#these songs drag you into the street by your hair and then hit you with a truck

[rustedhearts]

just friends (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you and steve have been just friends for years now. but how long can you convince everyone you're 'just friends' before it becomes a lie? or steve harrington is your super hot roommate and everyone thinks it's stupid you guys aren't dating yet.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the library

tags: roommate!steve, kinda shitty boyfriend!eddie, pining, fluff, angst, casual dominance from our casual dominance king steve, honestly going to try so hard not to make this a series but you know me.

a/n: i've wanted to write roommate!steve for so ages. you can thank a much-needed new girl binge and my tendency to take my frustration out on my mop for this.

The bass-heavy bump of music came at Steve full force before he even stepped out of the elevator. He paused, staring down the door of your shared apartment knowing that the sight that would welcome him would not be pretty.

In the kitchen, you were hunched over the handle of a mop, furiously dragging it over a sliver of tile. Teeth gritted together, face flushed and damp with sweat, hair disheveled and pulled away from your face, a pair of cotton shorts and an old t-shirt rolled up to the shoulders—you were a mess.

You were sad.

"Uh-oh." Steve stepped into the room, calling over the booming music. "What happened?"

You jumped a little, accustomed to the quiet of the apartment on Saturday nights. Steve almost always spent weekend nights at the bar down the street hitting on girls too sweet for him. You usually had until at least 11:30 to do whatever you wanted before some random girl came scampering in, clinging to Steve and giggling as they fumbled to his room.

But he was home early. And no matter how long you'd lived together, or how well he knew you, you still hated being seen like this.

So, you never took your eyes off the mop, scrubbing away a sauce stain on the tile.

"Nothing." You shrugged, flicking wisps of hair out of your eyes.

Steve watched you whirl around to drag the mop toward the bucket again. You stabbed it into the soapy water with a vengeance, nose scrunching with every slosh and splash. Steve leaned against the doorway and quirked a brow.

"Yeah? You're playing your sad music, though."

Your sad music consisted of a handful of hard rock records that most people would consider music for a dive bar—but you only ever played it when you were staving off tears. The louder you played it, the more upset you were.

Steve knew you a little too well.

This comment went ignored as you slapped the mop back on the floor and continued an angered scrubbing. Steve sighed, scratching at his temple. Most of the time, it was best to leave you alone. Sometimes, you needed to talk it out. It took a little coaxing—a pizza and a cold glass of Coke with a straw usually did the trick—but eventually, you'd spill.

And Steve would fix it.

Calm you down, help you figure it out, offer some advice. He gave pretty good advice for someone still struggling to get his own shit figured out.

Steve could tell from the way the song went unsung, the way you huffed every time the mop head flipped, the way you started stomping your foot when you found a stale French fry under the stove—you needed him to step in.

Pushing off the wall, Steve crossed the room and placed his hand over yours on the mop handle.

"Hey. Hey, come on."

You struggled at first, scowling at him as you tugged on the handle. "Stop it."

He sighed again. He was always sighing at you like a disappointed teacher.

"Hey." A little firmer this time, accompanied by a sharp snatch of the handle from your grasp into his. When you dropped your hands and obliged, the furrow of his brow relaxed. "Thank you. Now, why don't you go take a shower. The house is clean enough."

You frowned, wiping at the sweat on your head. "I just—"

Steve pressed his hand flat into the small of your back, steering you toward the door. "Seriously, honey, it's fine. You do stink, though."

That made your lip twitch—a semblance of a smile—with an amused little huff. You took a step toward the door, slippered feet scuffing. You looked over your shoulder toward Steve standing where you left him, still holding the mop.

He waved you off. "Go on. Take a nap, too.”

You nodded, flashing a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Steve."

He watched you shuffle away, shoulders slumped and eyes down as you went. He propped the mop against the kitchen counter and shook his head at the mess of cleaning supplies on the table.

When he heard the bathroom door clamp shut and the hiss of the shower head turn on, Steve rushed the front door again.

He opened it a smidge, enough to fit his head in and smile sweetly at the girl waiting in the hall picking at her nails. She perked up, stepping toward the door eagerly.

"Hey," Steve cooed, voice dripping with honey. "I'm so sorry, my roommate got sick all over. I think s-he needs to go to the doctor, so...would you mind if we raincheck?"

The girl—Sarah, as he would recall later on—broke into a concerned pout, clasping her hands over her chest. "Oh my god, that's terrible! You're so sweet taking care of him."

Steve chuckled, a breezy smile on his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for understanding."

She tipped her head, adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder. "Of course. Call me when he's feeling better?"

Steve nodded, knowing the phone number in his back pocket would dissolve in the washer in a week, and he had no intention of ever calling her to begin with.

"Yeah, for sure. Night."

"Goodnight."

He waited until the elevator dinged, watching the doors close on her grinning face, before pulling back into the apartment and locking the door. He blew a sigh out of his cheeks, head shaking as he headed toward the hall.

The shower had stopped, and he could hear the soft, wet patters of your feet behind the door when he leaned against the wall beside it. He knocked two knuckles gently into the wood.

"Honey?" he called. "Need anything? Wanna order a pizza?"

He waited, adjusting the hem of his shirt to spread out a wrinkle in the fabric. He knew what the answer would be, but he couldn't always be so obvious. He had to pretend that he didn't know you like the back of his hand, because everyone started telling him how weird it was.

"You've lived with this girl for two years and haven't boned? You're either gay or dumb as a box of fuckin' rocks," is what Max told him when they met for lunch a few months ago.

Everyone said the same thing. His sister, who teased him at birthday parties and summer barbecues that you were always his date for. Sabrina did everything in her power to push the two of you closer together at family events, ensuring your seats were always paired and your activities were always coupled up.

"You look at her like a dog with a bone," she teased last Fourth of July.

But Steve only shook his head, glancing your way where you were helping his mother decorate cupcakes. You were dating some guy in IT at the time. Total fucking nerd. He made you pay for most of the dates.

"Nah...we're just friends. She's got a boyfriend."

We're just friends was probably Steve's most popular sentence in the English language since the day he met you. A pair of college graduates who had no clue what the hell they were supposed to do with their lives, roommate-matched by the apartment complex and so content with each other that you just kept renewing the lease.

When you finally replied to his question, your voice came like a small, pipping whisper behind the door. "Yeah...but with mushrooms this time?"

This time, as if you didn't order a mushroom and sausage pizza every time. Steve smiled, pushing off the wall.

"Okay—"

"And—"

"And sausage, I know. I'll call 'em."

"Okay."

While Steve called the pizza place a few blocks over, you clutched a towel to your chest and padded to your room. You pulled on the softest items you owned and sat on the end of your bed. A long day of cleaning certainly tired you out, but that wasn't what ailed you.

It was the fight with your boyfriend last night at the bar, when he yelled at you for laughing at Steve's jokes even though you always did. He thought you were too close, too "chummy" to be just friends.

Unbeknownst to Steve, we're just friends was one of your most common phrases, too. You should've had it engraved on your forehead at this point.

"Hey." Two knuckles on your door this time before it skittered open. Steve popped his head in and grinned at you. "Wearin' my favorite sweatpants? Must be feelin' better."

You glanced down at the black sweatpants on your legs, snickering softly. Steve thought they hugged your ass perfectly, and loved the way they flared at the calves. The logo right on your left ass cheek was especially beautiful.

When you opted to leave that soft noise as your reply, Steve stepped into the room. He flopped beside you on the bed, springs squeaking shrilly.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

You shook your head down at your lap, rubbing at your eye. You hated crying, and so far today you'd been doing well swallowing them down. Steve had only seen you cry once, and you avoided him for three days after.

Something about vulnerability made you cower.

"Okay...wanna watch a movie?"

You sighed, shifting a little away from him. Steve clocked it with a brow-furrowed frown.

"Steve...you don't have to make me feel better. I'm fine."

His lips parted to reply—most likely in protest—but the door chittered on its hinges once more with the small butted head of your tuxedo cat, Ted.

Steve immediately stood and scooped Ted up, turning to bring him to the bed. He scratched under his chin and brought forth a low humming purr immediately.

Not even cats could resist that pretty boy charm.

"Well, I reckon this lil guy will do a better job of cheerin' you up," Steve cooed, plopping Ted beside you.

A quiet giggle slipped from your mouth as you reached to swoop his tail. "Reckon?"

Steve shrugged, a sheepish grin on his mouth. "Just came out. I turn Southern in a crisis, darlin'."

He was just trying to make you laugh now, and he couldn't help but mirror the sound when it proved effective. Though, it also proved temporary. You soon settled on your side, tugging Ted to your chest with a fading smile.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, gathering a chunk of it at the top to pull. A stress tick. You tried not to feel guilty for causing it.

"Well...alright." Steve shuffled backward toward the door. "Pizza in fifteen."

You nodded into the pillow. "Okay. Thanks."

Steve lingered a beat too long, eyeing your balled up form on the bed before slipping into the hall. You'd been sad plenty times over the years: breakups, let-downs, missed jobs.

But the guy you were dating now...you really seemed to like him. He was over all the time, practically living here at one point. Steve didn't really understand what you saw in the guy—Eddie. Steve scoffed to himself, head shaking. Stupid name.

You met Eddie at the auto shop where he worked. He gave you a discount on your oil change, and his tire talk was so smooth that you went on a date two days later. Six months later, and things still seemed to be going smoothly despite the pair of you having very little in common.

Usually, you dated harmless little nerdy guys. Steve actually laughed in the face of a five foot eight finance bro who threatened to "hurt him real bad" if he got in the way of your relationship. You dumped him that night, and the pair of you still laugh about it to this day.

But Eddie was...different. Sleeves of dark ink and a chainlink on his belt. A handful of chunky silver rings and another one in his nose. He always clinked in with a nod Steve's way and a hand on your ass, and it seemed that every time he kissed you in front of Steve, he looked him right in the eye while he did it.

Steve didn't like how small you made yourself around Eddie, and he didn't like how much Eddie seemed to enjoy it.

For everyone's sake, he hoped it wasn't Eddie that made you sad. For once, he wasn't sure he'd win that fight.

✶ ✶

There were many things about your behavior that night that concerned Steve.

Number 1: You only ate three pieces of pizza, and he got one small mushroom-sausage with extra cheese just for you.

Number 2: You didn't let Ted in when he scratched at your door, and Steve had to bring him to his own room for bed.

But worst of all.

Number 3: You didn't say goodnight.

So, Steve went to bed with Ted curled at his feet and a lump in his throat. Whatever you were upset about was bad, he could just tell; and everything in him was itching to make it better. He had this terrible, stupid ache to make life easy for you, and it never really went away.

He opened all your jars, refilled all your water bottles, made sure your phone was charged when he saw the little red bar. He bought more of your favorite snacks when he saw them running low, picked up things that "felt like you" when he saw them at the store. You had an abundance of miscellaneous yellow items sitting on your windowsill because you told him it was your favorite color two years ago.

In Steve's eyes, everything yellow in the world belonged to you.

Steve stirred in a half sleep for hours, kicking at his covers and offering murmured apologies to a miffed Ted who meowed at him. His concerns, however, came to a head when the sound of muffled shouting startled him completely awake.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and tapped the screen, rubbing his eyes clear to read the 1:15. He wondered which couple in the building was fighting this late. His bet was on Jax and Monica in 1F who were always on the outs.

"You think I'm a fuckin' idiot? I see the way he looks at you!"

But that was Eddie's voice.

"I don't understand where this is coming from."

And that was yours.

Steve shot up, fumbling for his glasses in their case somewhere in his nightstand drawer. He shoved them over his eyes, swinging his legs over the bed.

"I'm tired of competing with your fucking roommate."

"You don't—you aren't! Eddie, please, you know we're just friends."

"Spare me. You're a shitty liar. Hey! C'mere, I'm not done talkin'."

Oh, hell no. Pants abandoned, Steve swung his door open with banging force and rushed into the hall.

He found the pair of you in the entryway, Eddie's hand around your arm and your cheeks soaked with tears. You still had your pajamas on, and those little yellow slippers Steve bought for you last Christmas.

Both heads turned when Steve hurried into the room, tailed by a confused Ted butting at his leg.

Eddie huffed, motioning toward Steve. "Oh, great, of course you're here."

Steve braced his hands on his hips, glaring at the raven-haired man. "I live here, dick-wad. Remove your hand."

Eddie ignored him, still wringing your arm out. You cast your eyes away from Steve, ashamed by the state he found you in.

"You live up my girlfriend's ass, Harrington. And I'm kinda tired of you being there all the fucking time."

"Remove. Your. Hand."

"Stop," you sniffled, wiping the tears from your cheeks though it wouldn't do much to hide the pink rims of your eyes. "Eddie, he's my friend."

"If he's gonna be your friend, then we're done."

You gaped up at him, more hot tears bubbling over and stinging your eyes. "W-what? Eddie, that's—"

Eddie shrugged, smug and uncaring. "You heard me."

Steve's eyes moved your way, and he could only stomach the absolute heartbreak on your face for a split second before he was stepping forward.

"Alright," he barked, and then he was shoving the arm Eddie was holding you with. "Let her go, Aerosmith, and get the fuck out."

Eddie let you go, but spun sharply to face Steve. You weren't sure whose glare was more frightening.

Eddie stepped until he was toe-to-toe with your roommate. "You like fuckin' another man's girl? You like my sloppy seconds, you pussy bit—"

Steve might not have been much of a fighter, certainly didn't fare well with a man who lifted cars for a living—but he certainly excelled at being discrete.

Which is how he got a right hook in before Eddie could fight back. Which is also how Eddie ended up on the ground, and unable to stand again for a few moments.

"Jesus, Steve," you scolded, peering down at your boyfriend with wide eyes. “You knocked him out!”

Steve cleared his throat, ignoring the buzzing pain in his knuckles as he swept them through his hair and motioned toward Eddie.

“Hm? Nah, honey, he’s just…he’s takin’ a nap.”

Though still numbed by shock and worry, you couldn’t help the amused snort that rippled through you. Steve’s lip quirked, and he glanced at Eddie when he groaned on the floor.

“Um, well…let’s get you up, bud. Yeah, you’re okay, c’mon.” Steve began talking to Eddie like a child, cooing as he helped him to his feet by the arm.

And maybe he wasn’t nice about walking him to the elevator, watching him crumble to the floor as the doors closed. Maybe the shiner swelling on Eddie’s cheek filled Steve with incredulous joy.

But he swallowed all of it down when he returned to the apartment and found you standing right where he left you. If you were ashamed of your tears this time, it didn’t show. You grew inconsolable, and Steve had no other thought in mind that didn’t involve picking you up and taking you back to bed.

So he did just that, letting you soak his bare chest with tears as he went. When he sat you on the bed, he tipped your head up by the chin and wiped your cheeks.

“He’s not comin’ back tonight, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Sniffling, you let him dry your tears and pull strands of hair from the sticky residue. “He thinks we were cheating. I t-tried to tell him…that we’re just friends.”

You deflated with a hiccuped sigh, and Steve’s smile was full of pity and pain. He rubbed his thumbs into your cheeks, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah. Just friends, honey.”

Your eyes fluttered with exhaustion, and Steve swallowed thickly. He pinched the edge of your pillow to pull it down, and gently coaxed you down by the shoulders. He pulled the covers up to your chin and plucked Ted from the ground to join you on the bed.

“He ain’t worth your tears, honey. Get some sleep.”

Sniffling again, you nodded quietly. Steve flashed another smile, and stepped back toward the door. As he reached for the light switch, he glanced over his shoulder to find your eyes again.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered.

He shut the light off so you wouldn’t see the way he closed his eyes, like it pained him to hear you with another cry in your throat.

“Goodnight, honey.”

Steve sat awake until 6 a.m waiting for Eddie to come to his senses and return for vengeance. But he never came. In some way, Steve knew that would hurt you even more.

So in the morning when you woke, he greeted you with a handful of sunshine yellow daffodils and your favorite coffee. A soft kiss on the head and a scratch at Ted’s chin on his way out.

“Gonna meet up with a friend today. Call me if you need me, ‘kay?”

He went home with the first girl he met at the bar that day just to get you out of his head, and lied about it when he came home.

Just friends. Yeah, right.

#rolly! #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington au #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #roommate!steve harrington

[cultrise]

oh my god, give me lovesick hobie brown.

lovesick hobie who cannot for the life of him keep his eyes away from you. and he won’t. he’s going to enter a room or speak to someone at HQ and see you in the distance and completely lose focus. his world just suddenly stops and his gaze remains glued to you until the person ‘bothering’ him leaves uncomfortably.

lovesick hobie who does not even perceive the idea of not touching you. even if you’re sitting at the restaurant somewhere with your friends he needs to touch you. thighs pressed against each other under the table, arm around your shoulders, interlocked pinkies — anything so he can feel you close to him. he needs to feel your body heat otherwise he’ll go crazy.

lovesick hobie who comes home almost everyday saying “this reminded me of you” and hands you something he made, bought from some street vendor or stole for you. it’s anything from clothes to little accessories to food. he just loves showering you with gifts and the happy smile on your face when you get handed one, the soft, gentle kisses he receives as a ‘thank you’ afterwards.

lovesick hobie who will make sure his arms are tightly wrapped around your waist in the morning so you can’t escape his embrace. he hates waking up early and he loathes to see you leave bed. he wants to wake up next to you, maybe spend the whole day in bed if possible. he needs his cuddles so badly.

lovesick hobie who watches you talk, head leaning to one side as he has a huge smile on his face. and he just can’t help himself to kiss you mid sentence. “do i bore you?” you ask with a smile as he pulls away, smiling as he caresses your cheek “no. just felt like it” he says before continuing to listen to you talk to him about whatever crosses your mind. he interrupts you many times more. don’t blame him, your lips are just too inviting for him to say no.

lovesick hobie who would sometimes get purposely more injured during fights just to feel your hands gently caress his wounds as you patched him up. you knew he did it on purpose. you scolded him about it many times. he never listened. his eyes just stayed fixated on your lips as you yelled at him before shutting you up quickly with a needy kiss. “you need to stop doing this!” you hit his chest annoyed after pulling away from him. he smiles, pressing his forehead to yours “i know. ‘m sorry. won’ happen again”. it does happen again.

lovesick hobie who denies being obsessed with you in front of others to keep his cool demeanour but is contradicted the moment you step into the room. like the time he was talking to gwen, miles & pav about how you were the one obsessed with him in reality. and you walked in, said hi to all of them and pressed a kiss on hobie’s cheek before attempting to walk away. and he just used his webs to drag you into his arms, muttering an audible “don’t go” to you before nuzzling his face into your neck. oh yeah, everybody and their mom knew hobie was not only obsessed, but extremely needy for you. he stopped contradicting pav after that encounter.

lovesick hobie who loves nothing more than mornings waking up next to you, the first thing that hits his nose being your sweet smell. you calm him down. he just wants to wake you up with tender kisses as you groan in annoyance. he doesn’t mind. he just runs his hand through your hair, whispering ‘good morning’ in your ear before pulling you into a lazy, sleepy kiss.

lovesick hobie who writes songs for you because you’re always on his mind. except they never have lyrics. he’s kinda bad at words. so he uses chords to express how he feels about you instead. he’d just sit you down, saying he has something you need to listen to. and he tries to play it off as cool, but he gets so flustered and excited it doesn’t work. and you can tell by the way he plays and by the way he avoids your gaze with rosy cheeks that he’s strumming from his heart. your feedback is lots of loving kisses.

i need lovesick hobie. he’s so stupidly adorable.

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#𐙚 — pages. #across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown x reader

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

If You Let Me, Part One

A/N: My first Joe fic! This series is based off the song "If You Let Me" by Sinead Harnett, one of my favorite songs. Really excited to post this and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: angst, kissing, mentions of alcohol and drunkenness

You pulled your coat tighter across your body as you crossed the street toward the church. It had just started to snow, uncharacteristically early for Cincinnati in November, a light dusting of flurries coating the stones as you ran up the steps.

You wish you could say being late to your brother’s wedding rehearsal was out of character for you, but you’d be lying. You had a habit of showing up fashionably (or what your mother would call embarrassingly) late to family events, partially because you couldn’t stand to be around your parents for too long without a drink in your hand, and partially because it meant a decreased chance that you’d run into Joe. He was your brother’s best friend, troublemakers attached at the hip since they could walk, so your mom invited him to every dinner, birthday party, and holiday. Thank goodness his football schedule made it difficult to say yes to any of the invitations, or you probably wouldn’t have seen your family at all this year. It wasn't a surprise that Joe was going to be your brother's best man, but it did mean you'd been dreading this weekend for the past year.

You could admit you were dragging your feet getting ready this morning, but your tardiness today, truly wasn’t your fault. On the 15-minute ride from your apartment to the church downtown, you managed to hit every red light and get stuck behind a freight train. Even on the walk from the parking lot, all of the contents of your purse spilled onto the pavement, and you lost your shoe crossing the street.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was divine intervention.

As you walked into the church, you realized it was karma.

There he stood, leaning against the door that led to the main hall, his phone in his hand. His blonde hair was shorter than the last time you’d seen him, the tan he got from being on the football field six days a week a nice contrast to his bright blue eyes. He looked nervous, uneasy, his left leg jiggling as he looked around the room before glancing back down to his phone as if he was anticipating someone's arrival, and when he made eye contact with you, he looked downright sick to his stomach.

