevator to greet the guys. “Doc McGhee, pleasure to meet you guys, we have a show tonight so you’ve got,” He looks at his watch. “Two hours to get settled in, rest, bend a chick over, whatever. The bus is leaving here at 7:00pm, and no later than that. Got it?” He asks and they all nod. “Okay, here are the itineraries--the guys usually don’t pay these any mind, they just go when we tell them to, but in case you needed it, there it is.” Pieces of paper with the tour schedule on it is handed to them and Stevie smiles widely, nodding his head, showing his excitement for the next month ahead. “I’m going to get a shower, if you have any questions, either ask Viv or ask Fred Saunders, our head of security--Viv knows his number. Here are your room keys, I’ve already got you guys checked in. See you tonight.” He finishes, not giving them the chance to even reply before he’s gone.

“He seems…” Axl starts and I look at him.

“He is.” I reply. “Alright, let’s get you guys settled in.”

Doc got them joined rooms, so Duff’s room was connected to Axl’s, who was connected to Izzy, who was connected to Slash, who was connected to Stevie. At first I thought it was a good idea...

“Was your flight okay?” I ask Duff when we get to his room after helping the guys with their luggage, his hotel room door shutting before he sits his suitcase down by the door before looking around the room.

“Dude, this is nice.” He mumbles, letting out a small sigh as I step to the bathroom, cracking the door.

“Duff?”

“Yeah?” He asks, probably still in awe of the room.

I pull my shorts off, revealing the red, lacy, fabric, before pulling my shirt over my head and look at myself in the mirror.

“Your flight?” I remind him.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He tells me. “It was okay. Izzy had an anti anxiety pill so that helped.” 

"Oh." I reply, hearing him sit on the bed and I take my cross off my neck, pulling my hair to one shoulder. "The guys are really excited to see you guys.” I try to start a conversation.

“Is that why they met us in the lobby?” He sarcastically says and I raise a brow.

“They’re still passed out from last night.” I inform him. “So is Tansy.”

“Is she healed up pretty good now?”

“Yeah, she hates her scar but she’s alright.” I add, rubbing my lips together. 

"What are you doing?" I mouth to myself, taking a few heavy breaths before closing my eyes to calm down. 

"Well, a scar on her stomach isn't anything to freak out about. Which I know she's a mod…" he trails off when I step out and lean against the bathroom door frame, his eyes scanning up my body, taking their precious time examining the "D" on my hip bone that's visible through the red-tinted see-through panties.

He seems like his mouth is dry and I smirk, my hips slowly swaying with each step before I reach the foot of the bed and crawl on, causing him to pull himself backwards until he's against the headboard, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Viv." He starts, holding down a moan when I throw my long leg over his hip and straddle him.

"Yes?"

"W-We're right next to Axl, and you're not the quietest, and--oh, shit." He groans as my tongue licks up his neck. 

"Mhmm." I egg him on, pressing a kiss under his ear as his hands go to my waist. 

"You're not very quiet and I don't want him to find out about us." He chokes out, my hands sliding under his shirt to feel at his warm skin before my lips press to his for a moment. 

"But I can't be loud with your cock down my throat." I suggest, grinding the junction of my thighs into the bulge in his pants and he lets out a weak noise.

"Vivian, we can't--" he's cut off by my lips meeting his again, our tongues running against each other, causing him to sigh out.

When we pull away he looks like he's about to break his argument. 

"Please, baby?" I beg. "If I'm too loud you can just turn me over and press my mouth to the mattress. Or choke me." I add and he raises his brows. 

"I can--what?" 

"Besides, I only get loud when I take all of it." I softly let out, grinding against him again.

"Y-You take all of it?" He stutters out, eyes wide. 

"Mhmm, don't you remember? When you pulled me on top and got as deep as you could, and I told you to go deeper, and I took every fucking inch that I you thought wouldn't fit?" I remind him sultrily and he looks like he's about to pass out from holding back.

"That didn't hurt?" He asks me, trying to stay strong as I kiss at his jaw. 

"Kind of, but that's what made me come so fucking hard." I inform him and he clenches his jaw. "Remember what that felt like for me to come all over your--"

"--Vivian, I'm about to have a heart attack." He tells me as if begging for mercy but I'm soaked through my panties and just want to be fucked into oblivion at this point. 

"You haven't missed it?" I whisper, my teeth nipping at this neck. "All hot and wet…" I keep going, taking his hand and moving it to cup at my soaked sex through my panties and he curses under his breath. "I know you've missed cumming in it." I bite at my lip. 

"Holy fuckin--oh my god." He nearly groans when I take my bra off, my hands running over my breasts, rolling my nipples.

"I've always thought you'd want to do it again when you got here." I say, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips briefly, not fingers lacing through his hair as I add: "I've been fucking myself every night since it first happened, picturing you inside me while I come over and over again, getting the bedsheets all wet…"

His eyes roll in the back of his head as I reach in his pants and slowly move my hand up and down his long shaft, my mouth watering.

"Vivian, you're gonna make me die." He says, running his hand down his face as I take a swipe of his precum and lick it off my finger, making him look completely entranced. "You didn't tell me you were like this or I would have--fuck…" he can't speak when I pull him out of his zipper and spit down on him, using it as lube to continue jacking him off. 

"You would have what?" I ask him innocently, taking my panties off. 

"You can't be too loud." He tries to tell me. 

"I won't." I assure him. 

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

He holds his pinky out and I pull his shirt over his head, giggling as he gets his long, blonde hair out of his face, and holds his pinky back up. 

"Pinky promise? Because if we get caught, I don't want you getting in trouble." He tells me. 

"Pinky promise." I agree, wrapping my pinky with his. 

He goes to kiss me, but the walkie-talkie I left on the bathroom counter goes off, and sounds like Fred says, "six and a half."

"I gotta get that." I tell Duff. 

"You've been talking mad shit over here and then run when I'm ready?" He aggravates me and I give him a quick kiss before crawling to the foot of the bed. "Okay, you can't do that." He tells me, lunging over me, his chest against my back as I fall to the mattress, laughing, his lips kissing to my shoulder blades. "I know what position we're trying toni--"

Axl's door suddenly swings open--which I could have sworn we had locked--to reveal Axl, Steven, Slash and Izzy.

Their eyes are bugged with shock at the sight of us naked, in a compromising position.

"Welp, you bastards owe me forty-five bucks, each." Izzy states to the guys, seeming to be the only one not surprised, as Fred's still over the walkie-talkie, calling for me. 

It was so fucking weird. Axl had a melt down like Duff suspected, and then everyone had to act like they didn't know a damn thing and me and Duff had to act like there wasn't a damn thing to be known.

I hold tight to my crucifix as Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick talk with Axl, Stevie, Slash, Izzy and Duff before they're due to go on stage. 

"Hey, after the show you guys wanna see what we can get in to down here?" Tommy invites them. 

"Hell yeah." Stevie's the first one to say. 

"Sounds fine to me." Slash adds. 

Tommy and Nikki wait for Duff to reply, and he smiles at their offer but shakes his head a little. 

"I got things I gotta do." He tells them. "But thanks, though." 

"Of course you've got things to do." Tommy states. "All the pussy you guys are gonna pull in tonight." He explains with a proud smile and I cringe slightly as Axl looks at me. 

"Yeah. All that pussy." He repeats, smugly. 

"Guys, c'mon." Doc motions to them. "You're up." 

"You guys are gonna kill it." Vince encourages them.

"You got this." Tommy adds.

