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hellfirecvnt · 2 months

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It's Personal

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.

Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for. Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.

"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.

"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.

"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.

Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.

Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.

The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.

"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.

With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.

"How was class?" He asks.

"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.

"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.

"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."

"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.

"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"

Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.

"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?

"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.

"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.

"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.

"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.

The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.

"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."

"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.

"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.

"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.

"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.

"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.

"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.

"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.

"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.

"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.

The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.

"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.

"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.

"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.

"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."

"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.

Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.

"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.

"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.

"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.

You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.

Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.

"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.

"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.

"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.

"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.

"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.

"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.

"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"

"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.

"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"

"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.

"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.

"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.

"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.

"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.

"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.

"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"

"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.

"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.

"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.

"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.

Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.

Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.

Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.

You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.

"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.

"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.

"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.

"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.

"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.

"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.

"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.

"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.

"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.

"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.

"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.

"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.

"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.

"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.

"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.

"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.

"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.

"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.

"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.

"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.

"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.

Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.

You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.

Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.

Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.

"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"

"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.

First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.

"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.

"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.

"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.

"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.

"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.

"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"

"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."

"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.

"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."

Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.

When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.

"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.

Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.

He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.

"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.

"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.

"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.

"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.

"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."

"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.

"No, you're coming with me."

"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.

"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.

"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.

"What?"

"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.

"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.

"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.

"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.

"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.

"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.

"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.

"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.

"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.

"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."

"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."

"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?

"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.

"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.

In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?

Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.

The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.

"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.

"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.

"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.

He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.

"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.

"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.

"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.

"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.

"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.

"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."

"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.

"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.

"I am."

"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"

"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.

"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.

He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.

"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.

"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.

"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.

"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.

"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.

"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.

Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.

Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.

You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.

"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.

"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.

"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.

"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.

"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.

"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.

(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)

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asmoslverboy · 5 months

Text

To love the devil; Dottore x GN!Reader.

He is who he has always been. Despite the centuries he's had to accept and embrace his darkness, though he claims otherwise, he can't help but try to hide away from you. Neither one of you's a saint, but through his eyes, you're an angel. CW! Angst, immortal × immortal, Dottore is referred to as "Zandik", self sabotage on Dottore's part♡, dottore being emotional (ooc tbh, im self projecting on him)??

932 words

Dottore has many sides to him that he'd rather hide off from you. For someone so egotistical, so full of pride, you'd never expect him to be ashamed of who he is, who he has become. And he's not— shame, embarrassment— those aren't emotions that he's familiar with.

But fear, now that's a whole other conversation. It's not like you don't know what he's done, the things he's guilty of, his list of crimes, and of unethical desires he's tried to fulfill. It's not like you haven't personally seen him drown in sin over the 400 years of knowing him.

"Zandik, did I upset you?" You ask him as you're sitting on top of his desk while he's in his chair, looking up at your figure. He's been quite distant lately, more than usual. You could easily assume that he was having one of his isolative episodes, but he doesn't seem to be avoiding anyone other than you.

"Hm?" That's all you get from him, accompanied by a raise of his right brow, but his focus soon goes back to his notes, going over them, rambling about how he needs his next project to be the embodiment of perfection. Creating an aranara, was it? Some things, it seems, never change. He was so obsessed with the idea of capturing one of those little creatures of nature, back when the two of you were still students.

The next few hours pass by in the same cycle of events. You try talking to him, he shrugs it off and continues digging his head deep into his research files.

Do not expect any more of him for the next days, weeks even. It's like your existence no longer matters to him. All you see is the man that you've been with throughout basically your whole entire lives, acting as if you were a mere accomplice. He has repeated this type of scheme in the past, more than once, but it never lasted as long as it did this time.

Each of your attempts of getting a simple response out of him, one that requires actual words instead of some grunt or hum, has gone to waste.

You're unsure of what to do. Should you be more worried for him or for yourself? Is this the time it all ends between the two of you? Should you really just give up on him at this point?

"Zandik," you called out, but not to him, nor to anyone else. Sitting by a lake, all by yourself, no one to your company, other than the thousand microorganisms that lived and thrived in the waters. "I wish you would just speak to me."

It's not like you lack friends to confide in. But would anyone be as understanding towards him— the one who was labeled a monster, by all who've known him and by himself first and foremost— after you tell them about his present behaviors?

You laid your head on the cold, wet grass. Surrounded by nature, the collective of existence. You could never be alone in this world, not as long as you believe that everything around you is as alive as you are.

But are you truly alive? If, in the past, your definition of the word was to express yourself in every way, to feel and to be felt, would you consider yourself alive at this very moment?

Another day has come— it seems you had fallen asleep on the ground. You awoke, a couple ducks quaking as they poke you with their beaks. They didn't mean to hurt you, though. And if you think about it, your beloved is much like these ducks. He does what he thinks would best help you. Even if it has opposing effects.

"You shouldn't stay," he told you, his tone felt like it could cut through metal. You were back at his office again, figuring you could at least help him out at work, if unable to help his inner world. He was taking off his gloves as he was done inspecting some ancient Khaenri'ahn technology items. "Do you want me to—"

"I've given you every reason to leave. Yet you still cling to me like a bloodthirsty eel." He cut you off. He has never spoken to you like this (not whilst he was sober, nor whilst he was in his right mind). He was calm, but he spoke as if you were an object to be dismissed.

"Do you not love me anymore?" You wanted to ask him so, so desperately. But the potential answers to that question shook you to your very core. So you dared not speak.

Such conflict within you. Shall you leave him be? Shall you listen to his words instead of pursuing him any further? You're painfully aware of his nature; to push you away when he needs your presence most.

But it's been going on for far too long, has it not? If he's not allowing you to help him, then really, what else is there to do, if not fend for yourself?

"You deserve better," he wrote to you, in a letter that'll never reach your sight. "Your love should not be limited to one who can not accept, nor react to it," he wrote again. But who is he trying to fool? He knows that this piece of paper, along with all the other ones he's tried to write, will be crunched up and disposed of.

Not even once, for the sake of the person who's loved him through it all, will he allow himself to be heard.

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 5 months

Text

Add One More ୨୧ James Hetfield

The screeches of gleeful and partially muted laughter reverberate through your underprepared eardrums as you exit your car, the anxiousness pulsating through you causing your expression to come off as unnecessarily guarded and closed off. Dry California air scuffles its way up to you and caresses your bare calves as you slowly make your way forward, the large estate of the private elementary school in front of you coming off as far more intimidating than you had originally hoped for with each step you take.

You tightly clutch onto the folded files in your slightly trembling grasp, the repetitive sound and rhythm of your heels making loud contact with the uneven terrain of concrete underneath you somehow helps ground you, as you make your way to the top of the walkway. Before you could even test the doorknob or raise your hand to notify the office to the left of you of your presence, the door slams open, and nearly collides with you.

"Sorry, sorry!" A youthful voice shouts out, as a clumsy hand grabs onto your shoulder, immediately halting the process of you beginning to stumble back in shock. A dark and widened pair of brown eyes stare back at you unblinkingly, wild and curly hair hiding half of his face as he waits for your reaction. "In a rush, y'know. Part of the cool uncle duties." You allow a small and hesitant smile to grace your face at his words, and an empathetic feeling rushes through you as the man no more than a few years older than you lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against the now closed and heavy wooden door.

"Thank you for not spitting on me." He says in a dramatic tone, causing your eyebrows to raise in bewilderment as he lets you go. "And why in the world would I want to do that?" You ask him, feeling incredulous as the man in front of you sarcastically grins in response and lets out a weighted laugh. He wordlessly gestures down to his outfit, causing you to feel even more confused as you obligatorily take in his attire.

"Nice, you like rock music. But that doesn't answer my question." You muse, before nervously glancing through the nearest window to look at the clock. You straighten up as a monotonous warning bell rings out, signifying that you've got less than ten minutes to prepare yourself for your very first day of teaching and your very first class. "My type of clothing doesn't really blend in and mesh well in this part of town, especially with the parents that can afford this type of school. Usually I'd dapper up, but we were in a rush. Her dad and I and the rest of our band just got back from the last leg of our tour, and we all wanted to see her as soon as possible."

You take in his words with all-intent listening ears and full attention, despite the risk of you running late. "Seems to me like you all really care for her, which means a whole lot more to me than what you wear," you state, before reaching over to grab ahold of the other doorknob nearest to you. Your arm and upper back protest as you strain and tense to keep it agape, the stray tendrils of hair falling out of your bun from the wind tickling the nape of your neck as you turn to give him a quick and meaningful glance. "And if anyone gives you slack for how you dress instead of how you are as a person and how involved you are in your friend's child's life, then maybe they shouldn't feel welcome around here instead of you."

You send him a soft smile before taking a deep breath and moving forward, wincing as the door shuts harshly behind you due to a rough gust of wind, the sound culminating the attention of everyone in the office with a resounding whack! Multiple pairs of eyes focus in on you at once, causing the already uncomfortable long sleeve you're wearing to begin to feel even more suffocating. You go to open your mouth and say a greeting, before pausing as an indignant huff filters throughout the room instead.