“Hi”, the word came out as a squeak. Joe straightened up, pulling at the sleeve of his tan suit jacket. The bride, your future sister-in-law, Tiffany, insisted that the entire wedding party be in coordinating colors, tan for the groomsmen, teal for the bridesmaids. You were wearing a simple black shift dress that had been hiding in the back of your closet because you turned down your invitation to be part of the wedding party, much to your mother’s chagrin.

“You’re going to be the only member of our family not part of the wedding”, she chastised you over the phone when Tiffany told her you would be enjoying the wedding from the second row of guest seating. “How do you think this is going to make me look in front of my friends?” You realized that it did look odd that you weren’t participating in your only brother’s wedding in some capacity, but you knew the only way you were going to make it through this wedding was by clinging to the bar and staying as far away as you could from Joe Burrow.

“Um, hey.” He cleared his throat as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. You could cut the tension with a dull butter knife, that’s how little regard he had for you now.

The last time the two of you had even been in the same room together was your family’s annual Christmas Eve party, three years ago. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of eight good, long years, the man you thought you were going to marry and have a family with, after he admitted to cheating on you with some random girl he met at a bar, and you were more than drunk off of a few martinis to try to ease the pain. You stumbled, literally, across Joe on the balcony, who had stepped outside to get some fresh air and get away from the terrible Christmas karaoke.

“You are not drunk enough tonight, Mr. Burrow.” You shakily held out the bottle of champagne you had stollen from the kitchen. Joe took the mostly empty bottle from you with a grin, placing it on the ground. “I think you’re drunk enough for the both of us", he grabbed you just as you tripped over your own feet, holding you up with one of his hands, Ok, I gotcha.”

“If you can’t get stupid drunk while your mom inappropriately sings “Santa Baby” to a room of your family and friends, when can you drink?” You gestured back into the house, watching your mother scandalously shaking her hips as the instrumental blared over the speakers. You got your sense of humor and your low alcohol tolerance from her. You gripped the railing of the balcony to steady yourself, accidentally landing atop Joe’s hand. His skin felt hot and smooth, and for the second you made eye contact with him, his gaze falling from your eyes to your lips, you were pretty sure you were willing to do something stupid tonight to forget about your broken heart.

Your relationship with Joe had always been, well, nonexistent. Growing up, he and your brother were a year ahead of you in school, and they mostly wanted nothing to do with you; teenagers could be cruel, so the only time you saw Joe was in passing in the hallway between classes or when he came to your house to hang out. He was always nice to you, but in a “I have to be nice to you or my mom will kill me” kind of way. You were pretty sure he didn’t see you as anything more as an obnoxious little sister.

“So, how’s school going?” Joe quickly pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest. You took a deep breath, feeling yourself quickly sober up. “School is well, school.” You punctuated your sentence with a hiccup. The last thing you wanted to talk about was how terribly you were doing in college, and how your goal of getting into law school next year was quickly becoming a pipe dream. “School, you?”, Joe’s brow furrowed at your question as you slurred your words, “I mean, how’s school going for you?” He nodded, flashing you his perfect, pearly whites. “School’s good, football’s going well. Scouts are telling me I’m probably going first round.” He looked down at the ground, studying his sneakers like they were the most fascinating thing he’d seen all night.

“That’s amazing! Congrats!” You would later blame it on your inebriation, but not thinking, you threw your arms sloppily around Joe’s shoulders, his hands catching you low at the waist. “Uh, I-“, your mouth was dangerously close to his, and you were sure he could smell the vodka on your breath, but when you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you go, keeping you tightly pulled into his chest. You let yourself fall into his hold as the two of you brushed noses, Joe gently kissing at your bottom lip to test the waters. You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind, you had always had a crush on Joe, but it was also a line you thought you’d never cross. Any other night there would have been no question, but tonight, you were hurting, and Joe was your only source of comfort.

You grab his face with both hands, pulling him down to better meet you, your lips pressed together so hard, not a breath could escape. Joe’s large frame towered over yours as you both fought for dominance in the kiss, Joe’s tongue jutting in between your lips. You felt a warmth pool in your stomach as Joe’s hands roamed your body carelessly, eventually moving to cup your ass, gently lifting you and forcing you to stand on your toes to keep up. You were glad the heat from inside the house had fogged up the windows, preventing anyone from seeing the two of you.

“Joe, stop.” You mumbled against his mouth, trying to push him away at the chest, making him eventually break away even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. You saw the puffs of white in the air leaving his mouth as his chest heaved with each breath, his cheeks a rosy pink, lips swollen and red.

“What?” It was more like a plea than a question, his warm hand cupping your cheek as he looked at you. “What’s wrong?” You pressed your forehead against his, his arms still wrapped around you; he didn’t dare to let you go. You played with the necklace around your neck, twisting the diamond stone between your fingers. You were still wearing the necklace that your boyfriend had given you, even though the two of you were broken up. As much as you wish you were, you still weren’t over your relationship, and it wasn’t fair to either of you to lead Joe on.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my brother’s best friend.” You closed your eyes, each breath you took in reminding you of just how good Joe smelled. Your head was spinning, and not because of the drinks you’d had all evening.

“I’ve always cared about you. I know we’ve never been here before”, you knew he meant the kiss, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.” Joe was pouring his heart out to you, and you were still hung up on the guy who cheated. You wanted him, more than anything, but it felt like you were trading one heartbreak for another, whether it came now, or further down the road. There was no way this ended well.

Seeing your wheels turning, Joe leaned in again to lock lips, and you let him kiss you, but he could feel you hesitate. You stepped back, and the look on his face was enough to make your stomach turn. “I’m sorry, Joe. I really am.” You pulled the screen door open with what little strength you had left and left him out on the balcony.

You knew it was inevitable, fate would force you to come face to face with Joe eventually, but you were really wishing it wasn’t going to be today of all days. You knew he’d be here, of course, but you were hoping you’d could sneak in after rehearsals had already started and be out before anyone saw you. You were sure he could hear your heart beating with how quiet it was in the vestibule.

“Joe, I really want to apo-“, you gripped the strap of your handbag, the leather twisting against the skin in your palm. He couldn’t make eye contact with you, or didn’t want to, as he pushed away from the door he was leaning against. “Let’s just get through today”, he edged out, letting out a sharp breath as he began to walk away from you.

“There you are!” Your mother came rushing toward the two of you, the click of her heels echoing through the hall. “Joe, you look so handsome. I was just telling your mother how proud we are of you.” She gently patted his forearm, and Joe gave her a small smile.

“And you, it’s a good thing you’re here, actually.” She immediately began to straighten out your dress and licked her thumb to wipe away mascara that settled in the creases of your under eye. “Thanks, mom, and here I thought I was going to be an inconvenience.” She rolled her eyes, as she always did at one of your quips. “Stop being dramatic, hun. One of the bridesmaids is sick with food poisoning, so we need you to step in for her. Today and during the wedding. Her dress should fit you, might be a little tight.” She sized you up, undoubtedly noticing the couple of pounds you’d put on while studying non-stop for the LSAT. “You’ll walk with Joe actually.”

You could hear the groan rumbling in Joe’s chest from where you stood. “Mom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, you muttered under your breath, but she immediately waived you off. “God forbid you actually do something to support this family. Is it really too much to ask for you to get your head out of the books for a minute and be a part of the biggest day of your brother’s life?” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt an oncoming headache. “Of course, mom. I’d be happy to be a bridesmaid.”

“Perfect! Tiffany will be thrilled.” She clapped her hands together, leaving the two of you in her dust as she hustled back to the wedding party.

“Joe, I really think that we should talk.” You were waving your white flag at him, hoping he would let his guard down long enough so you could properly apologize.

“We have nothing to talk about”, he bit back at you, and you staggered, not expecting his harsh tone. “I think it’d be better for the both of us if we keep the talking to a minimum.” He ran his hands through his hair, and for the first time you saw how truly hurt he was by what happened that night, three years ago. He left you standing in the entrance before you could get out another word.

The universe really had a cruel sense of humor.

Tag-List:

@wonderlandiswhereitsatyo

@bernelflo

@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

@zobellagio

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joey b #joey burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part eight! Buckle up, that's all I will say. Much love.🤍🥹

warning: kids, past trauma, wing clipping, wounds, blood, all the horrors of Illyrian camps.

Not proof read yet!!!

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The room felt warm and quiet. You could hear people talking outside as they passed by, but it didn't bother you. The sound was muffled enough to mix and twirl with the sounds of the river. You had no idea when the last time you slept so peacefully was. Not a single night terror. Not a single flinch. There was no need to jump up every time an unknown sound filled the room. This felt safe. Happy. You blinked a couple of times. You could tell that the room was brightly illuminated by the morning sun, but no direct sunlight hit your eyes. Now you know why. Azriel had his wing wrapped around you, the bridge of it acting as your shield against the careless beam of light. You reached up mindlessly, brushing the tips of your fingers over the delicate leather, making Azriel growl ever so slightly.

You moved to turn towards him. Last night felt like a dream. Cordelia, Azriel's mother, had welcomed you with so much love that it was overwhelming. Zofie and Axel were high on attention. They sang all the songs they knew and even danced together. You had never seen them so lively. So eager to be on the receiving end of attention. Sure, they enjoyed the activities in the sanctuary. But most of them were mandatory. Children had to attend classes and have afternoon activities. And yes, they smiled while doing it, but it never came close to the smile that shined on their faces last night.

You moved your hand to the side, where Zofie usually slept. Eager to brush your fingers through her, no doubt, messy hair since she was way too tired last night to detangle her curls. But all you were met with were the cold sheets. Your heart instantly sank. Your body jolted as you sat up, pushing Azriel's wing away.

"Where are they?", your words came out almost breathless as you looked across the room. There was no sign of Axel either. A warm palm moved to caress your lower back. "Hey, calm down", the spymaster's voice was low and husky. Laced with deep sleep. And even if you wanted to bask in the sight of him, your anxious brain quickly pushed the image of him sprawled out next to you away. "Azriel", you hissed, moving to get out of bed, but he quickly caught your wrist. "They are with my mom", he muttered. "Alone?", your eyes darted towards the window. So many what-ifs were clouding your vision.

"Get back in bed", you felt a tug on your hand. But it was not only the fear for your kids that clawed at you. You two hadn't talked after the kiss. You sat on his lap last night. He had an arm wrapped around your lower back. A feathery kiss here and there. But... what if it was just a high of the moment? What if he had changed his mind? The next tug was way stronger. Azriel practically dragged you up and over his chest. As if it was nothing. As if moving your body around was the easiest thing ever.

"Azriel", you huffed, trying to fight against his touch but knowing full well that there was no way you were getting away from him. So you turned to face him. His loving eyes were already gazing at you. The shadowsinger made a quick move by pushing some of the loose strands of your hair away from your eyes before muttering, "My shadows are with them. They are safe. Mom is looking after them". You opened your mouth to argue with him, but he cut in quickly, "They are eating street pancakes now". A light smile tugged at his lips. A knowing one. "How do...", you muttered. "I see through my shadows. They are safe and happy", Azriel said with a little chuckle, no doubt watching these two do something they probably shouldn't.

"And before you ask, yes, they have mittens on", Azriel jabbed his fingers into your side, making you squirm. "Fuck you", you huffed, rolling your eyes. A deep chuckle slipped through his lips. "I would not decline", the spymaster said in a teasing manner. You gapped at him, shoving at his shoulder. "Azriel", you winced, hating how your cheeks were already getting crimson. "You say my name awfully often this morning, love", he breathed out innocently. But the embarrassment that ran through you had you hiding your face in his neck. Azriel instantly opted to run his palm up and down your back. Fingers innocently brushing against the ham of the shirt you had on. His shirt. Because magically, all of your nightgowns had disappeared, and last night you didn't want to argue with Azriel about it. A tight pang ran through your chest. Brushing a dark layer over the sweet moment. It all felt too good. Too nice. Too calm. You had never... never had a chance to have a boyfriend growing up, so, love, let's say it's been tucked deeply into your chest. Dusty, forgotten. So it couldn't just come undone so easily. Right?

"Stop worrying", Azriel grumbled. You could feel the way his chest moved with every word that he spoke. The fact that he could read you so well when, for so many years, no one could... "I can't", you muttered so quietly. Voice barely a whisper. Azriel quickly shifted, pulling just enough for him to see your face. "Do you think I would seriously let them do something that would put them in harm's way?", his voice was much more serious now. There's not a thread of that teasing undertone. Puff. Gone. A soldier made of steel.

You shake your head, "No", you hate the doubt that still rumbles deep within your gut. "I'm just scared to let them go... I don't know", you admitted, shrugging your shoulders. Azriel quickly cupped your face and turned your attention back to him. "You gave them a chance at a beautiful life, love. This just adds to it". You let out a sigh. "Well, so did you", you smiled at Azriel softly, finger running over his eyebrows, trying to learn every detail of his face. "They adore you", you humed after a moment of silence. The memory of Zofie and Axel making this hulk of a male twirl in the kitchen last night flushed through your mind. "I adore you", Azriel mused softly. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Smooth", you muttered, shaking your head.

But you're met with Azriel's dazed eyes. As if there's nothing he would rather be looking at than you. As if you are the most important thing right now. "You look pretty", and it's the endless love-sick words that cause you to drop your gaze as you try to hide your face from him. "Very funny", you mutter. You could only imagine how disheveled you looked. Messy hair, no makeup. Not put together at all. Most males would run. But not Azriel, as you feel his fingers moving over your bare thighs. "I'm serious. It's like you're... glowing", and you can't take his adorations any longer as you move closer to him, reaching for his face. "What are you doing?", Azriel says as you move to straddle his hips. You only throw him a grin and say, "Keeping your mouth busy."

You two were halfway through your breakfast when the door creaked open and fits of giggles filled the place. You nearly fell back as you moved to stand up, hurrying towards the hallway. Too long. They had been away from you for too long. Waking up without them next to you had left you anxious, no matter the distractions. "Y/n", cheerful squealing filled the space as the two kids took off towards you, muddy shoes still on. "My babies", you kneeled instantly, opening your arms to them. Not minding the cool material of their winter clothes, dampened by the snow.

But keeping them still seemed impossible. Too much energy and excitement still bubbled within their tiny bodies. "You would not believe it! There's a fountain with spinning water fairies", Axel beamed, his hands flailing upwards as he showed you different shapes. "And there are golden flowers, too", Zofie pulled at your hand eagerly. "That sounds beautiful. I hope you were behaving nicely", you looked at the two of them as they nodded their heads.

Azriel watched you from the doorway. Arms crossed over his chest. He had seen the things they had gone up to, so it was you who had his full attention. The way the blanket of worry melted away. Leaving the smell of happiness behind. No longer was there a painful tug deep within him. The pain seemed glossed over. Gone simply. Watching you smile at the two kids, he suddenly realized that he would be fine with watching you like this forever. In reality, it seemed as if he needed nothing else. "Granny bought us roasted chestnuts to try", now those words had made Azriel bite down on his breath, and from your way, your shoulders stiffened; he knew that it struck you too. Granny. Azriel wondered how long it would take his mother to usher the kids to her side. Even if his childhood was horrible, his mother was the only thing keeping him alive. That hour, which Azriel was allowed to spend with her, always fueled him. Ignited enough strength so the tiny bat would not crumble completely.

"These two had stolen the whole town's hearts", Cordelia mused happily, arms full with bags, Azriel moved swiftly, taking them from her. A knowing look on her face said it all. Azriel didn't need to say anything. If he could fool his brothers, he could never fool his mother. "Did you two say thank you?", you gave both of the kids a look, and they once again nodded eagerly. Not missing a beat. Cordelia smiled right back at them.

"Y/N, can I have a quick word?" The older lady turned your way, and dread instantly bloomed within you. You threw Azriel a look, but he just shrugged his shoulders before turning to the two troublemakers, drawing shapes in the mud that they stomped inside. "Let's get you two washed up", he said, lifting the two of them easily, each resting in the crook of Azriel's armpits, laughing hysterically.

"I hope they haven't caused too much trouble, ma'am", you stood up quickly, smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. Making a mental note to mop the floors after. "Sweetheart, I thought we agreed on Cordelia", she shook her head in disbelief, but the smile didn't leave her face. "And it's not about the kids...", her eyes followed the noise coming from the end of the hallway. You could hear the mixture of laughter drowning out the silent walls. "It's about my boy", Cordelia breathed.

You watched her gaze get distant for a moment before she squeezed your hand. "My boy, I see the way he looks at you. Last night he couldn't keep his eyes off you", your cheeks heated at her words. You thought the glances were careful. Not too obvious, but it seemed you had been wrong.

"He's a handful at times, but... when he loves... he loves with all that he has", sadness lined her words now. You knew snippets of his past. Who hadn't? The whole court drummed with stories of him. His arms were a dead giveaway of his traumatic upbringing. But you never held that against him. It was a part of him. A part that needed to be loved just as much. "Don't play with his heart", Cordelia's last words came out more like a plea, and your heart bled alongside hers.

"I'll cherish it; I will", You turned to the elderly lady, taking both of her hands into hers. She threw you one of her signature-knowing looks. "Promise to bring my grandchildren around often. Been waiting way too long for them", you can't help but chuckle lightly. You doubted you would be able to hold Zofie and Axel away even if you wanted. They had fallen hard for the love they never got to experience. A grandmother's love. You turned to reach for the rest of the scattered things when Cordelia caught your hand. "And, YN", she said softly, "You were meant to find each other". It felt as if your chest hallowed out for a moment before filling with so much light that it was almost too painful to bear.

Azriel grew more worried as the day moved toward the evening. He was planning and talking with Rhys through his mind. Setting up the final times for the dinner. Shoving Rhys smug ass right out when his brothers started teasing. He was nervous. Was he nervous? He realized now that he had never brought anyone around. Well, he wasn't an innocent man. The three of them had shared females in the same room while they were young. But this wasn't that. This was so much more than that. The thought of having to share you with anyone made Azriel's blood run thick. No, you were his. As much as he didn't want to grow possessive, his scent had mingled with yours. In the same way, notes of oranges and vanilla were now intertwined with his musky scent, in more than one way, you had became his.

A thud from behind the closed door made Azriel lift his head. Axel and he had been waiting in the living room for you and Zofie to get ready. And while Axel had been fully occupied with the book that Cordelia had slipped into his hands, Azriel was growing impatient. He hadn't seen you for over a couple of hours. A couple of hours too long that was.

He heard you hissing Zofie's name, making his eyebrows scrunch. "What's going on in there", the spymaster muttered under his breath. Mostly to himself. So he was more than surprised when he heard a response,"You know females", Axel laughed under his breath, not lifting his eyes from the pages. "Axel", Azriel brushed his hand over his stubble as he tried to contain his smile. That boy was seriously way too smart for his age. Azriel chose to stay back until he could hear the frustrated stomping; that was enough to pull him from his chair.

"Can I come in?", he breathed after knocking softly. The door opened almost immediately, and Mother have mercy on him. He was ready to fall to his knees as his eyes landed on you. Wavy hair falling behind your shoulder, and a deep blue velvet dress hugging every curve of your body. And all of a sudden, the top button of Azriel's shirt felt too tight, cutting off the normal airflow, pants too itchy. The spymaster quickly pulled his eyes away from you, trying to find something else to look at.

"What's wrong", he tried to peek behind your shoulder. Getting a glimpse of Zofie with her hands crossed over her chest. You let out a sigh as you stepped aside, "She doesn't like her hair". Azriel strided ahead, moving toward the little ball of frustration, glaring at the floor as if it had done something to personally offend her.

"Hey, what's wrong?", Azriel directs the question at Zofie, who only pouts harder. "My hair", the girl tugs at her messy curls, the color of the night itself. As wild as her too. "I think it looks pretty", Azriel says softly, but Zofie is quiet enough to throw him a look that tells him that she's not buying his bullshit, no matter how hard he tried. Azriel just shakes his head in disbelief. These kids... His eyes catch a glimpse of a light blue ribbon, his hand reaching towards it almost subconsciously. "Come, sit on my lap", the shadowsinger urges the girl up the bed before his fingers brush through her long hair. And soon he finds himself in that long-forgotten rhythm of braiding someone's hair.

The rest of the evening was a big blur. Brushing at Axel's shirt. Reassuring Zofie that there was nothing to fear. Cordelia waving you all goodbye. Azriel talking, but you barely heard him through your panic. And then there's Rhys walking towards you all on his massive balcony, arms outstretched.

"Welcome, I was worried Azriel had hidden you in his cave", the high lord jabbed at his brother, making Azriel roll his eyes. But he doesn't say anything; his attention is more focused on Zofie, who has her head hidden in the crook of his neck.

"It's good to see you here, darling", Rhys reaches for your hands, and even if you know this man, had seen him at his lowest, it still feels weird being here like this. You work in his sanctuary. You are summoned by him. But it's only his office you agree to go to. Only if he winnows you straight there and back. And you know deep down that you two are linked in more than one way, but you push those thoughts away.