"Don't puke!" Nikki calls to them and I look at him. 

"That was lovely, Sixx." Mick mumbles. 

"What, it was serious advice." He argues. 

I don't say a word, deciding to keep my mouth shut being this is one of the few times we're not screaming at each other.

Halfway through the set, Axl says something that catches Nikki's attention, in particular. 

"I'd like to dedicate this next song to someone very special in my life, who's like the absolute she-devil in disguise." He says to the crowd. "She's the type to kick you in the fucking balls and then ask why you're on the ground, but she kicks anybody else's ass who kicks you in the balls so that makes her a friend to me." He adds, grinning when the fans laugh a little. "Goes out to the hottest chick to be on the cover of Playboy, Mrs. Sixx, Vivian, it's called 'You're Crazy'." 

I see Nikki's jaw rolling, but I can't tell if it's because Axl brought up Playboy, or called me crazy...he'd probably be even more pissed if I told him Axl actually wrote the song with me in mind. 

As Mötley gets ready to take over, Nikki's tugging at my crucifix, pulling it off. 

"What the hell, Nikki?!" I bark at him viciously, but calm down when I see he's just putting it around his own neck. 

"It's a new leg of the tour, Vivian, it's a fucking good luck charm. Chill your fucking tits." 

I don't argue, finding it kind of nice he still wants to wear it, even after everything that's happened between us. 

I should buy him his own as a divorce present. 

Once Guns is off stage, Tansy’s carrying on about Sparkie--who’s apparently got the “flu”, but I know that excuse all too well.

“Last night he just…” She says defeatedly and the guys chug from their water bottles as she tries to speak carefully, that familiar smack slur in her speech. “...He was like, obsessing over that fucking Playboy issue with you in it.” She informs me. “Then fucked up and said ‘Viv’ while I was giving him a blowjob.”

Axl rolls his eyes at the mention of her giving another man a blowjob and I hold back my smug smile at his expression, but he doesn’t say a word. He just continues to be obsessed with her in private and Izzy mumbles about getting something to eat before leaving.

“I woke up to you screaming, ‘she’s not even doing it right’.” I tell her, being that my room is next door to theirs at the hotel. “Is that because I’m not completely showing everything off, or…?”

“I just don’t like my boyfriend lusting after my best friend..” Tansy calmly explains.

“Well, it’s not my fault your slimy boyfriend can’t control himself.” I state, Stevie stepping out of the room to go with Izzy, I’m assuming.

"I'm not arguing, Viv, alright?" Tansy tries to end it here, but I refuse to let her. 

"No, no, you've had plenty to say to Sparkie about it so go ahead and get it all out of your system, Tans." I insist. 

"We’ve got different opinions on it, Viv, and I don’t--”

“--Because you just think I’m trying to compete against you.” I say sharply to her..

“No, in order for you to ‘compete’, you’d have to do what I do, as good as I do it, and you didn’t.”

“Oh, I think I did or else you wouldn’t be as upset over it as you are." I hiss back. 

"Seriously, can you not get into this right now?" Axl asks us, the guys awkwardly keeping their mouths shut, and me and Tansy ignore him. 

"No, Vivian, you're not competing with me, because there's no competition, because this is what I've been doing for a living the past six years. I'm sorry if you regret starting a life with Nikki because you never got to finish school and have your own identity and your own thing going for you--"

"--You think I regret starting my own life?" I ask her in disbelief.

"I think you regret not going to school and being a dancer like you'd planned, because all of us are living the dream we've had since we were kids, except for you, so you feel left behind." She clarifies. 

"Who the hell said I'm left behind? I'm still with you guys, I'm still here." I argue. 

"Yeah, as 'Nikki Sixx's wife' and 'Tansy Lyn's Friend', and that's why you posed because at least your actual name--you as an individual--would finally be on a fucking magazine, the only problem is you don't think it was worth it, now." 

"Girls--" I put my hand up, causing Slash to stop before he starts, and he shakes his head and lets out a breath. 

"--Are you sure I'm the one that thinks being plastered naked in a magazine isn't worth it? Who's the one so strung out she's completely projecting her bullshit on to her friend and belittling her to make herself feel like she's won?"

"Won what?! What's the fucking prize, Vivian?!"

"I'm outta here." Slash mumbles, not wanting to be around the bullshit drama, as I yell back:

"Attention, Tansy! Everybody knows the thing that drives you is attention and how other people view you! You're so jealous at the fact that, for onc, guys aren't focused on sweet, little, travel-sized-bed-bunny, Tansy, that you don't know how to fucking handle it! And modeling with your pussy and tits out isn't worth it to you anymore because, yes you've got money and fame and attention, but you are still so fucking unhappy! You're angry and envious because I'm content with the fact I'm naked in a magazine, and you're so sick with yourself for doing the same thing!"

"Viv, c'mon, now." Duff says lowly as he nudges me to cut it out, but I can't. I'm too pissed. 

"God, Vivian, you are so fucking privileged!" She starts laughing, tears in her eyes and I raise my brows. "I winded up modeling for these nude magazines because me and mama needed the fucking money! I never got my license because we couldn't afford a car for me so what the hell was the point?! Any 'spending' money was put towards pageants and cheer, and when I got the offer I took it and ran with it because I was tired of being fucking broke!" She yells and I roll my jaw. "You, however, did it just because you wanted to! And I know they gave you a lot of money for it and you're scared of Nikki not leaving you enough money to take care of yourself when you guys divorce--and I'm sorry for you, that sucks--but, Vivian, you didn't sign a prenup so half of his shit is going to you, anyway, and being that he's casually had checks of $600,000 chilling in his mailbox before, you're gonna be pretty fucking set for a while without having the extra $40,000! You are so fucking spoiled and you don't even realiz--"

"--I'm sorry, I'm what?!" I scream, taking a step closer to her, causing Axl to get a little closer as well. 

"Viv, seriously, please just leave it alone." Duff begs me and I disregard it as Tansy goes on. 

"You literally went from your dad buying you everything you fucking wanted, to Nikki buying you everything you fucking wanted, and you've never had to lift a finger to get any of it! All you had to do was ask your dad for whatever, and now all you've gotta do is give Nikki a blowjob and the world is yours!" 

"I don't recall asking my dad or Nikki for a fucking scholarship to Juilliard! I don't recall asking neither of them to fill in for me, dancing for eight fucking hours a day--on my fucking toes--for years, or study for me in all my classes so I could have a high GPA to get into a good school! I might not have a 'thing' right now, but I do know what hard work is and if you want to compare dancing and modeling, we sure as hell can because I assure you, Tansy, you're not where you are because you worked your ass off, you're where you are because you fucked all the right people and got to the top!"

"And so did you!" She exclaims, and Duff and Axl are pulling me off of her a few seconds after my nails are going for her throat.

"Fuck off!" Axl screams at me, getting us separated, standing in front of her to guard her as Duff's got my back against him, his long arms having a steel grip around me in case I try to go again. 

Tansy's only got a small, surface scratch over her neck.

"I might have my issues, Vivian, but anytime any of us act batshit crazy and just attack people it's because we're tripping on something and don't know what we're doing! You're so fucked up all on your own without needing anything to bring it out of you!" She yells. 

"I didn't start losing my temper and being 'crazy' until you and Nikki and Tommy and Vince decided to become raging drug addicts and alcoholics and then act like it's still all fun and games when two of you OD at least twice a fucking year!" I shriek back. "And I don't feel left behind, yet, but I will when you junkies finally shoot your last fucking cc, and I'm left to plan fucking funerals!" 

