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underforeversgrace · 1 year

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the road to hell is paved with good intentions

title: the road to hell is paved with good intentions

words: 6995

Complete

Summary: Jack feels like death as he fights the flu, Danny’s wrist is broken and he refuses to talk about it, and Maddie feels like she can’t do anything right.

If he could just see through his son’s eyes, walk in his shoes for a while.

He forgot one should never say the word ‘wish’ in Amity Park.

AO3

“It’s nothing, okay?” Danny shouted, exasperated.

“Why won’t you just talk to us?” Maddie yelled back, similar frustration in her tone.

Jack just groaned as shoved his head further under his pillow. One of these days this family really needed to invest in some soundproof coating or something. His wife and son were in the living room, how could he possibly hear them so loudly? Why was this his life? Jack whined pathetically into the bedroom, empty except for him.

“There’s nothing to talk about, why is that so hard for you to understand?” Danny shot back.

“It isn’t nothing, Danny! Your wrist is very clearly broken, for Christ’s sake!”

Jack could practically hear the eye roll from the other room. “It so is not, mom!”

“It is bruised and crooked, why the hell won’t you tell me who did this?”

“Nothing happened and no one did anything! Ugh, I’m done with this crap.”

“Now wait just a second young man-!” Maddie didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Jack heard the front door slam close with impressive force, the window pane beside him shaking from it. Add doing a structural check for the house to the same to-do list that has the soundproofing on it, there was no way Danny was strong enough for this window to be doing that.

A cough tore from him, feeling like knives against his already sore throat. The flu sucked. He was still in the middle of his coughing fit when he heard the door to his room open, his wife’s soft footsteps coming over beside him. He heard the squeak of her hazmat suit as she leaned down to him, pushing back his sweaty hair and running her fingers through it. He didn’t say anything, instead giving a hum of satisfaction at the relaxing touch.

Maddie pressed the back of her hand against Jack’s forehead, sighing at whatever she felt. “You’re still burning up.” She said. Jack almost whined again when she pulled away from him. “I think I’m sleeping on the couch tonight, dear.”

“And you’re sure it isn’t ghost flu?” Jack croaked, doing his best to ignore the pain in his throat.

“I’m positive, sweetie.” Maddie said. Jack groaned and opened his eyes, watching his wife piddle around the room while she got ready for bed.

“What happened?” He asked.

Maddie stilled, staring at the pajamas she had pulled from the dresser. She slunk down to the edge of the bed, sitting down. “Danny’s wrist is obviously broken and I think part of his hand is too. It’s bruised and I swear it looks crooked. I don’t think he knew I was in the kitchen, he didn’t hide it in time. Now he’s stormed out. Why would he hide something like that? He needs medical attention!” Anger suddenly flared in her face and she bunched up the pajamas, viciously throwing it halfway across the room. They fell harmlessly to the floor, but Maddie continued to glare as if they had deeply offended her. “I don’t understand. God, why won’t he talk to me? We used to be so close! Today has been one fucking nightmare after another and I can’t take anymore.”

“What else happened?” He asked. Jack had been in bed almost all day - he hadn’t even been able to drive himself to the doctor, Jazz had had to squeeze him into her car and drive him. Jack and being sick did not get along well.

“Phantom, what else?” Maddie practically spat the ghost’s name. “I had him! I had him, Jack. I even literally handcuffed him to me! With the power suppressant cuffs so he couldn’t phase through them! But almost immediately after, I heard a loud crack and he was gone. I had him for a grand total of five seconds. I cannot for the life of me figure out how he got out. I failed as a mother and an ectoscientist today.”

The longer she spoke, the more anger faded from her voice, getting replaced with exhaustion and sadness so deep it was nearly grief.

“Why won’t he just talk to us?” Maddie asked desperately.

Jack reached out a hand and patted her reassuringly on the leg. “I don’t know.” Jack admitted, every syllable a knife directly to his throat. “I wish sometimes I could just… walk in his shoes, see through his eyes. Understand him. All we can do is our best, Mads.”

Maddie slumped forward, defeated. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” The bed creaked slightly as she left it, grabbing the thrown clothes from the floor. “I’ll get you something to help you sleep, okay?”

“Thanks.” He croaked, fatigue settling in. He really was not doing well, that short conversation had been incredibly taxing.

Maddie changed into her pajamas, left the room, and came back a few minutes later, water and various bottles in her hands. “Okay. Take this antiviral for the flu symptoms. Here’s some cough syrup as well. And, honestly, you sound awful, so here’s Benadryl and the Fenton Knock ‘Em Out. Can’t feel bad if you’re dead to the world!”

Jack tried to chuckle, but it just sent him into another coughing fit. He accepted the medication from his wife, dutifully slamming it down.

It really was a shame they couldn’t sell the Knock ‘Em Out, it worked so well, but neither of them technically had the degrees to be making medication in their basement. More for them!