"It's good to be here", you say, smiling up at him. "Hope my brother didn't give you too much of a hard time", Rhys chimed, making you turn towards Azriel, who stood there more than unimpressed. "I'll issue you a paycheck", you chuckle, and you could swear that even Azriel's lip twitched with a smile for a moment.

"Uff, right in the nuts", another, much louder voice cuts in, followed by the sound of heels clicking against the tiles. "Cassian, there are kids around", a female tugged at the winged male's shirt tightly, but that only made his grin wider. "I've seen your head", and it's Axel who's pointing his little finger at the high lord. You quickly bat his finger away, shaking your head at him for the inappropriate gesture. But Rhys doesn't seem to mind as he leans closer to the boy, "And I've heard that you're growing up to be quite a soldier", your eyes darted up to Azriel. Had he been talking about you all with his family? Well, of course, he planned this, but... you can plan something without talking about the person you bring. But Azriel has a proud smile on his face as he watches the boy, and the way his eyes grow big. "Will give us competition, huh", Cassian adds, and you could swear Axel holds himself even taller as he glances at the two males, nodding.

"Why don't we all go inside", a female moves to wrap her arm around Rhys. You don't even need her to introduce herself; you know who she is, Feyre. You've seen her through Rhys's eyes, and, well, she's even more beautiful in person. "Come, my son is excited to meet you too, bud", Rhys reaches for Axel, who clasps the lord's hand tightly. You feel Azriel's hand on the small of your back as he ushered you towards the glass door.

The evening is nothing but lovely. The food is delicious, and the conversation flows surprisingly easily. The light-teasing remarks and jokes that keep flying left and right slowly eat at the tension in your shoulders. And sure, they all seem nice, but you also understand why being here would hurt Azriel. You would have to be blind to not see the amount of love that pours out of the two couples. And even if you were blind, you would still feel it. It's in the air. The looks. The touches. You imagine how lonely it must have been for Azriel. How... your hand reaches for his beneath the table, giving it a little squeeze. The spymaster glances your way, a light smile tugging at his lips.

Your eyes dart toward the three kids next. Nyx is about Zofie's age, and quite frankly, from the moment he saw her, he's been looking at her as if she's hung the stars in the sky. But the two are way too shy to talk to one another. So it's Axel who's been babbling away all evening. You can't help but smile once more. It would be lovely for them to have another friend. Someone out of their circle. And Nyx has wings too. Him and Axel could learn together. The boy practically has a heart of gold, so you're nothing but sure that he would never make fun of Axel for the way his wings were. Considering that that hadn't been brought up ever once tonight.

Just suddenly, the door burst. You don't even get to turn your head to the side before you feel Azriel moving to stand up; the absence of him is instantly unsettling. And then you see it. Someone you knew was missing from this table all along.

"Elain", Azriel's voice is filled with disbelief, and your gut curls into itself. You grip your fork tightly. What right did you have to get upset over this? You watch the surprise rippling through the female, who looks shocked to see Azriel. It doesn't help that she's gorgeous too. From her perfectly braided hair to her light pink dress, she's the complete opposite of you. "Azriel?", she says, shaking her head before leaping into his arms. And something about that hug. The way he's holding onto her sides and the way she has her arms wrapped around his neck makes you want to run away and hide. You feel a light tug at your side, turning to find the two kids now by your chair. Big eyes, full of questions, watching you.

"I thought...", the female stuttered, right as another male walked through the door, still fixing his shirt. "We do apologize for being late", his dark red hair swaying as he moved towards the table. "No, I'm aware that you two have been busy", Rhys purred back with a smirk. A knowing look painted the autumn male's features. "You... you accepted the bond?", Azriel muttered, and it's as if he's freely chosen to take chunks of your heart out tonight. And you're ready to talk and listen about anything but this. You don't want to be here anymore. Anything, you plead, give me anything.

As if summoned by you, a paper note falls right onto Rhys's plate. The male startles for a moment before reaching for it. His face darkens more and more as his eyes race through the words. The high lord's eyes meet yours over the table, "North Camp," and that's all you need to hear before moving to get up.

The dinner is long forgotten after that. Rhys winnows everyone back to the sanctuary. The grip Zofie and Axel have on you is making it hard for you to move. The troupe is getting armed, and you know that you need to be doing the same. "I want to go to Grammy", Zofie says quietly into your skirt. You kneel in front of them, "We can't go now. You two will have to stay in our old room", you say softly. You never had to leave with them present, and suddenly you realize why. Leaving them like this is more than painful.

"I can take them," Feyre cuts in. You saw the way all color disappeared from her face when she saw all of these kids and females in front of her. "You two hear that, high lady will take you to Cordelia", you cup their faces gently. "And Azriel?", Axel looks around, trying to spot the tall figures through the sea of bodies. "I don't know, bud. He was never a part of our world anyway", you hate the words that slip past your lips the moment you see confusion running through the boy's eyes. Your petty hurt is the last thing they need now. So, you kiss both of their foreheads and say, "Don't get into too much trouble without me", you flick both of their noses playfully before stepping away quickly. Turning from them so they won't see the tears on your face.

"Stay close", the voice alone has a shiver running down your back. You turn to face him. Azriel is in full Illyrian leathers, striding towards you. "Don't make this complicated", you hiss through clenched teeth, putting a dagger in the strap around your thighs. "I'm trying to keep you safe", there's that same pleading tone in his voice, but you no longer buy it. Not after tonight. Not after his whole body changed when he saw Elain.

"I was perfectly safe before you came around", you bite back. And you know, the words sting. Taking Azriel by surprise, almost. But you don't know what he expected. For you to bounce back? To not mind. "Take your brothers, go to the upper camp, and find the kids", you say bluntly. You know you are in no position to order him around, but you don't care anymore. Azriel opens his mouth as if to say something before closing it back up. You shake your head at him. And he's left to watch you rush towards the sanctuary soldiers, shouting commands before your hands disappear into a glowing light and everything grows static for a moment. As if your powers had managed to slow down time, draw elements from the air around everyone.

Azriel can't shake the sick feeling as he winnows alongside his brothers. He caught the disapproving look on Rhys's face, but the male said nothing. Deep down, Azriel knows that's not the thing that's making him uncomfortable. He didn't say anything to the kids. He tried to look for them in the sea of people but to no avail. He only found you because a soldier directed him. It's as if you didn't want to be seen by him. His head was a mess; it was not how he imagined the night to go. And Elain and Lucien... It took him by surprise, but he was happy for them. Elain reeked of the autumn male, and Lucien swaggering in all disheveled was a true cherry on top. But they were meant to be together.

"Front door", Rhys murmured through the mind bond, and Azriel only nodded before kicking the door open. The three males inched inside. The letter looked sketchy if Azriel was being honest. A sacrifice. The camp leader made a sacrifice to make a point. Show Rhys that he had no powers up in the mountains. With kids held in the upper cabin before the slaughter. And he could hear the cries, but no matter where they looked, there wasn't a single body in the house.

"What the fuck is this?", Cassian cursed as he yanked yet another door open, only to be met with the same nothingness. "Basement?", Rhys asked, his eyes scanning the floorboards. But they all knew there was no way; the sound was coming from the side. And then Azriel felt it. As if someone reached into his chest, yanked his heart out, and ripped it to pieces right in front of him. Shier panic washed over him. "Y/N," he breathed, stepping towards the front door. "The sounds are illusions", he hissed through gritted teeth. "A trap", Rhys said in disbelief as the same worry coursed through his veins. "Y/n!", a roar slipped past Azriel's lips.

Something felt off, and you could feel it. There were two little people in this camp. No commotion. You couldn't even feel the heartbeats. So what were you slowing down? You looked around, trying to catch the sigh of a single soldier. Your head up to reach for the daggers and do your scope, but there was no one here. A shiver ran down your back. And then the birds fled from the mountains. Rumbling as the snow fell from the top. Whatever caused that to happen...

But you don't get to finish the thought. You heard it before you saw it. You felt it before you could even register what was happening. A painful sob slipped past your lips as an arrow pierced your left wrist. You staggered back. Warm blood trickling down your palm instantly. No, there was no way. You barely lifted your head as another arrow hit your right palm. You let out a cry. Your vision growing hazy. Fear bubbled deep within you. You tried to summon through the pain, but the more you moved your hands, the more blood you were losing.

And then you saw a group of males, all with iron armor. "Fuck", you cursed under your breath, trying to get up and move away. But the arrows must have been dipped in venom. You stumbled, making the males laugh as they slowly inched closer towards you. "Azriel", you muttered quietly. "Azriel, please", your eyes slowly started burning with tears.

"Well, well, well...", one of the males grabbed at your ankle, dragging you through the muddy ground towards them. "Two for two, it's my lucky day, boys", the other pulled at your hands, breaking off the tips of the arrows, causing you to scream out in agony. "Please", you pleaded once more.

I'm almost there. Hold on, love. Hold on for me. Azriel's voice filled your head, and you couldn't help but let out a choked-out sob at that. "Why don't we end it once and for all? Pay your daddy an omega", one of the males pulled you up by the hair right as the other threw him a dagger.

"Any last words, princess?", his voice was thick in your ear. But you don't finish. You don't make another move. Reaching deep within yourself, you wrap your hands around the glowing golden thread, caressing it softly one more time before whispering, "I'm sorry". They erupt with laughter; but they don't need to know that those words aren't for them. And then you close your eyes right as the cold blade touches your throat.

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster x reader #azriel spymaster #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

[cybsoo2]

a bleeding bruise (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — The aftermath of the 'accident' stirs up suffering in all of you. How will you handle the pain? How do these three survive with the shame? And what will be the outcome of your relationship?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!vminkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.2k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, injury, past abuse, vomiting, they're such little liars, needles, angst

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

The rush to the hospital is a blur of blood. Stained hands, soaked in sin, carry you out to the car. Clarlet carnage covers everything it touches; their skin, the midnight air, it even seeps into the seats. 

Jimin and Jungkook are frantic to force themselves into the backseat. They sit side by side with you laying limply over their laps. Your head is held in Jimin’s hands. He cradles you with care and caresses your soft skin. You’re turnt to face the front of the car in case you spit up any more scarlet. The cold air creeps into your lungs. It’s a comforting contrast compared to the fiery heat that incinerates your insides. 

Taehyung speeds down the streets, missing multiple turnoffs in his mindless panic. Every bump he hits along the road results in cruel curses and scolding from the boys in the backseat.

The night sky looks like an inked artwork. Blue stars bleeding out into the black; their loss of light mirroring your own. It rushes by in a restless haze. Blots of blood stain your vision. The starry sky keeps you company as you sink further into a fatal sleep. 

The first time you wake, you’re blinded by everything at once. The white-hot overhead lights burn your retinas. Their image lingering even as you screw your eyes shut. You blink back the burn and let your eyes scan over the unfamiliar room. White walls stare straight through you. An alcoholic taste burns at the back of your throat. A sterile smell makes you sick. All these unknown sensations swarm you at once. 

The heart monitor picks up the pace, sending sirens off in the two men’s minds. Jimin tightens his grip on the hand he was already holding. He squeezes three times and watches while you panic, feeling frozen from your unexpected awakening. Your eyes roll rampant in their sockets; overwhelmed with information and foreign feelings. Taehyung takes over, forcing your attention on him instead. He pushed back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to your forehead. Then he grabs your jaw in a gentle grasp, whispering words to calm the chaos.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He cradles your cheek in his hand, creating a makeshift pillow for you to lean into. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be awake so soon. Go back to sleep, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up.”

Jimin pulls up the blankets to sit at your shoulders. He lays on the edge of the blue bed; head having sunken into the side of your pillow. His hair is sprawled out everywhere, tickling your neck when he attempts to crawl closer. He puts his hand over your face, slowly passing over you to shut your eyes.

You’re dragged back off to dreamland by their sweet songs. They sing lovesick lullabies that send you off to sleep in seconds. The last thing you spot is Jungkook walking into the room. His face is sunken with a certain type of sadness. A doctor lingers out in the hall, clipboard and consoling frown falling off his face. 

The second time you wake is much more tranquil than the first. This time, the lights are dimmed to drench the room in darkness. The steady beat of your heart monitor gives you something to focus on. The air lingers with the lasting scent of Taehyung’s cologne. You lift your head up from the pillow, trying to pull yourself up to look around. Two sets of hands push you back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t rush. You’ll end up straining yourself.” Jungkook stares at you while he speaks. A pitiful smile pulls at his lips. Trying to act as if the isolating room isn’t alive with pain and panic. “How you feeling?”

“Are you hurting at all? Do you need a doctor? Never mind, I’ll get one anyways.” Jimin’s words are tangled with terror. He tries not to show it on his face, but his words are weak and erratic. Before he can get up to go grab a doctor, you tighten your hold on his hand, keeping him sat in his seat.

“No, I’m okay. Just a bit sore.” The words claw themselves up your throat in a croaking tone. You swallow against the dryness and wince with discomfort. 

With the help of Jungkook, you sit up to take in more of your surroundings. All three of them sit in front of you. Jimin sitting at your side, Jungkook standing with your hands still interlocked, and Taehyung laying down at the foot of the bed. All of them watch with worry, waiting for what you’ll say next.

“What happened?” It’s a simple start, and you can already assume the answer, but the suffocating silence pushes you to speak.

Taehyung tries to speak his thoughts, but he ends up sputtering like a fish out of water. Jimin takes a look at Tae and tries not to tear up. Sick memories massacre his mind. His nose twitches as stray tears swim in his eyes. He attempts to hide his emotion, turning away from your questioning eyes.

Jungkook jumps in when it’s obvious the silence has been strung out for too long. “You just got out of surgery and the doctors said it was internal bleeding.” He skirts around the obvious accident that caused it. “They also said you’ll be in here for a couple days at the least. Just so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t tear open your stitches.”  His line of vision lingers on your stomach. 

You follow his lead and look down. Although, you can’t see the damage stuffed under your scratchy hospital gown, you can still feel the strike of pain. White bandages that wrap around you like rope and silver stitches pulling at your sickly skin. Thoughts of the damage hiding in the dark bring a grimace onto your face. Your injuries are all stashed away on the inside. Your only though is that you feel worse than you look.

“Was it that bad?” You turn your eyes up to stare at Jungkook.

He hesitates for a solid second. Your words have whispers of a deeper, more dreadful meaning. His head twists your words into a torturous truth. Because you aren’t really asking about the accident. You may have asked him ‘Was it that bad?’, but all he can hear is ‘Are you that bad?’ He hurt you so horribly that it almost invoked the dawn of death. This torturous truth is too much for him to handle, too much for any of them, including you… so he lies.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of you, like we always do.” Jungkook speaks his sweet lies with a sorrowful smile. Everyone else mimics the same miserable grin. You listen to his white lies, but this time you’ll try to trust them. 

You eat a somber dinner of things that are barely solid. A simple soup, soggy bun, and jello that’s supposed to serve as a delicious dessert. You poke at it with your fork, watching as the red blob bounces around. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, silently telling you to stop. You can feel his watchful stare straight through your skull, actually, you can feel all their eyes at once. Their anxious eyes only settle when you start picking away at your plate. The food tastes like poison as it passes through your throat. Your appetite has slipped away from you ever since the surgery. But, with the boys acting all antsy and irritated at everything that hurts your health, you force down the food in order to ease their anxiety. 

Each man nurses their own coffee in their hands. Taehyung watches the hot liquid swirl around in his cup. He’s reckless with the way he handles it, anxiety jumping at the slightest sound and spilling the drink down his hands. Red and angry marks wrap around his arms. Blisters burned deep into his skin; yet he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain. He keeps his attention towards you. Trying to be subtle, stealing glances at you every so often. Watching for any discomfort, making sure you eat at least half your food, and studying the bittersweet sadness staining your face. 

Jimin downs his 4th drink before you’ve finished your food. You make a mixture of your meal, poking and prodding at it. Sometimes Jimin has to hold himself back from force feeding you. Stress stretches him apart, tearing at his mind, his lungs, and his heart. He hates seeing you so pale and so sad. So he helps out with hidden motives. He takes bits and pieces off your plate, eating small bites before holding the rest up to your mouth. He doesn’t let you shrug off his advances, so you end up eating more than you’d like.

Jungkook stirs up his coffee into something sweet. 6 packets of sugar and sweetener sink into the bitter blackness. He adds cream to his concoction and stirs until the sour taste dies down. 

You stop eating when everything is half of what it once was. Not too sure how much more your stomach can handle. You push away your plate, trying to pass it over to Taehyung to get rid of. 

“Just take one more bite.” He tries to encourage you, pushing the plate back into your arms. He takes a scoop of the jello with your spoon, the easiest to eat, and holds it in front of your mouth. 

“I don’t think I can.” You look down at the plate, feeling intimidated by such a simple task.

“Just one more.” Taehyung stares straight into your eyes. His insistent nature has become normal for you. Normal enough to know that he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh and take the spoon in your mouth. It's a difficult task to force the food down your throat. The texture and taste turns your stomach. As soon as you swallow it down, you know you never should have. Regret almost comes rushing out as you struggle to stand and run to the bathroom. The boys fall behind, faces clouded in confusion. 

Your knees hit the floor with a heavy fall. Fragile form collapsing under the weight of your weakness. You hug the toilet seat tight to your body and hang your head over the inside. Within seconds every you ate is spilling out of you. The sight of scarlet jello mimics blood from the present past. 

A crash is heard out in the other room. Taehyung comes in, colliding with the door and dropping down to his knees. He acts out of adrenaline, gathering your hair in one hand and resting the other on your back. He rubs soothing circles into your skin, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s alright. Just let it out.” He locks eyes with Jimin as he enters the room. He sits down at your side, pressing a peck against your temple. He hushes your cries and keeps trying to tame the trembles that rack your body. 

Jungkook gets a glimpse at the sorry sight and is immediately scrambling out of the room and screaming for a nurse. Head spinning with imprinted images of your red and raw lips. A bloody tint that throws his mind back to before.

Even after you’re sure you’ve thrown it all up, you gag on the metallic taste that lingers in your mouth. A rotten taste that tangles with your raspy cry and tints your teeth. 

There are tears streaming down your face. Throwing up everything you just ate has left you feeling empty and aching. Jimin and Taehyung still stroke soothing motions down your back. Jimin pries your hand away from where it grabs the porcelain bowl in a death grip. He intertwines his hand with yours and lets you squeeze it wherever another sense of nausea rolls around. 

Two nurses come running into the room. Unfamiliar faces set the two boys on edge. Jimin clutches your hand closer to his heart. Taehyung shifts his body in front of you, trying to keep you out of sight.  Jungkook is the one to push them both out of the way so they can help you, but he never strays far, always hovering with a possessive stance and protective eyes. 

The two nurses appear anxious in the presence of such intimidating stares. They’re hands sweat and shake as they offer up more painkillers and check to see if your stitches have torn. And when the nurses have nothing more to help you with, they’re fast to flee the room.

You’re settled in bed once again. You find yourself falling asleep as an IV drip digs deep into your arm and the painkillers put a heavy haze in your head. 

Jimin squeezes in at the side of your bed, Taehyung crawls in close, and Jungkook holds your hand. They cradle you close. You’re smothered to sleep by careless kisses and whispered wishes. You’re sent off to slumber chasing a delicate dream of a different life. 

The rest of your stay at the hospital looks relatively the same. You’re smothered with affection in the form of sweet sorrys. The three men do everything they can to make up for the incident, everything but actually acknowledge it. No one speaks a word of that night. Nothing goes past a simple sorry when alluding to it. Instead, they’re eager to show their remorse through action and affection.

Jimin hasn’t left your side since the surgery. He lays beside you in the bed, having squeezed in during the dark silence of your dreams. You wake every morning only to end up caged in his iron grip. 

Sometimes he sits in the steel chair at your side. Cast aside whenever Taehyung or Jungkook has decided he’s pestered you enough. He never backs down without an argument. But one look at your exhausted expression and his angry words begin to die down. He taps the metallic chair in time with the clock. The tuneful ticking and copious amounts of coffee are how he distracts himself from drifting off into a dream. In all honesty, he’s been scared to sink back to sleep. The last time he found himself falling asleep, he woke to you bleeding out on the bathroom tile. 

Taehyung takes most authority when it comes to distracting you from your discomfort. He turns your attention to the shows playing upon the TV. He gives you his portions of pudding at meal time. And drowns out any signs of discomfort with his tender touch. 

Jungkook is the only one who acts the most distant. A simple side effect of taking on the brute end of your beating. His shame feels like the same shackles used to hold you down. A cold chaos harrows at his heart. He feels the bitter burden of his wrongdoings with every breath he breathes. He turns over his thoughts in the silence, and sorts through his sinful emotions while you sleep. He refrains from talking too much. Only chiming in on conversations when it includes your health or happiness. 

He listens to the doctors lecture him on how to take care of you, sinking further into his shell with every sentence because he’s only done the opposite thus far. He watches while the nurses talk him through how to re-wrap your bandages when needed. He struggles to keep his hands to himself. Biting back his tongue whenever they touch your blooming bruises and you flinch. The nurses nurturing hands roam your body with innocent intentions. Applying balm to your bruises and wrapping you up in white. But when your eyes twinkle with tears unshed, the three men shout and shut them out of the room without any rebuttal. 