Her face falls at my words, realizing why I'm such a fucking wreck all the time. 

"I don't look at you and think 'model' and I don't look at the guys and think 'Mötley Crüe' because I just see fucked up morons who need help but refuse to fucking accept it, so congratulations, Tansy, at least you found your 'thing', I mean really, I'm so envious that I'm not a sloppy heroin addict, alcoholic, crackhead. You really do win." I finish, getting out of Duff's grasp, leaving and slamming the door behind me. 

"The fuck is your problem, huh?!" Axl barks, following after me and I ignore him, causing him to grab at my arm roughly, stopping me, and I whip around to face him, seeing Duff coming to us. 

"Leave me the fuck alone, Axl." I warn him. 

"Or what? You gonna hit me? I wish to fuck you would, you crazy bitch, I'll have you laid out right here." He cuts back. 

"Axl, man, leave her alone." Duff tells him, trying to pull him away from me but Axl sharply snatches away from him. 

I see Fred coming towards us from the corner of my eye, Slash and Doc following behind him.

Getting the timing perfect, the palm of my hand is smacking as hard as it can against Axl's cheek, and we're being pulled apart before he can hit me back, which I know he's planning on doing. 

“For the love of God, Vivian, can you fucking stay out of a fucking fight just for one fucking night?!” Fred shouts at me, “Girls, Girls, Girls” beginning to play from the stage.

“No, because she’s a fucking psycho!” Axl barks back.

“Oh, I’m the fucking psycho?!” I blare at him.

“Vivian, please calm down.” Doc pleads, rubbing his forehead.

“Suck my clit!” I sneer at him, trying to kick him.

“I’m so close to have you thrown in a psych ward and evaluated!” He’s suddenly outbursting.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Duff’s getting in on it, now, his nostrils flaring at Doc’s comment. “Maybe she’s this out of order because she’s got so much fucking pressure on her from you selfish motherfuckers!”

“You wanna stay on this tour or not, kid?!” Doc snaps at him.

“I’ll go get Nikki off the fucking stage to come handle this shit--you threatening to throw his fucking wife in a crazy house, the fuck is wrong with you?!” Duff keeps on.

“Alright, everybody just calm down!” Fred yells, making everyone go quiet, the many crew members now stopped and watching everything go down. “Duff, Axl, Slash, find Izzy and Steven and stay in your fucking dressing room and eat.” He orders, pointing at the three of them.

Axl’s let go, and he’s shooting me the nastiest glare in the world as he pushes past us, Duff glancing at me, letting out a heavy breath before following him with Slash.

“Doc, go watch the show.” Fred states next.

Doc looks like he’s about to argue.

“Doc. I’m serious.”

He exhales and steps away, turning the corner, and Fred then stares at everyone staring at us.

“The fuck are you cock-suckers looking at?” He asks them.

They nervously fumble about their business and Fred pulls me to the bathroom.

He stares at me when we get inside and I raise my brows at him, expecting him to immediately start in on me, but he surprises me when he stays silent for a while, looking as if he’s trying to figure how to speak, until he finally does...and causes the breath to leave my body completely.

“How long have you been fucking him?”

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #6, “The First Festivities”

*not my gifs*

---> NEXT BLURB: Coming soon, I hope! Keep an eye on the series masterlist for updates!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST    

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

and i’m too lazy for italics bc tumblr ignores formatting that i do in Docs so sorry i give up 

WARNINGS: Prepare for some angst and sadness, but don’t worry it’ll be ok c:

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SONG: Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney (click to listen)

                          sneAAAAAAAKY PEEK!

“Because loving somebody means loving them when they’re okay and when they’re not okay. I knew that’s what I was signing up for when I started loving you, so long ago. I knew that you could be a good person, Harry, and you are. I knew that just because you’re okay one day doesn’t mean that you will be the next day and every day after that,” I tell him, lacing the fingers of my other hand with his limp ones. His unblinking eyes fill with tears and then drain of them, staring ahead and disagreeing with mine. “Please let me help, and come home with me. I’ll stay with you.”

“All I can say is that you make me... you make me into someone I couldn't even imagine. You make me happy, even when you're awful. I would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world.”

― Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

*

The tiny tree drowning in miniature lights and ornaments taunts me as I pour the pale creamer into the steaming mug. Clucking my tongue, I drop a spoon into the beige colored abyss. I begin to stir it in never ending circles as my flats carry me down the hallway. 

“You know, the break room looks more like Christmas than your house,” I jest, turning to close the door behind me. 

“If ‘s such a problem t’ you then why dontcha do sumthin’ ‘bout it?” they remark sarcastically, turning to face me with an eyebrow raised in my direction. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards as I shake my head with a bemused smile. 

“What do you call what I’m doing right now, huh?” I reply, handing the mug of coffee to him. 

“I call it bullyin’ me into submission, Ms. Lawyer,” Harry giggles, bringing the hot mug to his lips. 

“All I can say is that I learned from the best,” I shrug and he shakes his head into his mug. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink coffee when it’s so hot. You must have no taste buds left, anymore.” 

His laugh tickles the air as he swallows, moving to set it down on a frosted black coaster beside his keyboard. Smiling, he licks his lips before they part, “Reckon I don’t anymo’ then, maybe that’s why I liked yer poppy seed bread befo’ you told me you’d doused it in icing t’ hide tha fact it was burnt,” Harry chuckles, and I press my smiling lips together. Shaking my head, his giggle nudges at my own lips framed by flamed cheeks. 

“Hush,” I say, turning away and walking towards his sofa where my purple knit blanket has found a new home with my Macbook. 

“And what if I don’t?” he teases, taking hold of my waist and stopping behind me where I feel his breath on my ear. 

“Really?” I ask in a titter, moving my body to face him and his ethereal looking smile. A sight I had gone so long without seeing that I wasn’t sure if it could find its home anymore. 

“Really really,” he grins, dipping to leave kisses along my cheeks. My eyes fall shut with a smile accompanying it, and I enjoy the feeling of his lips along my temple, and then my cheek. It still feels so new, all over again, and I won’t let what came before it shadow it. 

“I think you should get a tree, Harry, it’s Christmas next week, babe.” 

“Then come with me t’ tha tree farm t’night,” he murmurs against my skin, followed by my intake of air when his teeth sink into my ear. Our giggles mingle when he releases it and continues his journey down my neck. 

“Wait, really?” I ask excitedly, pulling away to find his lips falling into a frown. “You’re finally agreeing to go all out with me? The real tree, decorating the tree while cookies bake in the oven and-.” 

“Yes,” he answers hurriedly, his lips considerably closer to mine than they were a second ago. 

“Watching Christmas movies together with a fire in the fireplace, exchanging presents on Christmas morning-.” 

“Yes, Becks. Whatever you’d like, love,” he wheezes with that light once again on his face. My favorite kind of sunshine. “Now, would ya stop talkin’ so I can bloody kiss ya already?” and I nod, soon smiling into his lips that press a long kiss to mine. “Think they’ll even have any good ones left?” he asks a moment later, dragging the tip of his finger along my birthmark with a content smile grazing his lips. 

“I dunno, I guess we’ll see but it’s probably picked over rather well,” I shrug, and he does too with an exhale, pulling me against his chest. 

“Hmm, wonder what kinda Christmas traditions we’ll start t’getha this year, bug.”

+

“Well God, I hope this isn’t going to be a lasting tradition,” I muse, crossing my arms over my chest as I hold back a laugh. Turning my head to look at him, his eyes reluctantly make their way over to me after brushing the stray needles off of his coat that he keeps around for things like this. His “manly man coat” as he calls it, as if this tree really required it. 