"You cannot just come in here minutes before the homeroom bell, especially when you already missed the welcoming assembly yesterday." You hear an elderly woman scold, causing you to turn around to find the source of the harsh tone. The awkward smile you had resting on your face quickly turns into a frown as you take in the clearly displeased child in front of you, their expression filled with distaste and their right leg beginning to bounce off the ground with unhidden agitation and impatience. You instinctively move forward before you could give yourself the chance and the time to second guess it, making your way into the large gap between the two and kneeling before the younger. Bright blue eyes stare up at you as you place your weight onto the tips of your heels and make way into her line of vision, the lace on the bottom of your skirt raising itself up to rest against the tops of your now reddened kneecaps.

"Well, if that isn't the prettiest bow I've ever seen," you start, making sure to maintain eye contact with her as you raise a hand to tap it against the top of your head. "I usually wear one of my own, but I didn't think it'd go so well with the lack of pants and this super long blouse." The distasted look on the blonde's face slowly melts into mild interest as she keeps her gaze on you, before finally letting out a drawn-out breath and reaching down to grab ahold of her multicolored and embellished school bag. You tune in with slight relief as you watch the uneasy expression on her face slowly turn into a look of determination, as she searches through the now jumbled contents of her bag.

The older woman behind you lets out an exhausted exhalation, and you slowly begin to relax your body as you hear her start to make her descent away.

"Here," the young girl offers, her hand shyly holding out an identical looking accessory, the new and improved attitude behind her action much softer and more welcoming than before. You widen your eyes in an obvious dramatization, and you grin to yourself as she lets out an animated giggle, before twisting around to face the front desk and placing your hands on your legs to stabilize your balance.

"Would you be so kind to do the honors?" You ask in a faux serious voice, helpfully tilting your head back as you hear a small shuffle behind you. An amused hum follows the sound of movement, and you feel accomplished and proud as the bow is placed crookedly in your mane. You tilt your head side to side to make sure it's secure, and reassuringly nod to the receptionist as she sends you a hesitant and inquisitive look from behind a pile of unfinished paperwork.

"Thank you so much, princess!" You cheerfully gush out, turning back to face her with a genuine smile adorning your lips. Your chest tightens as you watch her eyes fill up with newfound happiness at the nickname, her uneven and endearing smile making you feel warm. "Eden." She announces, the ends of her hair smacking against the middle of her back as she kicks herself off of the chair and onto the carpeted floor with unconcealed vigor.

"Eden." You mimic back softly, reaching down to gently squeeze her hand in a comforting manner before fully standing back up once again. You glance out the window once you hand over your identification and grin as your eyes latch onto another familiar looking pair.

The young man from before sends you a grateful and beaming smile, before pointing down to Eden and giving you a thumbs up as he begins to walk backwards in an attempt of the moon walk. Eden lets out an amused chortle at his antics, before whispering out a still fairly loud farewell. "G'bye, Uncle Kirk!"

You make sure to repeat the name back to yourself quietly as you're handed a directory and the official bell begins to ring.

"Hey!" You look down as Eden comes over to stand beside you, her insistent fist finding purchase on your crumpled skirt as she tugs at it for your attention. The young girl seems to freeze in place as she tries to find the words to show her gratitude. Finally, she lets go and sends you a heartwarming smile, her hands gripping onto her backpack's straps with an excited haste. You continue to look down in her doe eyes as she seems to find her words, and you send her an amused look as she opens her mouth to speak intentionally slow. Instead of a proper full-length sentence, she instead playfully just says, "Thanks for everything."

"Don't even mention it, kiddo. And thanks for the new sick bow. Maybe it'll even give me some actual street cred and my fist graders might show me some real respect." Eden lets out a sound filled with mirth as she follows you out of the main office and into the now packed and frenzied hallway.

"Yeah, maybe. See you later, miss!" She yells out, the now loosening bow scrambling against the neckline of her oversized vest as she runs forward to her friends, her hands thrown up in the air, one waving back at you fervently. You watch her filter into the crowd, before turning around and carefully following the directions messily written on the top of the map in your hands, on a bright and highlighted sticky note. Looking up as the children in front of you giggle and smile and hug each other, the anxiety you felt earlier on your way on in becomes easily forgotten and long gone.

If the children are truly as happy as they seem and are as half as decent and sweet as Eden is, then you think you'll end up being just fine.

Dozens of feet excitedly pitter out of the classroom as the last bell of the day rings with finality. You groan out as you lie back on the hardwood floor beneath you, refusing to acknowledge the learning numbers blocks digging in the base of your spine. You hear a chuckle come from the doorway, causing you to twist your neck to the side and pop open a bleary eye.

"Still bouncing around with all that new teacher energy, I see." The woman you saw earlier from across the hall muses as she makes her way inside of the messy room, her feet expertly avoiding the toys on the ground without even having to look down. You let out an exhausted sound before slowly inching your way back up into a sitting position, your sore back from bending down all day cracking out loud in a painful protest. "I am the pinnacle of health and vitality, and I love my job." You deadpan, a laugh rumbling out of the two of you as you watch her catch onto the obvious, fake monotonous tone with matching energy and amusement.

"I think the only thing that makes the first day of teaching tolerable is the parent-teacher conference at the end of the day," she starts, her heavily ringed fingers reaching down to haphazardly toss the small and surrounding toys into the nearest bucket. You smile at her gratefully before standing up to do the same, and within minutes, the floor begins to look brand new. "The amount of fine, single rich men that send their children to this overpriced castle should be illegal."

You shake your head in humor-filled disbelief as she fans herself, before briefly leaning against you as another round of laughter runs through her trembling upper body.

"Anyone catch your eye yet?" You ask as you make your way around the classroom, your fingertips neatly rearranging the name cards on each of the assigned desks. "James Hetfield, man is all legs and fine and a half. Has a crazy daughter that likes to speak her mind and run about, but that doesn't deter me," you hum halfheartedly as you only half listen, your hands grabbing onto your files and unworn jacket over your already clean desk. "Her name is Eden, chaotic little thing. Runs around the entire school like it's her own home." The fellow teacher scoffs out, her voice still lighthearted but her expression showing a small bout of hostility and irritation. A fierce and unrelenting amount of annoyance runs through you as the younger girl's smiling face paints itself behind your eyelids, the strange protectiveness that pulses through you shocks you at the fact that you feel so strongly for a little girl you barely even know.

"Children are supposed to be excitable and energetic, that's how you know they come from a happy home." You defend, making sure to keep your tone neutral as you turn off the lights and allow her to walk out of the classroom first. She lets out a sound of acknowledgment as she walks past you but doesn't verbally answer you or care to elaborate. You let out a muted sigh as you follow her down the now secluded and empty hallways. Awkwardness begins to surround the two of you as you travel in silence, before a sudden and loud cheer echoes its way down the corridor as the auditorium's doors are pushed wide open.

"This way." She announces, her flat covered feet obnoxiously smacking against the linoleum as she quickens up her already hurried strides. You let out a puff of exalted air as you stop to take a break, your chest nearly heaving as you finally get to and enter the overly lit room. Multiple lines of cushioned chairs greet you and snugly fit around your hips as you make your way through the overcrowded pit of teachers and students and parents, your eyes widening as you lose the teacher from earlier in the crowd.

"Shit." You whisper out, your fingers wrapping around the cuffs of your long sleeves as your eyes frantically search for any familiar looking faces. Relief floods through you in a heavy wave as your eyes pick up a wild mane of curly hair in your peripheral vision, and you make your way over to Kirk on autopilot, your sweaty palms cloying against the irritating silk of your shirt. "Kirk, right?" You ask, your voice coming out as soft and anxious ridden as his head snaps your way at the sound of his name. Kirk's eyes light up as he recognizes you, and you sigh out as he gently yanks you forward and toward a much quieter and less crowded part of the room.

"Good to see you! You look about ten seconds away from shitting yourself." He greets, his tone welcoming but borderline teasing. You send him an exasperated smile as you take in his new outfit. "And you look like a brand new man! Trying to fit into the overbearing stereotypes around here, huh?" Kirk grins, welcoming in the much-deserved snark with open arms, before turning around to lightly push two other men forward. "These two hot messes are Lars and Jason, drummer and bassist of our very new and upcoming band," The man introduced as Lars sarcastically rolls his eyes before greeting you with a sly grin and a raised cup. Jason gives you a heartwarming smile and an excited wave, before bending down and going on to talk animatedly with a just as invested looking little boy. "Our frontman is around here somewhere, probably getting swarmed by a bunch of middle-aged married women, with more artificial estrogen packed up inside of them than an obgyn's office." A rough petal of laughter bursts from in between your lips at the unexpected jab, and you flush as unknown and judgmental eyes dance their way over to you and spectate.

Before you could fret over it, a small bound of energy collides into you, causing you to let out a punched-out breath as Eden grins up at you. "Miss, you're here!" An unfightable smile makes its way onto your face as you feel her jump against you in excitement, the crown of her head barely brushing above your bellybutton and one of flapping hands smacking against your inner elbow. "Hi there," you coo down at her, your hands instinctually coming up to flatten and rearrange her now messy and windblown hair. "Been having fun, haven't you?" You ask, mirth filling your tone as she nods against your palms. You pause in place as a throat clears itself near you, and your breath catches in your chest as you look up and lock eyes with a clearly handsome and attractive man making his way over to the two of you.