They take matters into their own hands, knowing their tender touches are still too tense. You shed some tears and take your lips between your teeth, trying to hide the pain that’s more prominent than before. 

They take matters into their own hands, knowing they’re worse for you than anyone else. But they’re blinded by love and can’t let their butterfly fly away. 

The day you’re told you’ll finally be discharged is one you’ve all been looking forward to. They carry you out to the car once again, this time with much less gore and guilt. The scenery blurs by from where you watch out the window. The spring season seems to melt together with the high speeds Jungkook is driving. 

They’ve all been acting more restless and rash as the days go on. Impatient and eager to keep you hidden in their home. Protected from prying eyes and devils in disguise. Naive to the fact that they themselves are the real mask-wearing monsters. 

The rest of the drive drones on. Each building that passes more boring than the last. Instead, you fix your focus on the three men that surround you. Taehyung wouldn’t take no for an answer when he insisted you sit on his lap. So now you rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers skim across your stomach, soothing away the sickness that still remains. He does anything to avoid the white wraps that stick to your stitches. A pang of pain hits him in the heart every time he’s reminded of that night time nightmare. He walks his fingers across your waist, trying to kill time and relax his restless nature. Sometimes his hands stray away from your stomach and shove Jimin instead. 

In his sleeping state atop your legs, he tries to catch up on the sleep he’s missed before you get back home. Too hysterical in the hospital and too obsessed over your well-being, he developed a sort of insomnia. However, this tiny sliver of sleep he finally gets is full of disturbances. As his dreams drift into a tortured terrain, his body begins to tremble in terror. Shifting in his sleep and almost smacking his arm into your stomach if Taehyung wasn’t there to pull him away. 

During the rest of your drive, each man continues to fight their angry and anxious feelings. When you arrive at your house, nothing much has changed. They cling onto you like a second skin and still struggle with their self-loathing. 

Yet their sorry words and tear-stained eyes will never be enough. Not when they know you both are bound to destroy each other. Not when this cycle of crimson chaos will continue till the end. 

Even when they love you the most, stricken with guilt and grief, willing to do anything you ask, their lovesick obsession only serves to make matters worse. They hold you too tight, kiss you too rough. Their love is slowly sending you to an early grave. Yet you chose to be ignorant to their insanity. Developing tunnel vision to their love and ignoring all else.  And when you slip up again, when they snap again - you’ll pretend it never happened. Harbouring hope in a broken heart. Trying to be someone you aren’t in order to survive. Their love is like poison and their hate is like hell. Staying alive with three lovesick psychos, all you can rely on is hope.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts x you #bts fanfic #yandere bts #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagine #taehyung imagines #taehyung fanfic #yandere taehyung #taehyung #taehyung angst #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #yandere jimin #jimin #jimin angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #yandere jungkook #jungkook #jungkook angst #poly bts #vminkook x reader

[binniebakery]

Lover

nonidol!au soobin x gn!reader fluff established relationship ♡ Summary: based off of taylor swift's lover !!! soobin is being the gentleman he is, neither of you know how to not be sick🤨 ♡ Warnings: tall soobin agenda??, reader gets called cute, someone's a little sick smh, lmk if theres something im missing! ♡ A/N: second fic wow.. l! this was a little self-indulgent but I really hope yall enjoy! idk if someone has done this before im sorry adsfasdf this song smacks and soobin is so lover coded i had to put my thoughts down asap (erm also not proofread so!!! 😻😻)

You were never really a morning person. It was a Saturday, why would the sun be so cruel as to wake you up as it shone through the beige curtains of your bedroom? As soon as your lashes fluttered open you realized that the blanket had been pulled away from you, only covering half of your shivering body. Sure winter was coming to an end soon, but snow still covered the ground outside and the warmth of your sleeping boyfriend’s body seemed more inviting than ever. You flipped around to catch Soobin softly asleep. His hair was messily fluffed around as one arm rested above his head, the other mistakingly holding on to the bunched-up blanket that was meant to cover your side of the bed instead of holding you. You couldn’t possibly be mad at someone for stealing your blanket when he slept like such an innocent angel. After all, you knew any other time he would be willing to give you the entire thing just for you to stay warm. And there’s this dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear.

Smiling as you wrapped your arm around his side, you leaned in to press your forehead against his. Of course, just softly enough so he wouldn’t wake up. The sun’s rays hardly peeked into the room but it was enough to perfectly land on his features and highlight his button nose as Soobin occasionally sniffled in his sleep. His dark hair and lashes a lighter color from being showered in sunlight. Work had been stressing him out more than usual lately and he finally was able to get a few days off. Just in time for him to start catching a cold. Luckily, you being the cautious couple you are, were able to catch the symptoms in time and he had been recovering quite quickly. That’s when it hit you that you needed to walk to the nearest market to restock the tea he had been drinking for dear life to help with his scratchy throat.

You pressed a kiss onto his forehead and as carefully and quietly as you could, sat up from your bed. Right as you were about to slip a foot onto the cold floor, you felt a large hand lazily reach for you, lightly dragging an index finger down your arm in soft protest. “Mm hey, where you going?” a soft mumble could be heard from the once sleeping giant that lay beside you. You turned to see Soobin forming a soft pout. “Just to the store really quickly Binnie. Need to get you some more tea for your throat.” you responded, softly poking his doughy cheek. “So.. you’re going without me?” his pout was now more prominent than ever, cutely contrasting his deep and groggy voice. “Soobin, you’re still recovering. I don’t want to reverse that” you sighed. Your boyfriend was now tugging at the hem of your sweater. How can someone be so endearing? “It’s fine, justmythroa-” he wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as he coughed and reached over to grab the half-empty water bottle that sat on the nightstand. Can I go where you go?

“Please.. I feel fine I swear y/n. I’ll wear a mask and everything. Can’t have you going by yourself.” he pleaded with a soft smile. You knew Soobin was clingy when he got sick, but it was obvious this time that he wanted to make up as much time as he could for how busy he had been the past month. How could you say no? Can we always stay this close? You made sure your boyfriend was wrapped as tightly and warmly as possible. Holding onto him tightly as you walked down the street. The urge to constantly adjust his scarf every few seconds scratching at your brain. You looked up at him to see Soobin smiling fondly down at you. “What? Toothpaste on my mouth?” you tilted your head. Soobin chuckles and shakes his head. “No, you just are extra cute today, nothing new.” Forever and ever.

On your way back to your apartment, you felt your own throat begin to feel sore and itchy. Most likely due to the reason that you weren’t wearing a scarf yourself. Not wanting to alert the overprotective giant bunny walking beside you, you (not so) discretely coughed into the arm that wasn’t currently wrapped around your boyfriend as soon as a loud gust of wind whooshed by. On instinct, Soobin immediately stopped in his steps. “Did you just cough?” he said as he stared you down. “No- I-.. okay yes sorry I just don't want you to think I’m si-” Before you could continue you felt warmth wrap around your neck. “Binnie! What are you doing?! You’re going to get sick again!” Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? “Hey, hey, don’t fuss you need it more, I already feel better just being with you. Plus, we’re already here.” Soobin pointed out as you realized you were only across the street from your apartment. Smiling softly, you intertwined your cold fingers with his warm ones as you finished your journey back home. Or you could say home was right there in that moment, holding you close and offering his scarf.

With every guitar string scar on my hand take this magnetic force of a man to be my, lover

As your boyfriend quickly put the laundry away, you were just about finished making tea for the both of you. Pouring the tea into your favorite mugs, you felt a warm pair of arms wrap around you. Soft music played on your tv speakers as the snow began to fall outside. “This might be the last time we get snow this year..” you mumbled as Soobin rested his nose into your hair. “Mhmm.. how’s your throat bunny?” he responded. “Hmm.. you know I think I need a kiss better from someone.”

Soobin chuckled, a light smirk on his face as he turned you around to pull you in. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t. After all, you’re getting sick, I’m getting sick-” he teased. “Oh can you please just shut up and give me a kiss” you laughed as you pulled him in. Just like every kiss you had with him and every kiss to come, his lips were sweet and inviting. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned down to wrap his around your waist and lift you up. Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover Sharing soft laughter and light touches, you both remained protected and oblivious to the harsh cold outside. Winter was getting warmer, not because of spring, but because of your lover.

#tomorrow x together #soobin #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #BakeryTreat♡

[mysticficti0n]

HELLLOOOO can you write about the reader being at a house party (she's like 17-18 ish) and Toms her ex and uno CUT on Youtube and they play beer pong with the dares, so Tom and Georg are in a team and Y/n and make a friend up are in a team and when Y/n makes their cup the dare is 'French kiss your opponent" and Tom sits her on the tables and stands between her legs making out with her 😀

thank you bebe 😏

L-O-V-E

(and I saw your other request do add that the still love each other so don't worry 🤭)

Beer Pong romance

(all my attention will be back soon but I'm taking time to do some request as I have so many and all you guys have such good ideas!)

∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　

warnings- swearing, drinking

words- 1.5k

"Y/n come on you've been getting ready for like fucking hours!" Lilly cried storming around my room "you look sexy now lets go!" I loved Lilly but she was a family friend- and those friends you can't get rid of...

"will you give me a fucking second I'm doing my lipstick and then we can go alright-" I snapped back seeing her huff "thank you" I finished my make-up and got up from the desk, my jeans clung to my hips just covering my heals, my tube top strapping around me, hair ironed and make-up as perfect as I could get it I was ready "come then" I said thudding down the stairs hearing her follow closely behind "Bye dad- be back soon" I waved seeing him just blow a kiss

"come on we need to hurry-" she began as I started my engine "its on Burns street" I nodded pulling from the drive and making our way to the party, music blasted through the car and we sung along to every song we knew until we finally saw the house "fuck thats lot more than what Henry said their would be"

"no shit-" I parked up and locked the car, Lilly and I walked in smiling to people we knew and made a bee line for the make-shift bar

"Y/n! Lilly!" a voice shouted over the music that was booming everywhere, we looked to find Henry the man himself holding a bottle of vodka loosely between his fingers along with a cigaret that wasn't lit

"hey babe" Lilly smirked walking over and pressing kiss to his cheek "thanks for inviting us" he held her waist whispering something into her ear making me roll my eyes as I poured some liquid into my cup

"I'll let you guys do whatever this is and I'll find you later alright" the girl nodded but I knew she wasn't listening, she was always so all over Henry it was repulsive, I moved through the crowd until I saw a familiar face smiling to me "Kira!" I hugged her, Kira was a friend that I just loved being around, she was just pure but dirty all at the same time

"hey hun! where's little Lilly?" I pointed back to the bar and she nodded "shagging her playmate?"

"of course" we laughed hitting our cups and taking a swig "who are you here with?" I asked leaning closer so she could here me

"oh I came with ..oh Georg! Georg come here!" Georg and Kira were like brother and sister but just not related and had a lot of sexual tension.. so not really like brother and sister but you get the gist. I watched was the long haired boy wondered over winking at a few girls until he reached us

"hey y/n" I smiled "looking good" he was always a flirt "anyway wanna come play a game of beer pong? we need two players" I looked to the girl who nodded grabbing my arm and dragging me as we followed Georg through a sea of sweaty teenagers, people shoved and yelled as we walked past and all I did was spit curses at them until we made it to the kitchen where the island had been made into a ping pong table, I saw Georg fist bump a boy and my eyes met with his

"fuck" I spoke seeing Tom- he was different now though, hair In long, black braids, bandana around his head and a huge coat covering his body

"oh- I forgot to mention he's with us" I fluttered my eyes agreeing to her words finishing my drink and putting the empty cup to the side "okay who's starting"

"ladies first" his voice hit my stomach, it shouldn't have had made me feel so uneasy, Kira grabbed the ball and went to throw "and and also you have to do a dare for every cup the other team make" of course, Tom couldn't play any game without some sort of consequence

"fine" she through the ball and it missed the table "shit" I laughed as she stomped her foot on the ground, Georg picked it up and through it straight into our cup "you're joking- whats the dare?" the boys looked to each other and whispered a few words before agreeing

"drink the cup at the same time" me and Kira rolled our eyes grabbing the cup and putting it between our mouths, beer spilled down our chins, rolling down our chests "nice view" we pulled the cup away and Kira chucked it at the boy

"perv" it was my turn, I lifted the ball and moved to the middle of the island, lining my hand up and with a small count down it landed in the centre cup "Yes Y/n!" Tom took it out looking to me waiting for me to speak

"take off that god awful coat Tom- and Georg you can drink" Tom huffed slipping his coat off revealing his toned arms against his black shirt and Georg didn't hesitate to drink. The game carried on until we both only had 3 cups to go, me and Kira were now stood in our bra's and I had Tom's bandana around my thigh, the boys however had no shoes on, Georg's hair was tied in a bun and Tom was having to have a bow in the end of his braid, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Lilly looking sweatier than before and lips redder "hey!"

"ohh beer pong!" she cheered

"were doing it with dares, wanna do the dare if Tom makes this shot, she hummed standing between our sides with a face that screamed she'd just been fucked somewhere in the house, Tom flung the ball and it landed in our middle cup

"woo!" he clapped watching as I took the cup to my lips, chugging the beer until it was empty "whats their dare?"

"erm... ah- Y/n French with Tom for...3 minuets!" my stomach dropped, head snapping to her "come on!" I looked back over the table waiting for Tom to interject but he wasn't there

"wha-" I felt hands go under my thighs and lift me onto the island, I looked down to see Tom stood between my legs looking up to me "are you crazy?"

"sure... come on you lost and the dare is you've gotta kiss me, not me kiss you" I sighed thinking through ever decision I ever made, that being becoming friends with Lilly and agreeing to come to this party

"come on Y/n you've got this!" Kira called standing next the Georg who came to watch "at least its your ex not a total stranger!"

"oh yeah because that makes anything better!- fucks sake" my hands came to cup his jaw and I leant down "we never speak of this again alright?"

"just get it over and done with sweetheart- it's only me" he smirked and before I could even looked at his shit eating face anymore I pressed my lips against his and everything came flooding back- every kiss, hug, every time he held me, every time I slept between his arms, I felt locked and I never wanted to let go Tom's arms curled around my stomach pulling me closer, I finally let myself relax into him, hugging his neck. I felt him smile as he took a breather before diving back in again and I couldn't help but smile back, it felt.. nice being so close to him again

"Time!" Lilly called hitting my leg but I didn't let go, and nor did Tom "hello! guys you can stop now"

"I think they may need to have a few moments" I herd Kira laugh and she was right- I'd missed Tom so much, everyday I'd look back on all our photo's, the videos, the times I went to his concerts, when he came to the airport to pick me up after not seeing him for weeks, I missed him too much. The group had walked away leaving me and Tom still intertwined with each other the kiss came to a natural end, our foreheads knocked together while we both panted for air

"I- I love you" Tom spoke through breaths making my heart flutter "we shouldn't have broke up, it was so stupid- I need you in my life Y/n" I couldn't speak, words wouldn't form and my head was cloudy of his voice saying he loved me "nobody has ever compared to you, and they never will"

"I love you too" with the mix of alcohol and adrenaline my whole world seemed to brighten when Tom smiled, not one of his side smiles or smirks, his real smile "kiss me again" his hand held my jaw loosely as he leant up to kiss me again, our lips fit like puzzle pieces, it all felt so right

"come here" his voice was breathy as he lifted me off the counter and to the floor, I forget sometimes how tall he is- he was towering over me, I craned my head up to meet his again, before I could reach he pulled off a little, his big brown eyes looked into mine before he spoke again "be mine again?....please"

"of course" I wrapped my hands around his back and slid my hands into his pockets dragging his body closer to mine, our faces met and a soon as they did our lips were attached again... maybe this party wasn't so bad after all

#kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #00s #tom kaulitz x reader #germany #tom kaulitz imagines #gustav schäfer #georg listing #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz smut #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #beer pong #drink or dare #guitars #tom kaulitz icons #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x y/n

[teatreeoilll]

|| Blind (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

Not me getting inspired by rom-coms to write this.

The wind ruffled your hair while you walked, and the song playing through your headphones was about to reach the best part. You felt your eyes slowly closing to relish in the moment, breathing in the soft cool air. But, in the busy city streets, a moment is too long.

"Oh god, oh no! All your things! I'm so sorry -" Your shoulder still hurting from the hit you took to it, you plummeted down to collect shopping bags the man you bumped into dropped in the collision.

You put the bags gently in his arms, looking up to meet his face. His white hair sticking up from the tension of the blindfold he was wearing. "Oh - oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You fumble, "I - I'll help," you grab the bags back from his arms. Oh god, suits me fine to bump into the only blind man on this street.

"It's fine, really." The man's hands took hold back on the bags. "How can it be fine? Please! I don't think anything's damaged, we'll check later, please. Tell me where you need to go!" You insisted. "I - uh," The confusion on his face was obvious. In your mind the racing thoughts, the bitch who hurt a blind man and wouldn't even help him? How could you live with that?

You took his side and grabbed his forearm lightly. "Listen, I'm really fine -" He tries to protest. This is no time for niceties, he may be too proud to receive your help, but you'll give it either way. "Oh god, Is your arm hurt too?" You mumble, remembering your own aching limb, "Do you want to get it checked out? The hospital's not far, I swear!" The man chuckles for a moment, the smirk staying permanently on his face.

"It's fine, really. I was just going to the shop down the road, they have the best Mochi there." He announces. "Oh, I know the place!" You chime, holding both his shopping bags and arm hostage to drag him down the street. You try to walk slower at first, but he seems to have no problem adjusting to your pace.

Once you've reached the shop, you tugged softly on his sleeve to signal him to turn, propping your arm up for him to lean on while stepping over the stairs leading to the establishment, then quickly holding the door open for him. "I'll treat you, please!" You pull out a chair for him to sit on, "What do you like?" “I like girls who grab me by the hand, just to take me to my favorite place,” He laughs, his pale hands reaching to his blindfold, dragging it down until it rests on his neck.

Through his white lashes, a pair of bright blue eyes stare directly at yours, his face far more handsome than you'd expected. You put the bags down on the empty seat, a sigh escaping your lips, your hands reaching to cover your sheepish face. "So, you're not, uh -" You mumble through the uneasy feeling taking over your body.

"Blind?" He grins, "No, I'm not blind."

"You could have said something earlier," you complain.

"I tried, you wouldn't let me. You still dropped all my things you know - so how about that treat now?"

You found yourself with no choice but to agree, you sighed while standing at the register, probing through your bag for your wallet.

Just as you've received your order, three teens in similar uniforms had surrounded the man's table.

"Gojo-Sensei, are you okay? Is this your girlfriend- no, that's not possible," The girl exclaimed.

"What are you talking about, Kugisaki? That so-could-be possible!" A pink-haired boy retaliated.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo X reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo X you #gojo satoru x reader

[lovesickinbed]

SAY DON'T GO.

✧.* "Why'd you have to make me want you? Why'd you have to give me nothin' back? Why'd you have to make me love you? I said, "I love you", you say nothin' back."

pairing. ellie williams x f!reader summary. ellie confesses her feelings for her best friend. it doesn't go as hoped. based on say don't go by taylor swift. warning. angst!! with plans for a happy ending depending on if you guys want a part 2. w.c. 2400.

It's cold in Jackson.

You tug the sleeves of your sweater starchly over your fingertips, fighting to ignore the chill that whips at your cheeks as you cross your arms beneath your chest.

The Tipsy Bison looms ahead of you, an amber glow pouring from the windows and into the empty, snow-ridden street.

Rocking on the balls of your feet, you deliberate whether or not you should run back to your place and change. It's a bit of a walk, and the thin layer of snow piling at your feet makes it less than ideal, but it beats catching frostbite.

Who wears a skirt in December?

You're about to make a break for it when — before you can even register her presence — a slender pair of hands drapes a jacket across your shoulders.

"You look pretty," the owner of the hands says. "Nice skirt."

A familiar warmth spreads to your cheeks as Ellie steps into your line of sight. Unlike you, she's dressed for the weather in a casual grey hoodie and winter boots, her signature green parka now hanging from your shoulders.

Warm breath hits your face as Ellie leans forward and pulls the jacket tighter across your figure.

Her hair's pulled back into a low bun, and something twists in your chest as your eyes take in her freckled features, latching onto where they're dusted pink from the cold.

You tug a lip between your teeth, choosing to ignore the fuzzy feeling that's become intrinsically linked with Ellie's presence.

Cute, you think.

"It's Dina's," you say, eyebrows scrunching together. "I'm cold as shit, though. I feel stupid."

A wolf-whistle resounds from Ellie's lips.

"Well thank you, Dina," she sing-songs, her voice low. You grow hot under her gaze, belly swirling as those green eyes take you in. "It'll be warmer inside. Keep the jacket, though."

"Are you sure? I feel bad."

"Angel, don't," Ellie says conclusively, waving a hand. "It looks better on you than it does me anyway."

Her mouth quirks to the side, a smirk playing at her lips as she tucks loose hair behind your ear.

You open your mouth to protest, but she's already reaching for your hand and dragging you inside.

In the midst of an apocalypse, the Tipsy Bison is alive and well.

It thrums with life, the citizens of Jackson all gathering in what Maria has called "a celebration of years of peaceful occupation".

Or, as Jesse liked to call it, a "Hey, we're still not dead!" party.

