#verse: e x new town

[mothandpidgeon]

Homecoming (Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales, no outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: Frankie asks his neighbor to keep an eye on things while he's in South America.

“I think that’s what he wants,” Joel finally speaks. His voice is low and dark, his eyes narrow. He’s talking to you but he’s looking right at Frankie. “I think when he asked me to look after you, he was hoping to come home to that. To see his woman treated right by another man. Tell me I ain’t right.”

Words: 5.6k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: Frankie has to watch, he likes it, cuckolding, dom Joel, oral sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, hand job, mentions of Frankie's addiction, toxic relationship, Frankie kind of sucks (canon, I said what I said), Joel steal your girl Miller (I'm sure I forgot some, let me know!)

a/n: I'll be honest, I don't see how Frankie was coming home to anything other than divorce papers after leaving his lady with a new baby (suggesting other babies!?) and giving all of his money away. Let's torment him!

As always thanks to @ezrasbirdie for the beta. Consider this my toxic Catalyst verse.

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--

Frankie drums his fingers on his thigh. Flight leaves in an hour and he’s thinking about the front door. 

He should be thinking about this gig. It’s risky as hell. If things go sideways, they’ll be completely fucked in the jungle with a narco on their ass. The money’s good but there are a hundred ways it could get hairy. 

But you had a bad habit of leaving the front door unlocked. You’d done it just the day before when you picked the baby up from daycare. 

“Christ, Frankie. My hands were full, ok?” you said when he mentioned it.

“Just don’t forget while I’m gone. You’ll be alone with the kids and I don’t want the house to be wide open,” he said. 

“If you’re so worried about us, don’t go,” you said.

You’d given him a raft of shit about it. Leaving you with a baby and a three year old and no help. 

“You promised me you were done doing stupid shit,” you said. 

He’s promised you a lot of things. 

You’re still so pissed that when he kissed Franny and the baby goodbye, you barely acknowledged he was leaving. 

Which means if something does happen, you’ll never forgive him. He’s biting on the side of his thumb when he reaches for his phone.  

 …I’m going out of town for a bit but I’d feel a lot better if you’d just keep an eye on things…

He shoots the text off to his neighbor. Frankie doesn’t know him all that well—they’ve shared some beers at backyard barbecues— but he’s a good guy. His daughter babysits Franny all the time. Frankie feels a little better. At least you’ll be safe while he’s not there. 

—

When Joel sees you a few days after he gets the text from Frankie, he knows you’re going through it. 

You’re juggling a diaper bag, keys, and a water bottle while trying to lug the car seat up the front walk. The humidity isn’t doing anything kind to your hair and he’s pretty sure he saw you wearing the same yoga pants and oversized t-shirt the day before. Your daughter is whining about something he can’t quite make out from his driveway. She hovers around you doing dramatic, exasperated stomps. 

He remembers Sarah at that age. It was hard enough to be a single parent to one, he can’t imagine how you’re doing it with two even if it’s just temporary. 

Joel has to admit, he’d be looking over at you even if Frankie hadn’t asked. He likes you. You always ask about Sarah and even remember her birthday. When she stays late babysitting, you stand at the door and watch to make sure she gets in safe even though she’s just crossing the yard. And he’ll admit it, you’re attractive. He knows you’re spoken for but  he can’t help the way his eyes linger when you’re bent over the back seat vacuuming up cheerios. 

“Maybe when daddy gets back,” Joel hears you say. You’re out of breath but trying to keep a light air in your voice. 

“But when is he coming home?” she complains. 

The little girl tugs on your arm and the carefully balanced tower in your hand topples to the ground, the bottle making an especially loud clang that sets the baby off crying. 

“Franny!” you snap. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Franny says. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Joel watches your chest rise and fall, one deep breath to collect yourself. He imagines that you’re counting to ten in your head as he’s done a thousand times.  

“I know, mija,” you say. 

You run a hand over your messy hair and begin collecting your keys from the grass. Joel’s sure you’re on the edge of tears. 

“You need a hand?” he calls over. 

You’re startled when you look over at him. Maybe you’d been so focused on getting everybody into the house, you hadn’t even noticed he was in his yard. Your brows knit together and it looks like you’ve been clenching your jaw for hours. Finally, your shoulders lower slightly and Joel feels like he’s lifted the weight right off of you just by asking. 

“Yeah, actually,” you say. 

—

Motherhood is torture. Even on the good days. You’re covered in spit up and boogers and sticky lollipop sugar. Your eyes are ringed from sleep deprivation. Most meals are the sandwich crusts Franny refuses to eat. 

But what really gets to you is the noise. Franny is a chatterbox, the baby is always at an 11, and the house is full of plastic toys that each play a series of increasingly infuriating songs. Even the white noise machine feels like taking a cheese grater to your ears. 

It’s not so bad when you can share the load. But Frankie’s gone. He’s been gone more and more often. A stint in rehab. Pounding the pavement for a new job. Now off with Pope and the guys being weekend warriors. You’ve lost count of the number of second chances you’ve given him.

You’re just about to lose your shit when Joel calls over to you. He’s a godsend. He carries the carseat into the house for you and has Sarah come over to help keep Franny entertained. He insists you take a shower– something you haven’t had time to do in three days– and when you come back into the kitchen, you nearly burst into tears when you see he’s done the dishes.

The kids are in bed now and Sarah’s gone back next door to do homework. Joel sets grilled cheese sandwiches on the table for the two of you and you give him one of Frankie’s beers. 

“A little crispy,” Joel says as way of apology for the bread that’s absolutely blackened. “Cooking’s not really my thing.”

“That’s ok. It’s just nice to have someone else do it for a change,” you say. “Thanks again. And Sarah too. She’s a good kid.”

“She is.” Joel smiles to himself. 

“You raised her right,” you say and his blush is so handsome. 

He’s older than Frankie but just as good looking. Strong arms, narrow waist. The light over the kitchen table picks up all the gray hairs around his temples. He’s definitely not hard to look at after a long day. 

Eventually it comes up.

“So where’s your man off to?” Joel asks innocently enough.

“Fuck if I know,” you grumble. You don’t want to think about him, not now in this nice moment. You weren’t pretending to play house with Joel but you didn’t mind forgetting about Frankie for an hour or two. “Maybe he‘ll do us a favor and stay there.”

You don’t mean it. Years of putting up with his crap has made you bitter, downright mean. 

“He asked me to check in on you while he was gone,” Joel says.

“He did?” you ask and he nods. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because every time I decide I’m done with him, he does something sweet and I lose my nerve.”

Joel’s quiet. Probably doesn’t know how to respond to such a personal bombshell when he was just making small talk.

“Sorry. You don’t want to hear my business.”

“Did I say that?” Joel asks. 

You sigh. His eyes are so kind and you’re so goddamn tired.

“He told me three days before that he was going. Doing some Rambo shit with his boys. He said it was going to pay well and I can’t argue with him there because we need the money because he lost his job. Drugs. I couldn’t even call my sister and ask for her help this week because I was so embarrassed. You know how many times she’s told me to dump his ass? And I should, you know. I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.”

By now, you can feel tears coming. You’re so angry with Frankie and you’re mad at yourself. You can’t imagine what Joel must think— that you’re an idiot, that you’re weak. 

But he cups your chin in his big hand. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows and, the way he’s looking at you, you feel like someone’s seeing you for the first time in years. “That’s not true. You don’t deserve any of that.” 

The air feels thick between you and you feel so fucking grateful for the words he’s just said. 

You kiss him, practically falling into his lips. He’s been so damn good to you and it’s been so long since you’ve felt taken care of. And he kisses you back. He pulls you into him. His thumb strokes your cheek and he opens his mouth to you. You can taste the beer on his tongue and it’s familiar. You’ve tasted it a thousand times on Frankie. 

You realize what you’re doing. You’re sick of Frankie’s shit but he’s still your partner, the father of your children. Maybe this is really the last straw and you’ll finally end it with him but you haven’t yet. You’ve always considered yourself the better person, the bigger one, who put the kids first and doesn’t keep secrets. You don’t get to act all morally superior if you’re cheating on Frankie. 

You break away and slap a hand over your mouth. 

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No. That’s alright.” Joel’s blinking like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. “My fault. I came on too strong there. You’re having a bad day. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

“I want to but I shouldn’t,” you tell him. You’ve never felt so mixed up in your life. “I guess I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Joel stands. “Listen, why don’t I get out of here. You can go to bed early.”

You’re mortified. He’s practically running away because you’re acting like a maniac. This man was kind to you for a minute and you blew it. 

“Sorry again. Thank you,” you add as an afterthought. 

He lingers in the doorway. 

“Why don’t I bring Sarah back tomorrow if you’re still needing help? Promise I can keep my hands to myself,” he says with a little chuckle. “Unless…maybe you just want Sarah?” He’s jiggling his hand nervously. 

You feel the faintest relief. You want him to come back. Not just for kissing purposes. He made you feel less alone. 

“That’s be great. Both of you,” you say. 

He gives you a sweet smile before leaving you to bury your face in your hands. 

—

Frankie knows what to expect when he gets back. When he finally got cell service, you’d sent it his call straight to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you. He’d all but disappeared. And now he was returning home with nothing to show for it. 

It’s not like this is the first time. He’s slept on Will and Benny’s couch more than once, come home to an empty house with a note on the kitchen table that you took Franny to your friend’s place. Don’t call until you get your shit together. 

He’s got a whole speech in his head that he’s been thinking about for days. He wishes that he could tell you how close he’d come to death and how much he wants to turn things around but even he knows how hollow those words sound. This time he’s going to make it up to you. 

It’s dark when he gets in. The house is quiet. He’s nervous again, jingling his keys in his hand. You’re sitting at the kitchen table which means he’s in deep shit. He’s ready to launch into his monologue but Frankie’s thrown off when he sees his neighbor sitting beside you. 

“Is everything ok?” he asks, eyes darting between you and your guest. His mind immediately goes to the darkest places, worse things than the failure of your relationship. 

“No, Frankie,” you say. 

“Did something happen to the baby?” Adrenaline floods him for what must be the millionth time since he last stood in this room. 

You sigh. “The kids are fine. They’re next door. Sarah’s watching them.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long pause where Frankie tries to recollect everything he was going to tell you, all of the promises he’d really keep this time. All he can think about is the fact that Joel’s sitting there looking at him like he’s a piece of shit. Frankie pushes up the brim of his hat to rub his forehead.