“I don’t wanna hear anotha word outta you,” Harry remarks, pointing a finger at me while giving me a dirty look. My lips part and he dips his head at me with raised brows. “You said it was cute when we picked it out, and how many times do you tell me ‘ya get what ya get and ya don’t throw a fit?’ Huh?”

“Okay, but, Harry,” I begin until a laugh overcomes my words and he groans in response. 

“Somebody jus’ had t’ have a bloody tree,” he grunts, walking away and over to the closet under the stairs where he hangs his tattered coat. 

“Hey! I like it, but . . “

“But what?” he sighs, and when I tear my eyes from the tree he’s giving me another annoyed look. 

“But I like big things, you know that,” I tease, meeting him by the kitchen island where I slip my way into his arms. But one of mine wanders down his chest and to the front of his jeans that he slipped on for the outing that greet my fingers with cold fabric. 

“Dontchu try t’ butter me up, woman,” he says with a roll of his eyes until it dissolves into the sound that often coasts from his lips lately. I hate when my mind automatically goes to those few weeks where I yearned to hear it around the firm, but I never did. 

“I’m not, and I’m just kidding. I really do love the tree, I think it’s a perfect size, not too big, not too small,” I tell him in a coo and he nods with slight hesitancy to the action. 

“Yer sure?”

“Yes,” I answer, letting my head fall to his chest after my arms wound around his middle. “I like our first Christmas tree, it’s tiny and cute. I like little things too, they’re just so adorable.” 

“That’s not what you were jus’ sayin,’” he whispers, squeezing my ass and I almost jump. Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes as I exhale, admiring the four foot Christmas tree. The tallest one we could find at the farm that wasn’t scrawny or sick. 

“Hush, and go and get the lights and ornaments while I start the cookies and dinner.” 

“‘Kay,” Harry hums, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Missed you . .  missed this.” 

“Missed you,” I smile with melancholy sticking to its edges, leaning into his touch as a long sigh leaves my lips. In the silence, my hand drifts along his back and to the hole that I know mars the red flannel he wears. I’d told him how many times to get rid of it already, but he can’t give it up. “What do you want to do for Christmas day, for a meal?”

“Was actually gonna ask you t’ come t’ me mum’s, she does a Christmas lunch ev’ry year with Gemma and tha kids.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun. I’ve really missed Harper and Ollie,” I remark, closing my eyes and inhaling his smell dotted with fresh pine. 

“They’ve missed ya too, bug. Harper hasn’t stopped askin’ when ‘m gonna bring Anty Becky over,” he almost wheezes. I don’t stop myself early enough, because it’s too late, and I hear the sadness clinging to his voice. That hellish month wasn’t contained to just us, and I see it in people’s wandering glances at the firm. Maybe even more now that rumor’s gone around that we’ve gotten back together, only fueled by our public friendliness with each other since, and despite the professionalism we both tried to carry. I’d missed his niece and nephew more than I thought I could, his sister, and his mum too, and when those thoughts appeared in my head it all hurt even more. I didn’t know that my heart could squeeze any more pain out after losing him, and in the way that I did. 

Sometimes, the silence feels unsettling still, and I hate that. I hate the hesitance I see in his actions still when he goes to touch me, or the look on his face at dinner with Myles and Jeanie the other night when the waiter berated him to order a drink too. It’d only continued the next day when it was my first time back at his house and the wine cabinet was starkly empty, and so were all of the spots that held my things. Neither of us had brought up me moving back in yet, and sometimes I thought I was ready to . . sometimes. 

“Yer not goin’ t’ Madley Christmas day are you?” he hums, pulling me away from my thoughts, and I welcome it. “Course, if you are that’s okay.”

“No. Um, I’m going the day after, that’s when we always do it. You’re welcome to come, if you’d like.” 

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, warmth spreading across my scalp when his closed mouth rests there. “I dunno, Robbie seemed rather pissed tha other day when he stopped by tha firm and saw me, so I can only imagine how yer dad would act.” 

“Harry-,” I start, moving away so I can look at him, but he doesn’t let me. 

“‘s fine, Becks, okay? I don’t blame ‘em. ‘m gonna go and grab tha decorations befo’ it gets too late. I don’t wanna be up all night cookin’ and decoratin’,” he finishes, leaving my arms. I nod silently to myself, arms cold and empty as I watch him walk away, assuring myself it’s okay and I’m okay because he’s coming back. 

Only a few days after getting back together, and I wish things would go back to normal already. I’ve never gotten my wish for normalcy, now have I?

+

“Stop it, I mean it,” Harry attempts, but the firmness in his voice is lacking as a laugh interrupts it. “We both know that ya know all tha words, but I wanna hear ‘em too, ‘kay?”

“Fine, but for the record, you’re no fun.” 

“Reckon we both know that too,” he answers, feeding buttered popcorn between his bubblegum pink lips. My eyes return to the telly where the other Harry and Marv continue their infiltration into Kevin’s house, but he anticipates their plan, and I giggle at the next booby trap he’s set. 

Looking to my Harry, I find him lost in the bowl of popcorn that sits on his lap where he lies beside me in my bed. Clearing my throat loudly, he looks up and over to me, lifting a brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, repeating the question I’ve asked too many times today, and I know it. 

“Yes, ‘m fine.” 

“You sure? Because Home Alone is a cinematic masterpiece and if it doesn’t make you happy then there something’s wrong with you,” I joke, tossing a Red Vine onto his lap, missing the popcorn bowl that he’s peering into again while sifting around for a chocolate drizzled one. “I’m just kidding, it’s only a film, but you haven’t been yourself today, Harry, or well, yesterday either. For a few days now. Will you please tell me what’s bothering you . . so I can help?”

“There’s plenty o’ things,” he whispers, and my face creases into a question. 

“What’d you say?” I ask slowly and seriously. 

“I said there’s plenty o’ plain popcorn in here, far too many ‘cuz somebody ate all o’ tha chocolate ones,” he says with a shake of his head, picking up the licorice that soon appears between his teeth. He rips at it until he begins to chew and meets my eyes with a forced smile. 

“You snooze, you lose,” I tease and he offers a laugh in between the licorice as my eyes stray to my artificial Christmas tree. I watch the twinkling lights dance along the window, wishing it felt like Christmas and all of its cheeriness. 

I can’t remember the last time that I had a happy Christmas.

+

What wakes me is a creaking sound, and when I look around, the sun isn’t peeking through the windows and the birds aren’t chirping. The multi-colored lights donning the tree are the only light around me, and they shed some on the section of bed next to me. The sheets absent of Harry. Instead, they hold a half folded page which pulls my eyes to my desk where I can just make out my favorite journal from Harry, opened and with a pen sitting in its middle. 

Sitting up, I turn the light on and grab at the paper, immediately opening it. Little did I know that after reading its secrets, that part of me would feel ashamed for wishing that I’d never read it and just gone back to sleep. Ignorant and blissful. The other side of me reads it quick and fast, feeling my heart climb in speed with every word that my eyes can’t believe. 