"You made it!" Dina exclaims, eyes bright as you join her and Jesse at the bar. Jesse greets the both of you with a simple salute as Dina moves to hug Ellie first, then you, firm hands settling on your cloaked shoulders. "And you look amazing."

She eyes the skirt, and you feel a little self-conscious as the group's attention falls on your outfit. "Right, Ellie?"

Her tone is conspiratorially light as she looks pointedly at the auburn-haired girl, something unspoken transpiring between the two of them. Ellie looks away, scratches at her neck.

You stare at the floor, hoping that if you look hard enough it'll swallow you whole and save you the embarrassment of whatever they're currently thinking about you.

Jesse raises his brows at his girlfriend, who gives him the kind of look that says "What?" and rolls her eyes, turning to face you instead.

"So," Dina says, leaning against the bar. "What's new? How's everything going with the garden?"

You almost sigh, grateful for the chance to speak about something other than your choice of attire. You launch into a discussion about Jackson's community garden, a project you'd been overseeing for the last month or so.

Sometime between discussing the tomato shortage and unearthing the details of the temporary caterpillar problem, Ellie pulls you against her, pressing your back to her front.

She casually rests her hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing hypnotic circles against your hips.

It's around this time that you forget how to talk.

You know, consciously, that you're still speaking. And you know those words must be making some kind of sense, because Dina is nodding and Jesse's making quips, but none of it registers over the roar of blood rushing to your ears.

There's this other thing, too. The thing you shove down as you squeeze your thighs shut, trying to dull an ache you don't fully understand. Not yet, anyway.

"So, yeah," you cough, bringing the story to halt. "That's about it."

After another couple minutes of mindless chatter, Dina and Jesse take to the dancefloor, and you're left alone with Ellie.

Her voice is a low murmur against the shell of your ear.

"You okay, angel?"

Angel.

"Uh, yeah," you say, pulling out of her grip. "Just hot, I think. Is it just me or is it, like, really warm in here?"

It's almost comical how quickly you strip out of her jacket, flinging it across one of the stools. You turn to face her, hoping the heat in your cheeks doesn't flare as much as it burns.

The corner of Ellie's lip quirks downward at the loss of contact, eyebrows cinching together. She reaches to bring you back to her, but you're already moving backward.

"I think I'm gonna go dance," you say before she can get a word in edgewise.

You make for the dancefloor, desperate to quieten the roaring in your ears.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Older music blares from the overhead speakers, a song you recognise pouring into the venue. You let the beat carry your movements and join the pulse of bodies moving in time with the music.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice asks from behind you.

You turn, immediately faced with a boy about your age.

"Max!" you exclaim, drawing him into a hug. You recognise him instantly as the person you'd been partnered with for stables duties last spring, right before he'd switched assignments. "Hey, how are you?"

Max flashes you a toothy grin. "I'm great. Not as great as you, though. You look... wow."

He raises a hand, gesturing to your outfit.

"It's just a skirt," you say dismissively. "And this is probably the last time I'll wear one of these, anyway. Too much attention."

"I'm sure."

You blink at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that you've got to know how beautiful you are. It makes sense you're getting a little attention."

"That's sweet but..." you laugh, awkwardly. "I don't really get much attention from anyone, really. I was referring to my friends."

Max quirks a brow. "Well you've got to know why that is."

You tilt your head, not quite getting it.

"Come on," Max says, shaking his head. "It's obvious."

His gaze shifts, and you follow his line of sight to where Ellie is standing at the bar. She's staring at you, hard. Something unreadable flickers in her eyes, her jaw set as she looks straight ahead.

You look away quickly.

Shaking your head, you ask: "Ellie? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Wow. Don't tell me you're that oblivious."

"Oblivious to..."

"Everyone thinks the two of you are together."

You pause. "What? No, we're just friends."

Max laughs, almost meanly. "You sure about that? The girl's attached to you like an extra limb."

"I'm her best friend," you reiterate.

Max didn't get it — Ellie had lost a lot of people she really cared about.

She didn't like to talk about life pre-Jackson that much, but it made sense to you that she'd be a little clingy after going through something like that.

"Sorry, sorry," Max says, raising his hands in defense. "I don't mean to pry. I'm just saying that's probably why everyone steers clear. I mean, she can be pretty scary."

"Ellie's harmless," you say, your words unconvincing to your own ears.

You recall her eyes burning holes into the two of you.

She can be pretty scary.

"So, a couple of us are heading out," Max says, changing the subject. "A buddy of mine found an abandoned park a little way's out. Might shoot up some infected and hang out for a while. Interested?"

You nod. It sounds exactly like the type of thing you're very much not interested in, to be honest.

You glance over to the bar, catching Ellie's intense gaze, and feel a pit of anxiety form in your stomach.

"Yeah," you say, slowly. "I'll be there. Just let me say bye to my friends."

He grins as you excuse yourself and walk over to where Ellie is standing.

"I'm heading out," you say as you approach her. "Max invited me to go with him and some others outside of town for a little while."

Ellie's brows scrunch together. "What?"

"Yeah, we're thinking of, uhm, shooting up some infected and hanging out at the park—"

"Not happening."

You frown. "Excuse me?"

Ellie rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Not fucking happening."

"I don't remember asking your permission?"

"Are you stupid?" She asks, tone harsh. "You think Maria would sign off on something like this?"

"Since when do you care about what Maria signs off on? She's distracted with the party, anyway."

"I care that you're putting yourself in danger," Ellie huffs. "You call me to come take care of it when there's a spider in your room. You can't handle infected."

"I'll be with Max and his friends," you say firmly. "They're all on patrol."

Ellie's laugh is forced. "Yeah, because Max and his dickhead friends are going to protect you. First sign of a bloater and they're running to save their own asses."

You open your mouth to protest, but she's quick to cut you off.

"I'm coming with you," she says. "Let me get my gun."

Max's voice rings in your ears.

The girl's attached to you like an extra limb.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you say, quietly.

Something flashes in Ellie's eyes. Confusion, at first. Then hurt.

You suddenly feel like an asshole.

You want to reach out and smooth the crease in her brows, tell her you're sorry — even if you aren't quite sure what for.

Ellie's gaze flickers between you and the crowd. "So this is about him, then."

Him. She says it like it burns.

You don't know what game you're playing anymore. You don't care about Max, you never have.

But when you're around Ellie, everything's too much — too hot, too fucking intense, too saturated — and you don't know what it means, or how to turn it off.

I'm her best friend.

It makes you feel like shit.

So, you nod.

"Yeah," you say, against your better judgement. "I was thinking it'd be nice to get to know him a little. One on one."

"Right."

Silence.

"Is that okay?"

Music bleats from the speakers. For a second, Ellie doesn't say anything.

And then: "Don't."

You look up, dragging your eyes away from their fixation on the hardwood floor.

"Don't go. Please."

She says the words like they're hard to get out. Painful, even.

"Ellie," you say, softly. "I'll be safe."

"It's not that. Not just that, I mean."

You stare at her, but she isn't looking back, too busy picking dutifully at the peeling skin on her fingers.

You resist the urge to reach forward and close your hands around her own to get her to stop.

"Then what is it?"

Ellie's inhale is shaky. "I didn't want to... at least not like this... fuck, this is awkward."

The song on the speakers changes to an 80s number you recognise from Joel's CD collection. It draws Ellie from her thoughts, makes her huff with frustration.

You take her hand, dragging her outside and onto the porch. It's quieter here, but you'd forgotten how cold it was, wincing as it immediately bites at your cheeks.

You cross your arms over your chest and look at Ellie, who lets out a strained: "Look... angel, you've gotta know how I feel about you."

Not what you'd been expecting.

"How you... feel about me?"

"Yeah." Ellie walks over to the wooden banister, her green eyes reluctantly meeting yours as you come up beside her.

"I don't get it," you say, puzzled.

Ellie's voice is barely above a whisper. "You're really gonna make me say it, huh?"

She braces herself, rests both hands against the banister. Another shaky breath.

"I... fucking hell." She runs a hand across her face. "I love you."

"I love you too? What does that—"

"No," Ellie says, cutting you off. Her hand hangs in the air between you. "Not just... not just as a friend."

Oh. Oh.

Her confession settles between you like fallen snow. Heavy, thick.

Cold.

Ellie leans forward, green eyes searching yours. "Wait, you seriously didn't know?"

I love you. Not just as a friend.

You shake your head. None of this makes any sense.

"You never...there was no indication—"

"No indication? Angel, I gave you my jacket."

"Okay, but that doesn't necessarily mean—"

"Whenever you come over, I let you sleep in my bed—"

"I thought you were just cold—"

"I call you angel, for fuck's sake—"

"I thought you called everyone angel."

Ellie looks at you, incredulous. "Have you ever heard me call Dina 'angel'?"

"No, but—"

"What about Jesse? Have you ever seen me cuddling Jesse?"

"We're best friends!" you exclaim. "That's what best friends do!"

It's like a tap has been opened, the words flooding out of you in a rush. This was all too much, too soon.

Ellie didn't love you.

She couldn't.

Silence.

"Is that... what we are to you?" Ellie asks, the crack in her voice betraying her.

Your words are soft, tentative.

"I don't know how to be anything else."

At that moment, the doors to the Tipsy Bison swing open. Max walks out of the bar, his friends flanking him from both sides. He sidles up to you, swings a hefty arm across your shoulders.

"You ready to go?" He asks, a wide smile plastered across his red face. The smell of nicotine washes over you as he talks.

I love you. Not just as a friend.

You nod, and Ellie's face falls.

"Great!" Max exclaims. "See you around, Ellie."

And then he leads you by the shoulders, pulling you away from the one real thing you've ever known, a crestfallen Ellie watching from the porch.

#i... kind of hate this #LMFAO #will there be a part 2 who knows #i mean its planned out but #yeah #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #tlou fanfic #the last of us #tlou 2 #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x reader oneshot #joel miller #ellie williams

[makncheese12]

corbul mic

Summary: what are the odds of meeting a pretty dark haired girl in your uncles bar?

A/N: I do not know Romanian so I used Google translate, GIVE ME A BREAK😭

This is for the short girlies since everyone is apparently taller than Jenna😔

Anything like in italics (I think that’s the word?) is Romanian.

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

A groan escapes your lips as your head bops up against the shoulder of the boy carrying you in a direction you didn’t know nor did you care.

Your only worry was the fact that every time your head hit his shoulder it would throb as if you were banging it against a pole but if you tried to lift it up to stop it would only grow worse and your muscles holding you up would go out.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drank so much last night. You certainly didn’t think so while you were drinking but as of now, you wanted to bury yourself alive with how you felt.

Another groan as you watch your arms dangle loosely. “Why are you so bumpy?..” you drag out making the man holding you chuckle lightly.

“I’m being as gentle as I can, besides it’s what you get for drinking most of the night.” He laughs as you rest your cheek on his shoulder, beard stubble tickling your face as you do so.

The smell of shaving cream filling your senses as you look up toward his freshly shaven mullet.

“I didn’t drink that much..” you mumble, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. A loud snort comes from him as he rounds a corner.

“Not that much? You were trying to start a fight with a street cat calling it papa.” He laughs and you groan once again. “We come back from a tour and you expect me not to celebrate?”

Three months away from your home town and around the United States with your band and it was far more than a success. Though they were already big in the world and you had only just joined last year, the people seemed to love you just as much as they loved the older members.

It was thrilling, really. Being on stage with hundreds of people watching for the first time after their guitarist left and was replaced by you. It was nerves wracking at first but once the adrenaline came in they were long gone.

A lot of the people were pissed off about how they had replaced the other member so easily and it hit headlines quick after your first performance, people debating if you should even be in the band.

There was even a petition going around for you to be kicked out of the band so the originals could be the only ones. A petty little thing you weren’t really worried about.

And you didn’t care in all honesty, about any of it. As long as you got to play and make music. And after joining the band, your streams from your own songs went up on every music platform.

You of course didn’t show off as much as your bands mates, it was still their show and you were just a prop to make them sound good.

“Let’s not forget how you broke down in tears when the cat ran off.” He completely ignores your earlier statement as the memory resurfaces inside his head, you falling to your knees and reaching for the empty space in front of you.

“Shut up Mikey.” You mumble as he steps up the stairs to the bar, your head bouncing against his shoulder much rougher before he steps inside, the loud bell above the door startled you slightly causing a jolt to invade your body.

“Ah, there’s the little rockstar.” A voice booms through the air as Mikey places you on the floor, arms and legs sprawled out. “Was your fourteen hour nap good, or did you want to sleep some more on the floor?” The room fills with laughter, men and woman in different sizes watch as you sit up slowly.

“Suck my dick.” You say giving him the finger as a man grabs under your arm pit and hulls you up. “Let’s sober you up for tonight.” He chuckles before guiding you to the bar.

You look up toward the much larger man, gray and black being swept back by his bandana, cigarette resting on his ear. His black tank top stretched across his large torso, showing the large amount of tattoos. You would have thought he was mean looking if you didn’t know him.

As soon as you take your seat, your eyes spot the French fries and burger in front of another large man. You reach over and begin shoving a few in your mouth.

“Hey Terri.” You mumble and a grunt in response comes from the man as he watches you steal a large amount of his fries from his plate.

“Did you miss me?” You ask, smiling wide as you look up at the man and watch as his mouth quirks up into a little smirk. He didn’t talk much but you grew to know what didn’t little things meant.

“Ah, shucks!” You say, your own smile growing as you punch his shoulder. He didn’t budge.

As you reach for another handful of fries when suddenly a hand comes down quickly and smacks your hand making you yank back your arms and look up to see the older woman who glares at you.

“Stop stealing Terri’s food.” A frown forms on your face as you lean into the man. “Terri doesn’t mind,” you start before looking up to him. “Do you Terri?”

He grunts in response before his eyes go back to the overhead tv. “See? He doesn’t mind.” You reach out to grab another but she’s quick to smack your hand again before taking his plate, most likely to get him more fries.

Just as she enters the kitchen your uncle comes back out with a plate full of chicken and an empty glass.

He sets the plate in front of you before filling the glass with a clear liquid.

“You start in forty.” He says as he leans against the counter to watch as you scarf down the food on your plate, a small smile resting on his face.

“Did you hear, they’re doing a little show nearby and a bunch of actors are staying in town.” He tells you before sitting up from his leaning position on the counter.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Your voice muffled through your food as you narrow your eyes at the man.

“I want you to behave,” there was a small warning in his voice, one you had heard countless times. It was as if he was asking you to challenge him or disobey. Though most of the time you did, you couldn’t help but gulp lightly.

“This town is a quiet one, let’s keep it that way?” A request? Surely he didn’t think you were that dumb to try and bring chaos into his quiet world.

You may have enjoyed a loud life, but he certainly didn’t. Preferring you to just keep your loud music to a certain level while you played in his bar or the club down town.

You roll your eyes as you shove another piece of chicken into your mouth. “Just because Jonas leaked out location last time doesn’t mean I will.” You huff out quietly, remembering back to the time when the boy had fans rolling into your camping grounds.

“I’m just saying, no funny business.” He says raising his hands up in defense before walking away. You grumble quietly as you continue eating your food.

————

“What do you plan on playing?” Mikey asks as you push your guitar box across the stage. “I haven’t decided yet.”

His face drops into an annoyed look as you open your book and begin flipping through the pages.

“You start in five minutes and you mean to tell me, you don’t know what you’re going to play?” He asks, noses scrunching up slightly as you flip through your work, unpublished songs filled the notebook. Ones you preferred only to play for your towns people.

“My head is still pounding give me a break.” You mumble as you continue flipping through the pages to see what best fit the mood for tonight. You glance around for a moment, a few people play pool and laugh. Others say drinking and quietly conversating. That left the already drunk people who were dancing around the floor and laughing, most of the people drinking now would join the eventually.

It was how it was most nights, doke nights quiet and others full of people; these nights were usually on Fridays.

Fridays were your favorites, ever since you were little when your uncle first brought you into his bar on a Friday after school. Most of your friends were made playing poker, being taught how to really play whether it be cheating, lying or playing truthfully. All you knew was that you were one hell of a poker player and knew everyone’s poker face like the back of your hand.

Sure you couldn’t drink alcohol but that didn’t stop you from having your uncle keep a few jugs of apple juice behind the counter.

You hum quietly before looking through the pages once again. But before you could the book is snatched from your hands all too quickly as Mikey races off.

You stand there for a moment, mind calculating what had just happened before you rush after him. You wouldn’t have really cared if there weren’t songs in their you weren’t exactly proud of and would be teased for months on end for.

“Come here you skinny bastard!” You call out pushes the chairs he had jumped over out of your way. He jumps over the counter before jumping up sliding it into an empty slot made for a different cups.

Your eyes widen as your rush over toward the slot and he slides over the counter once again.

You gape up toward the book that hung out slightly, before reaching up on your tip toes. You don’t even come close to touching it before jumping up, finger tips just barely grazing over the spine before huffing out in frustration as quiet laughs are heard behind you.

Your head whips around to see the source was Mikey, Jonas, your uncle and two younger looking men as they watch in amusement.

“You think this is funny?” You ask voice more than serious as they continue to chuckle to themselves. “Not at all,” your uncle says, eyes scrunching from smiling too hard.

“Just wondering why you don’t reach up and grab it like a normal person.” Your eyes widen and jaw clenches as your glare intensifies, face scrunching up in anger as the men continue to laugh.

“Average! I’m average!” You yell out, arms being thrown up in the air only making them laugh harder.

“Average my ass, your missing a few inches for that darlin’.” Jonas says shaking his head and you narrow your eyes at him.

He couldn’t talk, he was only a five foot nine fully grown man, at least you had an excuse being a woman.

“Come on, guys!” You groan out. “I need to choose a song and now I barely have time.”

“Choose from the heart.” Mikey says in a sing song voice, placing his hand over where his heart was.

“You know my memory is bad.” You grumble before turning back around to look up at the book, the edge taunting you as you do so.

Huffing out, you walk back up to the shelf before placing a foot your foot on the sturdiest thing and pull yourself, making sure your grip on the cabinets are tight as you reach up for the book.

Still, it was out of reach and you huff out as you bring your other foot above the over and once again pull yourself up, fingers grazing over the book. With one last stretch you grasp the book and a victorious smile forms on your face.

It’s quickly wiped off as two fingers jab into your sides and you lose your grip on both the book and and the cabinet.

You hit the floor with a loud thud and groan out, head pounding once again.

Your eyes land on a laughing Mikey as he holds his stomach, and hurting from suddenly laughing so hard.

You grumble loudly as you get to your feet, bolting at him but he quickly moves out of the way and around the bar.

The two of you run around, people moving out of your way and you move around and under people. Some laugh at your antics while others roll their eyes in annoyance, to used to the two of you acting like this.

Just as you round around a corner, you bump into a hard surface. Harder enough to knock you onto the floor.

A loud high pitch noise emits from the back of your throat as you roll on the ground to see who you had bumped into.

Your eyes land on a tall man, haired pulled back into a rat tail of a pony tail as his eyes widen while staring down at you, a large group not too far behind him.

“Well are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help up a poor woman in need?” You grumble, noise scrunches slightly in annoyance when all he does is look at you.

“Damn tourist.” You mumble before being pulled up forcefully off the ground. Suddenly you’re not longer in pain from hitting the floor as you begin hitting his chest.

“Don’t touch me!” You call out, watching his smile grow before it looks to the man who had knocked you over raising his eyebrows.

“You’re American?” He asks, accent thick as he looks throughout the group around the small round table and you can’t help but do the same. And boy were you glad you did.

Everyone was more than beautiful, no flaws in any of their features as you look over their faces. One man had luxurious hair you were more than jealous of while the girl next to him lacked it.

Your eyes continue to travel over the group before a particular black haired girl caught your eye and you can’t help the way your hearts skips a beat and begins to speed up. Was this what a heart attack felt like?

Freckles littered across her face, dark eyes watching the interaction carefully looking between the three of you as if something bad was about to happen.

“I am so sorry.” The man says, putting his hands up and looking between you two. “It’s alright, it’s her fault for running around like a mad woman.” Mikey replies chuckle lightly but you can’t find yourself to react as you continue stare at the woman.

Her eyes soon land on you and your heart pounds even more, not noticed the other sets of eyes on you. The way her eyes bore into yours makes your palms sweat and you can’t help but gulp lightly as the next words come out of your mouth.

“You’re very pretty.” You say unconsciously as a snort is heard beside you. The girl only furrows her eyebrows in confusion along with the others. Right, tourist. Most don’t know how to speak your language.

But you still can’t help continue to stare, eyes staying locked with hers, palms becoming sweaty at her lack of reaction even if you knew she couldn’t speak your language.

“Alright love girl,” the man says as he lifts you up under your arm pits and carries you toward the stages, eyes never leaving the woman as the people who heard nearby smirk or laugh to themselves. “Let’s get you away from the embarrassment so we can go on stage.”

“They won’t know, they’re tourist.” You mumble as he sits you down on the stage. “And what about the song?” You ask, eyes traveling back toward the book still stuck in the slot.

“I chose one.” Jonas says as he holds out a CD case with sharpie marker written on top of it. A smile forms on your face at the realization of the song before looking up to him. It wasn’t one of your songs but it was definitely one of his favorites.