“Do I have to say it?” you ask. You look as exhausted as he feels. “I can’t do this any more.”

“I know,” Frankie says. 

The guilt has made his throat go dry. He’s fucked up so many things. He remembers the last time you were sitting there, the little bag of white powder you’d found in his jacket resting on the table.

“You said you were extending the trip. I haven’t heard from you in a week,” you go on. 

“Can we talk about this alone, baby?” he asks. 

“No I don’t think so,” you tell him. 

It’s hard enough to face the fact that he’s five minutes from losing you with without someone gawking. He shifts awkwardly. 

“Can you give us a minute, man?” Frankie tries. 

“Stay,” you tell Joel. 

You put your hand on his upper arm and Frankie feels sick. He can tell just by that touch that Joel’s not just your shoulder to cry on. It boils in his gut. 

“You’re going to do this in front of a stranger?” Frankie asks. It comes out louder than he meant. He’s got no business being angry. Not when he drove you away. But it’s suddenly not so easy to own up to his own failures. 

“Frankie,” you say, level and quiet. 

Joel crosses his arms and it feels like a warning. If Frankie doesn’t get his emotions in check, he will. Frankie’s almost tempted to test him. It would feel good to get hit. 

“What’s this? Did you fuck him?” he asks. 

Frankie wants to hear you say yes, to feel the knife slide in and twist. 

“I didn’t,” you snap back. “But I wish I had.” You look like you want to stuff them back into your mouth but you raise your chin defiantly. 

The words rattle around in Frankie’s ears. It hurts just the way he thought it would, imagining you spread out over this man’s lap. 

There’s another feeling, too. He can’t name it. There’s a place where jealousy turns into violence but somehow it’s taken a left turn to self loathing. You deserve to have someone to make you feel good and Frankie, well, he’s hitting rock bottom again. 

“I think that’s what he wants,” Joel finally speaks. His voice is low and dark, his eyes narrow. He’s talking to you but he’s looking right at Frankie. “I think when he asked me to look after you, he was hoping to come home to that. To see his woman treated right by another man.”

Frankie’s glaring at him but his breath shallows. The gravel in Joel’s voice goes straight to his groin. It’s twisted and he ought to punch Joel right in the mouth. Instead he’s frozen in place wondering why the blood is rushing to his cock. 

Joel stands lazily and takes two steps to cross the distance between them. His eyes travel up Frankie’s body, slow, dangerous, until he meets his gaze. He’s mere inches away, close enough that Frankie can smell the clean scent of his soap.

“Tell me I ain’t right,” Joel says. 

—

You’re on your feet in a flash to pull Joel away before they can come to blows but then you spy the growing bulge in Frankie’s pants. Your eyes go wide. Suddenly you're flooded with arousal though you can’t explain why. It should piss you off but you can’t help but imagine the look on his face if he’d walked in on you riding Joel in his own bed. You want to see it. 

Before a cooler head prevails, you’re pulling Joel by the hand down the hall to your bedroom. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Frankie asks, following behind. 

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” Joel says. 

Frankie stands there gaping but he doesn’t do anything to stop you. 

“You can stay there and watch or you can leave,” you tell him. That last word has a heavy finality to it. This isn’t like the other times when you took him back. He’s not coming home again. 

Frankie says nothing, just shuts his mouth. 

“You want to do this, sweetheart?” Joel asks. His tone is gentle. 

You’re breathless. You’ve been fantasizing about fucking Joel since he swooped in and saved you. Behind Frankie’s back, maybe, not right in front of his face. But you want him to see, to know exactly what he lost each time he fucked up. You want to punish him. 

“Yes,” you say and your eyes fall on Frankie. 

His expression is a strange mixture of hunger and melancholy. Those sweet brown eyes are always what make you take him back no matter how much he’s hurt you. 

“Pretend he’s not here,” Joel says, guiding your face back to him with his fingertips. 

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” you say. It feels so good to be cruel. 

“Good girl.” 

His praise makes your mouth twitch into a smile.

“Tell him to take his clothes off,” you say.  

 Joel’s brows tick up. 

“You heard her. Show her how hard you got,” he says. 

“You fucking kidding?” Frankie asks but his words are toothless. 

“You can go right now,” you say. 

Frankie’s jaw shifts, grinding his molars. As he hesitates, Joel grabs the brim of his hat and pulls it off of Frankie’s curls. He examines the old thing with disinterest, then tosses it to the floor. 

“Strip,” he demands. 

The command makes you clench. 

Joel turns his attention back to you once Frankie’s reluctantly begun to work at the buttons of his shirt. He brushes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, the pad of his thumb on your lips. 

“Been thinking about kissing you since the other day,” he tells you. 

His lips brush against yours, his nose nuzzling your cheek. The prickle of his mustache makes you gasp. 

“Went home and thought about doing more than kissing you,” he says. 

Your cheeks heat. He gives you a good, proper kiss now, pulling you in with a hand on your waist. It’s deep and slow, practically romantic though you’re in a situation that feels quite the opposite. Either way, you’re left swooning a little, tangling your fingers into his full hair so your knees don't buckle. 

Frankie’s completely bare and Joel glances in his direction. His eyebrows lift momentarily when he catches sight of Frankie’s erection then he scoffs quietly and goes back to kissing you. He gets his hands under your shirt and slides it over your head. 

You can feel Frankie’s eyes dancing over the two of you. You crack yours open to look at him while you let Joel’s tongue into your mouth. It’s like he’s watching a car crash and he can’t look away— horrified, exhilarated, disgusted. It feels as sinful as Joel’s mouth traveling down your neck. 

You want Frankie to know just how badly you want this so you snake your hand down to palm at Joel’s cock straining against his jeans. He’s big, more than a handful. Joel groans against your collar bone. Frankie winces. 

Joel’s touch leaves goosebumps on your skin. He trails his fingers down your chest and teases around the fabric of your bra. You unhook it and toss it aside then wriggle out of your pants. He lets out a low hum at the sight of you exposed. 

“I’d hate to be the man that let this gorgeous thing get away,” Joel says. 

He cups your breast, then puts his mouth to it. His teeth graze against your nipple and you hear Frankie hiss before you do. 

Joel sits down on the bed, the one you’ve shared with Frankie for years, and draws you down to his lips. As he kisses you, his forefingers notch in the waistband of your panties and drags them down painfully slowly. He’s drawing it out for his audience, inch by inch before dropping them to the floor. His eyes look over the newly revealed flesh hungrily. The heat of his gaze and Frankie’s longing stare has you slick and needy. 

Joel turns you around and sits you between his legs. He pulls you into his chest and spreads your legs wide, putting you on display for Frankie. His fingers strum at you, feather light and your hips buck. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. 

“Sensitive,” he says. 

His stubble bites into your shoulder as he continues to touch you, carefully, finding the spots that make you melt. You tip your head back into him, tuck your face into the crook of his neck as you  begin to lose yourself to pleasure. He smells so good— earthy and fresh and masculine. You want his scent all over your sheets. 

“Come here. On your knees,” Joel commands. 

Frankie swears under his breath but he obeys, kneeling in front of you, his nostrils flaring as he watches you writhe under Joel’s touch. 

“Open up,” Joel says and swats at Frankie’s cheek. 

It doesn’t seem like he used much force but still you say, “Don’t hurt him.”

None of the scars you have from Frankie are physical. 

“That’s okay,” Frankie mumbles. 

You’re surprised by him once again. He wants it, the full force of this torture. 

“Yeah. She’s too nice to you,” Joel tells him. 

He sticks two thick fingers into Frankie’s mouth, so deep that he gags. Joel returns them to your pussy, sliding one inside. The stretch pulls a dreamy sigh from you as the heel of his hand creates unbelievable friction against your clit.

Frankie’s eyes are riveted to the spot where Joel’s finger disappears inside of you.  

“Hey,” Joel barks. 

You look past the edge of the bed to see Frankie’s hand over his dick, thumb brushing down its length. It’s glazed in strands of precum, desperate. 

“Hold on, beautiful,” Joel says, kissing your neck and removing his hand. He shifts around you on the bed and stands up. 

“Do you think ought to be doing that?” Joel asks. 

You bite down on your lip at the sight of him towering over Frankie, fully clothed while the other man shrinks beneath him like a scolded puppy. 

“Next time you want to touch yourself, think about how you wronged this woman.”

Frankie makes a choked sound and he looks up at you with an apology in his eyes. Your first impulse is to go to him, comfort him, but then you remember why you’re here— the litany of fuck ups you’ve had to suffer. The nights you were home with the baby while Frankie went to Benny’s fights. The money that went up his nose. The excuses you made for him. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll make it up to you. You know what she likes?” Joel asks him. 

Frankie nods. 

“Show me.”

Frankie moves slowly like he’s worried Joel’s trying to trick him. He puts his lips to you, tongue rounding your clit in the way that always drives you wild. Your head falls back with a long, slow release of breath. There’s no denying how good those luscious strokes feel. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s Frankie disappointing you and then giving you a mind blowing orgasm as penance. 

As you rock your hips up towards his mouth, he starts to work faster like his life depends on it. Little grunts escape him and the sensation mounts, muscles tensing. 

“Joel,” you whine as if he’s the one that’s making your legs begin to shake. 

Frankie falters for just a second upon hearing the other man’s name. Though he lost that perfect rhythm, knowing you’ve hit him again makes up for it. 

You go inwards, focusing all of your attention on the heat at your core, sure that you’ll break at any moment. 

Suddenly, he’s gone and you gasp, your high stolen away. You look up to see Joel holding Frankie back by the scruff of his neck.

“You don’t get to make her cum,” Joel says. 

If you were disappointed, Frankie looks absolutely devastated to be parted from you. His face is screwed up in torment, his glistening lower lip turned down in a frown. 

Joel casts him aside and takes his place between your thighs. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his forearms around your open thighs. 

His strokes are different but it feels just as dizzying. You close your eyes and lay back again, melting into his wet mouth. He hums against your lips and you feel it vibrate through your whole body. It’s been such a long time since you’ve felt something wholly different, the newness makes everything you experience heightened. 

It’s not long before your ass is lifting off the sheets, panting and absolutely coming undone. Your tightening around nothing, your legs threatening to snap shut around Joel’s ears. 