Becks, 

I’m sorry, love, but I just can’t do this. I can’t do this to you. I’m not enough for you and I don’t know why I ever thought that I could be. You deserve so much better than me, so fucking much. I’ve been going to the meetings and I think that they help, but I had a drink last night and I wanted to keep going and I did. I stopped myself, but I hate myself for not stopping myself earlier than that. I don’t want to do this to you again, and I won’t. Please don’t try to change my mind, because you can’t. I love you, so so much, Rebecca Ann, and that’s why I have to do this. I have to leave, because I don’t want to keep ruining your life. I’ve been doing that for far too long, years now. I love you more than I could ever make you know and I hope that you can forgive me one day. Call that bloke Max that liked you the one time, he seemed like a catch. I dunno. 

Merry Christmas, 

Harry xoxoxo

Tears had already begun their descent down my cheeks, from the very first words, and they only grew stronger as I went further down the page. I didn’t remember that I was holding it as I tore from the bed and into the hallway, searching for him in every corner. In the flat, through the hallways, on the lift, and in the lobby downstairs. I couldn’t find his face, and the fright grew and grew inside of me until I thought I would explode from it. It followed me through the green lights and threatened to topple over at the red ones. It led my feet to his door and to the spare key I know that he hides under the flowerpot on his porch, and guided me blindly through the empty house. The twinkling lights on the tree greeted it and shrunk in its sight, our tree. Our home. The fright sent me out of there with a new sob and it fed another when I got onto the lift and walked through the dark halls. 

It only began to shrink when the door to the firm opened with ease in my hand, and I was met with the emptiness of its walls. My impatient steps echoed loudly in my ears and I couldn’t care if I tried, not even when they stopped in front of the door bearing his name and the words ‘Managing Partner & Attorney’ below it. The fear grew at the lack of light underneath his door, but it was smacked down when the handle twisted in my grip, and I found him before me. If he heard me, he didn’t show it. If he knew I was coming, he didn’t try hard enough to hide. He didn’t lock the doors behind him of his own firm, unoccupied on a Saturday. He didn’t try hard enough, and that’s all that I cared about. 

“You really think that a lousy note is going to make me stay away a-and stop loving you?” I cry, lingering in his doorway, wanting to surround him with myself but not knowing if he’d let me. His head falls where he stands in front of his window, looking nothing like himself in trainers and a hoodie, his makeshift pajamas. “Harry, y-you had a relapse, it’s okay.” 

“But ‘s not, Becks,” he says in a strained voice, his figure soon shaking with a sob. “‘s not gonna be okay when at Christmas yer dad stares at me with disdain in his eyes knowing what I did t’ you- t’ us, and knowin’ deep down that it could happen again ‘cuz I can’t stop,” he insists, vigor in his voice. “‘s not gonna be okay when it creeps up on me down tha road when we have kids, and I pick up tha bottle ‘cuz ‘m stressed out from late nights with a baby.” 

Gulping, my throat feels dry with the absence of words and the onslaught of tears. The wanting to know what to say stirs the verbs and adjectives within me, but they don’t go anywhere. Then again, neither is he right now and that seems to be the only comfort that I can find in this moment. 

“‘s not okay, Becks. ‘m not okay,” Harry says with languid plaguing his voice, refusing to turn around. 

“But I love you even when you’re not okay,” I insist, my clenched fists shaking despite my attempts to calm them, and yet the only thing that could calm me has run away from me. “I do, and I always will, Harry! That’s why I came back, because I love you and I want to help you. Yes, you hurt me, but I forgive you because I love you. I love you because I forgive you,” I sob, wishing that he would say something - that he’s sorry for leaving and that he’ll try again. I just wish for something to come out of his mouth, because his silence is terrifying me. I don’t know how much more I can take. 

I know that I can’t take a world of mine without him in it, and too many years of yearning for him across a room doesn’t count. I can’t do that again, not any of it. That’s what pulls my feet away from the door and towards him. 

“I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere no matter how hard you try to get rid of me. I’m going to stay and help you, please just let me,” I beg, curling my fingers around his forearm, watching a tear collect at the point of his nose. “Can we please just go home and go back to bed? I want to spend Christmas with my best friend this week, even if things aren’t okay.”

“‘m broken, Becks. ‘m a mess, how could you love me still?” he asks quietly, lifting his eyes to peer out onto the sleeping town where only the lights are awake. Lights strewn on trees in the park and alive on the buildings. “I thought ‘d feel okay when we got back t’getha, and I did . . but then I didn’t. I dunno what happened . . what’s happenin’ t’ me. How can you love somebody like that?”

“Because loving somebody means loving them when they’re okay and when they’re not okay. I knew that’s what I was signing up for when I started loving you, so long ago. I knew that you could be a good person, Harry, and you are. I knew that just because you’re okay one day doesn’t mean that you will be the next day and every day after that,” I tell him, lacing the fingers of my other hand with his limp ones. His unblinking eyes fill with tears and then drain of them, staring ahead and disagreeing with mine. “Please let me help, and come home with me. I’ll stay with you, I’ll stay over and make sure-.” 

“Make sure that I don’t have a drink?” he says in a tone that I don’t like. Squeezing his hand doesn’t help, it doesn’t spur life into him or send encouragement to him. “Ya can’t be there ev’ry moment o’ ev’ry day makin’ sure that I don’t drink, Becks, and I don’t want you t’. You deserve such a betta life than what I can give you,” he continues, meeting my eyes for the first time since I stepped into the room. Now, I wish that he hadn’t, because I see it before I stop myself. I see the answer in his eyes, the one that’s probably been there all along and the one that I couldn’t take away. The one that I can’t take away. 

It stays there in front of my eyes, when he walks out of the room and when I fall back into my bed with defeat and my eyes stinging with the arrival of new tears. It stays there as I stare at the tree from under my sheets, and when I unplug it and shove it in the closet. It remains as I toss and turn under the sheets, and when I wake with his smell on the pillowcase, lulling me into a nonexistence that stays until I remember. I wish that I hadn’t.

+

He didn’t answer. His texts or his calls. His doorbell. His emails. He wasn’t there at work, at the team meeting, or at the pre-trial for our client. I was afraid to ask at first, but then I was texting his mum and his sister before I knew it, asking if they’d heard from him. I asked Myles, Rory, and Rose, and they didn’t know either. Nobody did. 

I absently continued to work on our case, despite the worry that climbed in my gut, not knowing where he was or if he was okay. It all hurt too much and suddenly, I hated him again for hurting me like this. The pain only came harder when I thought about how he thought he was saving me from the pain when he was only inflicting it more. 

Wiping a stubborn tear from my cheek, I exhale shakily and close the folder in front of me filled with his handwriting. I gulp and return to Docs on my Macbook, and stare at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to do. He always knew what to do in these lost moments. The next best step for a case, who to interview, where the best place is to find evidence, who to nudge at the courthouse for information, and how to make me feel better. My shoulders sag and I feel the wall inside of me begin to crumble. 

Knock knock!

Whipping my head towards the door, I see a glimpse of him until I blink a tear away and he runs away. Again. 

“Hey,” Myles says softly, hovering in my doorway, unable to meet my eyes. “Is it a bad time? I can come back later.” 

“No no, it’s okay . . Have you heard from him?” 

“Yeah,” he begins, but his voice doesn’t fill with happiness or drench me with relief. The way that his eyes are strangers to mine don’t wick the tears away. “He’s okay, Becky, but he wants to be left alone. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry, but he needs some time to himself. He’ll contact you when . . when he’s ready . . I’m sorry, love,” he finishes, at last meeting my eyes, if only for a moment. “Please, let me know if you need anything, anything at all. And, I’ve asked Rory to take over this case, since he’s the only one free at the mo’. So, go home and take it easy, okay? Take care of yourself, and have a merry Christmas.” 