Maddie kissed his forehead as she left, grabbing her pillow. The cocktail in his system kicked in quickly. All he thought of was Danny as he drifted away.

~~~~~~

Jack grumbled as light spilled in from his open curtains. He could’ve sworn Maddie had closed them last night. He cleared his throat, tested his limbs. He was relieved when nothing hurt the way it had last night, his arms and legs no longer feeling like lead. Wow, all that crap he took last night had really helped! Even if he did feel kinda sore in other spots. Must’ve slept wrong.

Eyes still closed against the offensive light, he pushed himself up. Or, tried to. He yelped in pain, eyes flying open as his right hand aggressively protested the action. He gripped his wrist with his left hand, pulling it against him.

He stared at his hands, though, utterly bewildered because these were most definitely not his hands. Jack blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to get back to reality instead of whatever dream state it was stuck in.

The hands in front of him had no gloves on, despite Jack knowing he fell asleep with them. They were too narrow, too small, too pale. He studied them closer, brows furrowing. Even that felt weird, he realized. His entire body felt, just… off.

His right wrist was mostly definitely sprained and had a nasty bruise entirely circling it, the bruise extending up to his thumb as well. Jack wiggled his(?) thumb in curiosity. It ached slightly as the bruise was pulled on. His left hand was, somehow, the more surprising one. He had to hold it close to his face, moving it to observe it from every angle, letting as much natural light illuminate the limb. It was so faint, he could barely see it.

A scar shaped like lightning branched around his hand and up his arm, fading into non-existence shortly above his elbow.

Done examining his arm, he studied the room around him. Well, at least he knew this room, though he wasn’t sure if that was reason to panic or not. There was no denying the walls covered in star posters, the NASA comforter set he was snuggled under. He threw the blankets from him and ran to the nearby mirror.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to react when his son’s face was the one staring back at him, blue eyes wide with bewilderment. Jack touched his/his son’s face, still not quite believing it, even as he ran his hands across a smooth chin where Jack should have stubble.

“What the hell?” He asked, though Danny’s voice was the one who spoke his words. He hurried from the teen’s room, running into his own.

Was this an out of body experience? Literally seeing his own body, sniffling and coughing under the covers.

Jack moved to wake Danny-in-Jack’s-body up, but was distracted by Jazz talking to him from her doorway.

“Danny? You’re never up this early, were you out all night again?”

“Uh…” Again, hearing Danny’s voice was incredibly odd right now. A glance back at his sleeping form and an idea formed in Jack’s head. He could pretend to be Danny - maybe he’d learn something. He felt a twinge from the bruised wrist - the one Maddie had yelled about last night, the one that had hurt Jack so badly this morning. He loved his son and if the only way to find out what was hurting him was to pretend to be him for a day? He wouldn’t complain.

Smiling in a way he hoped mimicked Danny, he turned away from his own sleeping body. The mix of medication Jack had taken last night should keep him down most of the day and he suspected Danny was currently inhabiting Jack’s body.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jack lied, shrugging like Danny so often did.

“Danny, what’s that?” Jazz asked, stepping closer and gently grabbing Danny’s injured hand. Jack hissed as it twinged painfully.

“Uh…” he said. He and Maddie didn’t know if Jazz knew what Danny was involved in and he couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing if she did. So he shrugged again. How often did Danny shrug? Was this believable? “It’s nothing.”

Jazz sighed, gently examining her brother’s hand. “Just because it’s a minor injury doesn’t mean it’s nothing.” Jack’s eyes widened. What the hell was his son doing that this was minor?

Jazz continued, too focused on the purple bruises to notice her father’s distress. “You broke this, didn’t you? You know you’re supposed to come to me when that happens so I can at least splint it.”

How often was Danny breaking bones?!

“It was late when I got home,” Jack finally said, realizing the silence was starting to stretch too long. “I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

Jazz snorted, thwacking her brother on the back of the head. “As if that means anything. We agreed you would stop that, Danny. You wake me up next time, understand?”

“Next time?” Jack asked, and it was definitely his son’s voice cracking because of puberty right then, Jack had not squeaked.

“If you ever figure out how to stop the ‘next times,’ let me know. Wanna ride to school or you gonna go solo?”

Did Danny frequently walk by himself to school? As far as his parents knew, Danny always carpooled with his sister. He looked out the window behind Jazz, where snow flurries fell. “Can you give me a lift? It’s snowing too much.”

For some inexplicable reason, Jazz laughed. “Yeah, as if the snow has ever stopped you.” She looked at her watch. “Meet me downstairs in ten and we can head out.”

Jack just nodded, suddenly realizing this meant he had to dress Danny. Somehow, that felt like more of an invasion of privacy than deciding to try to masquerade as him. Still, that conversation with his daughter had set off more alarms than a building on fire. Jazz - who had always been so protective of her brother, who tried to push him to be his best self - knew whatever Danny was going through and didn’t tell them.

As Jack ran back into his room - wow Danny was fast! - he frowned as he thought over Jazz’s words. She made it sound like Danny frequently broke bones. But bones took a long time to heal and they were extremely painful. Danny would need medical attention - a cast and possibly pain medication. Even after Jack - er, Danny? - had assured her it was just a sprain, she still scolded him like a broken bone. Jack knew his daughter knew bones would take weeks to heal.

Jack quickly changed, doing his best to not think about how utterly awkward this was and he ran downstairs. Maddie wasn’t on the couch so he hurried down the stairs to the lab.

“You’re up early, sweetie!” Maddie said.

“Listen to me,” Jack said urgently, continuously glancing up the stairwell to make sure Jazz hadn’t appeared. “It’s me, Jack. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I woke up as Danny this morning. Whatever Danny’s into, Jazz knows! His wrist is just sprained, and I think his thumb might have gotten hurt too.” He held up the damaged hand as proof. “I took enough sleeping medication last night to put a bull down for a week - Danny is in my body and he won’t wake up any time soon. This is our chance! Maybe I can figure out what’s going on by pretending to be him! Jazz saw this and just got onto me - uh, Danny? - for not coming to her last night for her to put a splint on it! She thought he’d broken his hand because he does it a lot!”

As soon as he was done talking, he frowned. He hadn’t needed to take a breath for any of that. Danny must be in really good shape, even though he didn’t look it. Something about that explanation, though… it just didn’t feel right.

Maddie, thankfully, took it in stride. There were some benefits of marrying a scientist who believed in ghosts. Outlandish situations weren’t as unbelievable. “Are you sure?” She asked.

Jack nodded. “Maybe I can get something. Anything to put us on the right path. We won’t get this chance again.”

Maddie bit at her lip indecisively. “It feels wrong. But you’re right. You just have to make sure his friends buy it.”

Jack shrugged. “He’s a teenage boy. How hard could it be? I just need to let them talk. Someone knows something and they won’t shy around the topic around him.”

“Do it.” Maddie said. “I’ll call you if Danny wakes up. Now go, quickly!”

Jack instinctively began to reach towards Maddie to hug her, but, again, it just felt… bad to do in his son’s body. So he just nodded and bolted up the stairs.

Wow, he really needed to get on whatever workout regimen Danny was apparently hiding. This boy could zoom.

The living room was still empty when he re-entered, pulling Danny’s jacket and gloves from the rack by the door. Jazz wasn’t far behind him, digging her keys out of her purse.

“You remembered your coat for once!” Jazz said, grinning. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to remind you to get it.”

Was Danny really that forgetful? This was Illinois, it snowed a lot. Was he getting head trauma on top of whatever else he was doing? Jack just grinned sheepishly in the best impersonation of Danny he could muster, following Jazz to the car.

“So, are you going to tell me who did that?” Jazz asked as they pulled away from the driveway, pointing briefly to his wrist before firmly placing both hands properly on the wheel.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Jack had no idea how Danny had sprained his wrist, much less who did it to him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He whined, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat.

“Oh my God, was it Boxy?” Jazz said, laughing.

This was definitely a gang. But what kind of gang member went by Boxy? But it was an answer Jack could play off of. “Lucky shot.”

Whoever this Boxy was, he must be really weak, Jack determined, as Jazz was nearly crying from laughter. “No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it! By the Ancients, how did Boxy manage to break your wrist?”

“It’s just a sprain!” Jack protested, trying to push the conversation away from topics he had no idea what was going on. And also trying his best to not feel slightly disappointed at how hilarious his daughter found her brother getting hurt.

“Which means it was a clean break last night.” Jazz shot back.

“That’s impossible!” Jack immediately reacted, forgetting to actually think before he spoke.

Thankfully, Jazz didn’t seem to notice, apparently still thinking Danny was just messing around. “Yeah, and absolutely nothing about you is impossible.” She said sarcastically.

Jack had utterly no clue what was going on, so he reverted to a tried and true Danny method - he went silent and looked away, giving Jazz the cold shoulder.

Jazz laughed again but she didn’t push, allowing her brother to stew.

When they pulled into the school and he left her car, though, he realized a fundamental flaw in his plans.

He had no earthly idea where Danny’s classes or locker were. He was fairly certain Danny had passively mentioned at one point that every class he had either Sam or Tucker with him, so Jack would just… have to tag along. He had a 50/50 shot of getting it right. Maybe he could blame tiredness if he chose the wrong one?

“Danny!” Tucker yelled, waving as he strolled towards Jack. He was bundled in winter clothing.

Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself for the performance of his life. Again, something with Danny’s breathing just felt wrong. It wasn’t… he didn’t know, satisfying? There was something deep inside that he couldn’t place, something that was just… missing.

Regardless, he smiled back at the approaching boy, waving as well. “Hey, Tuck!”

Tucker closed the distance between them, both of them off to the side of a busy hallway. Jack assumed they were waiting for Sam.

Starting to feel a little too warm in this jacket - the school must have jacked the heat all the way up - he pulled it off with a sigh of relief.

“Dude, have you lost it? It’s freezing in here. Put that back on!” Tucker said quietly, looking around and watching the others.

“What? No, it’s burning up in here.”

“Dude, did you forget the heater broke? You know you get warm easily. Besides,” he continued, pointing at the splotchy purple bruise, “we don’t want people seeing that.”

Jack wanted to argue but he conceded. He was Danny right now, this apparently was just a normal thing his son dealt with, even if it made absolutely no sense to Jack.

He was obediently pulling the jacket back on, tugging the sleeve down to hide the purple mark, though it didn’t seem nearly as bad as he had remembered it. He must’ve imagined how awful it looked, made it worse.

“Danny, Tuck,” Sam greeted as she joined the little group. Jack, however, had gotten distracted by the lightning scar on his hand again.

“Earth to space case!” Sam called, playfully hitting his shoulder with a book. “What’s up?”

“Just, uh. Got distracted.” Jack managed, sticking both hands in his pockets as though it was normal. “Forget how bad that scar is sometimes.”

Jack had been hoping that would prod the two into giving more information, but they just shrugged. “We’ll take your word for it. You know we’ve never seen it on this side of you.” Tucker answered.

Well. Damn. This side of you? Jack just had more questions now. The three of them got swept away in the crowd, Jack following his son’s best friends as closely as possible.

He felt an odd stir in his chest. It almost felt like… contentment? Like, his body was content even though he wasn’t? Jack couldn’t quite… place whatever was happening in him. It definitely wasn’t bad. Just… weird.

Jack yelped as he felt himself be grabbed by his collar, his back thrown to the wall. He scowled at whoever had grabbed him - a tall blond jock, flanked on either side by two others.

“How are you today, Fentonia?” The boy sneered.

“Dash, for one day, just one, can you not be a giant fucking prick?” Sam asked.

The boy - Dash, apparently - tilted his head in thought and paused. “Nope!” He said cheerfully, a punch flying towards Jack’s face.

Time seemed to slow, the incoming strike almost cartoonish in its exaggerated slo-mo. Jack easily broke the larger boy’s grip, throwing his arms up to protect his face. Something felt like it was… missing. Something he couldn’t place.

The punch landed on his crossed arms and the odd time perception stopped. Despite Dash’s apparent higher strength, Danny’s body didn’t flinch beneath the blow, nothing more than a piece of paper being brushed against him.

Dash yelped in pain, holding his hand against himself, looking at Jack in surprise. Behind him, Tucker and Sam looked stunned as well. Jack just studied the scene, wide eyed.

What. What was that? What did he just do?

It was one of the other boys behind Dash who broke the silence - a redhead. “You stole some of your parents' tech, didn’t you? Even with the shit your insane parents make, you’re a loser.”

Dash nodded along with the other boy. “Yeah, what Jeff said. Freak.” He didn’t look like he actually believed it, to be honest, but he was going to roll with whatever sounded better than… whatever the hell Jack had just done. They quickly left after.

Sam and Tucker immediately closed ranks on him, blocking him from view.

“What the hell, Danny!” Sam hissed. “You know you can’t do that!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jack protested.

Tucker pinched the bridge of his nose, slightly pushing up his glasses. “I thought you had control of the power now, dude. You can’t be here if you don’t. It’s too dangerous!”

“Do you need to go back to Clockwork, Danny?” Sam asked.

Power? Clockwork?

Jack just blinked wildly, unsure what had just happened.