"Daddy!" Eden all but screams out as she looks over at her father, who is too busy staring at you. Deep ocean blue eyes catapult themselves into your own as you stare up at the frontman in front of you, your eyes becoming heavy and lidded as he looks into yours with enormous expression. James begrudgingly breaks the eye contact as his daughter calls out for him once again, and a smile creeps on his face as he takes in her content and happy body language and attitude. "Hi, my little bug!" He exclaims, laughter ringing out from the both of them as he lunges forward and brings her into a joyous hug. You place your now hanging hands on the top of your stomach as you gulp in a deep breath of much needed air, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch the two of them lovingly greet each other with butterflies raging in your middle.

"This is the teacher I told you about earlier," Kirk says once James has Eden cuddled up in his arms, said daughter with her head resting on his broad shoulder and a dopey grin encapsulating her entire face. "Calmed the little terror down faster than I've ever even seen you do it." James' eyes flicker over to yours once again, and you exhale shakily as his gaze slowly takes in the entirety of you and your figure.

"We even match with bows now, daddy." Eden says against his brown and fur-lined jacket, her voice now lilted and tinged with slowly creeping up exhaustion. You shyly smile before absentmindedly reaching up to touch the accessory with unsteady fingertips, trying terribly hard to fight back the blush trying to break out on your already heating up cheeks.

"Looks beautiful." James responds, the timbre in his voice causing a shiver to caress itself down your spine, and you have to look away from the duo to catch your bearings. You send Kirk a halfhearted glare as he beams back at you with a knowing and shit eating grin. Lars raises an eyebrow at your look of fluster, before returning his attention back to the woman hovering close next to him.

Before anyone else could speak up, a loud static-filled sound blares out from a nearby speaker, causing you to flinch and for Eden to jolt up and let out a shocked cry. James lets out a curse and glares toward the apologetic looking principal holding a microphone, who then ushers everyone to sit down as the lights begin to lessen and dim. You purse your lips as you look around in worry, you quickly noticing that all of the chairs surrounding you were currently filled. Before you could back away and find a seat elsewhere, James suddenly stands up and beckons for you to come over. He sends you a gentle smile and shakes his head as he takes in your hesitant expression, shifting his now relaxed and once again nearly sleeping daughter on his hip as he lowers himself to sit on the ground near your feet.

"I can't let you sit on the ground, especially with Eden in your arms." You protest quietly, leaning downward as you watch her eyes fully close. "I'm not letting you do anything, doll. I'm simply volunteering." James rebuts, the teasing grin on his lips causing you to bite your own to hide a smile from the spontaneous term of endearment, and his eyes follow the movement before jumping back up to yours. The air seems to dense and thicken as you two continue to look at each other, and you begin to feel overwhelmed as a variety of want and need and interest paints itself of James' face as he stares up at you in the now barely lit room. His body warmth purges against you with how close he is, and you have to stop yourself from jolting as Jason faces him and starts up a brand-new conversation, the bassist unknown of the tension in between the two of you and what he just broke.

James sends you a barely concealed wink before resting back against the front of your legs and turning his head to join in on the quiet conversation with Jason, who's sat next to him with a hand comfortingly rubbing small circles into his niece's relaxed back.

You try to focus in on what the principal is droning on about, but the effort turns futile as your legs begin to vibrate from the father's answering laughter and your eyes keep compulsively checking up on the now sleeping young girl, who's quickly beginning to grow on you, her father and his bandmates included. Smiling tiredly at the thought, you fight back a yawn as you feel James place some of his weight on the tops of your knees, the strangely comforting addition and gesture making the urge to close your eyes too strong to resist as time goes on.

A large and loud collection of relieved sighs echo out around the room and land beside you in a cacophony of noise, causing you to open your eyes and slowly readjust to your surroundings. You wince as the light in the auditorium begins to brighten once again, and you furrow your eyebrows as you realize you're unable to use and move your legs to fully sit back up. Looking down, a smile begins to grow on your lips as you take in the sight before you. James' head lies and rests back on your kneecaps, his lips partially open as he steadily breathes in and out, with his left arm and hand wrapped protectively around Eden, who's still asleep on his shoulder and chest.

You shift over to try and nudge Kirk to share the view with him of the father and daughter duo but have to end up holding in a laugh instead, as soon as you see him sprawled out and deeply asleep in the seat next to you. Lars sends you a gentle smile as he makes eye contact with you, before nodding down at your lower half.

"It's been a long week for all of us, especially James. Damn near tried kicking his own ass when he wasn't able to be the one to drop her off on her first day." He whispers, his accent soothing in the low tone and his eyes softening as he watches his bandmate and close friend sleep. You look down at the man's face resting against you and feel sympathy as you take in the slight bags underneath his eyes, fighting back the urge to run your fingers through his long hair sprawled out against your hips and thighs.

You hold in a gasp as you feel his fingertips twitch against your ankle, his right hand seemingly wrapped around your limb in a subconscious embrace the entire time the both of you had drifted off and slept.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, and I'll most definitely blame this on the vodka I snuck in here about three hours ago, but," your eyes widen in shock as the drummer grins at you tipsily, before shrugging carelessly and continuing. "They've had a rough last couple of years, with the band blowing up and us having to leave intermittently to go on tour states away and overseas. They both get attached real easily, and Eed is getting to that age where she's starting to question why people stop showing up at their doorstep. I know you're just a teacher at her school, and not even specifically her own, but if you're going to just hang around for a little while and then end up leaving in the end, I recommend you do it now. She's already lost a mother figure, and she doesn't need the other one to be fully gone off after another woman leaves again either."

You try to blink away the sting enveloping in your eyes as Lars' tone of voice becomes more weighted and serious, the drastic change in conversation and topic making you feel uncomfortable and on edge. "Where is this coming from? I don't understand." You trail off, the lighthearted feeling in your chest now gone as your hands reach up to wrap around your forearms in much needed self-comfort.

"I'm not saying this with any ill intention. I think it's great that you've been able to bond with the kid so quickly and easily, and I genuinely like you. But you're new, and you're the youngest teacher who's been accepted to teach here in the past few years we've been visiting. Getting too close to a student so fast and having their father be so attracted to you on the jump isn't the smartest and best thing for you to get yourself involved in. And it won't be easy either, so if this isn't what you're prepared to sign up for, it's your time to leave."

"I don't think that's your place to say, man." Jason adds in from below, his face set in a grimace as he looks up and sees the carefully placed neutral look on your face. You take in a deep inhalation and send them both a fictious smile, before gently tapping the father on his back to wake him up.

James sits up straight as you come into view, and confusion immediately sets in as he sees the downtrodden and uncharacteristic expression on your face. "What's going on?" He asks you, looking down at Eden and letting out a relieved breath as soon as his eyes land on her still sleeping form. "Excuse me." You whisper out, before hastily standing up and trying to make your way through the crowd.

Lars lets out a scoff as he watches your retreating figure disappear in the pit of people, ignoring the feeling of his heart dropping in his chest as his eyes catch sight of your hiccupping and rising and falling shoulders. "Figures." He grits out, hiding his dismay and disappointment behind his raised cup as he finishes the rest of its contents. Kirk groans as he stretches out his tense joints, his eyes immediately darting to your now empty and cold chair. "Where'd she go?" He asks innocently, his question going unanswered as James' sight zeroes in on his abnormally quiet and fidgety bandmate.

"What the hell did you do?" James asks the drummer, now wide awake and glaring at his guilty looking, long time best friend. Jason reaches forward to carefully detach his niece from his friend's shoulders, and places her in his arms instead. Kirk perks up as the bassist cocks his head to the side, insinuating for them to move and make some distance from their other bandmates. "Lars said some shit to the new teacher that he shouldn't have. It was way too soon." Jason explains, saving the man beside him the wasted breath of asking what was going on again.

Kirk sends Lars an exasperated look, the drummer catching it and looking down at his feet as James berates him from only a handful of feet away. Letting out a sigh and leaning against the tiled wall behind him, Kirk sighs out and glances at your empty seat once again.

"What else is new."

James lets his shoulders slump down in automatic reassurance at the sight of you alone, the relief hitting him full swing as he finds you outside and not already running for the hills.

"He didn't have the right to say all of that to you." James says in greeting, making sure to maintain a few feet of distance in between the two of you as he watches you tense up and only partially glance his way. "He's just looking out for you, I get that. The harshness of his tone is what got to me, is all." you breathe out through a forced, shuttering laugh. The frontman's eyes widen as he takes in your tear tracked and stained cheeks.

"He saw me break down after Eden's mom left, and he's been overprotective of me ever since." You shake your head and send him a small smile, before lifting yourself up to sit on the freezing cold brick wall behind you. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, James. You don't owe me anything." James fights back a shudder as he hears you say him name for the first time, the calming and stabilizing tone giving him enough bravery to step forward and closer to you.

"I do owe you, a few things, actually. This morning I was stuck in a meeting, almost close to tearing my own hair out while talking about the next album release and feeling like absolute shit at having to beg my clearly exhausted bandmate to take my daughter to school, because I couldn't. The very same bandmate of mine who feels like he's always being judged when he comes over to this side of town. So, while I'm stressed out and pacing around and hoping to God that my daughter makes it on time to her first day of the new school year, I get a call from one of my best friend's and immediately start to feel better."

You listen to him vehemently, unable to hold his intense eye contact as he stops only a few inches away from you. James has to physically stop himself back from reaching out and holding onto you and pleading for you to look up at him.