I see it. The way that he corrects himself too late, knowing what he just said by habit. He can’t take it back now, the habitual ‘Merry Christmas,’ and I can’t withdraw the pain that slaps me in the face and leaves me looking at the floor. That’s all that I wanted, a merry Christmas, and he stole away every chance of that. A small ‘thanks’ greets the air around me before his leaving footfall, and I watch the tears fall onto my desk. Onto the keys of my Macbook that he got for me, a purple case and all, and the desk that he picked just for me. There are small puddles littering its surface by the time I pull myself away from it and start my way home, sure a happy Christmas’ doesn’t exist.

+

“You’re sure it’s okay if I go?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine, Ree,” Skye insists with a sigh filled with sorrow. Even the tips of her fingertips against my forehead leave trails of it along my skin. 

“Maybe if I say it enough times, I will be.” 

“Oh, Ree,” she exhales with honey coating her words, and I hate it. 

I hate all of this. Lying in bed like a pathetic mope on Christmas Eve, even denying Robbie to meet his new girlfriend, and Dad to come home early. I told the both of them that I was sick, and although it didn’t feel far off, the guilt ate at me. It was surpassed by the fear and anguish at the prospect of telling them the truth, and how it eradicated the balance that had been restored to my life within the last week. Once again, it had been chucked into the bin, and I didn’t know what to do, or how to do anything. I didn’t know how to be okay again, and somehow, this time hurt worse than when he would get plastered and yell at me. Somehow, him leaving willingly and in the right mind was far worse. 

“I won’t be gone all night . . Ring me if ya need me, alright? I love you, Ree. I wish that there was more I could do,” she exhales, leaving with an awkward kiss to my temple, and then she’s gone. 

An emptiness sings throughout the flat and I watch the twinkling of a star long off in the distance. I wish that I could be there, far and away from all of this, like the Grinch separated from the Whos. But, that’s not what I want and I know that. I just want him, a happy Christmas with him.

+

A creaking awakes me and I sigh, rubbing the back of my hand against my eyes while licking my lips, “I’m fine, Skye, go away. I’m trying to sleep,” I groan with a yawn breaking through my words. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers until I find a good spot again. 

The bed dips underneath me and my annoyed moan follows suit, especially when somebody slips under the covers behind me. Mutterings escape my lips and I yank the covers higher, rejecting their arms that come around me, until I freeze. My eyes fly open and I inhale again, and again. The scratchy feeling against my cheek does it, and I spin around, knocking heads with the person. Him. 

“Ouch!” he exclaims, holding his forehead. A laugh unfolds on his lips as his breath wafts over me, and all of a sudden, he’s real. He’s here and I’m okay. “You okay, love? Ya really hit yer noggin’ hard with mine,” he continues, wheezing between his words. 

“Becks?” he asks and I nod emphatically, and then, I begin to sob suddenly. “Oh, honeybug, c’mere.” 

“Harry,” I sigh shakily into his neck when he surrounds me with his arms, and I find his holey flannel with my hands. 

“‘m so sorry, Becks, ‘m so fookin’ sorry. I thought I could do it without you, but I can’t, baby, I can’t. Please, don’t let me do it without you. Don’t ever lemme leave you again, I was such a bloody idiot. ‘m so sorry, I ruined our first Christmas t’getha, baby,” he rushes from above me, worry sewn into his voice until his tears make their arrival. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not ruined, just please never leave me again. I can’t- I can’t do any of this without you either, none of it. I can help. I’ll go with to the meetings, if you want Just, tell me what I need to do to help and I will. I just want to help you, Harry, I love you so much,” I confess impatiently, finding warmth in his stubbly neck and his scent that I’ve missed almost as much as him. 

“All I need ‘s t’ be with you, promise. I love you, baby, I love you, I love you, I love you. Ev’rythin’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay, ‘m gonna be okay, and yer gonna be okay,” he coos to me, sponging kisses along my head and forehead until he’s brought my eyes forward and to him. A small smile curves his lips upwards and he touches his finger to my nose. “Can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. I got on a flight, can’t even rememba where. I jus’ had t’ get away from here, but I knew I did tha wrong thing not long afta, and it was a mess tryin’ t’ get back with layovers and all that shit with Christmas.” I nod, watching him lace his hand with mine and give it a squeeze. 

“I’m just glad you’re back and that you’re okay.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he echos, dipping to kiss me on the lips. Pulling away, his eyes leave mine, and I turn to follow his to the window behind me. “Looks like I made it in time, 12:05 . . Merry Christmas, Becks,” he hums when I look back to him and the words soon meet the air in my voice, too. 

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” I sigh, laying my head against his chest. He moves to lie on his back and his arms stay surrounding me while his lips find the crown of my head. 

“Sleep, baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere, not ever again. I know we both need it . . We’ll do presents in tha mornin’ at mine, ‘kay? And finish our Home Alone marathon and cookie decoratin’ too. Promise, promise ‘m never leavin’ you ‘gain, sweet girl.” 

“Okay,” I reply sleepily, feeling myself relax when his fingers start to dance through my hair.

+

“Becks.” 

I hear my name and then feel the kiss that follows it, and the next one. A loud raspberry on my cheek eliminates any chance of falling back to sleep. What sounds obnoxious and loud fills a laugh that graces my ears, and yet, I couldn’t want to wake up to something more than that exact sound. 

“Harry,” I say, joining with his laughter that grows as more raspberries cover my face. “Stop it,” I groan, but I don’t mean it and I think he knows it, because he continues. At last, he stops and I’m left staring up at the man of my dreams, unshaven and with the cutest of bedheads. 

“Merry Christmas, bug,” he coos with a contagious happiness to his lips that spreads to mine when I kiss him. 

“Hey, at least these aren’t burnt,” he remarks as I sit down next to him and try to hide a smile. “Dontchu even gimme that look, ‘m doin’ this fer you, and I swear if you bloody tell anybody.” 

“What? I didn’t say anything,” I giggle and he rolls his eyes as he bites off the snowman’s head from his sugar cookie. “By the way, you’re going to ruin your appetite.” 

“Such a mum you are already,” he sighs, holding the rest of the cookie between his teeth as he sits up on his knees to reach under the tree. “Pickin’ out me clothes fer me and tellin’ me I can’t have cookies befo’ our meal. Tsk tsk,” he groans dramatically as he picks up a giftbag with holiday greetings scrawled on its outside. 

I laugh and watch him set it in front of me, and it only makes me wonder how he pulled this all off. I had had my presents for him wrapped and under the tree for a few days now, before everything went to shit, but somehow under the tree has grown fuller since then. I haven’t dared to ask or even make a joke about it, because I just want to enjoy this, even in all of its silliness and sadness. Even when my smile dims at the memory of waking up to that note and how it flipped my world upside down when I thought he had just placed it rightside up. 

“Hey, ‘m kiddin’ ‘round. Tha pj’s are cozy, and tha cookies are delicious. ‘m sure yer breakfast cookin’ in tha oven will be too,” Harry hums with a strong smile, squeezing my arm. I nod and watch as he looks away to answer a text, having told me that he gave his family a fright too and now they won’t stop bugging him. “C’mere, you, time t’ open yer first present,” he says and he surprises me by lifting me up to place on his lap. Giggles erupt into the air when his fingertips caress my sides and his stubbly lips pepper kisses along my neck. 

I wish I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever.

+

The next few days passed and they were rather normal and that’s all that I could ask for. An unsettling awkwardness passed after a few minutes of being at my dad’s house, and at Harry’s mum’s. Harper and Robbie were to thank for that, whether it was Robbie showing Harry his new guitar or Harper clinging to my leg the second I walked in the door and refusing to ever let me leave. 