“How’d you get this on CD?” You ask tapping it in your other hand lightly. He shrugs after fixing his septum piercing and taking the CD. “There are things called printers, you know?” He states making you roll your eyes hard as you stand up on the stage.

Your eyes land on a large group of people you had recognized from down the street and now you really see where he got it from as they all wait in anticipation nearby the dance area.

“Hope your ready to wake up with a sore throat Mikey.” You laugh out as people begin to groan or cheer around the room.

“Everyone got ear plugs that want it?” Your uncle says before holding up the little baggies and people go rushing toward him.

You laugh as you finish setting up the electric guitar and Jonas takes his seat behind his drums.

You can’t help your eyes from traveling toward the group as the small round table, drinks both empty and full litter around the table as they all look around confused. Oh, how you loved chasing off tourist.

You watch as Mikey taps the microphone making a phump phump noise before smiling and looking back at you. He sends you a wink as you raise the strap around your shoulders.

You start the beat off soft, smiling lightly as the group begins to cheer and the customers whistle before your fingers become far more aggressive and Mikey’s high pitched voices yells into the mic, the once silent room filled with loud music you could probably hear down at your apartment if you strained your ears enough.

This wasn’t exactly the music you or your three person band made but it was the request for the night, and who were any of you to deny the fans?

Your eyes travel around the room as sweat begins to roll down your face, hair strands coming undo as you move your head around.

You see your uncle cleaning dishes with a large smile on his face as he watches you all, shaking his head lightly at the crowd as the dance around like a bunch of animals.

Then you look around the room, one or two people annoyed as they drink while the others watch or dance before you look toward the small circle table.

Most of their group watched the people around the room, one held their hands to their ears and one watched your performance. One that made your heart beat more than it was from the adrenaline of playing.

Her eyes stayed glued to you, at least you thought with how far away she seemed. You’re eyes were definitely glued to her.

It seemed to make you sweat a little more the thought of her looking at you made your nerves hit the roof, something you had never felt before. You didn’t even know the woman, hell you didn’t even know what she sounded like and she had you feeling like this. A smirk plays onto your face as you watch her, if she was watching her why not give her a little show? Mikey then steps toward you, mic close to both of your mouths as you sing with him with his voice far higher than yours mixing perfectly.

He had a different look on his face than he did when he went up on stage, usually he looked tense and forcing himself to get loose with the music but now he looked more than loose. He looked comfortable and ready to play for the rest of the night if he could.

Maybe being back home wouldn’t be so bad after all.

A/N: oh don’t you worry y’all, the next chapter there will be interactions, give it time😏 like my others it’s just a little introductory.

This one won’t be as slow burn I suppose😒

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams #scream #tara carpenter #vada cavell #scream 6 #jenna ortega fanfic

[teatreeoill]

|| Blind (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

Not me getting inspired by rom-coms to write this.

The wind ruffled your hair while you walked, the song playing through your headphones was about to reach the best part. You felt your eyes slowly closing to relish in the moment, breathing in the soft cool air. But, in the busy city streets, a moment is too long. "Oh god, oh no. All your things! I'm so sorry -" Your shoulder still hurting from the hit you took to it, you plummeted down to collect shopping bags the man you bumped into dropped in the collision. You put the bags gently in his arms, looking up to meet his face. His white hair sticking up from the tension of the blindfold he was wearing. "Oh - oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You fumble, "I - I'll help," you grabbed the bags back from his arms. Oh god, suits me fine to bump into the only blind man on this street.

"It's fine, really." The man's hands took a hold back on the bags. "How can it be fine? Please! I don't think anything's damaged, we'll check later, please. Tell me where you need to go!" You insisted. "I - uh," The confusion on his face was obvious. In your mind the racing thoughts, the bitch who hurt a blind man and wouldn't even help him? How could you live with that? You took his side and grabbed his forearm lightly. "Listen, I'm really fine -" He tries to protest. This is no time for niceties, he may be too proud to receive your help, but you'll give it either way. "Oh god, Is your arm hurt too?" You mumble, remembering your own aching limb, "Do you want to get it checked out? The hospital's not far, I swear!" The man chuckles for a moment, the smirk staying permanently on his face. "It's fine, really. I was just going to the shop down the road, they have the best Mochi there." He announces. "Oh, I know the place!" You chime, holding both his shopping bags and arm hostage to drag him down the street. You try to walk slower at first, but he seems to have no problem adjusting to your pace. Once you've reached the shop, you tugged softly on his sleeve to signal him to turn, propping your arm up for him to lean on while stepping over the stair leading to the establishment, then quickly holding the door open for him. "I'll treat you, please!" You pull out a chair for him to sit on, "What do you like?" “I like girls who grab me by the hand, just to take me to my favourite place,” He laughs, his pale hands reach to his blindfold, dragging it down until it rests on his neck. Through his white lashes, a pair of bright blue eyes stare directly at yours, his face far more handsome than you'd expected. You put the bags down on the empty seat, a sigh escaping your lips, your hands reaching to cover your sheepish face. "So, you're not, uh -" You mumble through the uneasy feeling taking over your body. "Blind?" He grins, "No, I'm not blind." "You could have said something earlier," you complain. "I tried, you wouldn't let me. You still dropped all my things you know - so how about that treat now?" You found yourself with no choice but to agree, you sighed while standing at the register, probing through your bag for your wallet. Just as you've received your order, three teens in similar uniforms had surrounded the man's table. "Gojo-Sensei, are you okay? Is this your girlfri- no, that's not possible," The girl exclaimed. "What are you talking about, Kugisaki? That so-could-be possible!" A pink haired boy retaliated.

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo X reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru

[azsazz]

Dial Drunk

Small Town!Cassian x Archeron Sister!Reader

Summary: Cassian can't get you out of his head. The alcohol doesn't help, either.

Based on the song Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan

Warnings: Drinking, fist-fighting, police, mentions of cheating (not cassian), mentions of a boy dragging a girl upstairs (not cassian), angst, break-up.

Word Count: 4,070

_________________________________________

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Cassian grumbles, shoving some of the sopping wet hair out of his face. He doesn’t care that it’s raining, that droplets bead at the tip of his straight nose, that his clothes are soaked through and sticking to his skin or that he’s standing in front of the entrance to Ritas, he doesn’t care about any of it. 

The only thing he does care about is the fact that you’re not answering his calls.

He curses as your cheery voice chimes in his ear, tinny through the line. It’s your voicemail, telling him something about sticking around and about how you can’t get to the phone right now and that you’ll call him back. It’s utter fucking bullshit, is what it is. You’ve been dodging his calls for weeks now, ever since you’d told him you wanted to stop seeing him.

Cassian’s heart has been aching ever since.

He doesn’t leave a message this time—mostly because there’s no room in your inbox, filled with messages long left from him. He grunts and shoves his phone back into his pocket. The bitter taste of his drink is thrown back with a grimace. Rita would have his balls if she found out he took one of her glasses out here, and it’s all he can do not to chuck it into the street in frustration.

He just wants a chance to explain.

The door behind him shoves open and hits his back. Cassian spins, a remark on the tip of his tongue, fingers curled around the glass, ready to use it as a weapon if he needs to.

It’s Rita herself, bar owner and roughened with years of dealing with drunken regulars. The short, stocky woman glares up at him as if he’s not three times her size. She’s wiping her hands on the towel hanging from the pocket of her apron, then crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Knew I was missing a glass,” she comments, nodding to Cassian’s hand. He grimaces, shoulders falling and swallowing back the rude retort he had prepared if it were anyone other than her. Anger itches at his skin, his fists aching to smash through something as the alcohol burns through his veins.

“Sorry,” he grits, handing over the glass. Rita gives him a knowing look that he ignores and holds the door wider for him, inviting him back into the dank warmth of the bar.

He trudges inside. He doesn’t want people looking at him like that, with pity because he’d let the best thing he’d ever had go. Everyone in town knows by now how one of those sweet Archeron sisters broke his heart. 

Broke is a loose term. It feels like you’ve done much more than that. Ripped it out of his chest and doused it with your favorite alcohol, lighting it on fire in the streets for the whole town to see. It feels like you’d let it turn to ash and picked up the soot and threw it into the river, washing your hands of him. 

Fuck, did he mess up. Again and again and again. He can’t blame you though, you’d put up with enough for him and you never had to. Nesta nor Elain cared for him, he knew from the moment you’d first brought him home, when all they could do was share secretive looks with each other, uncaring if he caught them. It was almost as if they wanted him to see. Feyre and he got along, if only for the fact that she was nicer than the other two and actually gave him a chance.

Cassian’s sure the Archeron household was filled with cheers when you told them you’d left him.

He slumps back into the seat he’d been occupying since he’d gotten off of work. He didn’t want to go back to the meager apartment he calls home. It’s littered with dirty clothes and old pizza boxes, and there’s no food there anyway. He’s even drunk the last dregs of any of the alcohol he has, and he hasn’t been to the store yet to restock. He hasn’t had the energy to. At least Rita has a bowl of nuts sitting on the bar. Cassian takes a handful and shoves them into his mouth, but they sit uneasily in his alcohol filled stomach.

“Careful, the old men suck the chocolate off of those,” the bartender says, swiping at the bartop with her towel, sweeping away the drops of water dripping from his hair.

He gags and she laughs. “I’m only joking.” Cassian sizes her up. She’s pretty, he supposes, chestnut hair pulled high into a ponytail at the back of her head, tiny hairs framing her face in a way he’s not sure is intentional or not. Her green eyes sparkle with mischief and she’s wearing a cropped black t-shirt with the bar's logo on the front.

If he were more inebriated he’d probably let her take him home, let her ride him and forget your memory in her cunt.

He forces a laugh. “Another bourbon, please.” 

“You cutting that with anything?” She presses, raising a perfectly trimmed brow. “Water, perhaps?”

“The ice is enough, thanks,” he answers, polite as he can. He’s trying to be patient, but the longer he sits here with no drink in his hand the more sober he gets, and at least if he’s drunk he can blame it on that when someone finally reams him out about calling you nonstop. 

The bartender nods, and he can’t help himself, watching her as she works, eyes trailing down her body, over the curves of her plump ass as she bends over, probably for his benefit. 

Cassian averts his gaze before she turns around, taking in the room. 

Rita’s is packed with townies, as it always is on Friday nights. He prefers it over any of the other spots in town: the boujee new gastropub right up the street or the po-dunk watering hole with shitty pop-country music and a line dancing floor that he used to frequent with you and your friends. He’d adored watching you out there on the dancefloor, living it up with a beaming smile on your face. Everyone loved you over there, and a part of him wonders if you still frequent there, or if you’ve found somewhere else to be, all to be sure to avoid him.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the bartender winks, sliding the glass across the countertop. He catches it and lifts it in response, saluting her before bringing it to his lips, savoring the bite of the spicy liquor.

One more turns to two turns to three and a shot here or there. The bar fills steadily as the night grows later. His ass is numb in his chair, but so are his lips, and it must be the alcohol’s doing. His phone lies open on the counter, texts from his friends gone unanswered in favor of your smiling face staring back at him—his wallpaper from ages ago. It’s the most recent picture he has of you and he hasn’t had the guts to change it yet. 

He finds himself wondering if your hair still looks like that, if your smiles are still as bright or if your eyes still sparkle without him. If your laughter is the same or different now that you’re no longer hanging around him, Rhys, and Azriel. He wants to know if you still wear the sweatshirt you stole from him on your first date, or his shirts to bed, or his socks because they were much more comfortable and cozy than yours. He never believed that, but seeing you in them is one of his favorite things.

Was one of his favorite things.

Cassian puts his head in his hands, trying to shut out the memory of you. His head is spinning a little, but if he’s still thinking about you it means he hasn’t had enough. 

He’s about to order another when two men sidle up to his side. It takes him a moment to clear his vision, a harsh blink, then two, and it’s then that Cassian can focus on who stands before him.

Tomas and Grayson. 

Both victims of an Aercheron breakup.

Both fucking pricks. 

“Those Archeron sisters are fucking bitches, man,” Tomas claps him on the shoulder in greeting. Cassian’s fingers tighten around his glass and his jaw clenches tightly. He doesn’t want to be around these two. He’d seen Tomas and Nesta when they were together, how he’d been trying to drag her upstairs at a party after she’d had one too many. Gwyn and Emerie had come running up to you and Cassian, begging him for help. 

He can’t be surprised that Tomas doesn’t remember the incident, since he’d knocked him out cold. Nesta was furious with him either way, not because he���d stopped the man, but because she’d been clutching a vase in her hand and wanted the final hit.

The incident didn’t help Cassian get on her good side.

And Grayson, the boy who vowed to marry Elain one day, then cheated on her with some girl from the next town over. It was when they were freshman in high school, so no one really thought they would last forever anyway. Well, except for Elain, but the cheating had been messy, and she’d broken up with him only to find Lucien soon after, the both of them inseparable to this day.

“Especially that one you were with,” Grayson adds, and Cassian knows they know your name. “She doesn’t like anyone, dude, don’t take it to heart.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Cassian grits, shouldering Tomas’ hand away, “And get the fuck off of me.” 

“Woah, bro,” Tomas responds, holding his hands up in surrender. His drink sloshes over the edge of his glass a little, and it catches Cassian’s attention. He’s drinking a sex on the beach for fuck’s sake. He needs them to go away. Now. “Just stating the facts.”

Ire grinds his bones, streams through his body like snakes, coiling around him tighter and tighter until he’s so close to losing his grip on his anger that the glass cracks in his hand. It’s not shattered yet, but it just might, and he catches the spearing eyes of the bartender, flicking to Rita who’s working down the bar, before settling on his again, softly shaking her head.

He blows out a breath, letting the glass drop to the counter with a thud. Cassian shoves from his seat, stumbling a little, and he doesn’t like the way that both of the men flank him. He feels like a trapped dog, and he’s just waiting to snap.

“S’not facts,” Cassian slurs. The room spins, and he doesn’t realize how much he’s had to drink until this very moment, because the two men in front of them become four and then two and then four again, exchanging smirks with each other, ready to poke the beast. “She’s the best.”

“Not from what I’ve seen,” Grayson says, and Cassian never liked this kid. His voice is fucking gating, grinding on his brain in the worst way. “You should hear the shit she does for Eris now that she’s dropped your dumbass.” 

Grayson doesn’t see Cassian’s fist coming, but he sure as fuck feels it, even if it only clips his jaw because Cassian’s swaying backwards, the alcohol skewing his momentum. It makes the drink in his hand spill, glass shattering on the floor, and the next thing Cassian knows, Tomas’s fist is coming straight for his face.

He hardly feels the punch land, either because the prick is weak as fuck of because he’s had one too many. Cassian doesn’t feel his lip splitting open, catching on his teeth, nor does he taste the blood bursting into his mouth. He grins like a feral dog as he rights his balance, more than ready for a fight.

The bartender and Rita are yelling, and she’s whipping her towel across the bar in their direction, threatening something about calling the police but none of the three young men listen. Cassian’s already tucking in, a shot aimed straight for Grayson’s stomach. A cheap one, but it makes the little bitch bend over, groaning in agony, and Cassian feels triumphant for a moment before someone’s trying to pull him away.

Cassian’s nowhere near ready to stop, though, shoving the man behind him off. When he turns back to the two assholes making his shitty night worse, Tomas tosses Grayson’s drink in his face. The fruity alcohol burns slightly, stinging the split of his lip, but Cassian only raises a brow.

“That all you got, you fucking pussy?”

He catches the way their wide gazes go from his pulled back fist to over his shoulder as the door bangs open, then to each other, before they cower away from him, smirks hidden as they duck their chins.

“Cassian,” a deep voice calls over his shoulder. It’s one he’s too familiar with. One that he hates more than this gods damned break-up. 

Slowly, he lowers his fist, teetering around on his heel. Devlin stands behind him, decked out in his pristine police uniform. He has one hand on his hip. The butt of his gun glints in the lowlights of the bar. The other is on his walkie, speaking softly into it and Cassian’s stomach drops. He knows those words cutting through his drunken haze. 

Devlin’s going to take him in. 

Fuck his fucking life.

“Turn around, and put your hands behind your back,” Devlin says, dropping his hand from his walkie-talkie to the cuffs at his belt. His face is hard but Cassian can see the mirth swimming in his eyes clear as day. “I’m sure you know the drill by now.”

He does. It’s not the first time he’s been taken down to the station for fighting. Rhys, Az, and he have gotten caught for spray painting city buildings, underage drinking, fist-fights after school—normal small town shenanigans that almost everyone’s participated in once or twice.

He turns around, doesn’t resist as Devlin clips the metal around his wrists unnecessarily tight. Tomas and Gayson share matching smiles, and the younger asshole has his phone out, recording the events. Cassian bares his teeth, knowing that they’re going to blast it on social media for everyone in town to see. 

If you catch a look at it, it will only solidify your decision to break up with him.

He curses at them, but it does nothing. Devlin drags him from the bar by the scruff of his neck and shoves him outside. He’s met with a facefull of rain and the flashing red and blue of the police car sitting out front. They’re so bright they’re blinding, and he stumbles when Devlin pushes him forward, opening the door for him so he can slide into the familiar backseat. 

The ride down to the station is silent, except for the soft sounds of the transmitter radio. The town is pretty quiet tonight, so far, so the night must still be young. The streetlights glow red and green as they pass, and Cassian thinks that he should’ve just gone home and gone to bed, wallowing in his sad life. If he’d done so he wouldn’t be in handcuffs, on his way to the police station, still thinking about you. Always thinking about you. 

Devlin puts the car in park and leads him into the station. Balthazar is sitting at his desk, feet propped on top as he pushes off his paperwork a little longer in favor of snacking on a pack of powdered donuts from the vending machine. 

“Cass?” he questions, boots thudding loudly on the linoleum as he stands from his chair. He licks the white around his mouth, and normally, it might make Cassian smile, seeing his old campmate looking like a deer caught in headlights, but he’s in no mood to laugh right now. “What happened now?”

“Bar fight,” Devlin grunts, searching him for his things. He pulls out his wallet, flat and sad, and a hard candy he stole from Helion’s desk on his way out of work. “Where’s your phone, kid?”

Cassian’s heart swoops and he’s twisting around so frantically that Devlin takes a step back, hand going straight to the weapon holstered at his hip. “What do you mean? It’s not in my pocket?” 

“Son, if it’s not anywhere I can feel it, it’s not here. Unless you’ve shoved it up your ass,” Devlin grinds out, mouth flat.

Cassian rolls his eyes. He should be telling Devlin to stick his head up there to find it, but he’s too worried about his phone. What if you call him back? He bites back, “You left it at the fucking bar, then.”

“I didn’t leave shit,” the officer responds, his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves. It makes his fingers curl into fists, his hazel eyes glaring daggers at the stupid cop in front of him. “I’m not the one who didn’t make sure I had all my shit with me before starting a brawl.”

He tugs him roughly by the arms to one of the cells. Cassian’s shoulders pinch and his hands are going numb from how tightly the handcuffs are around his wrists. He growls, letting the police officer corral him through the door, pretending he’s broken the wild beast for the night.

“I didn’t start it. It was those fucking pricks in front of me.”

Devlin hums, unlocking the cuffs through the bars. “And how many times have I heard that one before?” 

Too many. Always too many.  

Cassian huffs, choosing not to respond. Devlin won’t believe him anyway, and he’ll be stuck here for hours in his wet clothes in this freezing jail cell until he’s sobered up or someone comes to get him. 

He wonders if Tomas and Gayson have stolen his phone.

“You may as well make yourself comfortable,” Devlin snaps, and the click of the door locking rings in his head. “Think over what you’ve done.” 

Cassian wants to spit at him, but he keeps his jaw locked tightly, glaring instead. The look rolls off of Devlin’s shoulders with ease, used to the looks the townies give him for protecting their citizens, and the officer leaves him without a second glance. 

Balthazar steps up to the bars, a concerned look on his face. Cassian doesn’t want pity right now, he wants to be left the fuck alone. He turns away, all but collapsing on the metal bench, leaning against the wall and tipping his head back with a long sigh.

“Who can we call, Cass?”

“You mean while Devlin writes up his report?” He laughs but there’s no humor in it. “I’ll be here for hours, B, you know how he is.”

Balthazar gives him a look that tells him to cut the shit, and Cassian sighs.

“Call (Y/N).”

The rookie's brows shoot straight into his hairline. “You sure about that?” 

Cassian peeks open an eye to glare. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have asked it.” 

Balthazar nods, leaving him alone to make the call. If you won’t answer his messages, maybe you’ll answer the stations. He’s not in his right mind, of this he knows, but he misses you so deeply he’s desperate to hear your voice. 

Cassian doesn’t know how long he sits there. The bench is uncomfortable and cold underneath his soaked pants. It helps to sober him a little, but his limbs are trembling with the iciness running through them. The tips of his fingers are white, and his jaw aches from keeping clenched so tightly shut so his teeth don’t shatter.

Eventually, Devlin returns with his clipboard, leaning against the wall and watching him like he’s a fucking zoo animal that had to be tranquilized and brought in. The officer looks like he’s actually filling out the paperwork in his hands, but Cassian knows the fucker isn’t. He fucking hates him, so he glares through the bars and crosses his arms over his chest.