"Kirk tells me that he meets an amazing girl, pretty close to us in age range. And not only does she make him feel welcomed and understood within the first few minutes of him meeting and speaking to her, but she's also able to easily calm down my clearly distraught and upset daughter, who just wants to stay at home and spend some time with her irresponsible dad."

You let out an airy gasp as he places his left hand on top of yours and interlaces your fingers together. You look up in his eyes and remain that way until he begins to speak again, and even after that.

"And then I make my way over here once classes are done. And I'm stressed out and running all around the school looking for my little girl, who I just so happen to find in your arms and looking up at you like you just stole the sun and handed it to her on a silver platter. I haven't seen Eden look so relaxed and content with anyone who isn't part of the band or an immediate family member. And then I see the way you look at her, all unassuming and caring and understanding. So, when Lars said I'm attracted to you, he wasn't wrong with that. I think you're beautiful, but not just in the physical sense. I think you're light, and I think you're the positivity that the both of us may just need."

James moves forward until his chest is pressed against yours, and you blink back tears as you stare into his honest eyes. You take in a deep breath before you begin to speak, your heart pounding just from the close proximity.

"I think you're a pretty good dad," You start, letting out a wet laugh as James' eyebrows furrow at your words. "Let me finish. I think you're too hard on yourself, and I think if I went up and asked anyone who knows or knew you, they'd immediately agree. Your eyes lit up as soon as you saw Eden, who then met with you halfway with so much enthusiasm and glee. If you were an absent or poor parent, she wouldn't have reacted that way towards you. I've been around enough bad parents to know that, at the very least. You care so much about her education and her being on time for her first day of school, that you sent Kirk over to take her, even though you knew that you would feel guilty after by just having him drop her off." You place a light fingertip on the bottom of his chin as he looks back at you with wide, encapsulating eyes. You hold back a smile as the stubble of his facial hair tickles the tip of your finger.

"I think you need to give yourself some more credit. Because you barely know me, and yet you're standing out in the middle of the freezing cold with me in the pitch black, making sure that I'm okay." James grins at you softly and shakes his head to ground himself and to remind himself that this moment is real, before reaching up to encircle his large and calloused hand around your wrist. He presses a warm and reassuring kiss on your fingertip and watches intently as a bright flush makes its way up to the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm not sure where pursuing this is going to take me, but I hope it takes me somewhere with you. From the moment I heard about you, I was interested. But from the moment I saw you, I was completely fucked," you laugh loudly at the vulgarity of his words, causing James' smile to increase tenfold and his dimpled cheeks to become sore from the stretch. "So, if you would allow me, I'd like to kiss the ever-living shit out of you, and then get my daughter and go get us some dinner."

"You're going to take your daughter out to dinner and leave me here alone? A table for two?" You tease, letting out a shocked inhalation as he loops his fingers inside of your skirt's belt notches to yank you forward.

"Add one more." James murmurs, before grabbing onto your waist and leaning forward to attach his smile to yours. Warmth fills you as the hands gripping your waist slide around your middle and envelop you into a tight hug, your lips parting as his tongue sneakily peeks out to taste the bare skin of your bottom lip. James slides his tongue against yours and groans at the taste of you, before letting out a guttural moan against your mouth as you intertwine your fingers in the strands of his slightly curled hair and yank. You smirk against him before slowly leaning back, feeling triumphant as you take in the drunken and swept away look on his face.

"So, where are you taking us to dinner?" You breathe out cheekily, watching with humor-filled eyes as the man in front of you has to visibly collect himself. "Wherever you want and whatever you want, just so long as I can experience that again."

You bite your bottom lip and grin widely at him, glancing away from James as the opening of the main doors momentarily steals your attention. Jason makes his way out first, his expression turning hopeful as he takes in the happy looks on your faces, Eden slowly coming back to in his arms and letting out a quiet yawn against his jacket. Kirk comes out next and hot on his tail, his face lifting as he looks in between the two of you, before suddenly turning smug. "I knew leaving the two of them alone would be a good idea." He announces into the cold and frigid air, his adorable and crooked smile a contrasting brightness in the night's dark.

"And none of this would have even happened if it wasn't for me and my inability to keep my fucking mouth shut," Lars nearly shouts, looking over at you with an apologetic and small smile as the door behind him slams shut. "Sorry about that, by the way." You wave a hand at him and gently guide him out of the way as other attendees tiredly make their way out, and you hold back a laugh as the teacher from earlier gapes at the position you two relax in.

"See you on Monday!" You say to her as a farewell, quiet and unmanageable laughter jostling you to the core as you watch her nearly stumble as she shakes her head, before walking forward with a disbelieving grin on her lips.

Eden beams at you once you come into her line of view, after she fully raises her head and looks around. She hurriedly taps on Jason's shoulder to be let down, nearly running over to the two of you before her feet are able to fully hit the ground. You lift her up to sit her on the brick wall beside you and quickly place her hands in the large pocket of your coat nearest to her. "Warm enough?" You ask her, a seemingly permanent contentment filling you to the brim as she smiles up at you and nods enthusiastically.

The other men all quickly say their goodbyes in order of who they're closest to and turn to run towards the SUV they made their way over in, while you encircle your arms around the younger as the three of you hastily make your way over to your car. You quietly thank James by placing a kiss on his cheek as he takes Eden from your arms and guides her into the back seat. You smile widely as the man before you turns bright red, before hopping into the driver's sides seat as the wind begins to pick up.

"So, where are you taking us to dinner?" James mimics you from earlier, causing you to let out a huff of laughter as you turn the temperature dials to the right to blast the heat. You look in the rearview mirror and smile to yourself as you watch Eden strap herself in and make herself comfortable. You lean over to place a meaningful kiss on James' lips as a response once you're sure the younger isn't looking and find complete and utter fulfillment in the look of bliss on your handsome man's face.

Wherever the two of you will and may be, just add one more.

#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #kirk hammett #jason newsted #lars ulrich #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica smut

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angelsanarchy · 10 days

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What It Cost: Samuel Lafferty x Y/N Mini Series PRT 03

Tagging: @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @madamemaximoff06 @romanroyapoligist @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @dukesofsp00ks @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @lustkillers @s-0lar @hisemoslut @roryculkinsgf @ultrakissed @starry-eyed-wild-child

With the head of the family away on a mission, the Lafferty boys and their spouses let loose on the farm for the night. Y/n still made sure the chores were taken care of, most of the wives worked on dinner for everyone and she had kept an eye out for the kids while she cleaned.

Things felt a little more relaxed without the matriarch and patriarch to oversee things. They were able to have a little more fun, a little more freedom to move about the farm without a watchful eye making sure you were doing what you were supposed to. Dan had made sure things were still getting done, as he seemed to be trying to break in his desired role as the man in charge.

He had pulled Y/n aside twice to talk to her about her intentions to stay as an unwed woman in their family and how one day she might have to become a plural wife. The idea coming from Dan's mouth was unsettling, as he was not the Lafferty brother she was interested in but she made sure to put on a smile letting him know that she has an open mind and an open heart for the prophet.

"There you are. I feel like I haven't seen you all day." Samuel popped into the storage closet where Y/n was stacking some of the kids toys.

"Hey stranger. I've been keeping busy all day while you boys have been running around playing." She teased seeing how sweaty he was. She could smell the musk coming off of his skin and she wanted to taste it.

"I wish we had been playin' all day. I feel like I've worked twice as hard today and we weren't even supposed to be working at all." She watched as Sam chugged ice water from a glass, letting some of it drip down his chin into his collared shirt that was unbuttoned at the top.

"You should take a break and cool off. You are quite sweaty." Y/n tossed him a rag and he laughed taking it.

"Sorry if my being is offensive right now." He wiped his face and she rolled her eyes, walking out of the closet towards the sink and rinsing the rag in cold water to bring back over to his face and running it down his neck.

"I would never be offended by your presence in any state Samuel. You should know that by now." She smiled sweetly.

"I find that hard to believe. You should see me after trash day. I'm covered, head to toe in cow crap." Samuel smiled back at her and she shook her head.

"Well that might be a my limit but you in this current state doesn't bother me at all. I actually prefer you a little sweaty, smelling of a hard days work." Samuel cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Good to know." Samuel made a mental note of this moment and filed it away in his brain for potential fantasies. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about the last time they were together for her baptism. The taste of her on his tongue, the color of her nipples shown thrown her wet baptism gown. She was in the forefront of his desires since they met.

"I had an interesting conversation with your brother Dan earlier. I wasn't aware you all were considering plural marriage." Samuel looked at her with concern.

"Dan said that? When?" he questioned as though he had never talked to him about it.

"Just today. He found me doing the laundry and told me how great of a wife I would make and that once you all make the switch, he would happily take me on as a plural wife." Y/n watched Samuel's jaw clench.

"I assure you, the last person who you would want to be married to would be Dan. He is far too high-strung." Samuel tried to say without seeming as angry as he felt.

"Dan is a very nice man but he's not my type. Certainly not my favorite Lafferty brother." She winked.

"Oh yeah? And who might that be?" Samuel leaned against the door frame of the storage closet making her laugh.

"I don't feel like it should be said out loud. That just seems rude." She knew he knew it was him.

"Well I don't know how close we are with plural marriage but it hasn't come up with our father so he's probably just blowing smoke. I think your secret is safe." Samuel watched her bend over to push the bin of toys under the shelf and she sighed.