Sitting on Harry’s sofa under the glow of the Christmas lights now, I heave a sigh remembering the last few days and how wonderfully ordinary they were. Even with the A.A. meeting over Zoom that we worked in and the way our families went to lengths to leave alcohol out of their glasses and out of the conversation. 

“What took you so long? I want to start the movie before we get too tired,” I moan, falling to lie on my stomach as I peer up at him taking the stairs two at a time. 

“Sorry, I had one mo’ thing t’ wrap,” Harry answers, padding across the wooden floor to me where I wait with rosy cheeks. His own soon dimple with a smile when he falls onto the sofa next to me, once again lifting me onto his lap. He breathes in loudly and then yawns before nuzzling his cheek against mine, brushing his fingers against my side. “Open it,” he says, placing a small box in my hands. 

I oblige and begin to tear the red wrapping paper away from the dainty box until I’m looking at a black matte box with a lid. “Harry,” I say warily, turning to look at him behind me. His smile stays and he nods towards the box. 

“‘s not that, promise. Jus’ open it and you’ll see,” he insists, sponging a peck to my temple. “I know we’re both not ready yet,” he comments and I inhale slowly as I lift the top off to find a shining, silver ring waiting for me. 

“Harry, is this . . ,” I try to say, but my emotions get the best of me as I turn around to face him and his reddening cheeks. 

“‘s a promise ring, a knot ring, they call it . . . It symbolizes a knot that’s not tied quite yet, but I have ev’ry intention of tyin’ it one day, when we’re both ready. This ‘s a promise I swear t’ ya I won’t ever break,” he explains, and his widening smile grows blurry from the happy tears that fill my eyes. “I hope those are happy tears, love . . I love you, Becks, so much and ‘m so sorry for what ‘ve put you thru’ lately. I know that I can’t do life without you in mine, and ‘m done tryin’ to be too strong or noble- or whatever. ‘ve known for awhile that I wanted you in my life fer always . . make you Mrs. Styles one day and have loads o’ babies t’getha . . Will you wear it, bug?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I answer, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. A nervously happy laugh coats his lips as he lifts the dainty ring from its place and takes my left hand in his. “Wow, you’re really good at this,” I joke and he nods laughing while sliding it onto my ring finger, punctuating it with a kiss. 

“Thanks, hope so.” 

“And what do we tell people when they ask why I have this on my ring finger?” I ask him, watching him close the box and set aside before winding his arms around me. 

“That ‘s a promise ring, ‘course,” he tells me, pressing a kiss below my eye. His smell surrounds me when his forehead comes to rest against mine. I lean against him and glance down to my hand, holding it out in front of me to admire it. “Does it fit alright? I tried t’ rememba what size you are, but we can get it adjusted. I hafta say it looks perfect on you, ‘s just a shame it came in tha mail late.” 

“It’s perfect, Harry,” I answer, not knowing if there are any other words that could do it justice. “God, you have to stop one-upping me on presents all of the time,” I titter and his loud chuckle echoes mine as I relax against him, staring at the ring. 

“Hmm, not sure I could do betta than this next year,” he says, and we both hear it in there. The way he said it with nervousness wicking his words away that maybe next year will follow this tradition with another ring. 

“There’s no need to. This Christmas was so great, Harry.” 

“But it wasn’t perfect, and ‘m sorry fer that,” he comments sadly from above me where he hooks his chin over the top of my head. 

“It was, just getting to spend it with you made it so.” 

“I really dunno what ‘d do without you, bug,” Harry confesses softly as the fireplace crackles away beneath the tv that waits for us. The scratchy feeling of his stubble leaves my head, and when I glance up I find his eyes glassy with tears. “‘ll be makin’ it up t’ you fer tha rest o’ me life that I ever tried t’ test that.” 

“It’s okay, I forgive you . . because I love you,” I tell him, my thumb greeting his warm skin slick from his lingering sadness. 

“I love you mo’.” 

“I love you most,” I say, completing our special saying, something I can’t remember saying since before all of this shit started. 

“I love you mostest,” he follows up, and my jaw soon hangs as I stare at him in disbelief before our lips dissolve into a laugh. 

“Harry!” I shriek when his lips soon cover my face in kisses, and his fingers litter tickles along my body. I lie there in his arms, savoring the sound of our laughs mixing together, hoping that it will always be like this. 

I hope that it will always be this easy to love him. 

My buzzing phone brings me back to the present. I find the strength to pull away from Harry and locate my phone in the folds of blankets. A text lights up my home screen once I locate it, and my lips soon fly higher. 

“Hey,” I say slowly, turning my eyes to Harry to find him tracing the ring on my finger. He looks up with a question quirking his brows and my heart squeezes at the sight of him. How can a grown man be so adorable? “Is it okay if we push the movie off until tomorrow?”

“Sure, why d’ya ask?”

“You wanna go to a Christmas party with me?” 

“A Christmas party? On December 28th?” he almost laughs, his greens twinkling underneath his knitted brows. 

“Yeah, it’s- oh, nevermind actually,” I say, embarrassment whisking my eyes away from him and to my lap. God, how can I be so stupid to even ask? 

“Hey, what’s tha matter, bug? I don’t mind goin’, and I might actually wanna if you tell me who’s throwin’ it.” 

“No, it’s okay. I changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore. Don’t worry, please,” I insist, a nervous laugh marking my words. His fingers had stilled on mine and I take the chance to adjust the piece of jewelry on my finger. “Wow, it’s so pretty and shiny.” 

“Becks, don’t change tha subject,” Harry almost sighs, taking my hand in is and hiding the ring away from sight. “Then let’s go and show off that ring o’ yers, at this party.” 

I remain quiet, growing chilly at the silence that seeps into our conversation and we both know it. The difficulty of saying it steals the words away from me and the gap between us grows larger with every second. 

“Rebecca Ann,” he says with impatience spilling over in his voice. His palm is a welcomed warmth against my cheek with its cradle. “What aren’t you tellin’ me? Y’know you can tell me anythin’ in tha entire world . . ‘s always been that way b’tween us.” 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, Harry, it’s a party. They . . “

“Oh,” he says, the realization heavy in his tone. 

“I don’t mean it like-,” I begin, finding the nervous sadness in his green eyes that try to stray, but they don’t go far. 

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, Becks,” he remarks with a curve to his lips, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks fer lookin’ out fer me, bug, but I feel okay. I think I can be ‘round alcohol without losin’ it right now, so why don’t we give that party a shot, huh?”

“Really?” I ask, perking up in my seat beside him. He nods with a happy sound tumbling off his lips. 

“But, first, you hafta tell me whose party this ‘s. ‘m dyin’ t’ find out.”

+

“Bloody hell, I dunno ‘bout this, Becks. Reckon ‘m too old fer shit like this.” 

“Hush, believe it or not, there are people here older than you, Harry,” I tease him, chuckling at the way his jaw hangs loose from his face in disbelief. On my tippy toes, I press my lips to his cheek and pull him forward. 

“Wait, so what ‘s this ‘gain? I don’t understand.” 

“It’s a Christmas party . . for my cohort,” I tell him, leading him through the throngs of people filling the large apartment. Many mingle in groups with drinks in hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sparkling grape juice and sodas claiming the counter, instead of only beers and Whiteclaws. 

“Oh yeah, reckon ‘s been a year since ya graduated. God, already?”