You’ve completely forgotten about Frankie in this moment of bliss. Especially when Joel says, “That’s my girl. Deserve to feel like that all the time.” 

He kisses the crease of your thigh and up your belly, putting his lips to every inch of you. 

“You look beautiful, darlin’. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie’s throat sounds dry like he just crossed a desert. 

A blissful smile softens your face. 

You roll into Joel’s chest and tug on his belt loops, grinding his hips against you. The denim is deliciously rough against your swollen clit and you can feel a damp spot. He wants you. 

“Get these off so you can fuck me,” you say. 

Joel chuckles. “Needy girl.”

He gets up and you see Frankie at the foot of the bed, helpless. You know him well enough to understand that look in his eye that’s begging you not to go all the way. You’ve made your point. Mercy. 

You arch an eyebrow. Does he really think he’s paid the price?

— 

All of the muscles in Frankie’s legs burn. His knees ache. It’s his ego that’s taking a beating. 

He doesn’t have to sit here and watch this. In fact, he probably could’ve stopped this before it even began. But he hasn’t moved an inch. There’s part of him that knows he deserves this torment, another part that enjoys it. So he stays there watching you from a wholly new perspective. 

“What’s her favorite position?” Joel asks as he shucks off his pants. 

You’re watching him strip down eagerly, licking your lips like some kind of hungry beast. You used to look at him like that. 

“She likes it from behind,” Frankie admits. 

Joel’s eyebrows raise and he looks at you for confirmation. You can’t help but giggle. 

“Filthy little thing,” Joel says. 

Frankie’s always thought that too. You drove him wild with the dirty things you asked for. You’d get him hard under the table at the bar, pull him into the bathroom at Will’s place for a quickie. Things haven’t been like that between you for a long time, though. 

Frankie’s eyes rake over Joel’s naked form. His arms are muscular and tan, well built for a man in his 50s. Well endowed, too. He doesn’t want to look but how can he stop himself from comparing his own cock to the one that’s about to fuck you? He doesn’t want to think about the way his mouth waters either. 

“Frankie, you got a condom?” Joel calls. 

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “You can cum in me.”

Frankie’s stomach turns but the desire twists in his belly. He can’t wait to be put out of his misery. 

“Fuck,” Joel growls. 

You get on all fours for Joel, ass up in the air, tits swaying just the way Frankie likes. You’re about eye level with him so he’s right there with you when Joel pushes inside of you. You moan, so pretty, and your face strains at the pressure. It’s such an obscene sight— only problem is that he’s not the one giving it to you. His cock still responds, twitching with need. He hates it and he loves it. 

Joel’s swearing, gritting his teeth. His fingers dimple the flesh around your hips with a strong grip. Frankie knows exactly how exquisite it feels to be inside you, surrounded by warm velvet. He wants to be the one who’s hips, thighs are fucking against you, splitting you open and making you shake.

Instead he has to watch. Watch your back arch. Listen to that succulent squelch where your bodies meet. Savor the taste of you still on his tongue. 

And because he wants to touch himself and he’s good at following a command, he thinks about all the times he’s forgotten your anniversary or gotten high before Thanksgiving dinner. It hurts and it feels so good. 

When Joel finishes, he spares Frankie by not doing it inside of you. But Frankie has to see him paint your ass with it, marking you as you touch yourself and whine. 

It stings. You’ve been looking at him like a cockroach and he’s so fucking turned on it’s painful. He’s still throbbing, surprised he hasn’t yet burst from hearing you cum. His cock is swollen, leaking and slick. 

He’s obediently waiting, biting on his lip so hard that he can practically taste blood. Each moment of torment only intensifies the pleasure. 

You’re glowing now, laid out on your side, chest still heaving. Joel’s caging you between his arms, kissing your jaw as you rake your fingers through his hair. He glances at Frankie like he just remembered that he’s there. 

“How does he look?” Joel asks.

“Pathetic,” you say, still out of breath, and give a little laugh.

It makes him ache. 

You stretch your arms over your head luxuriously 

and sigh. “Let him cum.”

Frankie lets out a whimper. You’ve always been so generous with him. You’ve been patient and loved him when he’s made it so damn difficult. He’s never deserved you and he doesn’t deserve to get this release. But fuck he’s never needed it more. 

“You do it,” you tell Joel with a mischievous smile.

He shakes his head with a laugh. 

Frankie swallows thickly when Joel approaches him. He takes Frankie’s chin in his hand, the pad of his thumb grazing against his stubble. From his place on the floor, Frankie can smell you on him. 

“Up,” Joel says. 

He gets to his feet as quickly as he can but it takes some effort. His toes are tingling and even the air moving around his cock as he rises feels unbearable. 

Joel’s near enough that Frankie can feel his breath on his neck. He lets out a moan and shuts his eyes. Joel’s hand closes around him, squeezes the base of his cock and Frankie bucks. 

“You like that Frankie?” he hears you ask. “You like feeling his hands on you?”

He doesn’t know, can’t form words or even thoughts. Frankie’s never been touched by another man before, not like that. He’s so senseless he doesn’t even bother to figure out how he feels about doing this. If that’s what you want for him right now, he’s willing to do it.

Joel tugs at him, his hand rough except for what’s leaked down Frankie’s length. He’s so sensitive, so delirious. 

“She asked you a question.” Joel’s lips are pressed against his ear, the sweat of his chest sticky on Frankie’s back. He sets a steady pace with his strokes. 

Frankie tries to answer but he chokes, sees white behind his eyes. His climax is as violent as a slap in the face. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby,” he babbles as he coats Joel’s fist. 

When the fog lifts and Frankie blinks his vision back into focus, you’re staring at him and Joel with your lips parted. You look turned on and awe struck and exhilarated. Frankie wavers and Joel catches him by the shoulder.  

“You gonna make it?” Joel asks him. 

Frankie can only nod. He feels relieved. Not just from the release. He tries to catch his breath, sitting on the floor. 

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Joel offers. 

“Mm,” you respond. 

Frankie’s left alone. He hears the shower. There’s so much to make sense of and he’s still, quite frankly, delirious. 

He’s shocked when you come out of the bathroom a moment later, your robe hangs in your naked body. He wishes he could touch you but he’s not sure if he still has that privilege. 

You crouch down beside him, a damp washcloth in your hand, and you begin to clean him. It’s warm and soft on his chin and you’re gentle as you mop up his thigh. He’s overcome. Once again you’re so good to him and he’s unworthy. 

Your face is a mix of emotions and he can tell you’re thinking. You’re careful not to meet his eye until you’re finished and when you do, all of the mischief and desire is gone. 

You sigh. 

“You can stay but you’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him. 

A knot forms in his throat and he thinks he might just cry. 

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper without tears.

You nod and then hesitate. Another sigh. Finally you put your lips to his forehead, a light, quick kiss. It feels like something close to forgiveness.

---

thanks for reading!

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

#joel miller fic #joel miller #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales #tlou #the last of us fic #triple frontier fic

[seasonsbloom]

dime store cowboy . hangman

PART TWO

pairing ; cowboy!jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; jake teaches you about the cowboy hat rule.

wc ; 2k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, non-explicit sexual content (it's just flirting)

note: YEEHAW PARDNERS.......... i'm so obsessed with this i'm gonna cry, thank you forever to the anon who requested this. also what if this becomes a series what then WHAT THEN. sorta modified the title from that one kacey musgraves song lol.

sol. sunderlust. you already know what i'm gonna say thank you for being my bestie :(

The whole thing is Carrie Underwood’s fault. You’ll go to your grave swearing it.

It’s just that you’re three strawberry margaritas deep, the lights in the bar are all dimmed, all neon, all flickering, and Jake is leaning into your space like he’s trying to smell your perfume, smiles at you like he’s completely charmed, and then somebody starts playing Before He Cheats on the jukebox and your brain just sorta like. Short-circuits.

The song always gives you an unwarranted burst of confidence, makes you feel like you, too, could vandalize a cheater’s car in a flurry of righteous wrath, so it’s not that difficult to reach up, lifting half out of the bar stool, face suddenly just an inch from his, and steal his hat. The fabric is surprisingly soft beneath your fingers.

At first, Jake looks surprised, his mouth twitching in amusement.

“What you trying to do with that, sugar?” he asks.

And the thing is this. You’re new in town and decidedly more urban (cosmopolitan, you’d like to say, but really, who are we kidding here?) than the rest of the crowd. It’s all a bit strange, all unfamiliar, but when your co-workers invited you out for a Friday night of drinks at the local bar, you were beyond grateful. It was supposed to be a nice little get-together among people who would hopefully become friends. You didn’t expect a guy who looks like he could be Mr. August in a calendar dedicated to half-naked hot cowboys doing various types of manual labor to walk up to you and start flirting like his life depends on it.

At least you think he’s flirting…? You’re not that well-versed in this whole thing.

You shrug, hope you look more confident than you feel.

“When I was little,” you say, turning the hat over and peeking at the inside, where a label proudly states Property of J. Seresin. You let a finger run over it, tracing the shape of his name. “I used to dream about being a cowgirl.”

You flip the hat again and put it on. It’s big enough that it goes slipping down a few inches, almost covering your eyes.

Something on Jake’s face goes taut, his gaze darkens, the fist on the bartop clenches once then relaxes.

“Did you, now?” he asks, his voice suddenly lower, and he takes a step closer. His hip knocks against your knee where you’re angled toward him, every point of your body unconsciously straining closer during the conversation. He tips the hat back an inch or two from your forehead, clearing your vision, and looks down at you, searches your face for something. “Looking good.”

He’s silhouetted by the lights of the bar, bordered by the people crowding behind him to order, but you can’t see anything past the green in his eyes. He’s pushed so close he’s almost between your legs, your thighs like open brackets around the shape of him. The hand at the brim of the hat wanders down your back slowly before settling on the backrest of your stool. It’s not even a touch, just the allusion to it, but your heart goes pitter-patter in your chest.

“Do I?” you ask, breath hitching, legs bouncing with the nerves of it all.

You just don’t do this sort of stuff. Flirting with people, letting strangers chat you up in bars, going along with the quips and the banter and the coy touches… you’re so out of your element. And even Carrie Underwood and her misplaced pep talks have deserted you now. She just threw the match, and then she hightailed it out of here. Traitor.

Jake nods. “You’re real pretty, sugar,” he says. “I especially like the hat with that dress.”