“It’s okay if you do,” Sam said, her voice softening. “Time doesn’t move here if Clockwork doesn’t want it to. You can go spend a few more months with him.”

Jack just shook his head rapidly. “I’m fine.” He said, pushing away from the locker. The way they phrased it, it sounded like Danny had already spent some months with this Clockwork. But that was impossible, Danny hadn’t been gone longer than a night in years. “It won’t happen again.”

“It can’t happen again, Danny.” Tucker pleaded. “You can’t get revealed. I thought you were about to hit Dash! Fuck, dude, you already had to break your own wrist and half your hand last night to get away from Maddie, do you want to get caught?”

Genuine fear and worry emanated from his son’s two friends. But Jack almost didn’t notice it. Their words had struck him as he struggled to understand them.

“Let’s just… let’s just go to class, okay?” Jack finally managed. This charade was getting harder and harder, he was grasping at straws to stay in character. A character he apparently knew nothing about.

“Yeah. C’mon, before Lancer gives you another detention.” Sam sighed, turning away. Tucker and Jack fell into step behind her.

“Seriously, dude. If you can’t control it, promise me you’ll go back to Clockwork.” Tucker said, throwing a worried glance at his friend.

Jack desperately wished he knew who this Clockwork was, that he knew what was going on. It almost seemed… ghostly. But that was impossible. Danny was human, Jack had seen him go through a ghost shield last week. Was Danny involved in a literal mad science experiment? Trying to fuse ghost abilities to a human host? Was it hurting Danny? Was he having to fight other guinea pigs? How in the absolute hell could his son fucking slow down time? That wasn’t an ability he knew any ghost to be capable of.

“I promise.” Jack lied. If this Clockwork was forcing his son into something, there was no way in hell he was letting Danny back near him.

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As they settled into their apparent normal seats - why did Danny insist on sitting so far away? - Jack’s mind was a storming ocean.

Jack knew Tucker loved Danny - romantically or platonically Jack didn’t know or care - so his words confused Jack now that he thought about them. He wouldn’t encourage Danny to do something dangerous. Sam wouldn’t either. They were thicker than thieves, even closer than Jack had been with Maddie and Vlad back in college.

And what they had said about Danny breaking his own bones to escape someone named Maddie. Of course, it wasn’t his Mads, she’d sooner rip their portal apart and set herself on fire than hurt either of her kids, just like Jack would. What other Maddie was in Danny’s life? Was Maddie trying to kidnap his son?

How was it that he found out his son was being physically bullied by another student, and it wasn’t the worst thing he’d learned?

The day went by slowly. Jack did his best to take notes for Danny, his grades were already so poor… but it was all so boring. He’d seen ghosts with more vigor for life than some of these teachers! So far, he’d also been right in his guesses of who to follow to which classes through sheer dumb luck.

His next chance to properly speak to Sam and Tucker didn’t come until lunch. They had glanced at him throughout the day, but they seemed more of worry for this morning than suspicion that he wasn’t Danny.

Maybe his son was more like him than he’d realized, among his friends.

The day had gotten slightly warmer, some of the snow finally fading from the ground. Jack was immensely grateful as the trio ended up sitting down outside. They weren’t wrong when they’d said Danny got warm easily. Jack quite enjoyed being outside - there was no wind, but the cool air seemed to soothe him.

“It’s so nice right now.” Jack said, looking around. They were extremely isolated, tucked in a far off corner that dipped slightly behind the school.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, ice head.” Tucker said, rolling his eyes. He’d taken off some of the heavier winter clothes but he was still swaddled in several layers. “We’re only out here because you need to feel better. Uh - not that it’s a bad thing! Or anything!” He began to babble.

“We need you to feel better, too.” Sam interjected, cutting off Tucker’s babbling. She then rounded on Tucker, stole the red beret off his head, and then began to swat at him repeatedly with it. “Are you trying to get his hero complex riled up?”

Jack added that tidbit to the growing list of things he’d learned about Danny when he froze. Suddenly he felt like ice was consuming his insides, freezing his blood in his veins. It was brief, ending when he exhaled and blue mist escaped his mouth.

That wasn’t what drew his attention, though, as the ice retreated back into the center of his chest, nestling back into his ribs. He had felt all day, he realized, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Danny? Where’s the ghost?” Sam asked, though Jack didn’t see her right now.

Because he’d finally realized what had been missing.

He had no heartbeat. That’s what had been missing earlier, in the fight - the pounding of blood in his ears as his heart raced. Then he noticed that, in his shock, he had stopped breathing. Yet there was no burn in his lungs as he continued to hold it. There was no desperate need to breathe, no fear of suffocating.

Jack began to panic, pressing his a hand to his silent chest, searching for a pulse in his neck.

“Danny!” Sam and Tucker both called, running to his side. “What’s wrong?”

Jack knew he was probably having a panic attack, he’d helped Maddie through a few towards the end of their doctorates. But it was wrong, there was no constricting of his chest, nothing seeming to suffocate him as he didn’t draw breath.

“I can’t-“ he stumbled over his words. “The heartbeat - I can’t - where - I can’t - I can’t find a heartbeat.”

“Danny, did you get shot with something new last night?” Tucker asked.

Sam meanwhile, sat beside him, pulling Jack’s hands into her own. “Danny,” she said softly. “You haven’t had a heartbeat since you died.”

“Died?” Jack said. He was spiraling hard. Somehow, the lack of his heart erratically beating due to anxiety was making this worse.

“Danny, what happened last night? Did something happen you didn’t tell us about?” Sam asked, her voice more gentle than Jack had ever heard her.

“Oh dear, am I interrupting something?” An echoed voice asked. If he had any more room for panic, the fact the Wisconsin Ghost was hovering in front of them probably would have been notable. Fuck. He needed to get himself and two teens away from one of the most violent ghosts in the town, no weapons in sight. The cold in his chest seemed to flex, gently spreading through him.

“Oh fuck off, Vlad. We don’t have time for you today.” Sam spat, her prior gentleness buried in hate. She really was fearless.

Wait, Vlad? The ghost was named Vlad?

“Daniel always has time for me. Don’t you, son?” The ghost leered.

Even as Jack continued to feel like he was shattering, the ice within him moved, freezing the shards of himself in place, keeping him from fully falling into ruin.

“Not your son.” Jack managed. He didn’t know what had happened to Danny, what Danny was now. But Danny would always be his fucking child.

“Not yet,” the ghost cooed. “But soon. Your father won’t survive me forever. Not even with you as his guardian angel, little badger.”

Jack had yet again been verbally backhanded, more than once, as the ghost’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. This ghost was trying to kill him - Jack him - and steal his son.

And he knew who this ghost was.

Jack had always thought the little badger endearment was, well, endearing. But now it left a feeling of ash in his mouth.

How could this be Vlad? Jack’s Vlad, his first genuine friend in college. One of only two he had. His heart - apparently he still had an emotional one of those - felt like it had been torn from his chest. Still, no matter what Vlad had been to him, how much he had loved him like a brother, the feeling clearly didn’t go both ways. No matter how much it absolutely destroyed him, Vlad was no longer a friend. He was an enemy trying to steal Jack’s son away.

He pushed himself to his feet, even if his legs did shake some. “Go to hell.”

Vlad grinned, sadistic and vile. “I already have.” A pink ectoblast flew from his hand, nailing Jack square in the chest. He fell backwards, catching himself with his elbows, grass itchy against his skin.

Jack really wished he knew how to control whatever time shifting ability Danny apparently had, but he had no idea.

Vlad lazily threw up a shield as Tucker and Sam blasted at him, wrist rays smoking with each shot. “Danny, do something!” Sam shouted before she had to jump out of the way of a blast.

“I don’t have a weapon!” Jack shouted back as he caught thin, knife-like rays striking across his side, cutting deeply into him.

The ice in his chest suddenly burst. It encased him, consumed him. It was no longer the cold of a dead heart, Jack was the ice. Power he’d never felt before flared beneath his skin and he yielded to it, the power painlessly tearing through his skin, through his very being.

Jack watched as a circle of light pulsed out from inside him, travelled along him.

“You’re not Daniel.” Vlad said.

Jack stared at the white gloves that had appeared on him, the black jumpsuit, the white boots. “What?” He whispered, pulling at the fabric clinging to his chest so he could get a better look. There was no denying that symbol.

Jack’s entire world had absolutely gone to hell and yet he continued further, into the deeper circles, each new revelation a spear to his soul.

“Who are you?” Sam asked. Tucker warily raised his ray, now aiming at Jack. Yet he barely registered them, staring at Vlad.

Phantom’s powers, Jack knew. Phantom’s abilities were something Jack and Maddie had been studying for years. The thought of his wife gave a small twinge in his hurt wrist. He pushed that avalanche away for now.

He’d happily let it bury him in shame later.

Jack willed his body into the air, floating level with his old friend. His fists clenched and green surrounded them.

“Stay the hell away from my son, Masters!” Jack shouted, ramming his hands into the ghost’s stomach. Apparently Vlad hadn’t been expecting this fake Phantom or whatever to be strong. Almost immediately, he had the upper hand, surprising the other ghost and then just not letting up, even as it devolved into Jack just repeatedly slamming his fists into the other’s face.

It didn’t last forever though, eventually Vlad blasting him in return and sending him flying. He slammed against a tree and slid down, bark angrily digging into him, until he crashed to the ground. Now it was Vlad who had successfully surprised his enemy, continually blasting Jack.

As much as it hurt, Jack felt so guilty. His son would eventually get his body back. And Jack hadn’t protected it. Jack wasn’t the one who would be suffering these bruises later. As Vlad continued his barrage, yelling insults the whole way, all Jack could do was throw his hands over his head, trying to form a shield with only a moderation of success.

Jack heard the roar of an engine, gravel being crushed under something heavy, metal doors slamming open.

“Ah, Daniel, I presume?” Vlad asked, granting Jack a brief reprieve, allowing him to look up.

As odd as seeing his sleeping body had been, seeing himself up and walking around from an outside perspective that wasn’t a recording felt deeply wrong. Maddie was also there, catching his eyes. He saw his pain mirrored there and he knew Maddie knew Danny’s truth now as well.

Danny stepped forward in his father’s body, hefting the blast bazooka onto his shoulder. Despite looking like death warmed over, he didn’t look weak or afraid. As sick as Jack knew he had been, Danny pushed through it like it was nothing.

“Stay away from my dad!” Danny shouted, firing the bazooka. “Tucker, now!”

Vlad’s - and Jack’s - attention had been entirely on the new arrivals. Neither of them had noticed Tucker slipping around behind Vlad.

Vlad reacted too late - he managed to catch the blast in a shield but the blue light of the Thermos caught him. Tucker slammed the cap on, twisting it shut. “It’s both infuriating and hilarious to me that Vlad keeps falling for that.” He said, dropping the device into his backpack.

“Dad?” He heard his own voice ask timidly. Danny was warily approaching him, slowly and cautiously, two things Jack himself had never been.

“Danno.” He said, forcing himself to stand even as his side twinged, cold ectoplasm bleeding down.

Danny seemed to relax some, hurrying towards his father. “Are you okay?” He asked, eyeing the injury on Jack’s side.

Jack nodded. “It’s your body, son. I’m just borrowing it. But I think I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry!” Both blurted out simultaneously after a short silence. Jack motioned for Danny to continue.

“I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry this is the way you had to find out.” Danny said. “Do I need to apologize for coming back? For coming back wrong?”

“No.” Jack said firmly, willing his body to float, lifting him until he was eye level with Danny. He wondered if it was as odd for Danny to stare into his own face as it was for Jack. Gently, he held Danny’s face, even though it was his own eyes looking back at him, misty with tears. “I am so sorry I ever made you believe that. I’m sorry I didn’t immediately wake you up when I realized what had happened. But I love you, Danny. I will always love you. You are my son, you understand? Dead or alive.” His voice cracked there. “But I love you so, so much, Danny. And I will spend the rest of my goddamn life proving it to you if I have to.”

Danny sobbed gently, throwing his arms around his father, and clinging to him in a hug. It wasn’t a hug Jack would normally give - bone breaking, all consuming. It was soft and light, it avoided the wounds Jack hadn’t stopped from littering his son’s body. Jack held onto his son just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he cried, too.

For a moment, it felt like he was being pulled from the body, painlessly melting from his son’s form. As quickly as he melted, he was rebuilt.

The arms around him changed position, chilled him even through his clothes. Solid ground reappeared under his feet. The ache in his side fell away, the other wounds disappearing into mist. His throat became sore and itchy, fatigue settled into his very bones. A light weight was held against him.

Jack carefully pulled back. Phantom’s green eyes stared back at him, a relieved smile coming to both of their faces as, finally, they no longer eerily stared at themselves. “I love you, Danny.” Jack repeated, even as talking felt like gargling sharp gravel. But it didn’t matter, he needed Danny to hear this from his father’s voice, for once. “You’re safe.”

“Are… are you two back in your own bodies now?” Maddie asked, approaching them as they separated.

Jack just smiled and nodded, suddenly exhausted.

Phantom floated there, before gritting his teeth together and edging closer to her until he was only just beyond arm’s reach. “Yeah, mom.” He said. “I’m in my body. This is my body - this is who I am.”

Maddie smiled even as tears fell down her face. “I’m glad you’re back where you belong.” She said, holding out her hands to him. He came closer and reached for her, allowing her to pull him into a hug. “I love you, too. All of you.”