"Good to know. I think staying unwed is probably for the best anyway." Y/n turned her full attention to Samuel now.

"Although, if I were to take another wife, you would absolutely be the only choice I would have." He walked towards her, letting the door shut behind him.

"And how exactly would you treat me as your wife Samuel?" She crossed her arms over her chest and he chuckled taking her arms away from her chest to hold her hands.

"I would treat you well, how well would depend on how you treated me as your husband I suppose. How would you treat me as your husband?" Samuel challenged as she took a step into his space, removing her hands from his to run down his shirt towards the button of his pants.

"Would you like to see how I would treat you as my husband?" She asked undoing the button of his pants and he licked his lips as she kissed the corner of his mouth. Words escaped him as he watched her fall to her knees gracefully.

"You're already off to a perfect start...Sara...she doesn't like to use her mouth..." Samuel gasped feeling her warm mouth engulf his cock. Her fingertips stroked his thighs before gripping his balls firmly.

"F-fuck." Samuel gripped a shelf that stood next to them, full of children's toys and books. Y/n pulled her lips all the way to the tip making Samuel look down to see her chasing his eye contact.

"I want you to look me in the eyes." Y/n swirled her tongue around him and he bit his lip, shaking his head silently. He held her gaze desperately as she bobbed her head back and forth along his cock, letting the tears run down her cheeks as his tip continuously met the back of her throat. He felt how hard he was breathing and didn't realize it was himself who was groaning until she started cooing around his cock, the vibrations shooting directly to his balls.

"Do you want my cum down your throat? Is that what you want?" Samuel breathed putting his hand on the back of her head. She nodded, not slowing her pace.

"Such a perfect wife, taking my cock down your throat, sucking my seed and letting it swim in your belly the whole day. God made your mouth just for me to fuck." Samuel pulled her hair tightly and slammed her face against his crotch, feeling her choking on him as he pulsed cum down her throat. She gagged and he felt the push on his thighs but he didn't let her up yet. He waited until he was spent before pulling back and releasing her hair. She gasped and cleaned the spit and cum from her chin as he relaxed back against the locked down, cock hanging completely drained.

Once she managed to catch her breath, she crawled forward and took his flaccid cock in her hands, putting him gently back in his pants so she could rebutton and zip him as she got to her feet.

"As a wife, I would start and end my husbands day just like that." She ran her hands down his chest, smoothing his shirt out. He smiled at her and nodded his head.

"you would make the perfect wife." He pulled gently on the back of her neck to kiss her but before their lips could meet, he heard feet coming down the steps. They straighten themselves out and managed to open the door before Ron emerged at the bottom of the steps.

"We need you out here. Breaks over." Ron said with minimal expression. Samuel nodded his head and Y/n cleared her throat.

"Ron, please stop long enough to get a glass of ice water. You look simply parched." She handed him a glass and Ron gave her a small smile before taking the glass from her and going up the steps.

"Back to work Mr. Lafferty." She smirked walking past Samuel and going back into the closet. He tried to hide his grin as he climbed the steps to get back to work. She was simply feeding his every fantasy as if God sent her to him directly.

#Samuel Lafferty #Samuel Lafferty x Y/N #TV Series: Under the Banners of Heaven #Mini series #What it Cost mini series #What it Cost #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Sam Lafferty #Under the banners of heaven

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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woah hang on a second, pause one moment. we are all fairly agreed, right, that the pre-fall scene and the minisodes are all slightly off, that they don't quite ring true, and certainly indicate the work of an unreliable narrator... but why are we assuming that it's aziraphale?

the openings

opening title cards read like movie epics, compared to the neat little white placards in s1, and also all open with crowley as the first character in screen, with the exception of the resurrectionists - which has neither*.

now god knows that my film knowledge is probably rather limited, but if nothing else, i definitely got space odyssey-type glee from the pre-fall scene opening, and maltese falcon definitely sprang to mind for 1941 (and godzilla, weirdly). this... seems like the little bit of pizaz that crowley would employ in telling his own flashbacks.

this, to me, is even more apparent when compared with the white placards in s1, which feel more like aziraphale - orderly, and neatly filed. now, arguably you could say it's god's narration, and that certainly may be true, but the kicker for me is that the majority of the hard times flashbacks, and the eden scene, begin with aziraphale on screen.

in fact, iirc i think only 1862 and 1967 open on crowley, but with 1862, aziraphale is walking towards him in the opening shot anyway, and 1967... well, it doesnt surprise me that we don't get a shot of aziraphale before crowley is in the donkey. these are pivotal scenes for the both of them, but in some respects more so for crowley. it makes sense that the perspective would shift slightly here.

hero role

but back to s2; we then have the fact that crowley is portrayed, arguably, as the hero in each of these minisodes. he does have a tendency, i think it's fair to say, to assume the role of the hero especially in response to aziraphale placing himself, thinking that it's what makes crowley happy, into the part of the damsel-in-distress. but it goes beyond this; it's his scheme that saves the children/job's plight, he prevents elspeth from suicide, and then, yeah, he overcomes the miracle blocker and manages in a feat of well-timed skill to miss shooting aziraphale in the face.

he then is also the one to teach aziraphale certain lessons, especially around the nuance of faith and morality, and whilst it makes sense for this to be told from aziraphale's perspective, it's equally viable from crowley's; that he is the mentor in these minisodes, helping aziraphale to develop his own sense of right and wrong - particularly in the job and resurrectionist minisodes.

the 1941 minisode is different, because it feels more personal; crowley starts trying to teach aziraphale conviction in himself. but it all goes awry when he withholds the truth about having shot a gun, and when he is unable to save himself in the dressing room. crowley has a tendency to monkey-paw himself, and this is never more evident that in this minisode. his hero narrative unravels, aziraphale saves the day, and crowley plays it off smoothly and suavely back at the bookshop, without a word of thanks (if anything, he doubles down on insulting aziraphale - a contrast to his attitude at the beginning of the minisode - and the very trick that saved his hide).

but why does all this suddenly read to me like crowley's perspective? tbh, i can't quite put my finger on it; it's not like crowley doesn't deserve a positive light in the story, because he absolutely does, and in many ways is an incredibly good influence on aziraphale, but these minisodes... feel like crowley is trying to prove something. to himself, aziraphale, the audience, all three - idk.

this is compounded for me, however, in the pre-fall scene. no doubt, aziraphale did in fact develop an instant crush on this genius and brilliant angel, and again this would ring true if this scene is in fact being told from aziraphale's perspective. but in a way, to me, i think it is more sensical from crowley's; he's a bright and likeable angel, building stars, has another angel fawning over his brilliance, and - the kicker - it's of course set up to suggest to the audience that he fell 'just for asking a few questions", when we're equally led to believe from s1 that this is, perhaps, not the whole truth.

dramatics

this is another where i can't quite put my finger on it exactly, but - the minisodes feel... different. there was a brilliant meta on the job minisode, that i will find and link back, where the op remarked on the stark costume difference between the relatively simple costuming for crowley in mesopotamia and golgotha, and even that for aziraphale, compared to the biblical glitz and glamour of uz.

and if we look at the job minisode especially with his perspective in mind, he even takes stabs at gabriel (the lord farquaad haircut and arguably dumber-than-usual that i don't-quite-believe-he-was-this-dumb demeanour), that he doesn't seem to extend to michael - to the point that it feels like a vendetta against him... which tracks, given his less than favourable disposition towards gabriel/jim throughout s2.

in the resurrectionist episode, he doesn't have such an outlet or target, but some of his lines feel almost needlessly funny/over-exerted - "might have slightly overdone it on the hole" is one that springs to mind. im not even going to go into the specifics of the whole laudanum-induced state of ridiculousness, that ultimately feels way more amped-up than it maybe ought to have been, but in a way, it almost feels like crowley has started telling this bit of the story to a child. the immediately sober way in which he remarks on the "stunning view", contrasted to him growling down at elspeth and aziraphale, feels like this was a catch-moment of 'present-crowley' remembering on just how nice it actually was.

1941 again feels different, mainly because it doesn't quite follow the same narrative tone and pattern of the other minisodes, but his interactions with aziraphale in the car and bookshop, the fear at firing the rifle, and his not remembering furfur all feel that he's remembering this flashback a little more deeply - that not only is their fondness because of what the events of that night meant for him and aziraphale personally, but also it reminds him that his memory is still not wholly complete*.

memory-wipe theory*

this is relatively short and sweet, but... i think we can all agree that crowley has some issues with what he remembers of heaven and/or his fall. this feels so obvious when you - again, if we assume this perspective hypothesis is true - look at the way he portrays heaven; it feels very deliberate. god does not appear to be present in heaven, this is even somewhat confirmed within the god-job scene itself, but the Lighting Is Everything.

is this what crowley remembers of heaven of old, before he went up there on reconnaissance? did the change come as a surprise to him in 2023? the golden glow, the white and gold spangley robes? and muriel - why does aziraphale not seem to recognise muriel in 2023, if his memory is still intact and, by all accounts, accurate? does crowley actually remember muriel, and that's how he knew their rank? or did crowley just fill in the blanks, give muriel a starring role when retelling this flashback (given he was, obviously, not there)? is he telling it to muriel themself, in the context of s3? are these the clues that muriel is patching together, like the crow road?

the diary*

when we look at the following lines for the opening and closing of the resurrectionists minisode, and read it like it's aziraphale's retelling, the wording seems... odd. it implies that a month - a month - is a long time for aziraphale and crowley not to see each other.