You glance down at yourself and grin. The dress is decidedly too much for a joint where everybody else seems to show up in denim or flannel. You’re just glad you skipped heels in favor of sneakers to dress the whole thing down - you would have stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of cowboy boots.

“This isn’t really… saloon appropriate, is it?”

He laughs, and the sound of it warms your chest. “Not exactly,” he agrees. “But I like it. It suits you.”

“How so?”

Jake lifts a shoulder in a shrug, something unreadable playing about his mouth. “Makes it look like you’re not from here.”

You frown and ask, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Sugar,” Jake chuckles, and the sound of that stupid, ridiculous pet name sends a shiver down your back, “that’s just about the highest compliment I could ever give a girl.”

You don’t know what to say to that - your cheeks feel kind of warm, and your brain is buzzing like a beehive. 

“I can’t really… see in this thing,” you mumble, tugging at the brim that keeps slipping. Suddenly a little frail.

Jake laughs again, and you decide that you don’t just like the sound - you love it. 

“You’re a cute one, huh?” he says, voice only a little mocking. He leans into your space, crooked grin so close to you that you can see the stubble forming along his cheeks and jaw, a golden dusting of hair against the sun-kissed skin. For a breathless, head-spinning moment, you think about how it would feel pressed to the inside of your thighs, raspy and tickling and just the right side of painful.

He rights the hat, pushes it higher up on your forehead, and then his hand travels to the back of your neck, stays there. His thumb brushes from the brim of the hat to the knob of your spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You let out a shuddering breath, legs clenching.

“So you dreamed about being a cowgirl, yeah?” he asks, withdrawing his hand and taking a swig of his beer.

You blink a few times until your vision goes from blurred to focused. Then you clear your throat. “Yeah, like… in elementary school, I think.”

“What’s your opinion on cowboys, then?”

You shrug, turn your upper body sideways to finger the stem of your cocktail glass. “I suppose they have their uses.”

He laughs, the sound a little heavier than it was before, and says, “You ever dreamed about any of those, too?”

It’s crude, it’s forward, it’s an innuendo so thinly-veiled it’s pretty much translucent. It should make you balk.

But there’s something about the night. The music, the drinks, the boy. The heat of the summer outside and the thrill of a new town and a new dress and a new life. It all makes you feel a little bit dangerous, a little bit sexy, a little bit loose. Maybe just for one night, you can pretend to be someone else. Let your hair down.

“Maybe,” you say, hoping it comes off mysterious instead of guarded, closed-off, disinterested. You turn to take a sip of your margarita, and then, in a move so bold not even Carrie Underwood and her car-wrecking could claim it, you lick the salt off the rim of the glass.

When you glance up at him again, his pupils are blown so wide there’s barely any green left visible. He’s looking right at your mouth.

“Anything I could make come true?” he asks.

It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you pull back now, you’re pretty sure he’d leave you alone. Jake is forward, confident, sure, but he doesn’t seem like the pushy type. For some insane reason, you feel safe with him.

“Depends,” you say. Your voice has gone so quiet you’re surprised he can hear you over the din of the bar. The song has changed, but you don’t recognize the tune. You can’t focus on anything except the man right in front of you anyway.

He doesn’t ask what it depends on, and you’re glad because you don’t have an answer for him. You’re playing this whole thing by ear, and apparently, your hearing is impaired.

It starts as a tingle, as pins and needles, and when you look down, you find Jake’s hand on your thigh, just above the knee. Fingers splayed wide, radiating heat. As your heart rate kicks up a notch, you squirm in your seat.

Jake raises his free hand and tips two fingers to the brim gently. “You know what this means, pretty girl?”

His thumb traces a path up the inside of your thigh, leaves goosebumps in its wake. Suddenly, your mouth is drier than the Sahara desert.

“What?” you ask stupidly. You feel like there’s an entirely separate conversation happening here, one you aren’t really following.

He smirks, but his eyes don’t move from your face. “It’s not really something good girls do.”

You’re distracted by the tuft of hair protruding from the unbuttoned collar of his flannel, the same color as his beard. You wonder if it stretches all the way down beneath the obnoxiously large belt buckle.

Your voice has gone airy. “Why not?”

He hums, fingers traveling just a little higher up on your thigh, almost creeping beneath the fabric of your dress now. You hope you’re not sticky with sweat. It’s so hot in here. But then his fingernails scrape over your skin, the softest of touches, and that thought dissipates along with any other.

“See, there’s this rule, sugar,” he says and leans even closer. For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he just goes on, “You steal the hat, you ride the cowboy.”

Your brain implodes. If you tried to get up right now, you’re pretty sure you’d keel right over.

“Does that really exist?” you ask, voice barely more than a whisper. He’s so close that you can smell his aftershave, can count the freckles scattered on his nose. So close if you just lean in an inch, half an inch, just a bit…

Somebody says your name, and you almost topple backward off the bar stool in your attempt to put distance between him and you.

Your co-worker stands a step behind you, eyebrow raised and a disapproving look on her face.

“I’m heading home now. You still need that ride?”

Part of you wants to say no. Let Jake take you home or to a bathroom stall or to the back of his pick-up. Make good on that rule you’re not sure he didn’t just make up. Give into the insistent thrumming of want in the pit of your stomach.

But there’s a rational part of you left, too, one that hasn’t drowned in margaritas or the green of Jake’s eyes yet. One that remembers who you really are, truly, beneath the thin veneer of tonight’s pretense.

So you clear your throat, slide off the barstool, and right into his arms. For a second, you’re chest to chest, stomach to stomach, then you’re stepping away, wondering distantly just how flustered you look and taking the hat off.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this,” you say sheepishly and hand it back to him.

Jake smirks, something in his eyes twinkling.

“Always happy to make a lady’s dreams come true,” he says, popping the hat back on. “Anytime, Ma’am.”

You grope around for your purse blindly, a lump in your throat that makes it impossible to speak. That and the fact that you have no idea how to answer that.

“Seresin.” Your co-worker nods at him.

He waves back silently, then casts another long, lingering look at you that makes your heart miss a beat or two.

“I’ll see you around?” you ask, voice trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

The corner of Jake’s mouth lifts in a grin. 

“You can count on it,” he says and tips his hat at you. “I believe you may owe me a ride.”

#hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #fic #writing #mine #top gun maverick #fic: dsc

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #47: 1996

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Los del Tio, Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men, Celine Dion, The Tony Rich Project, Mariah Carey, Tracy Chapman, Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, Donna Lewis, Toni Braxton, Keith Sweat. End description]

More information about this blog here

A lot of major moments to talk about this year. Like my birth. I was born out of the Macarena Summer.

In 1996, the Bayside Boys remix of Los del Rio's Macarena became a cultural phenomenon as well as an incredibly popular song (I'm clarifying it's a remix, because the non-Bayside Boys version also reached the Hot 100 at number 98). The track's record for longevity in the Hot 100 would only be broken almost two decades later by Adele.

Speaking of record-breaking songs, One Sweet Day, the duet between Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men, is a towering R&B number. At 16 weeks, the song held the record for most weeks at the number one spot until Lil Nas X came out with Old Town Road in 2019.

One Sweet Day is a song about grief, specifically the track was inspired by the ongoing AIDS epidemic. It's not the only song on this poll related to this issue. Bone Thugs-n-Harmony wrote Tha Crossroads to honor Eazy-E, one of the establishing figures behind the West Coast rap scene who passed away from AIDS-induced pneumonia in 1995 when he was just 30-years-old.

Sadly, the stretch between 1995 and 1996 would be marked by several losses among legends in rap and hip-hop. In 1996, The Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur would be murdered with only a few months between their deaths. These losses will be relevant in a direct manner when we get to the next poll, but it's not an exaggeration to say that the music world was shaken by their deaths. There were those who were quick to make bad-faith arguments blaming the violent subject matter of the music itself. And while the coast-based rivalries did get extremely intense, I think this is a reductive conclusion to come to. To many, however, this moment in music history felt like a nation-wide wake up call.

As rap became more mainstream and started to absorb more of pop music influences into its sound, the genre was bound to change. We've already seen this with the increasing number of R&B fusions and rap verses on pop songs. But some mark this year as another turning point for the genre, as the gangster rap era starts to fade in the mainstream music scene. Even outside of rap, after this point pop music starts to feel a lot sunnier, for lack of a better term. Whether this is due to coping with these recent tragedies, a larger demographic of younger music listeners dictating the majority taste, people gearing up for the new millennium, the record industry reaching record numbers in profits, or genuine positivity and optimism (think that might have been still a thing lol), the times are certainly about to change.

#billboard poll #billboard music #tumblr poll #1990s #90s music #1996 #los del rio #mariah carey #boyz ii men #the tony rich project #tracy chapman #bone thugs n harmony #donna lewis #toni braxton #keith sweat

[lacependragon]

#1 Management of Your Time at Patch [title wip]

In a post-apocalyptic society trying to rebuild, Yang and Ruby are recruited to live in the town of Patch, a small settlement at the edge of the Wilds trying to expand despite danger all around. There, they learn the strength of teamwork and the joy of being part of a community that cares. Rated T. My Time at Portia meets Management of a Novice Alchemist

#2 Until Your Heart Goes Numb [final title]

It's the year 2007 in Remnant City, New Jersey, and Taiyang Xiao Long is returning to his worst nightmare: the Beacon Institute for Gifted Youngsters, where he lost Summer and Raven forever. He wouldn't return, but Ruby and Yang are in danger: people from Tai and Qrow's past are surfacing and they'll do anything to get a hold of the girls. As the Institute grows, it becomes harder to keep the existence of mutants hidden, especially as a powerful foe grows her own army of mutants in the shadows. Rated M. X-Men Evolution (among other X-Men) Verse of RWBY.

#3 In the Tomb of an Undying City [title wip]

In the futuristic, militaristic city-state of Neo-Remnant, Espers are outlawed and Dust reigns supreme. Ruby Rose is everything the city hates - hacker, thief, and Esper. Alongside her sister, Yang, the two work together to stay afloat. When a chance at a massive pay-off has them seeking out new members for the crew, the two aren't prepared for the politics or the monstrosities they'll soon be drawn into. And if they aren't careful, then the secrets beneath Neo-Remnant will soon swallow them whole. Rated E. Mistborn: The Final Empire meets Six of Crows meets Swamp Thing.