She was the first to pull away, though she didn’t release his hands. “I’m sorry, Danny. Just like your father. We never would have hunted Phantom if we’d known it was you. I’m sorry that we made life so hard for you that you had no way of knowing that. God, I’d do anything to take it all back. Every awful thing we’ve ever done or said.” She looked at his hand, the wrist he’d broken last night. “I’m sorry for the lengths you’ve had to go to in order to be safe from us.”

“I think we should all go home,” Jack said, glancing at the school. “Maddie, can you go check out Danny and Jasmine? I think today’s been hard enough.” His wife nodded, heading to do so.

Finally, he turned to Sam and Tucker. “I’m sorry I lied to you. But thank you. For keeping him safe all these years. I’m so grateful Danny has you two. And I promise both of you that he has two less people you need to keep him safe from.” His throat felt like it was layered with razors, but Danny had been fine. He could be strong enough for Danny, just long enough for the things that needed to be said.

“We love him too, Mr. F.” Tucker said, fidgeting with the he of his shirt.

“And we will always protect each other.” Sam added. The glare in her eyes was a warning, Jack knew. The two of them would make sure his parents kept to their word.

Jack really couldn’t ask for better friends for his son.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

“Wait a sec, Danny.” Tucker said. “He only knows you’ve died and he freaked about your human heartbeat.”

Jack looked at them curiously. Was there more?

Danny groaned slightly. “Great, I already had to explain halfas to mom today.” He leaned his head back and whined. Tucker and Sam laughed, waving their goodbyes.

“I don’t need to know everything immediately. We can wait until you’re ready.” Jack said, shivering slightly, both from fever and the cool day. Part of him didn’t want to know yet, wanted to go home and down some more cough medicine. His entire head hurt.

“Did you see the scar on my left hand?” Danny asked.

Jack nodded. “I don’t know how I never saw it.”

“Human eyesight isn’t good enough for it.” He explained, hovering closer and pulling off his left glove, facing his palm out towards Jack. “Look.”

He studied his son’s arm, the scar so much more visible now. It looked like long healed scar tissue, in the same pattern he’d been studying periodically all day. “Electrical injury.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I think the electricity might be why I’m the way I am, like, with what I’m about to show you. I mean, I already know it’s why I’m a ghost. But I… there’s a very long story for us to face when we get home. I don’t know how what I am works and I don’t think I want to. But I’m still half human. My human heart… it couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t get it back. I’m more than human, though. Ugh, I’m babbling. Here. Just… just feel for it.” He offered up his hand to his father.

Jack accepted, pressing his fingers to Danny’s wrist. He inhaled deeply as he did, blinking back tears.

As he felt, under ice cold skin, the gentle beating of his son’s heart.

#grace writes #danny phantom #Danny Fenton #Jack Fenton #phic phight 2023

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gotatext · 1 year

Text

JUDE & ANGEL— DAY THIRTY-NINE.

location : kitchen

time : jude and angel talk about the hideaway. after jenny asks jude to be exclusive, he finds himself wondering if she’s too keen.

featuring : angel / @dobits

angel reid

"mmmmmorning," angel sing-songs, physically unable to remove the wide grin from his mouth as he strolls into the kitchen, bushy-tailed and bright eyed. he's still only in his undies, just made a quick stop at the pisser before seeking out judey. he affectionately scruffs the back of his neck as he walks past, trying to play it oh-so cool for as long as possible. "get good sleep?"

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

jude's in the kitchen, lovingly preparing a granola-yogurt smoothie situation for jenny and a fry up for him (plus an extra few sausages for when jenny inevitably wants one). he's still on a mission to make her a better smoothie than josh had, more out of pride now than any weird paranoia that that's still a thing, focused intently on the sizzle of his pan when angel slides in from behind (cheeky). "alright, mucker? so she took you to the hideaway, then?" jude asks, yet to turn and give angel his full attention. when he does, it's clear from the shit-eating grin on angel's face than they did more than just hash things out. "you dirty fucker." the spatula's already down, heat turned off as jude starts jumping across the kitchen to grab hold of angel's shoulders and make him jump with him. "you got some! second night in a row, bro, you're fuckin' coming for my crown!"

angel reid

there's no shot these two would react to getting laid on the outside as they do in the villa, and it's not helping angel beat the virgin allegations, but as far as he's concerned it's a rite of passage and precisely what he's expecting out of jude. "brooo," angel hypes in a fit of laughter, jumping along with him. his head hangs back in his chuckles, bit bashful. "i thought we were just gonna fight, honestly. like, we were both pretty pissed at each other, but -- dude, oh my god, there's a stripper pole in there." thumb jerks back over his shoulder, a general gesture to the hideaway. the meaning is clear - who can manage a fight in proximity to a pole? then his gaze floats over the counter, jude's morning spread littering the space and angel's mouth quirks with a knowing smile. "for wifey?" a little teasing, he pushes his shoulder into jude's chest. "you guys are really all cuffed up, huh?"

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

“don’t even say that shit, man. i’m so jealous,” jude groans, returning to the hob to flip his eggs, tossing them up like it’s a pancake rather than a fry-up. “jenny’s been hankering for hideaway since the day we coupled up. i’m out here dreaming of the hideaway, bro.” they’re not exactly quiet in the bedroom, but the opportunity to be in a soundproof box stocked like a lovehoney warehouse? nice. “yeah, for wifey. although that shit’s kinda weird right now actually. you’re not gonna believe this right, but jenny kinda asked me to be exclusive.” jude turns off the heat, picks up the pan, and slides the contents of it onto his plate. “and i, like a fuckin’ dick, said no? or at least, not yet. i’m kicking myself about it now, but i feel like it’s the best choice. i don’t want her rushin’ that shit to distract me from the fact that she kissed victoria. that ain’t just a plaster you can slap on and make everything okay.” he’s pretty sure angel and callie are closed off, but it feels different with them, somehow. they haven’t had the same hurdles. “also, we’ve known each other, what, like, ten days? i like her a lot, but it feels a bit keen.”

angel reid

“i’m just glad i got in there before you two freaks,” he says affectionately. angel knows what jude and jenny get up to under the covers in a room full of people, he doesn’t wanna see the aftermath of them finally, truly alone. “not enough disinfectant in the world, my guy.” there’s a comedic pause as he watches jude arrange the plate. “— i thought i was wifey.” the pout is playful, is very aware that at the very least he’ll get jenny’s leftovers. then angel’s distracted by the absolute blindside of jenny wanting commitment. “i mean… you guys are already pretty exclusive, no?” spoken out the side of his mouth, like he’s trying not to say the quiet part out loud. “no, i mean, i feel you. you want it to be for the right reasons. i’m just like… well, i feel like jenny’s the kinda chick who would say it was distraction, but actually totally mean it low key.” plus it was just one silly little kiss on a first date, but he’s not gonna tell jude that, ever the loyal number two. instead he nods, cants his head. “yo, if you aren’t there yet, then honesty’s the best policy and you did good. but i think you should, like, consider the fact that jenny just wants you, dude.” a pause, he smacks jude’s arm with the back of his hand, a playful scowl wrinkling his features. “and ten days so isn’t too soon to wanna be exclusive with somebody, thanks.”

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

jude’s already smirking, shaking his head with a low laugh in his throat. “mate, they’d have to fuckin’ blitz the place. disinfectant wouldn’t cut it, you’d need a baptism of fire on that shit. better yet, just knock the whole thing down and build a new one from scratch.” didn’t they do that with the villa each year anyway? or at least, the layout seemed to change year-on-year. this one’s definitely not the version siobhan made on the sims when she heard he was going to be going on the show, a goofy little sim of him that she said she’d use to recreate his journey. kinda fucked now he thinks about it, but makes sense given her whole medic with a god complex vibe. “man, family day can’t come soon enough. obviously, i want jenny to meet them, but i need you to meet ‘em, bro. my mum’s gonna end up as your second mum, fo sho.” at angel’s pout, jude leans in, catching his jaw in his hand and placing a deliberately curt kiss against his lips. “you are wifey. what the girls don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.” jude plucks a sausage from his plate and swallows it in two bites, giving jenny’s smoothie another zhuzh in the blender before pouring it over some ice, two raspberries and a mint leaf. “looks like a dick, that,” he notes, with all the sincerity of david attenborough, serious crease between his brows. considering angel’s words, jude’s stomach curdles a little, feeling even more like he’s fucked up by tactlessly shooting her down. “yeah. yeah. we basically are exclusive. i dunno why i don’t want the label, it’s not like it makes a difference. i’m basically her boyfriend, bro. i think when we seal it off, though, i want it to be a moment i can show my nan, you get me? the big movie moment. can’t exactly show my nan a clip that borders on porno, now can i?”

#jude & angel.#jude & angel 009.

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bitchkay · 2 years

Note

You know what, give me Toa. I will forewarn you that I headcannon him as a crier no matter what though, poor thing just gets so overwhelmed.

You you what I agree, hold on imma edit this rq--

NSFW headcanons for court of darkness~

Rating: Explicit(18+ mdni)

This man is hornier than he looks🤨

Actually nevermind look at him

He just won't admit it😠

Just like Knight he makes love more so than fucks

He does fuck tho.

His stamina is crazy

Multiple rounds in this bitch like damn calm down n👨🏿‍🦲gga🤨

Cold fingers.

Cold. Fingers.

Yea.

Anyway-

I feel like its been so long since Toa was apart of an event or that I read read some sexy time with Toa I'm lowkey drawing blanks👁👁

Compared to the other princes Toa has bad dick- LMFAOO--

of course Toa has good dick, great dick even, yk he know the motion of the ocean😏

But compared to the others its crazy--

literally 7th place but would fuck again🙄

Toas not a slut a whore didn't fuck arround but he wasn't a virgin, I don't think any of them really were but I remember in one event he was like 'I never used to pay much attention to women's reaction until now' and he was looking at the mcs sex faces and at that point he was like inside her so yea he's definitely fucked other people (who⁉️🤨 /j)

He's not necessarily new to such emotions but this the first times he's been so closely romantically intimate with someone, he's just overwhelmed with love and affection

Its honestly like he's a virgin again

He finally got some real good pussy😤😤

He losing his mind😩

Sure he does seek you out of insatiable wanton desire but as soon as he got your pussy taste on his tongue he gone.

Toa is alarmingly quiet.

Like alarming quiet.

Did he stop breathing?

Baby say something I'm scared😟

You had to like tell him, it's okay to make noise baby

That's when he started soundproofing rooms

Yall ever think about how only rooms Toa has ig claimed are soundproofed🤨🤨

Nah like it makes sense why the music room would be soundproofed but damn yall fucking in front of the instruments🙁🙁

Piano: … they don't see us..?

Violin: you see me?

Piano: yes I see you! You see me?!

Also Toa's the only room that is soundproofed, cus nah why can you hear Fenn fucking from outside-

I have no reason to believe Toa doesn't now get embarrassingly loud during sex.

Imagine going from alarmingly quiet to embarrassingly loud listen-

You best have amazing coochie cus baby he ain't fake moaning I'll tell you that😌😌

He just let himself go and that was it

We got a ruler here to rationalize our measurements

Toas sporting a good 7 inches of dick, above average but not alarming, 1½ inches of girth, so we have a very nice cock on our hands

Nice cock‼😎

Cold fingers.

Toas hands just make everything better.

Y'all ever been fingered with cold hands- first of all Toa loves to finger you in general but the COLD HANDS make that shit god sent

Toa just likes to just touch you sometimes, trail your arms, caress your cheeks, circle your belly button, things like that, its like he's putting your shape to memory

You really feel cherished with Toa, he'll put your every need before his

Toa will have you stripped bare before he even has his jacket off

Let him worship you before you can handle him ok

He really loves everything about you, he wants to treat you right

He's truly never felt like this before so he don't wanna mess up

You grab his cheeks kiss his nose and reasure the fuck outta him

You kiss his lips and feel his breath get more laboured, you pull back to see his eyes all misty

He's fr overflowing with love for you he can't take it

He's so overwhelmed he stops a moment just to hold you in his arms

He's never been so emotionally vulnerable so this is new territory for him

He loves you so much he can't handle it.

Just hold his face, wipe his tears and praise him

Nice words coming from your mouth mean so much to him♡

Definitely starts off slow and sensual but yall get needy towards the end

Toa will kiss all over your body wherever he can reach while you go at it

He'll kiss your cheeks, neck, breasts, stomach, your legs

Literally where ever he can reach

Toa cums alot.

Like yea creampie but like actually enough for a pie💀💀

Nah cus where the fuck all this white shit come from🤨

Do condoms exist in Saligia⁉️

He'll either come inside or in your mouth cus it will make a mess otherwise but even then like barely

Toa cums so much he can in fact get you pregnant in one shot and then some

Remember yall we on some kind of birth control alright😉🤐*wink wink* *nudge nudge*

Yall fucked quite a few(4+) rounds and he came inside everytime and yall ended up having a pregnancy scare, it ended up being a false alarm tho

and then cumming in your mouth… yall ever someone give you a waterfall but they pour too much in your mouth so you try to like drink it but you accidentally breath and start choking but you got half a bottle of water in your mouth you cant spit that shit out it'll make a mess so you kinda close your lips and use the water in your mouth to calm yourself down but ya airways is moist sure you ain't choking but it still feels like something wrong so you keep coughing

That's what it's like when Toa cums in your mouth.

Imagine choking and dying and when you go to the hospital you have to tell them you choked on semen💀💀