"Dear diary,

Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh. And he insisted I visit a local graveyard... at midnight. He had come upon something, he said, that 'might amuse me'..."

"...and that was the last I was to see of Crowley... for quite some time..."

of course, we can take this as aziraphale being dramatic, and goodness knows that he leans into his own brand of flair in s2... but is it completely in character? to assign a month as being a long time?

and does it really fit with the tone of the canon? because, we see at the end of 1827 that he gets sucked down into hell. and then in 1862, he's shaken and nervous and paranoid, and asking aziraphale for holy water. this seems too much like cause-and-effect. it could well be that crowley returns from hell after a month, meets aziraphale, shrugs it off etc., but then... keeps getting sucked back into hell? tortured? enough that he breaks in 1862, and asks for a weapon?

it reads to me more that, if this is from crowley's perspective, that he is essentially taking the piss out of aziraphale in the opening, painting a picture of him practically lying on his belly on his bed, legs kicking, writing his diary with a pink glittery gel pen. and aziraphale's lines at the end of 1827, about crowley getting into trouble, are delivered so... fondly, and adoringly. now, that's not to say it's impossible for aziraphale to have delivered it like that, couldn't have been seeing/feeling for crowley like that, and god knows aziraphale is mercurial, but... on reflection, i can't say that it doesn't seem like an exaggerated version of himself.

the self that (yes, theres a lot of context missing between 1827 and the below moment that would account for aziraphale 'regressing' in character, i realise that) reacted like this to getting shot, compared to crowley's reaction:

so let's read those lines back again - is it possible that the opening lines are crowley speaking with aziraphale's voice, imitating and making a caricature of him, leaning emphasis on the spooky, dramatic words (similar to how aziraphale actually does when he's a 'newspaperman') and then the 'quite some time' trailing off is, in fact, quite some time?

#good omens #s2 meta #flashback meta #crowley meta #memory wipe theory #s3 narrative spec

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dubylou-draws · 2 months

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*Aggrieved pufferfish noises*

[Translators note: "You’re always whining about not wanting to go to work, you’re always hitting on girls, and you snore SO loud!"]

(no, I don't know what a pufferfish sounds like either)

____

Merman Zenitsu and pufferfish Chuntaro!

I was backing up some files earlier, and stumbled across this dumb AU doodle from a few years ago. Seemed appropriate to colour it with watercolours!

Cute little Chuntaro is a prickly pufferfish in this AU... but that raises the question: what marine species would the rest of the corps use to communicate underwater?

Swordfish are extremely fast swimmers, have convenient weapons/ letter clips stuck to their faces, excellent eyesight, are highly migratory loners with a massive range, and... ugh, fine. They're the obvious choice, aren't they?

Most members of the seaman slayer corps use swordfish.

Further fishy ideas beneath the cut:

Tanjirou:

My first instinct is to say sunfish, but the mental image of one of those massive creatures drifting menacingly behind him at all times is just too ridiculous.

And yet... somehow it makes perfect sense? A gentle giant that acts like a shield, patiently sheltering his sister from the sun whenever they travel near the surface.

Shinobu/ Kanao/Kanae: Butterfly fish, of course! All with polite and graceful personalities.

Shinobu fights using a variety of marine animal venoms including stonefish. Stonefish stings are treated with the applicaton of heat to denature proteins in the venom... so if Douma's an ice guy in this AU too, he's in for a rough time.

Inosuke: Briefly had a cute little pigfish, but he ate it within a day. Now he just has a regular corps- assigned swordfish. They're also tasty, apparently... if only he could catch it!

Tengen: Really wanted a Fireworks fish/ some other absurdly flamboyant tropical fish. Instead, he was assigned a bland- looking, tiny little fish that's well- suited to stealth missions.

It's been thoroughly ✨bedazzled✨by now and loves him. The most popular family member by far. Very plump and spoilt.

Gyomei: Green humphead parrotfish. These guys are massive, pretty docile, and spend most of their time crunching through rock- hard coral with big teeth to scrape off yummy algae, pooping out the rest as sand. They are cleaners that are instrumental in maintaining the health of coral reef ecosystems.

Gyomei's parrotfish is no exception; however, it used to be an insatiable glutton, to the point of destroying the coral reef it once resided in and being ostracised by its peers as a result. Wracked with guilt and with nowhere else to go, it received an invitation to serve in the corps. Its new master helped it learn self control.

Rengoku: There's no shortage of bold, flame- coloured fish species out there... but I reckon this guy just has the same generic swordfish species assigned to the rest of the corps. The only difference being that his used to be his father's loyal companion, and it's aged a bit, so it's not as speedy as it once was. It should've retired years ago, but refuses to abandon its self- imposed duty of keeping its master's son on the right path.

Was a rebellious playboy in its youth. Now it's a straight- laced military type, follows corps rules to the letter. Doesn't trust that slimy sea slug Nezuko one bit.

Sanemi: SAILFISH, hands down. Aggressive, vaguely wind- themed predator, and the fastest swimmer in the ocean. Both of them are pretty smug about that last point.

Genya: An archerfish would make sense thematically... but again, Genya just seems like another corps- assigned swordfish kinda guy to me? He definitely has a pet snapping turtle though. It's very small, and VERY grumpy.

Muchiro: A sweet natured blue- ringed octopus who wants nothing more than to be friends, but suffers from crippling social anxiety that makes it seem aloof and unapproachable.

Everyone is TERRIFIED of it except Tengen, who thinks it's flamboyant as heck, and Shinobu, who is simultaneously obsessed with it and wants to stab it dead.

Muchiro just ignores it, for the most part.

(Giyuu can relate).

Mitsuri: Blobfish lacking in self- confidence. Mitsuri thinks it's cute, and is absolutely correct in her opinion. Accepts cuddles from Mitsuri and Obanai only, and blushes at compliments. It's also insanely flexible, just like its master. Copes well under high pressure!

Giyuu: This man has a manta ray, no doubt about it. A creature of few words with a serene and peaceful disposition... yet inexplicably a huge social magnet that effortlessly draws everyone's attention (away from Giyuu). Especially popular with young merchildren, whom it often allows to ride on its back. Holds a deep respect for both its master and Urokodaki (who has a manta ray too, by the way).

Obanai: Had the toughest time deciding this one. A striped beakfish would match his colour scheme perfectly, but... I just don't think it suits him. A striped marlin, maybe? Anyone with more ideas, let me know!

Kaburamaru is a sea snake, obviously. A black- banded sea krait.

#This was hidden in one of my old uni lecture notes folders lol #was clearly paying attention that day #become a seaman slayer kids!#those evil humans are decimating the marine ecosystem with their overfishing!#ugh muzan as a random fisherman just isn't menacing enough though #he's a mutated freaky seamonster that attained the ability to walk on land maybe?#massive superiority complex over being “more evolved” than the merpeople #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #zenitsu agatsuma #chuntaro #zenitsu #kny

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fictional-men-have-my-heart · 1 year

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Hello all! Welcome to day 22! Today I was thinking about what hidden talents the 141, Los Vaqueros, and Konig may have. Simple, yet sweet type stuff :)

Price:

He doesn't like to admit to it, but he can sing quite well. Most of you have caught him singing quietly in his office as he goes through files or when he thinks he's alone in the range. You caught him off guard once during a mission when he was on watch and thought everyone was asleep.

"Got a nice voice Cap." You mumble, watching him jolt.

"Jesus kid, don't spook me like that." He'd grumble, shaking his head.

"Sorry sir, just thought I'd let you know."

Ghost:

He secretly likes to read. You weren't sure whose books you kept finding hidden in the bunkhouse, but they were certainly well-worn. You had asked Gaz and Soap, but neither knew either. It wasn't until you borrowed one to read on a long flight to a long-haul mission that Ghost noticed.

"Where'd you get this?" He growled, tugging it from you.

"In the bunkhouse? It kind of just appeared, no one knew... oh." Suddenly it clicked. He seemed to recognize you had no clue, so he holds it out to you.

"Don't get blood on it, understand?"

"Yes sir." You smiled, finding your place again.

Soap:

Doesn't like to admit to it, but he sketches a lot. You didn't take much notice, figuring he was writing back home to someone when you'd find him scrunched up over a notebook. Once though, one of his books fell out of his locker, spilling intricate sketches across the bunkroom. You had lept to help gather them, stopping as you saw a lovely drawing of Las Almas from when you guys had been there.

"Holy hell Soap, did you draw this?" You had asked quietly, holding the paper out to him. A red flush had started creeping up his neck, tinging his ears.

"Yeah, I did. Look, I don' like showin' these off. Keep this quiet, yeah?"

"Sure thing, just... know they're really good. Frame worthy." You had grinned. He nodded, shoving the book back into his locker.

Gaz:

You learned Gaz was one hell of a cook. You hadn't noticed at first how at ease he seemed in a kitchen, nor how he seemed to never use recipes. Now, you sat watching as he seemed to glide around the kitchen almost like a dance, preparing some food for the team on a relaxing evening between missions.

"Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

"Picked it up over the years. Takes a lot of practice."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Plus, I figured it would make it easier to find someone if I could cook y'know?"