Feel free to ask questions below before responding to the poll. Please only vote if you read my RWBY fics. If you want to see results, just wait a few days.

#lace speaks #lace writes #lace does polls

[fireandblood-xxii]

AOT x MHA Crossover HCs

The MHA trio find themselves thrust into the AOT verse, quirks and all. These are what shenanigans I believe would ensue LMAOO

Inspired by: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdph4tXr/

Bakugo would immediately try to escape the confines of the walls which only draws the attention of pretty much EVERYONE in town bc, hello… Loud Explodey child

Deku tries to stop him but “SHUT UP DEKU YOU NERD, YOU CAN DIE HERE”

“BUT KACCHAN PLS WE NEED TO STICK TOGETHER”

Bakugo fails his many attempts at getting over the wall bc they are way too tall, and at one point Deku and Todo need to step in using their quirks in order to get him to stop

This grabs the attention of the MP who apprehend them (after much of a fight) but have no idea wtf to do with them

Erwin steps in and takes responsibility for the confused trio as they could be useful in expeditions beyond the wall

Hange is absolutely ENAMORED with these children and want to run ALL the tests and study all their gear!!

“HUH??? QUIRKS? WHAT ARE QUIRKS? ARE YOU THREE WIZARDS?”

One by one each of the boys show off their quirks: Deku shows off the different modes of One for All, Todo shows them the flames and Heaven Piercing ice wall, and Bakugo blows shit up. Everyone is in awe.

“So you can help us kill titans then?!!”

The trio look absolutely horrified. “TITANS?”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL THESE TITANS ARE BUT HELL YEA I’LL KILL SOME TITANS” Bakugo as eager as ever

“Uhhhh, well, you see…” cue the 10 minute ramble by Deku over his quirk which Hange happily listens to. Levi is amazed that somehow someone who can out-talk Hange exists

From that point on Hange and Deku become the bestest buds. He seems to gravitate towards her bc he loves her energy and how she is just as thirsty for knowledge and eager to learn as he is. Just 2 sunshiney bookworms working together.

He excitedly tells her allllll about his amazing mentor and One for All, and Hange tells him tales of the incredible Commander Erwin and Captain Levi

Eren is totally jealous unimpressed by the 3 newcomers of their world but secretly he thinks all their powers are so cool, Todo’s especially.

Shy boi Armin is scared to interact but the lil sweetheart happily welcomes him to the corps

Connie definitely let’s his intrusive thoughts win and asks Todo if “the carpet matches the drapes”, to which Todo responds “…. My bedroom has no carpets or drapes.”

Sasha proceeds to die of laughter while Connie has to awkwardly explain his euphemism

Meanwhile stone cold silence from Mikasa. Todo eventually would find himself gravitating towards the Ackermans bc they seem like his type of people. The silent brooding type.

Bakugo observes the ODM gear and just roasts the shit out of everyone for it. “YOU GUYS CANT EVEN FLY FOR REAL, THATS LAME. LET ME OUTTA THESE WALLS I’LL SHOW YOU HOW A HERO R E A L L Y FLIES TO KILL THESE DAMN TITANS.”

Jean tries to calm him tf down

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, HORSE FACE.”

“TF DID YOU JUST SAY, SHORTSTACK??”

Levi has to play babysitter for the 2 hot-headed assholes which only prompts more ridicule from Bakugo d/t him taking orders from someone even shorter, heh heh

Sasha breaks a chunk of Todo’s ice and tries to munch down on it like the menace she is

Their first expedition outside the wall starts out a total shit show bc, per usual, Bakugo listens to no one and Todo and Deku have to reign him in

But when he gets his first kill he is just so proud of himself

Todo becomes the most useful as his ice wall is able to corale all the titans into one spot, thus allowing Hange to capture a few for her own experiments AND avoid mass casualties

Todo becomes the new fave and Baku is BITTER

For dinner, Bakugo whips up a small feast (bc ain’t no way he’s living off of bread and potatoes) including some mapo tofu, and he gets so mad when Sasha tries to eat everything sjsjsksjs

“WHAT THE HELL, SAVE SOME FOR THE REST OF US YOU PIG”

His food ends up being too spicy for Sasha and she’s freaking tf out dousing herself in water, along with everyone else bc they’re not used to such flavor

At this point whenever Bakugo acts up Levi just pinches him by the ear like a child 🥴 he’s so done

Jean challenges Bakugo to a race to see who can get from one end of the town to the other, Jean using ODM gear or Baku with his quirk. (Spoiler: Bakugo wins)

#attack on titan #shingenki no kyojin #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #eren yaegar #todoroki shouto #todoroki #Deku #izuku midoryia #bakugou katsuki #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #levi ackerman #hange zoë #erwin smith

[yoongsisbae]

Masterlist

[Series]

Handshakes of a Lifetime OT7 x Reader BTS Soulmate AU // Playlist ...the meeting room is getting closer and closer, basking you and those around you in warm light, and you think about all the internet comments people write about this kind of moment, “she must have saved a country in her past life to experience this.” Ch1 / Drabble - JJK / Ch2 / Ch3 / X-mas - JHS / Ch4 / X-mas - KSJ / Ch5 / Ch6 / Ch7 / Ch8 / Ch9 / Ch10 - 5% / ?

Caught! House of Cards OT7 x Reader Yandere!BTS AU // Profiles You needed money. The pandemic offered little options. So you joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? It was a decision you didn’t think too much about, you just wanted an income again. Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. You weren’t prepared for the consequences of your actions. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down... Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4 / Xmas Drabble - KTH / Ch5 - 45% / ?

Bon Voyage: Into the Sea OT7 x Reader BTS Fantasy AU // Member Imagines werewolf!Hoseok x werewolf!Jungkook x werewolf!Namjoon x other members TBA A storm capsized your boat and looks like you were the only survivor. Somehow you made it to shore, but where? Stranded, you suddenly find out you are not alone, and now you’re stuck in the middle of a centuries old conflict between 7 monsters. Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4 / Ch5 / Ch6 / Ch7 - 5% / ?

Run Run Run BTS Member(s) x Reader BTS Apocalypse AU Slow Burn // Member Poll A zombie apocalypse breaks out and you’re stuck on a plane with none other than...BTS! Oh, you thought because you were an Army that would help you survive? Girl think again. Seoul Flow / Yangyang Living / Seoul Town Road / Hwarang Freestyle / Seoul Close / Samsung State of Mind - 5% / The Big Hit Break In! - TBA / ?

T H E T A K E O V E R BTS Member(s) x Reader BTS Apocalypse / Dystopian AU Thriller The recruits of Bangtan Academy were trained to be super soldiers, to be the strongest, fastest, most cunning fighters in the world. Now they are being put to the test! You were at the bottom of your class, but you noticed the cracks in the system first, what are you going to do? Run or try to save the world? Prequel / Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 - 35% / ?

When They Loved You [ONE-SHOTS] A collection of moments when they loved you...

TBA - Jin x reader - TBA

I Didn’t Mean It, I Still Love You - Yoongi made a mistake, will you forgive him? Or is it too late? Yoongi x reader ft. Jungkook - Angst/Smut [2.5k]

Rebound - Hoseok x reader - TBA

Cold Feet - You don’t want to get married anymore, what does Namjoon want? Namjoon x reader ft. Yoongi - Angst/Fluff [1.2k]

TBA - Jimin x reader - TBA

Chuseok - Taehyung x reader - TBA

Banana Milk - It’s Jungkook’s Birthday, will he get his birthday wish? Jungkook x reader ft. Hoseok - Fluff/Angst/Smut [5.1k]

[Masterlist Specials]

Naughty Girl Christmas - BTS X-MAS Masterlist Spring Fling - Fantasy Stories that Bloom Masterlist BTS Supers - RM Verse Masterlist (coming soon...)

[One-Shots]

prompt: Your Friendly Neighborhood Superhero, RM [14k] Superhero!Namjoon x y/n with a bit of Supervillain!Taehyung x y/n and some Supersilly!Seokjin x y/n | Sequel: X-mas Special feat. Superpowered!Yoongi [17.1k]

pwp: Ddak-ji SLAP [3.8k] Jungkook, Seokjin, and you decide to play a game…and then you fu-

pwp: I Thought You Were Mine? | JHS [1.9k] Drunk arguing leads to drunk fuc–

shameless smut: The Fantasy | JJK [10.6k] You and your boyfriend try out a new form of role play, but it just keeps going wrong…

prompt: Campfire Burning | JJK [1k] A steamy fic inspired by a certain vlive.

jin's b-day: Meet Cute, Time Loop | KSJ [10.6k] A story where Seokjin loves you before you love him before he loves you

[Drabbles]

🎼: BTS Song Fic (Blue and Grey) | KTH [600]

💋: BTS (as kisses)

🎄: BTS (as holidays)

request: BTS Cheering You Up While Studying Korean [1.1k]

Halloween Special: Yoongi is a Rock [1.3k] That’s it. That’s the plot. Yoongi is a rock. | Audio Ver. by the talented @voice-over-ff

#bts fanfic #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #masterlist #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fantasy au #bts smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hoseok smut #hoseok angst #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #yoongi x reader #Yoongi smut #Yoongi angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #yandere bts

[aliciameade]

Full Reveal

Title: Full Reveal Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Extra Fun Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Chloe and her [very famous] girlfriend Beca escape into anonymity at a Las Vegas burlesque performance, though the show has other plans for them that stir up some playful feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that beg to be addressed.

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Ladies? If you’d follow me?”

“I saw that,” Chloe teases in Beca’s ear, fingertips tickling Beca’s lower back through her sheer black shirt.

Beca’s response is little more than a side-eye and a smirk as she shoos Chloe’s hand away. Chloe takes no offense, of course. They are less than alone as a concierge leads them through a dark, sultry hallway teeming with people in various states of inebriation. Their escort is an attractive blonde wearing a black three-piece suit and stilettos, though she seems to have forgotten to don the shirt beneath the vest to leave ample cleavage on display and Beca hadn’t been very discreet about looking at it.

They’re in Las Vegas for the weekend. Beca is there ostensibly for work—she’s performing tomorrow night at Mandalay Bay—but when she’s not scheduled for soundcheck, press, meet and greets, and the concert itself, the weekend is for the two of them. They’ve sacrificed the privacy and seclusion of the embarrassingly large home they share in Malibu in favor of a weekend of fun. 