So yea you'd rather get mega creampied then die everytime Toas tip is on your tongue💀

Toa does cry during sex, you're 100% correct.

#toa qelsum #court of darkness #headcanons #tw smut #voltage inc #smut #18+ minors dni #Kay answers

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mayday-and-daydreams · 7 months

Text

( Day Ten )

{ Written December 27, 2022 - 1:29 AM / Posted November 9, 2023 - 2:21 AM }

[ Nemo’s Headphones: Evacuate The Dancefloor - Nightcore - Cascada ]

“A Person Without You”

(TW Self-Harm Mention)

Does it ever feel horrible to anyone else?

It feels like I can never get a break.

Every day I wake up and dread it because I know it’ll be the same thing dragging me down day after day, sucking all the energy out of me until one day I have nothing left to give.

Or maybe it’s just the month.

When I woke up this morning, I thought things would be fine.

And all I got was you snapping at me for no reason, kicking me when I was already down.

I’m trying so hard not to relapse.

Everything is just too much right now.

I just want it to go silent.

I just want to be okay.

I just want a break.

No matter how hard I try, and god knows I’ve been trying, it will never be enough.

And every so often that realization hits me like a bus.

It’s not all your fault, but it’s not all mine.

And you seem oh so keen to make the fault my own.

It feels like things are different now.

I need to leave.

I NEED to leave more than I’ve needed anything else.

Being here is poisoning me, and has been my whole life.

Somewhere down the line, I got used to it.

But one wrong step and it will kill me.

I thought you were better.

The walls have never been soundproof.

Maybe I’ll lie awake tonight fighting with my own mind, trying to remember what you said about me today.

Doubting that anything happened at all, because it hurts me so much to think about.

I heard you talk about how you don’t like me.

You think we’re spoiled brats, and you think so much less of me because I can’t keep my room clean and I sleep during the day.

But I sleep during the day so I don’t have to see your face.

So I can hold every memory of every time you hurt me close and use it to fuel the fire that keeps me going, keeps me moving, so one day I can get out of here.

So I don’t have to look in your eyes and lose every strand of strength I have inside me, doubt everything I’ve ever known to be true, because if everything I’ve known to be true IS true, that would mean that someone I love so much is a monster.

Someone I believed in so much, someone I let hurt me for years in the hopes that one day things would be better between us, never did change.

I wonder if when I finally leave this awful place, If I’ll ever want to see you again.

A part of me wants to. A part of me never wants to leave.

But a part of me, the piece of me hidden deep inside, the piece of me that was only able to go on some days at the promise that one day I would run, wants to cut you from my life and change my name to be a new person without your influence, without your touch.

But can we ever truly be apart, if your blood runs through my veins?

I will have to bleed myself dry before I find myself on stable ground, won’t I?

I don’t want to die without achieving the dream I held for so long.

One day I will get away from you. Even if it kills me to do so.

One day I will be a person without you, I swear it.

I will have a new family. One I’ve made myself.

And I will be a person without you.

I will be okay.

I just need to make it until then.

#blogger #digital diary #poetry blog #poetry #vent blog #vent poetry

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the-black-dragons-den · 1 year

Text

this is not an Am I The Asshole this is I Am The Asshole, but instead of putting it on the people I’m irritated with, I’m putting it here.

i’m not claiming i have a right to do anything about this situation, but I am absolutely saying that I have the right to be pissed about suddenly sharing a bedroom wall with a newborn.

we’ve been in the same apartment for 3.5 years. we are both working adults with mental health issues that get exacerbated by lack of sleep. we both have very busy schedules that mean allotted sleep time is already pretty slim already. we are also both light sleepers when it comes to unexplained noises. we fall asleep with streaming TV shows on because the familiar noise is easier to sleep to than unexplained noises of living in an apartment building.

but. our neighbors. just got. a baby. had. adopted. acquired. idk. suddenly a baby shares our bedroom wall.

and look I GET IT THAT BABIES CRY, just like how dogs bark and cats meow, babies cry. and I’m not going to bitch to the complex or the neighbors or anything, because Babies Cry.

and it’s not like they’re leaving it to cry for extended periods of time, I’m not sitting here saying they’re neglecting their kid.

but what I am saying is that is FUCKING SUCKS ASSHOLE as a person who has chosen and continues to choose to not have children, a person with mental health issues who needs her precious little sleep in order to function the next day at all, that now after having a comfortably quiet place to live and sleep for more than 3 years, suddenly I get to wake up to crying baby 3+ times a night and on into the morning

and don’t tell me to wear earplugs or headphones, my ears are painfully sensitive to shit like that for overnight wear. can’t sleep with white noise like a box fan, it makes my anxiety insane. the streaming TV shows come from my laptop on the other side of the room (non-shared wall) for the purpose of not disturbing the neighbors, but my head is against the shared wall so I can clearly hear the baby crying.

and i SWEAR TO GOD DON’T FUCKIN GCOME AT ME ABOUT HOW ITS MORE EXHAUSTING FOR THE PARENTS. GONNA BE REAL. I DON’T GIVE A FLYING RAT’S ASS ABOUT THE PARENTS. BECAUSE THEY CHOSE TO HAVE A BABY. THEY OPTED INTO THIS TORTURE.

knowing my personal limits, knowing what i can and can’t handle, I have chosen not to spawn a tiny human who relies on me for everything and interrupts my sleep 5 times a night. I DID NOT CHOOSE THIS.

look I’m not saying it’s the baby’s fault, because babies cry. and i’m not saying its the parents fault for having a baby, that’s their choice. and i’m not saying they ought to be evicted or anything. they deserve to have a place to live.

but I am going to say that a little courtesy to your neighbors who are now suddenly being woken up by your crying child would be kind of fucking nice. like maybe you could have warned your shared wall neighbors about the baby.

i’m so fucking mad about this baby and i literally cannot do a single fucking thing about it short of reorganizing my bedroom and asking my apartment if I’m allowed to install soundproofing. i legit don’t want to get these people in trouble or anything, i don’t want the office to be like “people are complaining” but i’m just fucking pissed about the situation

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scientifically-strange · 2 years

Note

Doctor Strange introduces Phantom to the Avengers , also Wong finally ask how Phantom mid terms went

"Doc, I swear to time, if you summon me one more time-"

"You weren't picking up!" Strange interrupts him. "Besides, I thought you would want to meet a couple friends of mine. They're having some problems that I believe are your area of expertise."

"Ugh, fine," Phantom says as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Do you have a spell that can fix phones? Mine got busted in my last fight."

"Just take this one, kid."

Phantom barely managed to catch the high tech device as the Tony Stark casually strolled in, preoccupied with whatever was on his tablet.

"Th-thanks? What's-can somebody please explain what the fuck is going on?"

"Strange here thinks it's a ghost problem."

Phantom whirls around mid-air, only to come face to face with the Bruce Banner.

"That's...That's it?" He asked, turning to Strange and Wong. "That's all you needed me for? Don't you have some kind of magic spell or something that can take care of the ghosts for you?"

"We thought there would be less injuries if we just had their king speak to them," Wong answered honestly. Phantom just huffed and rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Tony finally looked up from his tablet.

"What?" He asked, looking from Phantom to Wong. "There's no way that little pipsqueak could be the King of Ghosts."

"The spell we used to summon him only works on the ghost king," Strange explains with far more patience than Danny thought the man had. "He's defeated gods, Tony. I'm sure you could hear him out."

"Fine. Come with me."

Danny does, keeping a couple of feet between him and Tony.

"You seem pretty calm considering your place is haunted now," he tells the billionaire. Tony just shrugs and gives him a level gaze.

"I've seen weirder shit, kid. Casper and his spooky uncles isn't something that's going to phase me. But I would greatly appreciate it if you got them to stop trashing my lab."

Danny looks over at Tony. He looks really tired compared to the media persona he likes to portray. It makes sense, considering he's a superhero and CEO and also a genius who probably gets a new hyperfixation and rolls with it until he collapses. But here, his shoulders are hunched and his brow is furrowed. It's obvious Danny right now is just a last resort to get the ghosts from trashing any more of his things.

"How long have they been here?" He asks.

"Three days," Tony answers with a sigh. "Here we are."

They stop outside of a door that's sealed shut, but isn't soundproof. Danny can hear crashes and high pitched laughter coming from the inside, and he inwardly groans before phasing through the door before Tony can open it.

Inside, it's an absolute mess. Papers are thrown everywhere, machines and parts are strewn across the ground. Some things are stuck half way through the walls and ceiling, and the lights are flickering as they swing back and forth.

Danny reaches into his core and lets his aura flare out. The temperature in the room drops, and in the back of his mind he can hear the door opening as Tony walks in. He let's a blue wisp escape his lips. His eyes dart around looking for the intruder.

"Come out," he says. His voice is deep and booming, and every bit of commanding as one would expect from the Ghost King. "Now."

Hesitantly, four ghosts appear before him. Johnny, Kitty, and their Shadow, and unsurprisingly, Technus. They all float before Danny, gazes looking away sheepishly as he floats there in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asks.

"We were just gettin' a little bored, man," Johnny answers. He's trying to act chill about it, but it's obvious he's put off by Danny's demeanor. "We needed a change of scenery."

"Yes!" Technus jumps in excitedly. "And I wanted to see what the fabulous Tony Stark had to offer! His technology is amazing, and I was going to use it to...take over...the...world..."

The room gets colder the more he talks, and the neutral expression on Danny's face turns absolutely murderous.

"Apologize," he tells them. He doesn't need to look back at Tony to know that he's standing behind him with a smug look on his face. Sheepishly, they all apologize, and without another word, Danny sucks them into the thermos. Almost immediately, the temperature starts to rise again.

"Sorry about them," he says. "They can get a little restless. I'll help you clean up."

"So...You've defeated gods, huh?" Tony asks after a few minutes. Danny just shrugs.

"Not really. God-like, sure, but not any actual gods. Not unless Nocturne counts, but I don't think he's officially at god-status yet."

"Still, that's pretty impressive. How old are you anyway, kid?"

"Fifteen," Danny answers with a shrug.

"You're only fifteen?" Bruce asks as he walks in. "How'd you get rid of them so quickly?"

"It's as we said," Wong came in right behind Bruce, with Strange at his heels. "He is the Ghost King. They listen to him."

"Does that mean you're...Dead?" Bruce asks hesitantly. Tony stiffens as he looks towards Danny, realizing for the first time that he's actually a ghost too. Danny just shrugs, though.

"Sort of? Dead enough to be their king, I guess."

"But also alive enough to go to high school," Strange adds on with a small smile.

"Oh, that reminds me, Phantom," Wong says. "How did your midterms go?"

"You remember that? That was like six months ago?"

"I forgot to ask you last time," Wong answers sheepishly.

"They were...Good, I think? I remember I passed. I think I got through my lit class by the skin of my teeth."

"What about science and math?" Bruce asks.

Danny ducks his head as he rubs the back of his neck. "I got perfect scores on that. It helps when you grow up in a lab, you know?"

Tony walks over to Phantom, and even though he's still hovering in the air, he still manages to sling an arm around his shoulders.

"Kid, have you ever heard of the Stark internships?"

Doctor Strange huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes.

"Here we go."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #marvel #mcu #doctor strange #wong #tony stark #bruce banner #iron man #hulk #johnny 13 #technus #nicolai technus

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

avenger!reader who suffers from depression and is really hard on herself/themself and blames themself after a mission went wrong and locks themselves out, bucky is worried abt them and comforts them

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count:3102 (wow I went off the rails a bit huh 😅)

Warnings: self-blame, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks, breakdown, lots of tears, this one’s really angsty, flashbacks, some fluff/comfort but so much angst

A/N: I loved this request and had a great time writing it. This one’s a lil more angsty than I usually do and deals with some heavier themes than some of my other ones, so please take care of yourself and heed the warnings. I love you guys so much!

There was nothing you could have done.

You were the first off the quinjet, anxious to get out of the unbearable silence.

You kept your head down as you walked quickly to your room, trying to make as little noise as possible, stumbling to get into your room as fast as possible, locking the door behind you as you let the tears fall.

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stave off your breakdown as you tried to keep taking even breaths.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you said in a small voice.

“Yes?” the AI responded.

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice even. “Turn on soundproofing, please.”

“As you wish. I am picking up on signs of distress, would you like me to call Sergeant Barnes?”

You shook your head violently at the thought of anyone, especially your boyfriend seeing you like this. “No.”

“Are you sure? Would you like me to call -”

“Don’t let anyone in this room.”

“As you wish, Y/n.”

You heard a noise indicating that the room had been soundproofed.

And you lost it.

You brought a hand to your face and sank back against the wall, shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You pushed yourself back against the wall, trying to ground yourself. Your mind flashed back to the mission you had just returned from and you let out an agonizing scream.

You’ll never forget the looks on their faces.

“Y/n, come on we have to go!”

“Wait - no I almost have them!”

“Help us - please - no don’t go!”