Balthazar’s presence breaks the glaring contest. His cheeks are pink, and he looks between them both, uneasily shifting on his feet.

“Spit it out, B,” Cassian sighs, because his night can’t possibly get any worse than this.

Balthazar wrings his fingers together. “(Y/N)...she didn’t answer.”

Okay, maybe it can get worse.

“What?” he asks, voice flat. Of course there was a chance that you wouldn’t pick up the phone call, but from the police? Cassian is thoroughly surprised. “She didn’t answer?”

“Well, she did,” Balthazar corrects, looking anywhere but at him. He checks out the wet spot in the ceiling tiles, the chipping paint on the wall. Someone should really fix that. Devlin watches his partner, brows furrowed. He looks just as confused as Cassian feels. “But she, uh, hung up when I mentioned your name.” 

Cassian blinks, registering his friends' words. You answered, and you hung up. On the police. He feels like he’s been slapped in the face or shot in the chest or something equally as painful. Like his heart has been torn out of his body all over again. Even more so when Devlin throws his head back, wolf-whistling.

“Now that is fucked up,” he comments, turning to Cassian who sits frozen, staring at Balthazar. “You must’ve fucked up good, huh, kid?”

Cassian doesn’t even have it in him to growl at the prick cop who shakes his head, stalking away. 

“Cass?” Balth asks, timidly stepping up to the bars of his cell. “Do you want me to call Mr. Cunningham? Or perhaps Ms. Teller?” 

“No,” he answers gruffly, finally snapping from his stupor. He doesn’t want him calling Rhysand’s father or Azriel’s mother. He’d run rampant between their houses when he was younger, but he’d never really belonged with either family. Rhysand’s father was too strict, and he couldn’t get into any trouble there. Dolian had never liked him and most likely never will, which is fine, because Cassian feels the exact same way. And he wouldn’t dare allow Balthazar to call Pax Teller. She’s probably in bed right now anyway, the sweet woman. Cassian definitely doesn’t want to see the look in her pitying gaze, matching her sons. He doesn’t want the lecture, the parental support he’s never wanted and never had.

“Helion?” the police officer presses, worriedly. At least if Cassian is here, under their watch, he won’t get himself into more trouble. 

But still, Cassian’s mind whirls. He doesn’t want Balth to call a fucking soul. Not Rhysand, not Azriel, especially not his boss. He doesn’t want him calling anyone. He wants to be left alone to wallow in the swirling of his alcohol riddled mind, the thoughts of you picking up the phone, finding out what the call was about, and then hanging up on repeat in his head. 

“Maybe I can talk to her,” he says gruffly, grasping onto the tiny shred of hope he hasn’t lost yet. 

Someday, when you are back in his arms, he will remember how strong he was in this moment, not willing to give you up. Maybe you’ve hung up because you thought it was a prank call. “Let’s wait, she’ll call back.”

“Cass, are you a danger to yourself?” Balth asks like he hates to do it, but he’s worried about the man sitting in his jailhouse. Ever since he’s known Cassian, he’s never seen him act like this. He was always bubbly, a permanent smile on his face, laughter in his eyes. This Cassian…he doesn’t even recognize. 

“Fuck that, B. Let me call.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” Balthazar shakes his head.

“I swear she’ll call me back,” he presses, hopeful. His head is thudding dully and the bright lights are making his head pound a little. They can wait for your call in the dark, right?

“Cassian,” the way Balthazar says his name, dripping with pity, it shakes him to his core. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

It hits him like a fucking semi-truck. He lets his body slump. He can hardly feel it now, numb with the thought of you totally abandoning him. You aren’t together, you don’t have to come swooping in, saving him. You’re not his job anymore.

Yet another reason why you were right to leave him. 

Will he ever learn?

#cassian #cassian au #cass x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #small town cassian #modern!cassian #Spotify

[ultralightpoe]

Hits Different - Tangerine

Hits Different - Tangerine

Authors Note : Heya! I am so glad I finally got all the songs filled and am so ready for the event!

MIDNIGHTS EVENT HERE

Word Count: 3433

Warnings: none I think

Enjoy!

I washed my hands of us at the club

You made a mess of me

I pictured you with other girls in love

Then threw up on the street

Like waiting for a bus that never shows

You just start walkin' on

They say that if it's right, you know

Each bar plays our song

Nothing has ever felt so wrong

Nothing really registered properly at the moment, the only thing you knew was your palms were digging into the grass below you as your best friend cursed behind you, holding your hair back as you puked in the shitty college town park you had stumbled into. 

If this had been a normal outing the roles would have reversed and it would have been you holding her own hair back with a sober attitude she wouldn’t be able to recognize, too wasted to know that you were fuming, but for once in your terribly long friendship it had been you that took far too many shots. This time it had been you that had to be dragged away from some random guy with a wedding ring tan. 

Tan…..oh Tan.

Just at the memory of the nickname you feel the need to vomit again, tears stinging your eyes as your best friend giggles behind you, obviously not concerned for the mental breakdown you were currently having. 

“Do you think he has a new girlfriend?” You slur out, knees wobbly as she helps you up, leaning down to snatch the weapons off your feet so you can walk across the grass with her. She leads you to a public hose, or at least she hopes it’s public as she turns it on. 

“Definitely babe.”

“I don’t get it! This never happens to me!” By this you mean being left behind. 

It was no secret amongst your friend group that you were a flight risk when it came to relationships, always leaving before you got attached but just late enough that your significant other had already said the three words. You had never said the three words back….ever…..well until him.

“Just forget him babe,” She sighs out, grabbing your hands gently. “You keep waiting for him to call, and it’s been three weeks. He’s not calling back.”

“But I told him I loved him.” You hiccup, flinching as the cold hits your hands. 

She doesn’t respond and in your drunken stupor you can’t help but feel like a massive burden, so you shake your head with tears and whine out “I’ll stop talking about him, I swear.”

“It hurts right now, I know that. But soon enough you are gonna wash your hands clean of the whole thing.” She smiles, and you think about that for a moment before nodding and scrubbing your own hands under the water. 

From tonight on you won’t get Tangerine the satisfaction. 

You are washing yourself clean of him entirely.

But little did you know the entire time you were washing your hands you were humming yours and tans song, the whole reason you began to have the mental breakdown at the bar in the first place. Your best friend doesn’t point it out, she owes you that much. 

How many times had you wiped her mascara and bought her ice cream after being dumped? This was an easy act to return.

Oh my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

It hits different

It hits different this time

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different

It hits different 'cause it's you

('Cause it's you)

You were proud to say that you weren’t the one that brought him up during the weekly sunday brunch three days later, only to be immediately shamed by the way you head snapped at attention when your friend said his name. 

“Any news?”

Your best friend shakes her head from beside you, pouring more bottomless mimosas for you as you try to muster up an answer, really just anything to explain what had happened there but the truth was you had no clue yourself. 

“No, and honestly I have been running through all our last conversations to figure out what went wrong, was I too clingy? Did I scare him off?” You explain, watching all the girls lean forward in their seats. “And it’s so weird because I said I love you and he said it back. I don’t know-”

“I think you just panicked because of our teasing.” You best friend lies, batting her eyelashes at you. 

“Yeah! Girl I don’t think you really loved him, you were probably just in overdrive to prove us wrong. You are so lucky he left when he did.”

“He probably has a wife.”

“With kids.”

“That live in a nice suburban home-” You rush away from the table, sick of all the images they were giving you. They were obviously looking for reasons for you to feel better but none of it was helping because you knew you loved him.

He had been your first l word. 

And it had been wasted. 

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost

Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw

Freedom felt like summer then on the coast

Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings

And I never don't cry (no, I never don't cry) at the bar

Yeah, my sadness is contagious (my sadness is contagious)

I slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car

I stopped receiving invitations

A year ago you had been covered in a sweet scented sun balm, topless at the beach and tanning under the nice heat of the day as whatever lover you had at the time ran to get you both something to drink. You were holding your sunglasses in one hand and a book in the other, facedown on the poolside chair when two feet emerged in your vision. Two feet that you had not recognized. 

You had picked your head up slowly, blinking to clear the sunspots in your vision as the stranger came into view, brown hair tousled and gold chain glinting in the light. There was a pinkish tint to his shoulders and chest, and he smirks as you trace your eyes over his figure. 

“Can I help you?” You keep your voice sultry, eyelashes batting up at him as a slow smile spreads across his face. 

“I was hoping you’d be so lovely and share some of that sunblock with me,” His accent is thick as he squats down to be at the same level as you, eyes filled with something close to adoration that has your heart spiraling. “As you can see love, I’m burnin away here.”

“I do apologize for that, the sun can be quite the enemy…” You smile, reaching down to grab it, moving to hand it to him. His eyebrows shoot up and he feigns a look of shock for a moment before one of fake hurt.

“You can’t expect me to do it, lovey. You see I can’t reach my own fucking back…”

“How dare I!” You gasp, playing along and trying not to laugh. 

“Yeah, how fucking dare ya.” His toothy grin pulls a matching smile from you and he turns slowly to let you rub the balm onto his back, and you cast nervous glances around for the date that had brought you to the resort. 

“Don’t worry about him right now, yeah love? Your Kenny doll won’t mind us having some fun.” If you knew his secrets you’d have known that Tangerine had handled the man in the restroom, scaring him off so he could make a move. But you would never be allowed to see any of that. 

Oh my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

It hits different

It hits different this time

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different

It hits different 'cause it's you

('Cause it's you)

“What was that fucks name again?” Tan laughed, reaching to pinch your ass as you pass him to grab the popcorn for your movie night. 

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Mmmhmm, my lil’ fucking heartbreaker.” He grunts out, pressing his body against yours and kissing at your neck drawing a giggle from you. 

“We’re never gonna watch the movie if you can’t control yourself, and you were the one that begged for this movie night rather than a night-”

“I know I know.” He sighs, allowing himself one more kiss before moving to the living room to set up. It takes you a couple more minutes to grab the tray of snacks, and when you finally shuffle out to the living room you find a huge fort made out of pillows and blankets with your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

“Tan?” You call, setting the tray down and leaning to check in the fort for him only to find it empty. The lights of the tv are your only source of light so you don’t see the figure behind you until it’s too late and he snatches you by the waist and spins you around in the air. 

A laugh pulls from you as he yells out a battle cry and throws you both into the fort where all the pillows were laid out. 

After a couple minutes of laughter you catch your breath and play with his hair as he leans over your outstretched body, his own pressed against yours and his fingers trailing love touches up your side as he stares at you. 

“I love you, you know that?” You blurt, watching a smile crack across his face. 

“I love you too.”

You ended up never watching the movie, choosing to stay in the fort and admire each others bodies in a way you had never done before, panting and moaning under the faint blue light the tv sent through the sheets of the fort. 

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat

Cursed the space that I needed

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense

Why the wound is still bleedin'

You were the one that I loved

Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough

A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes

Except you woke up alone in the fort, covered in blankets that you did not remember grabbing, and the tv had been turned off. 

He must have been late for work and you simply overslept, it was a rational answer you gave yourself because normally Tan would wake you up before he left. Or maybe there had been an emergency with his baby brother. 

There were many reasons he could be gone so you simply sent him a good morning text and moved on with your day, telling yourself you would take the fort down later. 

But then the goodmorning text turned into a question about dinner that had gone unanswered, and late at night you sat at the dining table with pizza shoved in your face as you anxiously messaged him asking if he was okay. 

You imagined all the men that you had used for trips and money laughing at you right now, a heavy sense of irony and then you shook your head and reminded yourself that it’s only been a day, this wasn’t a ghosting situation…..

Except it had been, and by the second week you had sent him so many messages that you were sure he finally blocked you when the messages started ready ‘not delivered’. 

An embarrassed sob had clawed up your throat at that, furiously wiping your eyes and chugging the glass of wine you had poured before moving to pick up the fort. 

If anyone had been confused by the sobbing girl in the laundry room of the apartments at 2 am they never said it and you were slightly thankful for that as you washed the sheets from the fort. 

It was time to move on, you were better than this.

You ghosted people, not the other way around. 

This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy

Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief

In the good in the world, you once believed in me

And I felt you and I held you for a while

Bet I could still melt your world

Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

You hadn’t realized that getting dumped was this hard to get over though. Sure you had cheered your friends up from it but you had never felt it yourself, this was a different world to you. You cried when you threw the photos away, and you cried when you packed up anything he left in a box to donate to goodwill. 

He plagued your every waking thought, the image of his eyes and the sound of his voice filling your thoughts whenever you allowed yourself to relax so you spent most your time cleaning or working to distract yourself. 

A little over a year with him, and this is what it came to? 

Your best friend tried convincing you to be angry which led to you puking in a clubbing dress in the middle of a park. And the girls brunch had left you just a little more miserable when the conversation had turned to the engagement party of one of your close friends, and by the time you crawled home you ended up in a ball on the carpet of the living room floor, closing your eyes for a quick nap to shut the world out for a bit. 

You didn’t need him, fuck you had traveled the world before him, you could just go back to that. 

I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway

Is that your key in the door?

Is it okay? Is it you?

Or have they come to take me away?

To take me away

Going back to dating after a year of a relationship had been rocky, and your first date back had led to you cheering up your date as he talked about his own ex, and by the time you packed him into an uber that night you felt a bit better about yourself. You weren’t over your ex, but so what? No one else was either?

And any anxiety you had about dating had gone out the window at that, because you had realized you had the perfect weapon in your hands. 

So you cracked out your best and sexiest dresses and by week 12 of no contact with Tan you began spending your nights putting on the performance of your life.

You would sniffle, and you would bat your eyelashes as you talked about how heartbroken you were, the men would be hooked at the sad doe eyes and you would spend the meal talking about how nice and kind they were, then when the check came you would put the nail in the coffin with the tiny tears on how they were so much better than your ex. 

But they weren’t, they were free meals and free wine that you enjoyed toying with. Because no one had ever pulled your heartstrings the way Tan had, and no one had been able to break your heart the way he had. You were sure you would never give anyone else the chance. 

So you followed your own routine after that, when the man of the night would lead you to the sidewalk and call an uber thinking he was about to get laid, you would start crying and then crying would turn to blubbering as you talked about how amazing they were. 

Nothing scared a guy off faster than clinginess, this you knew well. 

They are always scared off at the blubbering mess of sobs, putting you in an uber and paying for your ride home, desperate for you to stop crying. 

There had been one uber driver that had picked you up 3 times, and always laughed when you stopped crying the second the poor fool was out of sight. You shared your gum with her and she promised to mention you in a novel she was writing, you told her to make you iconic. 

And then you would be dropped off, where you would sit, slightly tipsy, in your very lonely apartment. 

Some nights you would trick yourself into thinking you heard Tans key in the door…. You never did and the pitch of excitement you got always ended in a pained feeling so you began to listen to headphones rather than silence. 

Oh my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

It hits different (it hits different)

It hits different this time

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different (it hits different)

It hits different 'cause it's you

Your date tonight had chosen a really good restaurant tonight, and not only that he had actually been pretty funny. So when you left the restaurant stuffed and laughing you nearly forgot your performance, but he seemed like he didn’t expect anything as he kissed your cheek to call you a ride, telling him to call you when you crawled in before shutting the door softly and you felt a small smile spread across your face. 

“That one seemed sweet.” Niama comments, watching you through the rearview mirror of the uber. You smile even more and pull out the dessert you ordered. 

“I got this for ya.” You hand it to her and she laughs. 

“And if it hadn’t been me?”

“I would have gone home and eaten it myself. It was a win win idea.”

When she drops you off that night she gives you her number and tells you that she demands an amazing interview for her book, and as you walk up the steps to your apartment you are left with a giddy feeling from a good night. 

Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice it at first. Too busy laughing to yourself to notice the familiar smell of mint on the doorstep, or the fact that your door was unlocked. 

But the second you enter it’s clear something is off.

The lights are on, and you know for a fact that you had turned them off before you left. The kitchen was cleaner then you left it and the smell of mint filled your lungs. 

Everything was right and yet it was so so wrong. 

You find yourself frozen in the doorway, one hand clenching the doorknob as the other tightens into a fist at the center of your jacket, doing your best to wake yourself up from whatever dream this was. 

“Y/n?” He calls, the same familiar accent that had talked you to sleep nearly every night for a year. And then he is there, limping harshly as he comes around the corner. 

His entire face is covered in blisters and bruises, a cast on his left arm.

He watches you in the doorway, and you blink back at him struggling to find something to say….anything, a single word would be fine. 

“H…..Hey lovey.”

Oh, my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

'Cause it's you

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different (yeah)

Hits different 'cause it's you

His normal cockiness was gone, and you can see the fear in his eyes in an instant, as he looks you up and down. 

“You……look stunning.”

“You look like hell.”

He nods, taking his unbroken hand up to wipe his tears before he clears his throat and stands straighter. “I think it’s time to explain.”

You nod, moving to shut the door and you stand there just a second more before flinging across the room where he stood, careful of his injuries when you pull him into a bone crushing hug. 

He groans in pain and you pull yourself back quickly but his unbroken hand is fisted in the back of your coat to keep you close as he catches his breath. 

“Sorry love,” He grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. “I got shot.”

“IthoughtIscaredyouawayand- I’m sorry…. You got shot?” A small smile spreads across his face as he watches you. 

“You think you scared me away by sayin’ I love ya?” He chuckles, his hand sliding up your side until it’s woven in your hair. “Cause I’m worried about what I’m about to tell ya will scare you off.”

Don't forget to request a character and a song from the album Sour by Olivia Rodrigo for the next event!

And check out the midnights masterlist at the top of this post for more taylor swift fun!

#tangerine bullet train smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine angst #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine #lemon and tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train smut #bullet train #taylor swift #taylor swift midnights #midnights album #aaron taylor johnson

[corroded-hellfire]

Attend the Tale - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie proclaims to theatre nerd!reader that musicals are too happy for him. You then tell him the tale of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Note: This is partially because Gaten is currently in the show on broadway, yes, but also because it is one of my favorite musicals of all time and I myself am a huge theatre nerd.

Warnings: spoilers for Sweeney Todd, which has dark themes including bloody violence, murder, and cannibalism.

Words: 2.3k

Hawkins High School likes conventional. It likes when things make sense. For instance, it made sense when Chrissy Cunningham was nominated for Prom Queen, and Jason Carver for Prom King. It made sense that Nancy Wheeler was on track to give the valedictorian speech at graduation at the end of the year. What didn’t make sense—at least from an outsider's perspective—is you and Eddie.

Eddie Munson was all metal, band t-shirts, chunky silver rings, long wild mane, and tattoos. You are not metal. You are costumes, makeup, rehearsing lines and practicing songs for an audition. A theatre nerd, essentially. At night, Eddie blasts Metallica in his room, while you’re playing Andrew Lloyd Webber and attempting to hit the high notes in Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. The two of you looked like opposite sides of the spectrum. But in reality, you were two sides of the same coin. Both passionate about the music that moves you, embodying the looks of your respective niches. 

When you met, there was an initial clash between the two of you over use of the drama room. Yes, it was used for Hellfire meetings, but it was the drama room and Eddie shouldn’t have thrown a fuss if you had to come in and grab a costume that had been left in there earlier. Once the original ire cooled, the two of you found you gelled together quite nicely. Only someone else who has that deep appreciation for music can understand what it’s like to feel the music in your very soul, in every beat of your heart, and every breath you take. 

Though there wasn’t a crossover appeal with each other’s music, both you and Eddie could appreciate and respect the other’s taste. Eddie would blast metal in the van on the way home from school, so you’d come to learn some of the songs and point out your favorites to your boyfriend. When the two of you were at your house, a Sondheim or a Rodgers & Hammerstein record would be playing in the background as you makeout on your bed. 

Eddie had seen you in the last musical Hawkins High had put on—Into the Woods. The dark take on multiple fairy tales had drawn Eddie in more than he thought it would. Obviously, he had only gone to see you—dragging Dustin along because the curly haired boy was the only one willing to accompany him—but he ended up being honestly impressed by the talent and hard work it takes to put on a show. Hearing you sing as Cinderella had almost moved Eddie to tears, something he would never admit to a soul. But Dustin had noticed and told you when Eddie had gone to the bathroom after the show. You recognized the same dedication and effort in Eddie when you saw him performing with Corroded Coffin.

After you begged Eddie to play The Sound of Music cassette you just bought while you’re driving around one weekend, he comes up with a thought that astounds you.

“You know, musicals are just too happy for me. Everything is always okay in the end, and everyone sings and dances and it’s happily ever after.”

You’re staring at him for a good minute before he notices. He raises an eyebrow at you in question.

“That is so not true!”

“Babe,” Eddie says, knocking the rings of his right hand against the van’s radio. “We’re literally listening to a show that has singing nuns and nazis. And guess what? Everything ends tied up with a bow.”

“First of all,” you say, flopping back in your seat with a huff. “This is based on a true story. So, sorry that the real Von Trapp family escaped the nazis. Secondly, there are plenty of dark musicals. You saw Into the Woods!”

“Yeah, it was dark for fairy tales. I listen to metal. The witch cursing a family doesn’t quite cut it as ‘dark’ for me.”

“West Side Story? It’s tragic!”