They’d sacrificed anonymity years ago when Beca decided, with the support of their friends, to take the leap into becoming a solo artist, leaving behind the frustrating and often unfulfilling career in music production she thought she’d been made for.

It turned out that performing was a lot more fun for her.

The paychecks were also a lot bigger.

And Chloe was by her side for the breakneck launch of Beca’s new career, quietly smiling as she trailed a few steps behind on red carpets, tucked herself into corners of green rooms while Beca entertained VIPs after concerts, and watched her girlfriend present at award shows from backstage monitors.

The general public doesn’t know who Beca is dating, or if she is dating anyone at all. She doesn’t talk about having a current relationship in interviews, just tales of bad ones in her past. There are plenty of rumors and theories, and some people are correct in their hypothesis that the friend often accompanying Beca to parties or seen grabbing coffee or grocery shopping with is more than just a friend.

It’s a privacy thing for Beca. She is out and proud, finally, and she had decided she didn’t owe the public more of her than she was already giving them. Chloe respected that decision; she waited so long for Beca, she probably would have agreed to the wildest of terms if it meant finally being in a relationship with the woman. But simply keeping their relationship status away from the public wasn’t a big ask. Their friends and family knew. Beca’s team knew. But the public was left to its own conjecture.

It helped that part of why Beca didn’t want to share that part of her life with the public was because she wanted to protect it.

It was really damn romantic for Chloe.

It’s also fun. It’s like they have alter egos and tonight they are attending the midnight performance of Luxury X Lace in a small cabaret venue in the depths of a massive casino as nothing more than two friends having a girls’ night out in the city that never sleeps. It was the hottest ticket in a town full of hot tickets, an X-rated burlesque that confiscated cell phones at the door in exchange for your choice of black, silver, or gold masquerade masks to help strip patrons of their identity and inhibitions and immerse them into a world of high-end debauchery.

Beca’s publicist had made a phone call and Beca and her good friend Chloe were invited to the Friday night performance. Phones were exchanged for masks—black for Beca and silver for Chloe—to be led into the cabaret hall.

It’s far more intimate than Chloe had expected. There are a dozen tables arranged around the X-shaped stage and three lines of booths curving around the wall behind the tables. The stage is empty save for a single black chair positioned at the center of it. Music pulses around them.

They are shown to the center booth on the first level, something Chloe suspects is likely the choice seat in the venue. She’s been with Beca long enough to recognize plenty of such perks.

She prefers other types of perks that come with being with Beca, though. Like the way Beca’s hand immediately comes to rest on Chloe’s bare knee just below the hem of Chloe’s gray pleated skirt. Chloe smiles to herself and peruses the themed cocktail menu, content with their proximity and connection. She knows there will be more tonight once they are back in the privacy of their suite at the Mandalay.

“What are you thinking?”

Chloe lets herself smirk, knowing Beca will see it and read exactly what Chloe was thinking, though she knows that wasn’t what Beca was asking. “I think I’m going to try this one, the ‘Satin Sheets,’” she says, tapping on the menu before rotating it so Beca can choose as well.

She watches other patrons arrive to be shown to their tables, the air of excitement growing around them as scantily clad waitresses start to weave their way from table to table collecting drink orders. They spend time flirting with everyone and Chloe notices the way they don’t hesitate to offer a friendly touch to their customer: a playful nudge of a shoulder, fingers through the short hair of the men, winks, and close examinations of manicures or rings on the women.

When a blonde arrives at their table, Chloe thinks that perhaps they will be exempt from this flirtation. Their seating in the booth is not conducive to a waitress sidling up next to someone as can be done at a table and chairs on an open floor, but to compensate, the waitress simply slides into the booth next to Chloe and offers a well-practiced sultry smile.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Jasmine, and I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of tonight.”

Chloe thinks Jasmine might recognize Beca, even with the mask. There’s a bit of a hesitation in the way her eyes linger on Beca. Or maybe she’s just appreciating Beca’s eyes and lips and jawline the same way Chloe does. Or maybe she’s just working on a good tip. But Chloe knows they are in the high roller seat and it wouldn’t take much for the waitress to connect the dots. And that means she and Beca need to be best friends. Not girlfriends.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Chloe offers and can’t help her smile when the attractive woman leans in to slowly wrap a lock of her red hair around a finger.

“I love this color,” Jasmine purrs and even though Chloe knows exactly what the waitress is doing, her own natural inclination to flirt responds.

“It’s natural,” she purrs right back, leaning into her space. She can feel Beca’s blunt fingernails press into her knee before her hand disappears. That is another perk to their secret romance: getting to experience Beca’s possessiveness. It rivals her own for Beca.

“Can you prove it?” The waitress lets her eyes drop unabashedly to Chloe’s lap before they’re back on her eyes.

“Yes, she can.” 

Chloe sees the amusement on Jasmine’s face at Beca’s interjection and the waitress backs off, interpreting Beca’s answer as asserting her dominance.

Beca asserting her dominance is nothing new. She’s been good at that since she was in college. Taking control of situations. Putting people in their place. Making people listen to what she has to say.

She asserts it everywhere but in the bedroom that she shares with Chloe.

Jasmine is unfazed by Beca, even if she does stop touching Chloe. Her demeanor is still dark and flirtatious and she redirects her attention to Beca. “Mmm, I love your voice.”

Chloe’s sure Jasmine knows now. In fact, it’s entirely possible that every employee of the production knows that Beca Mitchell is their special guest this evening. That is often the case if they attend some type of event when Beca insists she makes the calls to get the best seats and the backstage access and whatever else she thinks Chloe should have.

Chloe’s attention shifts to Beca and her reaction, but she’s well-versed in this act as well. Chloe’s bared witness to Beca emerging from her cocoon of early adulthood and her wavering confidence and awkwardness. Chloe knows Beca can charm her way into anyone’s pants nowadays, with or without the game.

She charms her way into Chloe’s on a regular basis.

“Then you’d love how it sounds moaning your name. Jasmine, was it?” Beca’s voice drips over the waitress’s name and Chloe feels her own thighs clench at her tone.

Chloe tries to mask her reaction—arousal and amusement—by adjusting the way her hair sits over her shoulders. She knows this is a game for them. It’s hot to watch Beca flirt with other women knowing it’s Chloe’s skirt that her hand will be up on the way home. So many people wanting her girlfriend but her girlfriend only wants her.

God, she can’t wait to get back to their room tonight.

“She’s going to have the Satin Sheets,” Beca continues, ordering Chloe’s drink for her. “And I’ll take the...Pillow Princess,” she concludes.

Chloe’s no fool. She knows why Beca chose that one; she knew she would the moment Chloe saw it on the menu.

Maybe Chloe really, really likes it when Beca uses her tongue. And maybe Beca likes using it just as much. Chloe’s not ashamed one bit that she asks for it with the frequency that she does.

“A perfect combination,” Jasmine says, reaching across the table just to graze her fingers over Beca’s knuckles. Working extra hard earning the big tip from the celebrity table. “I’ll be right back.” Her exit is as practiced and graceful as her appearance was and Chloe feels Beca’s hand back on her knee, maybe an inch or so higher than it was before.

“You’re such a flirt,” Beca says with a sly smile. She knows the game, well, too.

“Well, she has great tits,” Chloe answers with a shrug, playing along with their evening of Gal Pals.

That manages to ruffle Beca's feathers the tiniest bit, and she knew it would. Cleavage is something Beca definitely excels at and it’s on display tonight thanks to the black push-up bra she’s wearing beneath her sleeveless sheer black top. Chloe had unbuttoned it almost completely while they were in the elevator, leaving only the last three buttons remaining fastened. It created a wonderful peek-a-boo effect, sometimes revealing bare skin, sometimes not, and she’d given in to the temptation to press her lips to the swell of Beca’s right breast before the doors had opened. She can still see the faint imprint of her lipstick on it when the light catches it.

Beca narrows her eyes and pointedly brushes one side of her open blouse aside as a reminder of her own assets—as if Chloe could ever forget—and Chloe lets her eyes roam over the expanse of skin, tongue wetting her lips with obvious want.

That seems to rectify the situation. The corners of Beca’s mouth twitch and Chloe has to bite her lip at the way Beca’s fingers suddenly sweep up her inner thigh to graze between her legs before her hands are both above the table to accept the drinks their waitress has already returned with.

“Enjoy,” Jasmine says with a wink before departing once more.

“Mmm, we will,” Chloe says as she takes hers in her hand. “Shall we toast?”

Beca nods and lifts her glass as well. “To what?”

“To seeing where the night takes us.”

Beca’s mouth pulls into the attractive smirk Chloe fell in love with so many years ago. “What happens in Vegas…” she says and taps her glass to Chloe’s.

They drink together as the lights dim until the room is in near darkness. Under the safety of the shadows, Beca presses herself closer, her fingers moving absently but sweetly over and along Chloe’s knee and thigh. Not progressing. Just touching. Chloe lets her arm slip over Beca’s shoulders, something that is more conspicuous, but the only people who know who Beca is are those focused on putting on a show. 

A single spotlight hits the chair center stage and a figure emerges from the darkness behind it, dark hair, long legs, sparkling lingerie, platform stilettos.

They watch the performance in silence. It’s a mixture of blatant sex appeal and tongue-in-cheek humor, the performers—mostly women but a few men—each having their own unique talents and schticks, an androgynous emcee by the name of Angel guiding the audience through the evening.

Angel is funny and personable as they flirt with patrons and performers alike, cracking one-liners between performances.

Chloe watches as several performers make their way out of the wings and onto the stage until the X is occupied by eight women in matching sparkling red lace lingerie, a ninth waiting at the center wearing a black leather bustier, thigh-high boots, and holding a riding crop.

Her appearance earns a particularly boisterous round of cheers from the audience and Chloe has to admit that the woman is the most attractive person on stage, all legs and tits and long, purposely mussed blond hair.

Beca’s fingers have stopped wandering. Instead, they’re tapping along to the beat of the music. She finds rhythms woven and hidden in the instrumentals that Chloe would never hear if not for Beca’s keen ear. The soundtrack for the evening largely consists of remixes of popular songs. They’re recognizable but without the vocals, not distracting.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, neither, both, and those yet-to-decide,” Angel says with a dramatic flourish as they slowly turn in place as if addressing each person individually, “Scarlet needs a victim—I mean, a volunteer.” 