Blood curdling screams that didn’t belong to you, followed by your own.

A building had collapsed on an innocent family in the aftermath of the fight. You tried to get them out, but you were too late, Steve pulling you away at the last second before you were taken out too.

You were so angry, you had been so close - if you had seen them sooner, if you had just a few more seconds, maybe you could’ve gotten them out.

The last thing that they saw was their only hope being pulled away from them before being suffocated.

You were the last thing they saw, you had promised to get them out.

And you had lied to them.

The last thing they felt was hope that they’d see another day. No - the last thing they felt was betrayal and fear when they realized that one of the world’s greatest heroes couldn’t be their hero too.

The moments that had followed were a blur, your eyes frozen on where their eyes had been, shock coursing through your veins. You had seen someone die before but...not like that. Not when you could’ve maybe saved them.

The shock quickly bubbled into anger as you turned to Steve.

“Why the FUCK would you do that? I could’ve saved them!”

“You would’ve died Y/n!”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me then maybe I would’ve gotten them out in time!”

You had angry tears in your eyes, hitting Steve’s chest and doing exactly nothing to his broad form while he tried to console you.

“Get the fuck away from me! I could’ve saved them, this is YOUR fault.”

The ride back was silent. No one dared to talk to you about what had happened. You felt bad after a while but you couldn’t apologize without completely crumbling. If you opened your mouth you were certain that sobs would come rather than words.

You did feel horrible for what you said, because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Steve’s fault.

It was yours.

So you waited until you returned to the privacy of your room, screaming bloody murder over the guilt you felt. Replaying what had happened, telling yourself everywhere you had gone wrong, every hesitation that could’ve given you an extra few seconds.

You felt like you’d never stop seeing their eyes, paralyzed by fear.

You were the last thing they saw, and now you would remember their last moment for the rest of yours.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of pain and fear they had felt when they realized they weren’t getting out of the rubble alive. That they would die as a part of a warzone they didn’t intend to be a part of. The feeling of hope draining from their bodies, blood running cold as they realized they had mere seconds left.

“No!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, body curling in on itself as you drew your knees in and wrapped your arms around your torso, sick to your stomach.

This was your fault, and you would never forget it.

---

The rest of the team had sighed as they watched you get off the quinjet, walking a bit too fast to be alright. They shared concerned looks with each other, watching your form disappear into the compound.

You weren’t okay, but after what had happened when Steve tried to approach you, they thought it best to give you some space.

The rest of them entered the compound, going their separate ways as Steve sat to down and ran a hand down his face, trying to get his mind off of what had happened. He was shaken up too, but he couldn’t lose you like that. You would die protecting strangers, and while he thought that was noble, he wondered when there wouldn’t be someone to pull you out in time.

Bucky had come down to check on you, knowing that the team had gotten back from a mission. But before he could knock on the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke. “Sergeant Barnes, Y/n has requested that she not be disturbed.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, both in concern and confusion. Usually when a mission hit you hard, you would talk to him about what had happened. So either you were just tired, or this was worse than it had ever been.

He clenched his jaw and stood there for another few moments before he walked away, heading towards anyone who may be able to tell him what happened on the mission.

He came into the common room, seeing Steve doing a mission report. Well - the mission report was in front of him and he was staring blankly at it.

“Steve?” Bucky said softly, trying not to startle him.

Steve didn’t look up.

“Steve,” Bucky said a little louder.

Steve looked up from the papers, shaking his head slightly. “Hey, Buck. What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking in Steve’s tired appearance and how his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Steve said, barely looking at Bucky.

“You know, I’ve taken care of enough black eyes from mister back-alley hero to know when you’re not really fine.” Bucky said with a small smirk.

Steve’s eyes flicked up to Bucky’s as he sighed. “It’s not me you should be worried about,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve recounted the mission to his friend, Bucky getting increasingly concerned about you. He knew you had a tendency to blame yourself for different things, and he knew what blaming yourself for someone’s death was like, even if you couldn’t control the situation.

Bucky was brainwashed. You were too late. Two different things, but the survivor's guilt was excruciating.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asked nervously.

“She didn’t get hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Steve started, “but she seemed pretty shaken up. You haven’t talked to her?”

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Just give her some time,” he said, worriedly.

Bucky nodded, though unconvinced. He bottled up his emotions until the two of you met. Ever since the two of you never kept anything from each other. And he knew that seeing someone die and feeling at fault for it could destroy you. He wasn’t sure if time and space was what you needed.

But it was what you wanted right now. So he wouldn’t get in the way.

----

Back in your room you were curled in a ball on the floor, sobs wracking your body as you lost all sense of time and space and all you knew was it hurt and if you closed your eyes they were right there and you couldn’t do anything about it. You had a hand pressed to your chest as you tried to breathe but eventually gave way to a new surge of agony when your mind went back to how people died and you couldn’t help them.

You tried to calm down but then your mind would remind you that they had a family and they would never see them again and it was your fault.

“Stop, please just stop,” you put your hands over your ears as you tugged slightly on your hair.

They died terrified.

“Please make it stop,” you sobbed.

You were supposed to help them and you failed.

“No, God, please stop…”

They died because of you

----

You had fallen asleep on the floor at some point, when, you weren’t sure, but you woke up to your own screams. You were drenched in a cold sweat, dried tears on your face and chest heaving as you tried to breathe. You brought your hands to your mouth when you realized it was just a dream, sobbing once again.

You didn’t know why these people’s death was hitting you harder than any other death you had seen. This wasn’t the first time you had seen people die - far from it. You’d killed your fair share of agents without a hint at remorse. Because they deserved it.

You’d seen buildings burn down, fall apart, innocent people die - but you’d never felt as responsible as you did this time. Because they were right there. And you were so close.

But they still died and you saw their last moments. And you were theirs.

And it was destroying you.

----

You didn’t leave your room the following day. Or the day after that.

Needless to say, the team was extremely worried about you. Especially Bucky.

He knew what survivor’s guilt could do to a person, and he knew being alone with your thoughts wasn’t helping. He also knew that pushing the topic could do much more harm than good, causing you to retreat further into yourself.

He tried texting you, wanting to let you know that he was there for you, that he was worried about you, and that he loved you.

None of them went though because your phone was off, you having not even looked at it since coming back from the mission.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was still telling everyone that you did not want to be disturbed, as you had requested. Obviously Tony had the power to override the locks, but again, no one wanted to push you.

When it had been 3 days since you had seen any sunlight, Bucky had had enough. He knew you couldn’t be taking proper care of yourself and he couldn’t let you do that to yourself. He had Tony override your locks and he came to your door, knocking gently.

“Y/n?”

Silence.

He knocked again, a little louder. “Y/n? I’m coming in, alright?”

Silence.

Bucky took a deep breath before he opened your door slowly, peeking his head in. it was the middle of the afternoon and your room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway and from the cracks between the shades, which were drawn shut.

Bucky let himself in and turned on a lamp, shutting the door behind him. He looked at you with worried eyes as he took in your appearance.

You were pressed up against the headboard of your bed, knees drawn to your chest as you stared blankly, your eyes fixated on your bedsheets. Your eyes were red, face blotchy, your hair was a mess and you were still wearing your uniform from the mission.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly, voice raspy from yelling these past few days.

“Y/n -”

“Get out,” you said quietly, though not angrily.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, y/n.”

“Please,” you said, cursing yourself as your voice cracked. You didn’t want to breakdown in front of Bucky.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.”

You pushed yourself off of the bed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this right now, Bucky.”

“You’re going to have to talk about it at some point, y/n.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“This kind of thing isn’t going to go away, okay? Time heals but not by itself.” You weren’t listening as you ran a hand over your face, overwhelmed.

“Please, talk to me y/n. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“This isn’t fine. Not taking care of yourself and living in the dark staring at the wall isn’t fine, y/n. Please, don’t hide from me. It’s just me, y/n.”

You shook your head, eyes glazed over like glass. “I could’ve saved them.” you said simply.

“Y/n, there was nothing -”

“BULLSHIT!” You yelled. “There had to have been something I could do, if I had gotten there earlier or - or if I had moved faster or been stronger then I could’ve gotten them out! It’s my fault they’re dead okay? I couldn’t save them and that’s my fault!”

Bucky walked over to you slowly, asking you to look at him. “It isn’t your fault, y/n. The building collapsed, no one could’ve gotten them out.”

“I could have saved them.” you said again, tears falling down your face. “I could have gotten them out. I was the last thing they saw and you know what I was doing? Being carried away like some coward. They died afraid because a superhero couldn’t save them. And that’s on me.”

Bucky shook his head slightly. “You can’t save everyone, y/n.”

“So what, am I supposed to choose? I’m supposed to choose whether I save people or move on because they aren’t part of the mission? Am I supposed to let them die?” you asked incredulously.

“You can’t risk your own life like that, y/n.”

“What? And pretend like my life is any more important than theirs?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/n -”

“No, why do I have the right to walk away from people because I’m afraid of getting hurt when they’re about to die? What gives me that right?”

“Because I can’t lose you!” Bucky exclaimed. “Yes, those people matter, but goddamn it y/n, you have helped so many people and you will keep saving so many people, but you can’t do that if you’re dead. We help who we can and mourn the rest. It’s not your fault that those people died. There was nothing that you could have done.”

“But if I had a few more seconds -”

“The building still would have fallen and you’d be asking yourself for a few more seconds. There is nothing you or anyone else could’ve done.”

You stayed silent, more tears falling from your eyes. Bucky pulled you in for a hug as your shoulders started to shake with more sobs. “I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s not your fault.”

“I can’t stop seeing the look they had on their faces,” you shook your head. “Everytime I try to sleep I see them and I can’t make it go away. And I want to forget but I don’t deserve to and it hurts but I don’t deserve to forget.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky said, knowing all too well what being haunted by the fear on someone’s face was like. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t let them die, y/n. You would’ve given anything to save them, if Steve hadn’t pulled you away you would’ve died with them. You didn’t run away even though you knew you would die if you stayed. You do know that right?”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” Bucky said softly. You felt new tears fall from your eyes as you hid your face into Bucky’s chest.

“You can’t tell me that nothing could be done. You can’t tell me that innocent people were going to die and that’s the way it has to be. That isn’t fair,” you spoke through your tears.

Bucky pulled back to wipe the tears from your face and look you in the eyes. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you did everything in your power to save them. It’s not your fault that you got there too late. Those HYDRA agents who destroyed the city - it’s their fault. Not yours.”

“I’m supposed to protect people,” you said as you shrugged and shook your head slightly. “If I can’t do that then what am I?”

“A person who is trying their best. You don’t always have to be everyone’s hero. You don’t have to take responsibility for everyone, that’s too much to expect of anyone. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone because you can’t. But you’ve saved so many people that would’ve died if you weren’t there. You are so important, but you have to stay alive to help more people.”

You took a shaky breath. “Those people were going to die no matter what,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Bucky. Your chest tightened again and you felt sick. “Oh my God,” you said, the acceptance of the fact brought on a new wave of emotions as your knees felt weak.

Bucky pulled you back into his chest again, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “It’s not your fault, y/n.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” you sobbed against his chest.

“Because you have a good heart.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I don’t want one if it means it’s going to hurt this much.”

“It’s okay, y/n. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

“Please make it stop. I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

Bucky felt tears sting his own eyes at your pain, holding you tighter against him. He cleared his throat before saying “I can’t make it go away. But I’m here to hold you and do everything I can to make it better. I’m not going anywhere y/n.”

He held you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--------