“I know, right?” I say, squeezing his hand when I see that proud glint in his eye. The twinkling Christmas lights donning the space catch my eye as well as the ugly sweater memo that I’m glad I didn’t miss. “Wait, is that- No way, Becky!” 

A shock of red curls turns around to face me, and their face explodes with happiness. Before I know it, they’re crossing the small space and I’m swallowed by their arms in a hug. 

“Hi to you too, Rube,” I laugh into her hair that smells of cherries, just like the last time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” she exclaims after she finally lets me free. 

“Si and I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well, you did a good job of that,” she comments, and within seconds, I’m forgotten. “Oooo, who’s this?” she teases to me, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Wait, is this-?” Ruby cuts herself off short as realization dawns on her face as her eyes stay pointed on Harry who glances around the room mindlessly. 

“Ruby, this is my boyfriend, Harry. And, Harry, this is my best friend from uni, Ruby Tucker,” I say, suddenly remembering all of the times I wanted to do this, and most important of all, that day in the lecture hall. 

Looking to my side, I watch as Harry comes back to us and his eyes wander to Ruby whose infectious smile affects his own. The dimples soon fall and his eyes come to life as he holds out his other hand to her that she takes. 

“Pleasure t’ meet you, Ruby, ‘ve heard good things ‘bout you,” he says warmly. A laugh sputters in my throat when I watch Ruby’s cheeks turn the same shade as her hair. 

“I bet I’ve got you beat for that,” she says, flitting her eyes to me before briefly winking. 

“Oh, ‘s that right? Care t’ tune me in on this, Becks?” he poses to me, lifting an eyebrow as a question waits in his teasing eyes. 

“Becks?” Ruby coos and I shake my head at the both of them. 

“Just that day in the lecture hall when you came to talk to our class.” 

“Ah, makes sense. What, were you lot droolin’ over me too?” he jokes and Ruby’s loud laugh fills the air around us, interrupting the Christmas jingles. 

“No,” I insist, but Ruby disagrees. Soon, I find that my cheeks could give hers a run for their money as they flame with embarrassment. “Fine, I may have gotten a little lost in the moment.” 

“‘m sure that’s all you did,” Harry teases and I shove at his arm, savoring the sound of his laugh. It falls to an end when he caresses my head with his hand and kisses the top of my head. 

“Hell, you two couldn’t be any cuter,” Ruby comments from beside us, and I feel my cheeks fill with warmth. “I’m really happy for you two. Really, I am. I can’t remember ever seeing you this happy, Becky.” Tears prick at my eyes when she squeezes my arm and smiles at me like she’s never done before. “Lemme go and find that guy of ours, I bet he’s the one behind this plan.” 

“I like her,” Harry wheezes next to me, and I find the full smile that sits on his lips when I look. It shines down on me as his finger coasts along my forehead, moving a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I must agree with her, it makes me so happy t’ see how well yer doin’ now. Reckon I only saw a glimpse o’ yer life back then in uni, but yer happier now, I can tell.” 

“Hmm, I can only wonder why,” I giggle and he tries not to. A Mariah Carey song comes on next and the room erupts in loud cheers. My eyes fall to our intertwined hands and my spare that covers his, tracing the familiar curves of his rings. 

“Well, lookie who it is!” somebody almost shouts. I know the voice without even having to look. “Becky and her main man!” 

“Hi, Si,” I smile as he approaches us in a red and green Fair Isle sweater, considerably dominant to Ruby’s grandma looking one. Harry lucked out with a festive knit sweater with several shades of red, but he could make a hospital gown look good. Meanwhile, the next best thing I could find in Harry’s closet was a blue and white number with a cheery snowman on the front. 

“Hey, and Harry it ‘s, correct?” Si says, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. They both shake hands as Harry nods, and then I’m pulled into Si’s strong arms. Laughing, I make a break for it moments later, remembering I hadn’t seen them since graduation, or sometime around then. 

“I knew it, you know,” he says to Ruby beside him, shaking his head with a glow to his face. 

“Me too,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as she smiles at me, knowingly. 

“You knew what?” I ask them, finding Harry’s hand again with my own. Mysterious laughs float between them and they spur one on mine, but mine fills with nervousness as I trace the knot on my ring finger. 

“That you’d go and work for Harry, again. Duh,” Si says, as if it’s the easiest secret in the world. 

“I bet Si fifty pounds you’d go back.” 

“I bet Rube seventy that you’d be back in three months,” he jests, straight white teeth showing behind his wide smile as laughs overcome the four of us. 

“You guys are so bad!” I chuckle, looking to Harry who just shrugs his shoulders. 

“What? We both shoulda seen it coming, it was a given, Becks.” 

“Becks, huh? I haven’t heard that one before,” Si comments, bringing a tall stein to his lips. He pulls it away and wipes at the creamy yellow liquid left behind on his lips. 

“Ya, um . . I called her by her last name fer awhile-.” 

“And some last names that weren’t mine,” I interrupt, making everybody laugh, even Harry who seems to remember for the first time in awhile. 

“As I was sayin’,” he continues, raising his eyebrows at me. “I got tired o’ Holte, tha name and tha girl.” Cue the laughing. “Anyways, I dunno, nothin’ else seemed right. Not tha classic Becky, ‘cuz ev’rybody who was anybody called her that. She was never called Rebecca, or Becca, but Becks jus’ fit her somehow,” Harry concludes, and for a few moments, it’s like there aren’t twenty people around us. It’s just us, and his neverending green eyes. 

“Looks like that ring fits rather well too,” Si comments, and my eyes go searching before I realize what he’s saying. 

“Si, you idiot, they’d tell you if they were ready,” Ruby scolds him, swatting at his arm. 

“Um, ow!” Si exclaims, shaking his head at her. “Sorry,” he tells us after Ruby gives him a good glare.

“It’s okay, it’s not an engagement ring. Harry got me a promise ring,” I tell them, and yet, I can’t keep my eyes off of Harry whose sunshine beats down on me. 

“That’s so great, Becky, congrats to you two!” 

“I haven’t even met a bloke who’s cute enough for me, and look at you two,” Si exhales, draining the rest of his drink with a sad smile. 

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Ruby remarks, shoving him away from her when he gives her a goofy look. “Anyways, I want to hear about all of your cases together! I can’t believe you got into Styles and Lawson, Becky- Well, I can now, but tell me about it! You two got that massive Lawton and Williams case, how was that?”

“Yeah, we’ve just been dying over here, dragging our feet through dry civil cases at Xavier’s,” Simon says with a roll of his eyes, but flashes me a smile. 

“Oh, yer at Xave’s? If yer lookin’ fer somethin’ new, my partner and I are hirin’ fer a new position, maybe we could fit one o’ you newbies in. We always love havin’ new graduates- well, yer a year old now, but if you’d be up fer it,” Harry announces, and my heart swells at the emotion on the both of their faces. 

“It’s a bloody miracle one of us is dating a bigshot lawyer innit? Any cute guys work at your firm, Harry?” Simon says, and us two girls bust out laughing as he looks around confused. Harry stays silent and Simon remains serious until his lips coated in eggnog spew a laugh and then we’re all laughing. “Just jokin’, mate!” 

They followed us into every next conversation and between our cups of eggnog and plates of cookies. I certainly wouldn’t have thought this time last year after graduating uni and missing the hell out of him that I’d be here. Sitting next to Harry on a sofa with my two best lawyer friends sharing stories as we all died laughing, and with a promise ring on my finger. 

I slowly started to let myself believe that things could be good again. 

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