“Tragedy and darkness aren’t really the same thing,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I mean, they can be. But they literally have gangs prancing down the street. Sad story, sure. But I wouldn’t say dark.”

You purse your lips in the way that Eddie finds adorable as you look out the window. A cheery song about favorite things playing isn’t helping you come up with any dark musicals.

“Aha! Phantom of the Opera,” you say, turning towards Eddie. “Kidnapping, murder, disfigured character. Dark enough for you?”

“Eh,” Eddie says with a shrug. “The opera part kinda cancels it out for me.”

Just as Eddie’s pulling into your driveway, your face lights up with an idea. Eddie notices it as he pulls the keys out of the ignition, the jingling of them breaking you out of your mini trance.

“Sweeney Todd.”

“Who?” Eddie asks.

“Sweeney Todd!” you repeat, as if just hearing it again will make everything clear to Eddie. Both of you get out of the car and you fumble to get your house keys out of your bag. “The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”

“Did we switch subjects, or…? Should I know this Todd dude?” Eddie asks as he follows you inside. He kicks his shoes off next to the door just as you do, and you toss your bag onto the closest chair.

“It’s a Stephen Sondheim musical,” you say. “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”

“A demon barber?” Eddie asks with a laugh. 

Spinning away from him and his dismissive chuckle, you stroll over to your collections of records. Nimble fingers pick through them until you find the one you’re looking for. Eddie just watches as you move to the record player and load up the album. The opening notes start slow at first, then gaining volume, with a haunting quality to the melody. It sounds eerily like music you would hear at a funeral. Then a piercing noise—a scream? a scrape? —slices through the air, startling Eddie. He won’t let you know it just yet, but this already has him intrigued. 

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd

His skin was pale and his eye was odd

He shaved the faces of gentlemen

Who never thereafter were heard of again

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, a smile curling on his lips. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.”

“It’s bloody and gory,” you say, jumping onto your couch. Eddie chuckles as he watches your socked feet move over the gray overstuffed cushions. You hold your hands out in front of you, fingers splayed as you begin to summarize the show in a melodramatic voice. “Sweeney Todd—who is actually named Benjamin Barker—returns to London after being wronged by a judge many years ago. Judge Turpin stole his wife and daughter. Like, literally stole. Not like he seduced her or something, he straight up took her and had her husband sent away.”

Eddie wrinkles up his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s creepy as hell.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” you say with a devious smile. As you continue on with the tale, the music playing in the background, you keep walking across the couch, jumping to the adjacent couch as well when you come to the edge. Eddie watches you, an adoring look in his eyes. “So, Sweeney stays with this lady, Mrs. Lovett, who has a pie shop. And he starts up as a barber again, with the goal of getting the judge to come in so he can…” You run your finger across your neck, imitating the slitting of your throat. 

“Does he stick the bastard?” Eddie asks, jumping up on the couch you just vacated. 

“Hold on, hold on,” you say, shooting him a smirk. “This other dude comes in and recognizes Sweeney back from when he was Barker, so Sweeney kills him. When he and Mrs. Lovett are trying to figure out what to do with the body, she comes up with an idea! But is it too much? Never, for this twisted pair!”

Eddie laughs as he listens and watches. Your eyes are wide, a crazed look there as you describe the warped tale. Even if he wasn’t genuinely enjoying this debauched plot, he would’ve been thoroughly amused by your performance. 

“They decide to get rid of the body by grinding him up and putting him in the meat pies!”  

“Ugh,” Eddie groans, face full of disgust. “That’s morbid.”

“Told ya,” you say with a proud smirk. “But they don’t stop there. Every man who comes to Sweeney’s shop becomes the new flavor of the day. And the people love the meat pies. They keep selling out of them.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, holding his hands up in front of him. “I concede. This is a dark musical.”

“Thank you,” you say, offering him a dramatic bow. “The dead bodies do not just come out tap dancing or some other cliche, cheesy shit you accuse musicals of. Although now that I’m thinking about that, it would’ve been cool.”  

“So, how’s it end?” Eddie asks, jumping over to the couch you’re on.

“Oh, no, no, no,” you say, shaking your head and backing a step away from him. “You’ll have to listen. Wait! See! They’re about to tell you.” You hold your finger to your lips, telling Eddie to be silent so he can hear the final lyrics of the song.

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd

He served a dark and a vengeful god

What happened then, well, that's the play

And he wouldn't want us to give it away

Not Sweeney

Not Sweeney Todd

The demon barber of Fleet street

Eddie steps forward and tugs on your waist until you’re flush up against him. “You seem to really enjoy this creepy shit.”

“I haven’t even told you the rest,” you say, cupping his face in your hands. “There’s the judge wanting to marry the daughter he stole as well. A beggar woman who goes around asking men if they wanna fuck her. And then there’s Antony and Toby who are precious boys.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Might just have to borrow this record.”

“I thought you’d like it,” you say, a satisfied smirk on your lips. “I know my boyfriend’s taste.”

“Yes, you do,” he mumbles as he leans in and presses his lips against yours. The two of you share lazy kisses for a few minutes, just standing there on your couch in the middle of your living room. When you finally break for air, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and lets out a small laugh. “Who would’ve thought I’d find a girlfriend who can match my theatrics?”

“I think I outdo your theatrics, thank you very much,” you say. “In private, anyway. I know I can be my true, authentic weird self with you.”

“I love your weird self,” Eddie says, hands roaming down to your ass. 

“And I love you.”

Eddie grins and presses a few more kisses to your mouth. 

“Are there any duets in the show?” Eddie asks. “Could learn it and we could sing it together.”

The way your eyes light up at his words has his heart stuttering in his chest. He’d never admit it, but he’d memorize all of Sondheim’s compositions if you wanted him to. Anything for you. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice the quietest it’s been this whole time. Before continuing, you clear your throat and blink your eyes a few times. “My favorite song from it is a duet. It’s the one where they decide to put the men into the pies. It’s called A Little Priest.”

You quickly hop off the couch and stop the record. Carefully, you turn it over and place it back down. Your eyes scan the track list printed on the record’s jacket to find the right spot. Placing the needle back down, a surge of pride flows through you as you hear it start playing exactly where you want it to. 

Seems a downright shame…

Turning back towards Eddie, you try to emulate Mrs. Lovett. Kind of crazy, but even crazier for the man in front of her. That part you have down perfectly. The fond look Eddie is giving you makes your tummy all fuzzy and your head all light. Knowing that not only can you be completely and unabashedly yourself around Eddie, but that he actually loves you like that still boggles your mind. 

The song is funny, filled with puns and jokes, and you sing through the lyrics with ease. As the long song comes to its end, you step up on the coffee table and use it as your stage. Closing your eyes, you throw your arms in the air dramatically as if you’re riding a roller coaster. 

We'll not discriminate great from small! 

No, we'll serve anyone, 

Meaning anyone, 

And to anyone

At all!

Eddie claps as you finish belting the last note, and your face warms at his praise. A shy giggle escapes you as you curtsy on top of the table. Your boyfriend hops down from the couch and wraps both of his arms around your legs. He flops backwards so he’s lying on the couch, pulling you along so you’re on top of him. 

“You’re so damn cute,” Eddie says.

“Takes one to know one, Munson,” you say, finger coming up to boop the tip of his nose. 

“I feel like I’m gonna have to take you to Broadway as a graduation gift,” Eddie muses.

“Baby,” you whine, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t wanna take a trip with me?” he asks, jutting out his bottom lip in his most adorable pout. The big cow eyes only add to it. 

“Of course I do,” you say. “Not letting you buy me a trip for graduation, though!”

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “What if it’s a gift for both of us? We go up together over the summer? Huh?” He grins and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You, me, whatever shows you want, then a nice big hotel bed at night. I won’t pay for everything, I promise.”

A giggle bubbles out of you and you rest your head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Sounds perfect, Eddie.” 

“I love you, my little theatre nerd.”

“I love you, my adorable metal head.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson x theatre nerd!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction

[twiceasfrustrating]

Fem!MC and grim dancing under the rain?

They're having a nice walk outside in the street at night. They didn't see the rain coming so they went inside a store so they don't get wet, but there's a violinist in the street (under a bus stop or smth so they don't get wet too XD) and MC gets the sudden idea of dancing with grim under the rain

Content: Grim x F!MC, fluff A/N: I know Grim has a name. I know what it is. I am tentatively leaving it out of this fic in case some people don't know it. Also, as someone who played the violin, OMG! NEVER PLAY IN THE RAIN! The moisture is a killer on your instrument.

"Why would you want to do that?" Grim -- Mr. Name Classified himself -- asked as he looked out from under the awning over the store's front door.

Somewhere in the distance, The pitter patter of rain drops hitting the cotton overhead echoed like memories of jumping in puddles up to your ankles in childhood. The warmth seeping out of the shop door radiated across your face and down your arms, the touch only cool compared to where you were holding Grim's pale hand.

"What? Is the big bad grim reaper afraid of a little water?" She teased as she pulled at his hand. "Are you secretly a cat? I hate to tell you this, but I don't think I can support more than one pet."

Somewhere in the distance, the fine-tuned strings of a violin played a familiar song. The violinist stood under the overhang of a nearby restaurant's outdoor seating, their case set open in front of them to accept any donations from those forced into shelter with them.

Grim balked at her accusation. "I'm clearly not an animal. I just don't want to get wet."

"You're already wet." A consequence of being caught unawares by the sudden storm.

"I'm damp!" Which was distinctly different from being drenched completely through.

"Well, let's change that." She gave one last tug to finally drag him into the pouring rain.

She gasped between giggles as water soaked through her clothes in a matter of seconds. Grim frowned deeply, but a faint blush was visible under the long, white hair suddenly matted to his face. His clothes sagged as they were weighed down.

She tried not to laugh given his expression, but it was too hard. "You look ridiculous."

"So do you, Sunshine." He tried to brush the raindrops from her eyelashes with his gloved hands, but it proved to be a futile task as more gathered where the others had been.

"Sunshine?" She questioned. "I'm in less trouble than I thought." By now, she expected to be his Nightmare.

"You're shining even brighter than usual."

Heat flowed to her face, embarrassment clear as day to any who looked their way -- and some strangers were definitely staring at the couple standing in the rain.

He looked at her with confusion in his red eyes at her sudden silence. "Are you alright?"

She turned her face away to try and hide her expression. "You say sweet things sometimes."

"But I was telling the truth. It's so dark that you're shining brighter than usual."

"Shh." She held her finger up to his lips. "Don't ruin the moment. I'm suddenly feel soft." You linked your fingers between his and stared into his eyes. "Would you like to dance?"

He pushed his hair out of his face with his free hand. He still looked upset about being dragged into the rain, but it was more of a pout than a scowl.

He put the hand that had just brushed his hair aside on her hip and began to sway gently to the sound of music in the distance. "I would."

#mine #a date with death #anon #fluff

[rottenblur]

After hours|J.PEÑA

Javier Peña x reader

Summary: Going to Colombia with your friends sounds exciting right? Only if the whole reason you were here, wasn’t to be their translator. One night they drag you to a bar, you’re downing shots by yourself when a certain brown eyed man approached you. When you started flirting with him, you didn’t think you’d be back against a stall door, moaning his name. 2k ish

WARNINGS:SMUT!!! Unprotected p in v (wrap it up yall) degradation for like two seconds, my terrible spainish, dirty talking, public p in v (bathroom) alcohol, head f receiving, fingering f receiving

“he reaches down hikes up your dress, and pulls your panties to the side as he gets on his knees. You can feel him breathing against the bare exposed skin “fuck all this for me? So fuckin wet” ”

Walking in the crowded streets of Medellín, you and your friend group search for a night club with decent music bumping out of it. After about five minutes of walking around, your friends finally find a club they like. Entering the loud, packed and sweaty night club you head straight to the bar as your friends run quickly off to the dance floor, dancing to songs they didnt know, nor understand.

You were the most understanding of spainish out of the group and that was honestly a insult the whole language. Sitting at the bar in a stool closest to the wall, slightly muffling the loud, upbeat, club toons. You order a round of tequila shots for yourself, lighting a cigarette, sticking it between your lips, and inhaling.

Looking down at your bare legs adjusting your tight, sparkly, black, slip dress. Puffing away at your cigarette, creating a cloud around your body, as your shots arrive.

You thank the bartender, reaching into your purse and paying him. Putting your cigarette in the ash tray, downing your shot then sucking on a lime slice.

By your fourth and final one, youre on your third cigarette, the music sounds better and you’re seriously considering finding a attractive stranger, just to grind on them.

Looking down the bar, at the girls with their pretty dresses, paired with fruity drinks. The men with their collared shirts and dark liquor, one about four stools down from you, catches your gaze. He gets up and starts walking over towards you, he stands next you leaning on the bar.

“Qué estás bebiendo, cariño?”(What are you drinking, baby?) He leans towards you, taking the cigarette from your lips, stealing a puff and smirking.

You finally check him out. Black shoes, tight blue jeans, a tan button down with three buttons undone revealing his chest, sweat clinging to scattered hair.

His face is terribly handsome, his hair sticking to his tanned forehead, a thick moustache covering his top lip, the smirk that makes you wanna squeeze your tighs tightly together. Youre blaming the alcohol for the blush on your cheeks right now.

“Tequila, y tú?”(and you?) You wince at your terrible spainish accent praying it wont turn him away, he now takes a seat in the stool next to yours, angling his knees towards yours.

“Whiskey.” He takes a gulp, his ice clanking in his glass, as he lifts it to his lips. Laying the empty glass onto the bar counter, he looks at you. “Whats your name, baby?” Your face fulls with relief.

Thank god. No more shitty spainish has to be embarrassingly said to this poor man, it was bad enough that calling it “rusty” would be a insult, you’re pretty sure that the only reason your friends brought you on this trip was for your knowledge, even with the lack of said knowledge. They were too busy focusing on all the clubs they were gonna hit.

You tell him your name then ask him, “was it my accent that gave it away?” You cover your face with your hands, he pulls them away holding them in his “Or its your tolerance for that tequila you’ve been downing.” He laughs, you watch the way his dark brown eyes soften, practically disappearing when he laughs.

“Mines Javier.” He sounded proud of his name, it was meaningful to him. His eyes drop to your knees, slowing panning up your thighs, he drops his hand to the bottom of your thigh, you gasp.

His large tanned hand travels up your thigh slowly, occasionally looking up to your face to see it screw up the further up he gets. He stops at the top, moving up the hem of your dress, then dragging his hand to your inner thigh right on your tattoo. Rubbing slow circles then adding a squeeze, he smirks at you.

That tipped you over the edge, you squeeze your thighs together, begging for some attention to the aching in your panties.

He grazed the wet spot on your panties causing you to rut into his hand, then he removed his hand completely. “Fuck. Your spainish is better than your ability to hide how much you want me right now, cariño.” You almost whimper at his words before you can respond, he’s already calling the bartender over to order more tequila shots. Fuck you didnt need them. He was intoxicating enough.

The bartender lays four shots of tequila paired with a bowl of sliced lime, Javier pays him and pulls them closer. He slides two over to you, two for himself “No lime this time, cant be a bitch bout it.” He says squeezing your leg, you gasp sarcastically.

He raises his shot glass, you follow his lead lifting yours up and clinking it with his. You both bringing them to tap the bar before downing it, you cough and shake your head looking over at javier hes laughing at you with a much more calm reaction to the burning liquor.

Before you can address your struggle, hes already reaching reaching for the second one. “Vamos, hermosa!”(come on, beautiful)You pick up the glass, before you cheers with him your favourite song starts playing.

You down your shot “OHHHH SHITTTTTT.” You grab javiers hand, hop off your stool and start pulling him off his stool. He downs his shot, slamming the glass on the wooden bar, letting you pull him towards the dance floor. “What are you doing.”

He questions as you use your whole body weight, to pull him towards you “you gotta dance with me, i wont dissapoint you!”

He pulls you close to him by your waist. Feeling the music, you turn around facing away from Javier, you start to sway your hips to the music.

He holds your hips pushing your ass flush against his crouch, you move your hips more, still on beat. You swear you here a groan fall out of him followed by a quiet “Mierda.”(shit)

You wrap your arms around his neck pushing your back right against His chest. You can feel the tightness in his jeans on your ass, you can feel his throbbing and rutting when you sway your hips a certain way for god sake.

He takes a long sigh then spins you around, takes your face into his hold, and kisses you. A kiss of desperation, hes been holding it in all night, his mouth taste of cigarettes and whiskey. His tounge passes through your lips and teasing your own. He pulls away “fuck you for making me want you so bad hermosa.”

He grabs your wrist before you can reply pulling a gasp out of you, he pulls you like you once pulled him onto the dance floor towards the bathrooms. Your face heats up knowing exactly whats bout to happen,

He pushes the door open, scanning for anyone else, you lucked out there was no one.

He finds the cleanest stall pulling you in and against the door, it shakes as he presses up against you, grinding himself, while kissing you. “Are you clean?”

You nod “and on the pill.” That pulls a grin out of him, he reaches down hikes up your dress, and pulls your panties to the side as he gets on his knees. You can feel him breathing against the bare exposed skin “fuck all this for me? So fuckin wet”

he licks his lips then spits on your mound, attaching his lips this pulls a whimper out of you. His tounge draws experienced circles on your clit, dropping down to lick slit to clit every so often.

When your back starts arching, on the stall door Javier mutters something against you, feeling the vibrations of his words, but not hearing them.

He looks up at you with his sweet brown eyes, your face is screwed up with pleasure.

Keeping the eye contact, he lifts your leg placing it on his shoulder then, plunges two of his thick tanned digits into you, first gathering some slick, mouth still attached. This pushes you over the edge, as he pumps the length in out of you, curling his fingers to hit your sweet spot with ease.

You throw your head back letting out a moan “fuck javi.” You feel him smile on you, he quickens his pace, his fingers filling you up, mouth leaving no drop go to waste. You feel your orgasm approaching, squeezing Javier’s fingers like your life depends on it, he pulls them out and stands up.

“Fuck, you’re delicious baby.” He kisses your neck and unbuckles his jeans, releasing his throbbing need. You almost gasp at its appearance, its fucking beautiful, the perfect length and girth.

The veins popping out, the clean patch of hair above his base, you stare at it almost drooling.

He lets off your neck with a pop, you already know he marked you up. He spits on his hand and starts pumping himself, he pulls the tiny straps on your dress down.

Rubbing your shoulders then pulling the front down and his mouth opens. “Oh cariño, such pretty tits.” He takes a handful then attaches his mouth, sucking dark spots all over. A whimper slips out, forcing a groan out of him “Please javi, i need you.” You pull his face up, thats all that he needed to hear.

He grabs one of your legs placing it above his hip, rubbing the leaking tip on your wet folds. He looks up at you, placing a hand behind your head as he pushes the tip in.

You gasp as you feel just the tip entering, he pauses then pushes his full length in you the head hitting your cervix, making your knees buckle.

He moves his hand down to your hip keeping you up, “If you’re gonna dress like a slut, you’ll get fucked like one.” He smiles slamming back into you.

Your mind is blank. The sounds of groans, grunts, whimpers and moans is all the words being spoken other than javiers occasional dirty mumblings.

“Fuck, youre so fucking tight”

“This pussy was made for me”

You throw your head back, feeling your second orgasm approaching, all you can focus on is the sound of skin slapping together, and the wetness of the two of you connecting.

Javier knows it before you can collect your thoughts enough to tell him “Youre choking my dick up baby, is this sweet, little pussy coming for me? So fucking easy, baby. She needed me.” That threw you over the edge.

You flutter all around him, squeezing him so tight he can barely move. He fucks you through your orgasm, shortly after he cums inside of you, filling you up.

He pulls out, keeping your leg on his hip watching him leak out of you. You can feel yourself pulsing around nothing, already missing him filling you up.

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your cheek, tucks himself away, adjusts your dress, finishing with a smirk.

You smile back at him fucked dumb. “Thank you for that-“, he opens the stall door walking you out of the bathroom and out of the club. A arm tightly wrapped around your waist, keeping your legs from buckling from under you.

“That was seriously the best sex I’ve ever had.” He smiles “Doesnt feel like you get much of it baby.” He slaps your ass, you nudge him and laugh

“Need a ride?” You nod, your friends haven’t noticed you were gone by now you’ll be fine ditching them. He walks you to his car, your eyes go wide. “Youre a fed? Only feds have this nice of a car here. Did i just fuck a fed.” You say, giggling.

He opens the car door for you, you jump in. He walks over to the driver side, putting the key in and starting the car. “This “fed” just gave you the best fuck of your life time, dont be bitching.”

He was right. He pulls up in front of your hotel, you’re almost sad you have to say goodbye. He takes a pen from his cup holder, clears his throat then, messily writes a number on your arm “Call me. Early morning, sorry cariño.” You smile, lean over, give him a kiss goodnight and hop out.

You may have leaked all over the seat the whole ride there, at least he wont forget you?

my masterlist

AN! JAVI FIC???? for once not joel. I started this yesterday morning since i feel theres a lack of javi fics? Excuse there spainish i barely speak it myself, i provided translations! Please if you speak spainish message me so i can fix it.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier peña x reader #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x female reader #javier peña x female reader #narcos #rottenblur