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silverdelirium · 3 years

Text

HEAVEN | D.M

pleaseee why am i such a whore😭 i was gonna write fluff but oh well, this is pretty shitty too so i’m sorry

summary: draco fucking you on the kitchen counter while your toddler sleeps on the couch in the living room.

warnings: smut, daddy kink, oil play? idk what it’s called but yeah, light degradation

———

“Is he asleep?” you asked your husband as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind while you were cutting up some vegetables for today’s lunch.

“Yeah, on the couch though, if i moved him to his room he would’ve woken up.” he answered before delivering a kiss to the back of your head as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo, the one he fell in love with oh so many years ago. He was certain that that’s what heaven would smell like when his time arrived.

And right now it almost seemed like it had arrived 7 years ago when he first asked you out. You in his arms, the little blob of flesh and blonde hair sleeping in the living room outside the kitchen. He was certain that he was in heaven.

The moment of bliss Draco passed, vanished a bit when a certain lust clouded his mind when you bent forward a little to grab the oil for the salad, your plump ass fitting like a puzzle on his clothed groin that began to tighten by the minute.

Draco, a little annoyed that his body’s natural response to the love of his life ruined his moment of cloud nine, tried to pay no mind to this, assuring himself he could wait until night when you guys could do it in your private soundproof bedroom.

You obviously took notice of his little problem, deciding to mess around a bit, you placed the oil next to the bowl of the salad and while mixing it, decided to lean your bum on his clothed cock a bit more, making it seem like you were just trying to get comfortable.

This emitted a low groan from Draco, starting to acknowledge the game you were trying to play. Is that how you wanted to be? Alright then.

Draco lightly grinded his, now bulged, groin into your ass, while moving his hands from your waist to your hips, gripping them tightly.

You shuddered a bit at this, yet continued to amplify his torture by leaning forward, with much more of a stretch than needed to “reach the salt” but still applying enough pressure on him.

He had enough, so he leaned his upper half forward and grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and manage to turn your head to the left, so he leaned his head close enough to your ear and whispered “Why are you playing with daddy sweetheart, thought you were a good girl?”

Your mouth parted at this, he used this as his advantage and captured your lips in his from where he had your head turned. The kiss quickly became heated, tongues exploring each other’s mouth, heads tilting, salad long forgotten.

Draco started to lift your shirt over your head, the kiss breaking for a second to toss it completely off, using this tiny break to take his off in the process, as to not waste time, both of you still aware that scorpious only slept for a good 40 minutes on a regular nap, you silently hoped that it would be one of those days where he slept for about an hour and a half. But you couldn’t be certain.

Draco turned you fully around now, you wrapping your arms around his neck, his hands massaging your ass. And he grabbed the hem of your shorts and yanked them down, your panties going off too, without breaking the kiss since you managed to slid them down your legs fully and stepped out of them.

He wasted no time in unclasping your bra, after 7 years of practice with you, it paid off for moments like this, but he still wanted to make everything with you memorable so he guided your naked form towards the counter and turned you around so you were bent forward, your left cheek pressing against the cold marble, but fuck the marble, you only cared about your husband being inside you and your baby boy not waking up right now.

Draco grabbed the bottle of oil that was next to the salad and poured it on your back. You gave a loud gasp at this.

“Shh baby be quiet, wouldn’t want our child waking up and seeing mama being a loud little whore do we now?” He taunted while rubbing the oil up and down your back, bringing it down to your ass cheeks, being careful not to put it anywhere near your pussy, not that it needed anyway, with the way it was basically dripping by now.

“N-no daddy” you said softly, your heat pooling with more arousal at the feeling of his large hands running down your body.

“Now be quiet and be a good slut for daddy, yeah?” You hummed at this, not being able to find your voice.

Draco pulled his sweatpants, along with his boxers, down enough to let his erected cock out, he massaged your ass before putting it in, your mouth parted open and a quiet moan escaping you at the feeling of being full.

“God- daddy you’re so big” you moaned out, not loud enough for scorpious to hear but enough to alert Draco. He had to control himself from slamming his hand down on your glistening ass, instead grabbing it roughly with one hand, and the other grabbing the back of your neck once again and pulling you up so your back was arched and your boobs were off the counter, stomach still pressed against it.

“I said, shut the fuck up before you wake him up” He whisper-yelled.

“S-sorry daddy just want you to fuck me hard and fast” You whimpered.

“I will if you stay quiet, alright princess?” You gave another hum. So he grabbed both of your hipbones letting your head down and made sure his fingers were on top of them, knowing that at the speed he had planned, you were gonna have a very bad pain on your hips from the contact of the counter, so instead, he would obviously rather have his fingers crushed than you being hurt in any way.

He started to ram himself into you, showing no sympathy and doing as you had previously stated, fucking you hard and fast.

Draco was pounding into his wife like his life depended on it, and it was truly ironic that he had asked you to stay quiet when he was breathing heavy and tried to contain his groans because the way your pussy was pulsing around him and hugging his cock like a fucking vice was too much.

Both of you knew you weren’t gonna last long, and thank goodness for that because your toddler was gonna wake up any minute now.

“You gonna cum on my cock pretty girl? Gonna cum on daddy?” he asked, wanting to be certain his girl could finish first, always.

“Yes daddy i’m gonna cum!”

“Cum.”

And with the way your juices poured onto his cock, he couldn’t hold back and sank all the way into you and released inside you.

After the both of you got down from your high, draco pulled out gently, grabbing a kitchen towel and dabbing it in the tap water a bit before quickly cleaning himself and pulling his sweatpants back up as fast he could.

The he marched towards you and started cleaning you up. He was obviously gonna give you a bath after to get you properly clean but for now, this would do.

Draco grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and put it on you, and grabbing your panties that were laying on top of your shorts and put them on. When he finished dressing you up, he gave you a sweet kiss on the lips.

And as if on cue, right when he was lovingly gazing into his wife’s eyes, a small paddle of feet could be heard coming closer to the kitchen entrance, draco and you turned to look over his shoulder to watch a four year old toddler rubbing his eyes before beaming at the sight of his parents.

“Mama” he cheered, after not seeing you before his nap, his instinct told him to go see you.

“Hi baby” you said before picking him up.

And as Draco watched his son and wife, the people he loved the most, conversing together he realized that indeed, he probably died years ago and is currently in heaven.

#draco malfoy story #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fic #husband!draco #dad!draco

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stoneworldsimp · 3 years

Text

i don’t kiss and tell

stanley x reader

warnings: mildly intrusive thoughts, anxiousness, heavy kissing, smoking cigarettes

he can see the target through the lens, but his hand won’t keep steady,

“snyder, hold on, they’re behind us! FUCK—“

you need to wake up.

stanley’s brain was suddenly awake, and it took him a few seconds to force his body to move. he lightly trembled as he made his way out of his fucked up dream, slowly realizing that no, he’s not out in some high-ground area about to shoot. he’s at home, laying in bed with you at his side. god, this is what, the fourth time this week? once his eyes open he looked over to your face; even through the darkness, he knew he didn’t wake you.

a few minutes passed, and he wiped his face with his hand; he wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. he cautiously shifted out from under the covers and left the bed, making his way toward the bathroom. he kept the light off and splashed water on his face as quietly as possible.

he didn’t have to be so careful, really; the bathroom was basically soundproof and you slept like a rock most nights anyway. but… he couldn’t shake the feeling he had in his dream. he looked behind the shower curtain with his phone’s flashlight before he left and kept it on when he looked behind himself while he walked out of your room.

i.. i’ll just have one from that pack, and then i’ll go to bed. yeah, okay. one smoke. and then go to bed. anything to shake this off and out of my mind.

in his jacket, he took a cigarette out, walking toward the back door while he lit it.

—

with his arms crossed, he placed them on the fence of the balcony and rested his chin on his forearm. he blew a puff of smoke when he sighed. that’s better.

for a while, he stared at the stars and the buildings nearby. it was so quiet for the area, there wasn’t even a faint breeze going around. he leaned forward in his chair, the back two legs lifting up off the ground. he could live in this quietness forever, if he could.

footsteps were heard behind him, and he visibly tensed up before he realized they belonged to you. shit, i’m not done with it yet. “sorry,” he said quietly. he took the cigarette out of his mouth and stamped it into the ashtray. the damage was worse than he thought; as he glanced at his pack, he realized that was his third cigarette of the night. slowly he turned around to give you a small smile. he took the pack and slipped it in his jacket pocket while he blew the last of the lingering smoke from the edge of his mouth, making sure it went away from you. you came out in a baggy shirt and shorts, your hair a mess and eyes sleepy.

“it’s okay. i don’t mind,” you replied, and he knew it was a lie. “are you coming back to bed soon? it’s awfully lonely.”

“miss me already?” he asked while he turned his head back around, looking out again.

“‘course i do,” you muttered, your voice closer. you reached out and lightly squeezed his shoulder.

he was thankful to have someone like you; you never pushed him too far, you were always there when something bothered him, you just knew how he worked. he wasn’t the talkative type, but you were more than okay with that; it was almost like you could read his body language anyway.

“i couldn’t sleep.”

you hummed. he felt your hand stroke the back of his head, and leaned into your touch while closing his eyes.

he reached behind and pulled lightly on your hand, inviting you to sit on him; you made your way onto his lap, your leg on either side of his as you sat face to face. his hands slid to your sides; they gently moved up and back down. silence was still shared when you played with the ends of his hair on the back of his head. some time had passed and you inspected his face, searching for any indication of what might be going through his head. you knew something was up, you just didn’t know what. did something happen to him at work? is he thinking about.. before? he hoped he was hiding it, he didn’t want you to worry; at least for the evening. “do you, uhm, wanna talk about it?”

he was nervous to tell you; the whole reason why he was awake was silly, now that he thought about it. he got out of bed because he couldn’t sleep, he didn’t feel at ease until he went outside to smoke what was accidentally three cigarettes in one sitting, all because of a recurring dream. not from something actually pressing in real life; from a dream. it’s almost stupid, he thought; he wanted to avoid the conversation altogether.

he tipped his head down ever so slightly, breaking eye contact for a second before he met your eyes again.

he removed his hands from your waist and enveloped them over your forearms; calloused fingertips trailed down to your wrists, softly grabbing them. he moved your hands to the front of his face, touching both sides of his jaw. with a subtle push, you knew he wanted you to keep them on his face when he let go. one of his hands then slid behind your ear, pulling you in for a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

he was surprised when you went and kissed him on the lips; normally you would have been less than ecstatic to even talk to him up close right after he smoked. he broke away, wordlessly asking if you were okay to keep going. you leaned in and kissed him again.

you had a feeling it wasn’t the healthiest to avoid his inner turmoil like this, but you were tired. you wanted him to feel good enough to go to bed again, even if that meant avoiding the actual issue until tomorrow.

each kiss was lazy and long at the start. lips trailed down your neck while hands wandered to your lower, lower back. every touch under his hands became plush; he grasped and squeezed, each movement just a little rougher than the last. each strained breath was music to his ears.

this was helping, he thought; he was close to getting carried away before he stopped. the both of you were panting, and you spoke up first after catching your breath.

“let’s go to sleep?” you asked, and he nodded.

—

stanley’s head rested in your chest; you kissed him on the head.

i probably won’t have that dream again, but.. what if i do?

it probably won’t.

yeah, it won’t. just stop thinking about it.

i’ll be fine, just don’t think about it.

it’ll leave once you stop—

“stan, you’re… gripping me a little hard.” you tapped his tensed wrists on your hips, wordlessly asking him to let go

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” he let go immediately, almost withdrawing his entire body, “i, uhm… i..”

“let’s talk about it tomorrow. yeah?”

he breathed out in relief, and nodded his head slowly. in a way, your words subconsciously let his mind feel at ease by convincing himself, he didn’t have to deep dive into his mental state until tomorrow. he’d be able to hold it off, at least until tomorrow.

“love you.”

stanley wrapped his arm around you and buried his face deeper into your chest, close enough for you to kiss the top of his head. slightly muffled from his hair, you told him again in a whisper.

“love you.”

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #stanley snyder x reader #stanley x reader #stanley snyder #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #stanley snyder imagines #stanley snyder scenarios

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nicoleheichou · 3 years

Text

Now All I See Is Color - chapter 16: nasty 🤢

♡ masterlist ♡ 《 previous | next 》