A murmur of excitement rolls through the audience and Chloe thinks she feels Angel’s attention land squarely on their table. She can’t be sure due to the lighting; it’s possible they’re eyeing everyone in the room to increase the tension. Chloe can feel it in the way the initial excitement is now silent other than the thumping bass of a remix of a remix of a song Chloe can’t quite put her finger on in her pleasantly inebriated, slightly distracted state.

Beca seems to recognize the song, the tapping on Chloe’s knee shifting to one of confidence. It registers with her just as she senses Beca turning as if to whisper something in her ear but Chloe beats her to it.

“Hey, this is your—” is all she gets out before a lace-clad woman is taking Beca’s hand to invite her out of the booth. 

“It seems we have a volunteer!” Angel initiates an encouraging round of applause from the audience.

Chloe watches with equal parts amusement and trepidation as her very famous and very secret girlfriend is led—willingly, she notices—down through the tables and toward the stage while a version of one of Beca’s biggest hits thumps and swirls around the room. She wonders if Beca knew this was going to happen for as ready as she was to slide out of the booth to be taken to the stage where Chloe watches her climb the three steps.

“I didn’t tell you to sit,” Scarlet chastises as soon as Beca moves to sit on the chair in the center of the stage.

It makes Beca laugh and stand up straight, hands clasped in front of her.

“You didn’t even let me give you a proper welcome,” the new host says with a shake of her head and Chloe can tell she’s looking Beca up and down appreciatively.

“Sorry.” Chloe can’t really hear Beca; she doesn’t have a microphone as Scarlet does, but she sees it on her lips.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Scarlet scoffs toward the audience, causing laughter to bubble up from the tables. “Now, what should I call you?” She extends the microphone to Beca who hesitates before speaking.

The premise of the club is anonymity to allow everyone to indulge in their dark desires, but she still answers, “Beca.”

It makes Chloe’s heart stop. She knows it will take people a matter of seconds before they figure it out. She might be wearing a mask, but with her song playing and saying her name, there’s no hiding exactly who has been selected for the main event. She’s grateful that cell phones were confiscated upon arrival. If they hadn’t, she knows this would be broadcast on Instagram Live. The excitement in the room is palpable as the audience puts the pieces together.

“Beca? Everyone, let’s give Beca a warm welcome.”

The applause is not a polite smattering this time. It’s boisterous and full of whistles and shouts and Chloe just sits forward to prop her chin on her clasped hands. This wasn’t how she expected their night to go.

“Okay, Beca,” Scarlet says, her stance so casual despite her costume, “would you like to sit down?”

Beca moves to sit and yelps when Scarlet makes quick work of the riding crop. It was so quick Chloe didn’t even see it but she’d clearly used it to stop Beca from taking a seat.

“I didn’t tell you to sit. I asked if you would like to sit.” Scarlet shakes her head as she says it and the audience laughs, fully engaged in watching pop star Beca Mitchell get womanhandled. “You see, Beca, I’m the one in charge here.”

And womanhandled she gets. Scarlet’s hand, the one not holding her microphone, is on the back of Beca’s neck and wandering across her shoulders and into her hair in a way that makes Beca visibly shiver. It also makes Chloe clench her jaw.

“I know you’re a woman who holds a lot of power, but something tells me you like to give up control now and then. Am I right?”

There are teasing whistles when Beca laughs and says, “Yeah,” into the microphone.

“I think you mean, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca repeats.

“Good. Obedient,” Scarlet praises, starting to circle Beca slowly though still managing to not stop touching her. “So you’re going to listen to me, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl. Now sit.” A hand in the center of Beca’s chest pushes her down into the chair. It makes the audience whistle again.

Beca makes eye contact with Chloe once Scarlet is out of the way and flashes a smile and the small hand gesture they came up with shortly after they began dating, something they could do inconspicuously to let the other know, ‘The situation is okay, not to worry, I love you.’ They use it on red carpets, at press junkets, interviews, and appearances. Chloe was always so worried Beca was being pressured into sharing more than she wanted to or getting upset that people would confront Beca about dating rumors on national television. It was a good solution and one that has grown to have a deeper meaning for them both as time has passed.

It helps Chloe relax. It means Beca’s fine. That she did, in fact, probably agree to this in advance when she made the arrangements to attend. Chloe sits back in her seat though is no less attentive to how Scarlet is touching Beca. 

It’s fifteen minutes of amusement and agony for Chloe as she watches Scarlet entertain the audience by catching Beca misbehaving, taking action before being given permission to do so, or forgetting to say, “Yes, ma’am.” It’s particularly painful when Scarlet’s stiletto thigh-high boot gets planted on the seat of the chair right between Beca’s thighs. She’s instructed to kiss it and Chloe watches with rapt attention as Beca hesitates before doing so, kissing Scarlet’s knee.

Chloe doesn’t like it, not one bit. But she does enjoy it, which is more than a little confusing. The one thing she is sure of is that she wants the show to end so they can go back to their room where Chloe can show Beca just how much she enjoyed her performance.

It’s fifteen minutes of Beca being ordered to her knees, to lie down, to stand up, to answer questions, sometimes messing up and getting swatted across her ass with Scarlet’s riding crop. It’s entertaining for everyone, Beca included who is smiling most of the time, except when she’s ordered to wipe it off her face. Everyone is entertained by the sexy blond dominatrix making sexual innuendos with Chloe’s girlfriend, touching her, spanking her, making her laugh, and assuredly blush as the crowd gets way more than they paid for. Not just a night at Luxury X Lace but fifteen minutes of Beca Mitchell, whose concert tickets top out in the $500 range for premium seats, being sexually teased and willingly degraded.

By the time it’s over and Beca’s sliding back into their booth, Chloe has to check to see if her own fingernails have made her palms bleed from clenching her fists so hard.

“Was that fun?” she asks, making no effort to hide her irritation from her voice.

It doesn’t seem to bother Beca, though, who ignores the question and leans in to kiss Chloe. It’s hard and demanding and not something they should be doing in public and Beca’s hand returning to her thigh under the edge of her skirt makes Chloe forget why she was annoyed in the first place.

“Everything okay?” Beca asks when they part after a few more seconds.

“Um,” Chloe feels dazed, “yeah. Um...people?” She reminds tilting her head toward the rest of the seating area.

Beca just smiles and slides her hand higher up Chloe’s skirt. “No one’s watching us.”

It makes Chloe grab Beca’s hand to stop it and turn to look around. Beca’s right. The show is continuing and even though Beca’s cover is blown, their privacy in the booth remains in-tact. The audience is more interested in the mostly naked women and men on stage, not what the celebrity is getting up to with her secret girlfriend at the burlesque show.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe breathes. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to what Beca so immediately suggested upon her return. But something about what she watched did things to her. Turned her on. Made her want to remind Beca who was really the one in charge, and their name isn’t Scarlet. She nods and kisses Beca again while releasing Beca’s hand to let her do what she wants.

Beca’s smooth about it. They’ve had years to memorize perfect angles, perfect rhythms, and Chloe hates (and kind of loves) that Beca pulls back from their kiss to watch Chloe’s masked face respond to her fingers moving up and slipping beneath her lace thong.

Beca’s smile is annoying and Chloe knows exactly what she’s thinking: Chloe is way too wet for two minutes of kissing. She’s been enjoying the show. Specifically, Beca’s role in it.

“Fuck,” she quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Beca’s lips before turning her attention back to the performance. She knows they could probably get away with a lot more than Beca’s hand up her skirt, but that’s what makes it fun. The game. Will they get caught? Will the world finally know who Beca’s talented, multi-million-dollar mouth is making come nearly every night?

She feels Beca settle comfortably next to her, one hand lifting her drink to her lips, the other pressing two fingers into Chloe to start fucking her slowly. Chloe hates that she knows Beca’s intentions: if she hadn’t done that, if she’d just kept her fingers teasing Chloe’s clit, she’d be coming in a matter of a few minutes.

But she won’t now, not like this. Not with Beca fucking her almost leisurely, a slow pace that reaches as deep as the angle allows. She hikes up her left knee to prop her foot against the leg of the table and open herself wider. It doesn’t make Beca move any more quickly, but it does help her push deeper.

It makes Chloe’s head tilt back to rest against the booth. She doesn’t need to watch the performance. No one cares. No one’s watching them. The music is loud and Angel is narrating and people are applauding and Chloe lets herself moan.

She slips her arm behind Beca’s shoulders to keep her close, playing with her hair to make her shiver as Scarlet had. But it’s Chloe whom Beca is fucking in public. Not Scarlet. The thought makes her fingers twist and they tug maybe a little too hard on Beca’s hair because she hears her gasp in her ear.

Chloe wonders how long Beca will torture her. She’s so turned on but Beca’s not driving her any closer to her climax. It’s a prolonged plateau and Chloe starts to feel that it’s less about getting her off and more about Beca wanting to do something risque when people know who she is.

It’s not the first time; they’ve snuck off to bathrooms and coat check rooms many times over the years for quick fun, but Beca has never been this bold.

She clenches around Beca’s fingers and feels them curl inside her. She thinks it might encourage Beca to speed up but instead, she pulls out completely.

It makes Chloe’s head snap up, ready to complain about the loss only to open her eyes to Beca sucking on her fingers before she’s clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience and dropping a trio of hundred-dollar bills on the table to tip their waitress.

The show is over and Chloe has no idea how it ended. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is how much she needs to come and how quickly they can get back to their hotel.

People are still clapping when their escort upon arrival appears. “Ladies? Let’s get you out before the mass exodus.”

Beca finishes off her drink and scoots out of the booth, reaching back for a slow-to-move Chloe to take her hand and help her. Chloe isn’t drunk, far from it in fact. But she’s so aroused she’s not thinking very clearly and smiles her appreciation as Beca helps her out and to her feet.

Her mind clears a bit as they walk, though she can feel how wet and swollen Beca’s made her with every step she takes. She’s grateful for the early exit; Beca no longer being anonymous means she is fair game to anyone who can get to her. They’re led not the way they entered but through a side door that drops them right next to the desk where they’d checked in. Phones returned but masks retained, they turn to make their way out of the casino.

“What were you thinking?” Chloe asks as they walk with notable speed through the maze of slot machines following signs pointing toward the exit.

Beca’s smile is really more than a smirk. “Are you complaining?”