Alejandro:

You didn't think much of it when Alejandro easily stitched someone's wound in the field, most people could do rudimentary stitching with combat first aid. However, watching him meticulously repair a shirt after a rough undercover op had you fascinated.

"Where'd you learn to sew like this Colonel?"

"Mi mamá. She told us kids we would need to know how to fix our clothes since we shouldn't always look for someone else to do it for us. This was mostly because I kept ripping my clothes while cutting school with Rudy."

"Sounds like your mom is a smart woman." You had laughed. He smiled fondly.

"Oh, she is. Loving and stern even with my hardheadedness."

Rudy:

You could always tell Rudy was a smart, graceful guy. He moved quickly and damn near silently, his footfalls minimal. You finally broke and questioned it at one point.

"How are you so quiet all the time?"

"I took dancing classes as a kid."

"You what?" Your eyes snap to him, eyes wide.

"Took dancing classes. I like to think it helped round out the combat training I got when I joined the military. Quiet and ruthless." He smirked.

"Now I have to see you dance sometime." You laughed.

"Anytime, I can even teach you if you'd like."

Konig:

It's astounding the things you might miss about people if you're never in the right place. Konig was a reserved and quiet person, and it never crossed your mind he might have a talent for music or instruments given your line of work. But, when a mission was over and you were settled back at a relatively nice base with a piano, he watched as you and Gaz tinkered with it.

"You two disgrace such a lovely instrument." He joked, leaning on the doorway.

"Oh, can you do better big man?" Gaz had retorted. Konig motioned for you two to move, and he settled onto the bench.

It was a sight to see, his frame almost making the instrument seem normal-sized. You watched as he began playing softly as if trying to recall the notes.

"It's been a long time..." He murmurs, slowly gaining confidence. You grinned, enthralled with the lovely sound as he played.

"Even so, you play very well." He nods, offering the seat back to you and Gaz.

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bronanlynch · 2 months

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it took me over nine months to finish ace attorney 5 but here we are with the lawyer rankings (of whose file clerk I'd rather be)

athena: once again I draw the line at working for a teenager, and also I would be so uncomfortable if she ever tried to tell me what emotion she knew I was feeling. cannot stress how miserable that would be for me, and also a discrimination lawsuit waiting to happen. also, emotions-based lawyering doesn't seem likely to produce as much paperwork as I would like, since that leaves me with less to do. 2/10, of course there's discord in my heart I'm at work leave me alone.

apollo: if he started his own firm I would work for him in a heartbeat but unfortunately him leaving and then coming back to the wright anything agency is not great in terms of like, job security for his hypothetical file clerk. like, do I get laid off when he leaves and then brought back when he returns a few days later? I want a little more stability than that, sorry. 7/10, he would at least help get my benefits paperwork sorted out and I appreciate that in a boss.

phoenix: Idk has he learned how to pay his staff yet because judging by the repetition of the ending bit abt how he doesn't want to buy them noodles the answer seems to be no. "your bonus this year is a pizza party" kind of boss except you have to buy your own pizza. sure he's learned how to be a more supportive mentor to athena than he was to apollo but my boss's faith in me will not pay my rent. 3/10, phoenix you're dating the chief prosecutor surely you can do better than this.

edgeworth: he's gotten his shit together in a way that makes me very proud of him, and he does seem to care abt his employees. also he looks good in those glasses. 8/10, if he can get blackquill's conviction overturned he can make sure I have dental insurance.

payne: the thing about payne is that he doesn't listen to the things people tell him and he doesn't seem to learn anything ever, and that's a very frustrating quality in a boss. the kind of boss that tells you to do something but explains it badly and when you ask a clarifying question he responds with even more incomprehensible bullshit. half of your email responses to him are just copying and pasting things you've already told him. 2/10, every interaction with him is a sisyphean nightmare.

blackquill: trying to process the ethics of an imprisoned prosecutor (they make him wear a shock collar in court jesus fucking christ) makes my brain short-circuit but that's also just the ace attorney experience. other than that he seems like a decent boss, as long as you can overlook some of his uh dramatic tendencies and also as long as he doesn't sic taka on you. but I think if you had a good rapport with him it would be fine, even if it would probably mean a lot of transcribing bc presumably he'd have to hand-write anything he wants to file with the court and send them to you via bird and then you'd have to type them up and actually submit them. 6/10, honestly he gains several points just because I want to pet taka.

professor means: he's so smug, is the thing. he's just the smuggest man and he treats his students like idiots so I can't imagine he'd be any better and less condescending to his employees. he's probably looking for every excuse to be like "gotcha! you made one (1) minor error (that isn't even actually an error, it's just that he personally would have done it differently" and because everything has to be a Teaching Moment he'll bring it up in department meetings and also use you as an example in his classes. 3/10, he gains a few points for his awareness that the legal system is fucked up and rigged in favor of the prosecution and then loses most of those points for being a condescending asshole.

klavier: he would be fine probably. presumably his office is in the same state as it was in aa4, which is not ideal, as it stresses me out when filing cabinets are so full/disorganized that you can't close the drawers. on the other hand maybe that was just because he hadn't gotten around to dealing with it yet and he's not living like that on purpose and he would appreciate a file clerk to help him get his shit together. 7/10, just don't call me fraulein and we'll be fine.

( aa1 | aa2 | aa3 | aa4 | aai | dgs1 | dgs2 )

#this is the first time i've done one of these while actively jobsearching lol #however these rankings are still my fun joke answers and not my real actual answers #bc the real answers for all of the prosecutors (even edgeworth) would be no on principle #but that would get repetitive to read so. here we are #pretend i'm giving these rankings as like. my aa-sona who isn't an abolitionist bc no one in ace attorney is #dreaming.txt #ace attorney

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nxzz-skz · 4 months

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FIRST EVER FF

so im not rlly good at writing smut or anything like that saurrr im gonna try for the first time

Pls feel free to leave tips and stuff for me cuz like i need help 😭

SUNGHOON FF~

When he pretends to be ur bf in front of ur ex (this isn’t smut btw im not ready to write that yet 😢)

Reader has a crush on sunghoon

(I’ll be addressing the reader as y/n)( fem reader)

Btw i love Yeonjun sm i just thought he kinda seems hot being the playboy type ( no hate pls 😭)

Y/n pov:

~Ughh why can’t i get at least one day off from the mess that my life is. I want to just bury all my stress underground and keep it there so someone else can be buried in it one day. I hate school so much! 😭

But one thing i don’t hate about school is my love 😍 , the only person i would ever come to school for.

Well i mean the boy who doesn't know i exist, Park Sunghoon..

Ugh pull yourself together y/n I can’t believe you were actually thinking about him that way. You have school to focus on right now, so there’s no time to be thinking about your classmate like that!

As i was looking at my timetable to see which class i was off to next, someone harshly bumped into me from behind, stepping on the heel of my foot and I hissed in pain. I whipped my head around furiously to see who decided to dampen my already miserable mood.

“Who the h…”

I was at a loss for words when meeting eyes with the supposedly blind suspect who clearly didn’t see me walking in front of them.

I thought i was dreaming but then again nothing good ever happened to me and i realized that this was the beginning of my worst nightmare.

It was Yeonjun, the boy who had broken my heart after chasing after my best friend whilst still being together with me.

I despise him, and never wanted to face him again but clearly fate was very much against me today. I vowed that once i was dead i would fight whichever god or superior being that was making me deal with this bs.

Author POV:

Y/n was extremely shocked and taken aback when coming face to face with her ex. But as well as being shocked she was more so pissed off with that fact that she had to face him after two months of successfully ignoring and getting over him.

( Yeonjun and y/n has lasted for 1 year, and they were the schools hottest IT couple, but they had to eventually break up due to the fact that Yeonjun just couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. They unfortunately left it on some negative terms)

Yeonjun smirked, seeing his cute little ex looking enraged in front of him.

He was never actually interested in her, only playing with her feelings due to the fact that most guys wanted her, which wasn't surprising as she was marked as the ‘cutest girl on campus”. He had no regrets in toying with her, especially after he’s now got her ex-best friend trailing after him like a lost puppy.

He looked y/n up and down with a sexy smirk and let out a low whistle.

YJ: “Long time no see darling. Looks like you’ve matured quite a bit”

Y/n instantly felt sick and uncomfortable and backed away, knowing that he was just a playboy and didn’t mean anything he said.

Y/N “ What are you doing here? Why are you talking to me?” She spat out instantly.

More students were filing into the corridors and classes were about to start soon, so y/n just wanted a quick answer and to then dash over to her next class.

YJ “ Well, good news for you, you wont have to miss me anymore as im moving up into your class”

Y/N “ Stop lying, you’ve already done enough of that with me in the past”

Silence fell between the two and y/n widened her eyes, slowly realizing that he wasn’t taking the piss.

Y/N “ Well, g-good for you” she stuttered, trying to run off and pray that he gets moved back down as soon as possible

Y/n sighed in disappointment whilst walking to her locker. She just wanted to spend the next year focusing on her studies with no distractions but now she has her ex being the centre of her attention every day.

Wondering how long she had left till her next class, in dire need of a coffee, she looked at her watch and let out a loud gasp.

Y/N “ Shit! Theres only two minutes left and my class is on the other side of campus” she exclaimed with a cry, and started running to her next class. “ How am i going to get a seat next to him now 😭!”

She quickly held on to her books tight whilst running the 50 mile sprint all the way to her next class. She couldn’t miss the chance to grab a seat next to the love of her life!