In a world where soulmates exist, it's uncommon for most people to find theirs. A lot of them going their whole lives never experiencing the world in color because they've never met their soulmate. But that all changes for y/n when she becomes MSBY Jackals player, Miya Atsumu's assistant. They're about to experience the world in color together. But what does that mean for y/n when both her and Atsumu are in committed relationships?

Atsumu finds himself in his car, beside him his girlfriend of almost two years, who he hasn't seen in three months. He should feel happy, ecstatic even, but he doesn't feel any of that. Instead, he finds himself wishing for someone else to be sitting in that passenger seat next to him.

"Aren't you excited to see me baby?" A voice snaps him back to reality. "Of course am excited to see ya baby. Am just really surprised, am still recovering from it." He replies, feeling guilty for lying to her. She places a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. He realizes it's the first time he's gotten to look at her properly since being able to see colors and he notices one thing about his girlfriend. Her eyes. Her eyes don't mesmerize him the way yours does. Was that normal?

"We better get going. I'm excited to meet this assistant of yours." At the mention of you, he immediately perks up, already backing out of the parking space, he fails to notice the quick flash of anger on the blonde girl's face, rather he was focused on getting to the karaoke bar where everyone else agreed to meet and getting to see you.

"I texted her, she's coming out, she's excited to meet ya babe." He glances over at her while she finishes reapplying her lipstick, all she does is nod her head. Atsumu notices the door open and sees you looking around the parking lot before your eyes land on his car and then on him. You give a quick wave before making your way over. "Come on babe, let's say hi." He's already getting out of the car, eager to greet you.

You watch as Atsumu gets out of the car and then notice the passenger side door open. You can't help but think about how his girlfriend is so pretty, definitely worthy of being with Atsumu. But why does that make your heart ache? "So you're his assistant?" Her tone is friendly but there's something about the way she says it that feels a little off.

You notice Atsumu shoot you an apologetic look. "Yeah I am. And you must be his girlfriend. It's nice to meet you. I'm l/n f/n." You put your hand out for her to shake but she just brushes it off. "Babe. I'm cold, can we go inside now?" She says while clinging on to his arm. You don't want to believe the rumors, wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, but her attitude and actions right now are making that real hard.

"Whatever ya want babe." You can't help but wonder why Atsumu is with her if this is how she is. You follow the couple as they walk inside. You can hear your group before even reaching the private room. Weren't the rooms supposed to be soundproof? Your question is answered when you find Hinata wedged between the door, a beer in one hand and a microphone in the other. You shoot a look at Sakusa and he just shrugs.

The orange haired male finally notices the three of you. "Y/n! You're baaackkkk! Oh look! Tsum-Tsummmm andddd Mikaaa tooo!" You can't help but roll your eyes. Sakusa warned you Hinata was a lightweight but you weren't expecting this light, he only had two beers the last time you checked. Before you can say anything Suna is already helping the male up, it's like he could read your mind. "Sorry we're late." Atsumu says as they settle into the seats left open for them.

"You didn't have to rush on our account." You can't help but be surprised by Sakusa's tone, you could sense some hostility in it, but you knew it wasn't directed at his setter. "Hello to you too Sakusa-kun." Mika replies while rolling her eyes. You finally take your seat beside Suna, choosing to immerse yourself in conversation with the cousins, Sakusa and Komori.

It's not long before Bokuto is tugging at your sleeve, motioning for you to get up on the mini stage and sing for the group. "Um, Bo, I don't know about that." Before you can protest you feel a nudge from behind, you turn to see your boyfriend with a smirk plastered on his face. "Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Chants of your name erupted from Bokuto, Hinata, Komori, and Suna. You let out a sigh. Who are you to deny the people?

"I need a partner, I'm not going to do this alone." You say into the mic that Bokuto had handed to you. Instantly the white haired male comes bounding towards you. "I already know what song we're doing!" You don't even have time to ask him before he's entering the song info into the display.

Your eyes widen as soon as the title appears on the screen and you hear the cheers coming from Hinata and your boyfriend. "I'll be the featured artist." The male tells you while grabbing a mic for himself. The music starts to play, you grab the closest drink to you, which just happened to be the rest of Hinata's beer before downing it. You were going to need some liquid courage for this song.

"I said, certified freak,

Seven days a week,

Wet-ass pussy,

Make that pull-out game weak, woo. (ah),

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,

Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy,

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy,

Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy."

Oh god. You made a mental note to not bring snacks for Bokuto for the next two weeks. To your embarrassment, not only was your boyfriend hyping you up, so was Hinata and Komori.

"Gobble me, swallow me, drip down the side of me (yeah),

Quick, jump out 'fore you let it get inside of me (yeah),

I tell him where to put it, never tell him where I'm 'bout to be."

Surprisingly Bokuto was really into it, he definitely channeled his inner Meg for this performance. By the end of the song you and Bokuto had put on a performance worthy of the VMAs. You were trying to steady your breathing, not used to putting on a whole show in the span of three minutes and seven seconds, you used that time to get a good look at everyone around you. The room broke out into cheers and applause, you even managed to get Sakusa to clap for the both of you. The only one who didn't seem impressed with your performance was the blonde woman beside Atsumu.

"You call that a performance?" Atsumu let's out a sigh before glancing over at his girlfriend. "Babe, it was good. They were having fun." She starts to pout and you can't help but notice her little tantrum and the way Sakusa rolls his eyes at her. You didn't notice it before but even Hinata and Bokuto rarely interacted with her, they would keep their distance. What does that mean?

After a couple more hours you all decide to call it a night. You can't help but feel bad, it didn't seem like Atsumu was able to enjoy himself. Whenever you called out to him or tried to include him, his girlfriend would inmediately shut it down. You say your goodbyes to all your friends, Suna wanting to drop you home but you insisting he go along with Komori, not wanting him to get scolded by his coach again.

i just picture bokuto getting really into the song. lmao. full on performance and all.

comment or message me if you want to be added to the taglist!

if you wanna talk about the chapter or whatever with me, feel free to message or dm me. ☺

sorry I'm late today. lol

Taglist [open]: @bakugouswh0r3 @youidiot91 @koffyee @kyomihann @szeonn @chantalkate16 @onlyonew @ntimacy @underratedmage @90s-belladonna @simpletype @toshikamo @todomaniac @sumebreaks @sammistry @pansexualproblemchild

#haikyuu smau #haikyu smau #hq smau #smau #atsumu x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #naisic

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 23

Y/n explores the hidden room and finds exactly what she was looking for.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: Christianity, cult stuff, allusions to death, needles

The candle provided little in the way of light, but allowed you to see what was directly in front of you and therefore better than nothing. You felt around for a light switch, but, from what you could feel, the entire wall was covered in foam spikes.

Great. You thought to yourself. If I die down here, nobody will ever find me.

That also meant that you couldn’t hear anything coming from outside. Or so you thought.

“My beloved flock!” Chase shouted.

The voice was so clear and projected, you nearly dropped your candle and screamed. There was no way in hell he could be with you in that basement. When you got your bearings back, you realized the sound was crackling.

“I was speaking to the lord this morning and I asked him, Holy Father, what do you want my flock to hear?” Chase said, the sound growing more noticeably electronic. “Then the lord said to me, he literally put a word in my brain, he said ‘why, my son, do you call them your flock?’.”

You followed the sound of Chase’s sermon. Your eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness and you were beginning to make out the outlines of things. On a table near the wall sat a radio.

“The lord sent me here in Jesus’s stead to keep the flock. To become the shepherd.” Chase continued. “And you’re probably thinking, Vanguard, why you? What gives you divine authority?”

Some mumbles of agreement came from what was presumably the onlookers. He paused, then slammed his hand against the table.

“So it’s true, is it?” His voice grew more manic and trembled as if he were about to burst into tears. “The devil is sowing the seeds of doubt in your minds.”

Sounds of remorse followed.

“Because our god is so loving, he has put it on my heart to forgive you.” He said. “As Christ’s perfect blood was spilt on earth, so will I, your divinely-appointed vanguard, forgive you forever and always.”

You were tempted to just turn the radio off, but it was your only indication of what was happening up above. You got the feeling that this would go on for a while and you could take your time.

Next to the radio was an industrial flashlight. You thanked a god you didn’t believe in and snuffed out the candle. You ran the flashlight along the walls, seeing that the foam spikes, unsurprisingly, covered the entire perimeter.

You walked cautiously down the hall, aiming the flashlight at the ground and along the edges. The room was stocked with your standard bunker essentials; canned food, first aid kits, large jugs of water and a stack of cots.

Chase blathered on about spiritual brokenness and how his cult members should be thankful that god had given them a second chance, but you found a way to tune it out. You had other things to think about. For example: why the hell was there a stack of, like, twenty baby-sized coffins stashed in a fallout shelter?

Upon closer inspection, you saw that they were empty. You genuinely didn’t know if that made it better or not. The proximity to a stash of twenty oxygen tanks implied he was going to rip off A Quiet Place, but why he felt the need to do that in an already soundproof room was beyond you.

That thought was pushed aside when you found exactly what you came for.

His breathing was drowned out by Chase’s inane sermon, but he was breathing. That was the only way you knew he was still alive. He laid on a filthy cot with an IV in his arm and a tube down his throat.

You laced your fingers between his and held his hand against your cheek. Partially to make sure his blood was still flowing, but mostly to savor the feeling of his warmth on your face. He looked almost peaceful, for someone who was sedated against their will and tossed carelessly onto a cot and left to slowly wither away in a secret bunker.

You brushed his curls back and kissed his forehead. A small part of you wanted to believe that true love’s kiss was enough to break the spell, but whatever cocktail Chase used on him would require something more. And you had no fucking clue what that something was or if you could even get it.

Even though you were underground, you had a couple bars of reception. Again, you thanked a god that didn’t exist and used your lucky signal to call Hannibal.

“[F/N]?” Hannibal answered, relieved to hear you calling. You could only get every other syllable, but you could hear him. “Darling, wh-e are -ou? What did-- find?”

“I’m still underneath the chapel.” You said in a hushed voice. “There’s a whole doomsday bunker down here and the room is completely soundproof. But I found Will.”

“Is he -live?” Hannibal said, hurriedly.

You cringed as you spoke. “Only in the technical sense. He's unresponsive and hooked up to a breathing tube."

"Listen carefully, [F/N]." Hannibal's voice quickened. "You're-- going to -- to --resuscitate him."

That was exactly what you didn't want to hear. "What?!"

"I'll walk-- through it. Just do-- I tell you." He assured you.

You nodded, put the phone on speaker and placed it on the ground. "Yeah, okay."

"Is there-- first aid?" He asked.

You raced to where you saw the first aid kit before and snatched one off the top. "I've got one right here."

"--good." He said, in as calming a voice as he could. "Do you --plastic tube -- orange tip?"

You found it and picked it up. "Yeah, got it."

"Take the orange cap off," He instructed. "And insert the needle into his-"

The dial tone. Another thing you didn't want to hear.

In movies, you'd always seen the EpiPen administered through the leg. It was as good a guess as any. Your hands shook as you took aim. You swallowed, made your peace with death, and plunged the needle into his leg.

You kept it straight up for what felt like an eternity when Will's body suddenly spasmed and he choked awake. You dropped the EpiPen and rushed to pull the tube from his throat.

He pushed himself up just enough to pull the needle from his arm, then collapsed back on the cot. He breathed as if for the first time.

"[F/N]?" He sputtered, chest falling and rising rapidly. He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but you put your hands on his bare chest and gently guided him back down.

"Will..." you whispered, on the verge of tears. Even though his soft features were bruised and his sparkling eyes were dim, he was still your Will.

Will's lips turned up into a smile, though not without struggle. "This... this means we're even now, right?"

You took his hand in both of yours and peppered small kisses all over his knuckles.

"Suede..." he panted. "With a cashmere lining..."

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, feeling your soft gloves. Your other hand cupped his cheek.

“Why the hell did you come here?!” Will scolded, once he was able to string words together. “You know Chase wants you dead.”

“I didn’t come alone.” You admitted. “Hannibal is here with me.”

Will thought for a second. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not.”

“Chase knows we’re here,” You began, “But he doesn’t know I’ve discovered his sex slave fallout bunker-”

Will let out a sharp exhale that vaguely resembled a laugh. “It’s not for the sex slaves.”

“...what?” You spat.

“It’s for the babies.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal x you x will #hannibal x reader x will #hannigram x reader #hannigram x you #hannigram #poly hannigram #will graham #will graham x you #will graham x reader

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

*******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

************

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

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