Y/N POV:

Oh god, I’m late, where is he?

I scanned the room but Sunghoon wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I guess I should just get a seat before people try and sit next to me.

I bagged a window seat as i was in dire need of some fresh air. And settled down, leaning my head on my crossed arms.

‘I need to refresh, especially after that chaotic encounter with Yeonjun’

I-i…can’t be seen with him flirting with me, especially infront of Sunghoon.

I closed my eyes hoping to get some rest as for some reason the teacher still wasn’t here, when all of a sudden the girls sitting behind me started squealing with joy.

I guess ‘ The Great Ice Price Sunghoon’ has finally arrived.

Of course i wasn’t the only one who loved him. Girls were dying to be with him and boys were trying to be friends with him left, right and centre.

Sunghoon entered and one girl fell to the floor and started fake sobbing.

Damm that girl was sick.

Girl: “ Sunghoon.. help..please..someone pushed me! “

Sunghoon just walked right past her without batting an eyelid

Yep that’s my boy…

I was smiling at the scene when i felt someone’s gaze on me and i made eye contact with Sunghoon.

All of a sudden his eyes drift towards the vacant seat next to me and he strides towards me while maintaining eye-contact.

My breath was stuck in my throat and i was mentally repeating the mantra ‘y/n act cool, y/n act cool’

Fuck.

Y/N : “ Hey Sunghoon! I didn’t see you there!’

Shit why did i say that, he literally made EYECONTACT with me across the classroom.

Sunghoon smiled a tight-lipped smile and pointed at the chair beside me.

SH: “ Umm..hey y/n..is this seat taken?”

Hold up. Was he asking…to sit..next to..me??? Of all people???

Y/N: “ ohh y-yeah o-of course it’s totally empty!”

I was mentally cursing and screaming at my self for stuttering and praying that he hadn’t noticed.

SH “ okie thanks y/n”

And he sat down while taking his books out of his bag and laying then on the desk.

Oh god he is so gorgeous, i need to stop staring before he notices but it’s too difficult to tear my gaze away from his beautiful face.

Ugh stop staring y/n….

AUTHOR POV:

Y/n was continuously staring at Sunghoon, not realizing that he had eventually noticed…

He smiled knowing that she was admiring him and continued to pretend to read his book.

SH: “ Am i that good-looking?”

Y/n was startled as she was snapped out of her trance. Her cheeks flushed bright red from embarrassment and she attempted to hide her face by looking away

Sunghoon turned his head away from his book and turned towards the flustered y/n.

He chuckled at the fact that she had turned into a strawberry just because of him.

SH: “ So was something bothering you? Is there something on my face?”

She decided to ignore his smart comment and tried to change the subject.

Y/N: “ uhh…no….anyways have you finished the maths assignment?”

SH: “hmm not really..it’s half done but i still need to finish the research part.”

They made light conversation for a while, chatting about school work and their friends groups, when the teacher had finally arrived and the class started.

TIMESKIP

(Pretend that y/n is reading a very popular book)

Y/N POV:

Class had ended and i stayed behind for a while to finish up some work, but when i entered that cafeteria, Sunghoon was nowhere to be seen.

I grabbed my lunch tray and scanned the room in a search to find somewhere to sit. It wasn’t that the room was full, it was more like I was looking for him or for somewhere where he would sit next to me.

Finally my gaze landed on his table and all his friends. I started to make my way towards it and I noticed he was sitting with a few people I hadn’t seen him with before.

Y/N: “Hey Sunghoon!”

Sunghoon swiveled around to see who it was.

He beckoned me towards his table with a welcoming smile on his face

SH: “ Hey y/n, come take a seat!”

I suddenly stopped in my tracks when the person sitting next to him turned around and flashed me a wide Cheshire Cat grin.

It was Yeonjun.

I quickly sat down opposite them, and he gazed at me with a mischievous smirk. I had a gut feeling that something about this was very odd.

SH: “ Oh yeah, y/n, this is the new guy wh-“

Sunghoon was then rudely cut off by Yeonjun

YJ: “ Don’t worry we’ve met before..”

I hate this guy so fucking much.

Sunghoons eyes were darting between me and Yeonjun.

SH: “ oh so you guys know each other already?”

YJ: “Oh ye-“

I instantly cut him off, not wanting him to ruin everything for me.

Y/N: “Oh yes, babe! I remembered him from when we used to go elementary school together this morning!”

I knew exactly what i was doing and it was working. I saw Sunghoons eyes widen and Yeonjuns smile falter a little.

YJ: “ Babe??”

Y/N: “ Oh yeah! Meet Sunghoon, my boyfriend”

I scooted closer to Sunghoon and linked my arm through his, whilst smiling up at him and hoping he would understand what i was doing.

I was so in love with him that I was happy with fake dating him just to get rid of my ex who would be in the way of me making this real.

I could see that Sunghoon was still in shock and i tried to mentally send him an apology.

SH: “I-“

Y/N: “ Well i hope you can excuse us Yeonjun, but me and my boyfriend need to go out for work, so see you around i guess!”

I hoped that Yeonjun would finally get the message and leave me alone once and for all.

I took a hold of Sunghoons wrist and hurriedly dragged him outside with me. He was still in visible shock, especially after we had just left our lunches there.

We reached an empty classroom and i took a deep breath before apologizing to him.

Y/N: “Sunghoon, I am so,so sorry! If you would listen I promise I had my reasons!”

Sunghoon didn’t reply but instead slowly moved towards me until there was barely two inches between us.

SH: “ Care to explain your reasons?”

My palms were sweaty and my knees were on the verge of collapsing due to the intense closeness between us.

I gulped.

Y/N: “Well the thing is, he’s my ex and ever since he moved up into our class, he just wont leave me alone”

Y/N: “ We were together for quite a while but we were clearly never happy. I never liked how he would stare at other girls and flirt with everyone who ever spoke to him, and he was way too possessive over me. In the end, he ended up blaming it all on me since i was the one with a pretty best friend, whom he couldn’t take his eyes off”

Sunghoon calmly and attentively listened to me rant about my past toxic relationship.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow and his eyes filled with concern

SH: “ So Yeonjun is your playboy ex? And he was with me just to get to you?”

Y/N: “ I-i dont know about that for sure, but im pretty sure he’s only talking to me just to make me relieve these horrible past memories.”

I looked down whilst have a visual representation of those horrible time filling my mind.

Y/N: “Please Sunghoon, just pretend to be my boyfriend when we’re in front of him, and i promise I’ll do whatever you want me to”

I was desperate to cut Yeonjun out of my life. I wanted to never have anything to do with him. Even if it meant having to try and hide my true feelings for Sunghoon.

Sunghoon took a moment to think about it as i was anxiously waiting for his reply.

SH: “You..you will do whatever i say??”

I nodded eagerly.

SH: “ How long would we have to pretend for?”

Y/N: “Hmmm..not long, i guess until he finally gets the message and decides to leave me alone for good”

SH: “Fine I’ll do it but im only telling you what i want after we are finished”

I was filled with joy after the fact that he agreed but i was still a bit nervous thinking about what his condition could be that he wouldn’t want to tell me now.

Besides, I shouldn’t be nervous since now that we had both agreed to it, I wouldn’t give up until i had forever gotten Yeonjun out of my life.

SH: “ We just have to pretend to be a couple right?”

Y/N: “Yup, and we have to make it believable. By the way, are you sure you dont have any problems with this?”

SH: “ No not really, i just want to get you out of this mess”

He then pecked my nose and i was left feeling very taken aback. I could feel the blood rushing toward my cheeks and my whole body filled with warmth.

Did he really just do that even though he already knew how nervous i was before???

I could feel my face turning red and i was in a desperate need to get out of there before he could see.

Y/N: “L-Let’s go..”

Sunghoon chuckled at my stuttering and followed behind me.

TIMESKIP

(Y/n and sunghoon have left the classroom)

AUTHOR POV:

After Sunghoon and y/n were done with their conversation, they headed towards the basketball court in order to spend their free period there.

Unfortunately, Yeonjun clearly had the same idea.

Yeonjun waved at Sunghoon, and y/n tried to make her escape when suddenly a strong pair of arm encircled her waist.

Sunghoon smirked and whispered in her ear.

SH: “What about our plan, babe?”

Y/n was blushing and Yeonjun started to walk towards the “couple”

YJ: “ Where did you two run off two after lunch? We couldn’t find you anywhere”

SH: “ Oh you know, just spending some quality time with my girlfriend”

Sunghoon then hugged her body firmly against his.

Y/n was a blushing mess and was mentally telling herself that there was nothing wrong about her “BOYFRIEND” touching her.

Yeonjun was clearly uncomfortable with the sight in front of him and excused himself whilst walking away with a sigh.

Y/n immediately removed herself from Sunghoons arms as she was about to mentally die.

Sunghoon also suddenly stood up straight now feeling flustered after not knowing what came over him during those few moments.

They both looked away from each other, not knowing that one of them was in love, but the other one was now falling even harder.

ENDING

Authors note:

I’m not really good at writing very romantic stuff but i am currently trying for anther story and I’ll see if i will release it. I’m going to end it here and ig u can use your imagination to see who confessed first!

#sunghoon #fanfic #enhypen #enha x reader #heeseung #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen imagines #kpop imagines

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