Chloe doesn’t really have an answer to that. She’s not complaining. Maybe some notice about being the featured guest would have been nice, but she doesn’t want to talk about celebrity life and privacy right now.

Right now, she needs Beca to finish what she started.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Then, driven by need and adrenaline and the fact that word has probably not yet spread that Beca Mitchell is in that particular casino and they still have their masks, she pulls Beca aside and up against the side of a bank of slot machines to kiss her.

She wants to do it right there. She wants to tell Beca to kneel like she did for Scarlet and put her head under her skirt and make her scream in front of everyone.

Instead, she kisses Beca hard, tongue and teeth and hands on her ass until it’s Beca who moans this time.

Chloe pulls away abruptly just as Beca had when the show ended and it’s her turn to smirk at how disoriented and aroused Beca looks. “Come on,” she says as she takes her hand and pulls them toward the path to the exit once again.

It takes longer than it should to get back to the Mandalay Bay. If they could manage to make it more than two blocks without someone being pushed against a wall, a planter, or a vending machine to make out, it would only be a fifteen-minute walk.

Instead, they’re finally in the elevator forty-five minutes later behaving themselves because there are three other people riding up with them. They both know they’ll be the last ones off; Beca’s suite is on one of the uppermost floors. It makes Chloe tingle with anticipation because she knows it’s going to be a competition of who does what first as soon as they are alone.

It’s Chloe who wins. The last person steps off and before the doors are even closed, she has Beca against the rear wall of the elevator, tongue in her mouth and hands up her shirt and under her bra. They have six floors to go which is only a matter of seconds but it’s long enough to make Beca say, “God, I need you,” when it ends and the doors open.

They’ve had their share of rushing down hotel hallways to lock themselves in increasingly upscale rooms to ravage one another and this time is no different. It’s a choreographed dance at this point. Chloe’s the one who has the key out and ready because Beca usually can’t find hers or can’t focus long enough to insert it.

Chloe’s able to unlock it by touch at this point because so often she has Beca pressed up against the door, sometimes kissing her, sometimes breathing hotly in her ear while her hand wanders to indecent places. With a quick click, the door swings open and they spill into the palatial suite. It’s a dance as well, removing shoes while careful not to trip over each other or furniture or bags as Beca pulls her mask off and tosses it aside, followed by Chloe’s before she’s pulling Chloe down onto the oversized couch in the center of the room.

“Can’t even wait ‘til we get to bed?” Chloe asks with a smiling kiss before she moves back so she can unbutton Beca’s jeans.

“Whatever,” Beca says. She arches her back and reaches under herself and Chloe watches her strip away her bra, pulling it out through her shirt.

“I was getting to that. No, leave it,” Chloe adds when Beca starts to unbutton the sheer top. It leaves nothing to the imagination, but seeing Beca without her bra, perfect curves and stiff nipples Chloe knows she’ll have her mouth on soon enough… 

Beca stops what she’s doing and instead lifts her hips to help Chloe peel her jeans and underwear away.

“You were trying to make me jealous,” Chloe says matter-of-factly as she yanks the tight jeans from Beca’s feet with a little more force than is necessary.

Beca’s holding herself up on her elbows and she looks entirely too proud of herself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you let everyone know who you were.” Chloe’s hands start making their way up Beca’s bare legs, parting them to make room so she can back up and lie down between them. She settles Beca’s knees over her shoulders to kiss her inner thigh. It makes Beca shiver and sends hands down to tangle in Chloe’s hair. “And I can’t believe you fucked me.” Another kiss, higher, to make Beca’s breathing quicken. “Anyone could have caught us. Think of the headlines: ‘Beca Mitchell caught red-handed...knuckles deep in her best friend’s sopping pussy.’”

She can tell Beca wants to laugh but it comes out as a moan of impatience instead. Tired of waiting herself, Chloe shifts higher to tease her tongue against Beca’s clit.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Beca groans, pulling hair and lifting her hips as if she’s the one who had been left needing more at the show. Her impatience means Chloe’s done a good job turning the tables on her little stunt.

“Did you like that woman spanking you?” Chloe knows she’s toeing a line. They both might be, but she was jealous. And she is turned on.

Beca’s hesitation is telling and she finally nods when Chloe licks her again. “Yeah.”

“Did you like her telling you what to do?”

The answer is immediate this time. “Yes. Fuck, Chlo, please.” She lifts her hips again wanting more of what Chloe is withholding.

Chloe’s going to come back to the conversation. For now, she has needs and she needs to make Beca come. She’s never been able to resist her long, not when she begs her in that voice, not when she pulls Chloe’s face between her legs pleading Chloe to fuck her.

She’s not going to torture her the way Beca did. She has a second need which is to make Beca finish what she started, but she will deal with one thing at a time.

Beca is wet under her tongue and Chloe wraps her arms around her thighs to hold her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other parting Beca to be able to lick exactly where she knows Beca likes it. Fast. Focused. Exactly what it takes for Beca to— 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come already, I hate you.” She moans as she says it and Chloe can taste the way she’s starting to unravel.

It makes her smile. Beca doesn’t hate her. Not one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact, and Chloe takes pride that it still annoys Beca that Chloe can get her off so quickly. And it’s not that she’s annoyed that Chloe’s good, it’s that she doesn’t want it to end.

(Though rarely does it end after just one orgasm from Beca.)

She savors Beca’s voice in her ears and taste on her tongue and eases her down from her quick, surprisingly intense climax.

Though maybe not so surprising when she thinks about how desperate Beca had been after her little game of Scarlet Says. Which reminds her…

“Get up.” She says it with an edge to her voice as she sits up and moves back from between Beca’s legs.

It’s clear Beca’s startled by the sudden mood change and her eyes are wide as she stares down her half-naked body, chest still heaving as she’s not yet recovered. “Dude, what the fuck?” she bites. She’s not just startled, she’s incensed by Chloe ripping away from her the way she did. It’s not normal behavior by any means.

It’s precarious; Chloe knows it. She’s springing some kind of role-play on Beca without talking about it first and she’s ready to drop it if Beca pushes back again. She levels her gaze to look directly at Beca. “I told you to get up.”

There’s the slightest twitch to Beca’s lips and Chloe knows she’s realized what’s happening. With a nod, she sits up and somewhat tiredly pushes herself up to her feet and turns around to face Chloe.

Chloe eyes her as she gets herself situated on the couch, turning to sit properly and makes a bit of a show of crossing her legs primly. She’s still fully clothed unlike her girlfriend waiting for directions wearing nothing but her half-unbuttoned sheer blouse that stops at her hips.

“I didn’t realize you like being told what to do so much,” Chloe says airly. She wants to keep Beca unsteady. They’ve played with power dynamics in the bedroom before, of course. After this long, there’s not much they haven’t tried. But they had never pushed it to the point of commands and obedience. “I guess I’m not that surprised,” she continues, smiling at memories of how Beca had reacted to simple requests in the bedroom in the past. She hadn’t explored it further. There wasn’t a need to; someone usually came minutes later. Now she understands why.

Beca takes a breath like she’s about to speak but instead snaps her jaw closed.

It makes Chloe’s eyebrows lift. She hadn’t had to do much of anything and Beca has already fallen into her role, primed, no doubt, by the events at the burlesque show.

“Did you like that woman touching you?” she asks. When Beca doesn’t answer, she has to work not to smile. “You can answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” Beca answers. “I thought they were just going to ask me questions and give me a lap dance or something.”

Chloe finds it endearing the way Beca’s trying to defend herself. Chloe’s not upset about it; a hair bothered, maybe, but nothing worth getting mad about. Possessive, though...it’s definitely worth reminding Beca who’s been in her bed every night. “That isn’t what I asked,” Chloe says as she leans back casually. “I asked if you liked it when that woman touched you.”

She can see Beca trying to choose the right words, which is amusingly telling. “It was...fun,” is what she decides to answer.

Chloe looks at her in surprise. “Fun? I’ll show you fun. On your knees.” She snaps and points at the floor as she says it and watches as Beca sinks to kneel obediently on the plush carpet. It’s thrilling to watch and does more for her than she thought it would. “Come here,” she continues with a crook of her finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca says as she shuffles forward until she’s as close as she can be, Chloe’s right leg crossed over the left stopping her from getting any closer. 

Her response is spine-tingling. Chloe wants to draw this out; she wants to see just how obedient Beca can be, but her patience is thin after being so aroused for so long with no release. She can save that for another day. “Would you like to know what I want you to do?” She teases Beca’s bare stomach with her toe as she says it.

“I bet you’re about to tell me,” Beca says as she squirms a little; she’s ticklish there and Chloe knows it.

“Sassy.”

Beca shrugs.

“Let’s give your mouth something better to do.” She uncrosses her legs as she says it and enjoys the way Beca’s eyes fall automatically to look, though Chloe knows she can’t see anything. Not with her skirt resting how it is. “You ruined my underwear at the show. The least you could do is take them off me.”

She can see the way Beca’s eyelashes flutter; she’s excited and ready as she reaches for Chloe, hands sliding up her thighs to hook her fingers into the waistband of Chloe’s thong to pull it down. She lifts her hips to let it slip out from under her and watches Beca pull it the rest of the way down her legs until she’s tossing it over her shoulder with more confidence than someone ordered to her knees ought to have, but Chloe doesn’t mind. Not when Beca’s hands almost reach for Chloe’s thighs again but stops herself and they fall back to her own naked lap.

“So patient,” Chloe smiles. Beca giving up control like this is turning Chloe on far more than she had expected and she knows she isn’t going to last very long. She parts her knees and hikes up her skirt. Not too much. Just enough that Beca will be able to see how much she needs her. “But I’m not.”

Beca’s eyes snap up to meet Chloe’s and she can see the excitement in them, the desire to please Chloe in more ways than one.

“I want you to make me come”—she pauses to glance at her non-existent watch—“in less than five minutes.” When Beca doesn’t move, she adds, “The clock is ticking.”

She can tell Beca is amused by the challenge, even excited by it as her hands do what they had probably meant to do after stripping Chloe of her underwear: land on Chloe’s knees to part them before they slide higher, pushing Chloe’s skirt with them.

Chloe leans back, relaxing into the couch as she spreads her legs wider until she decides to bring her right foot up to rest on the edge of the couch, knee fully bent, holding her ankle to keep it there. It opens her up splendidly and she watches with rapt attention as Beca shifts closer, tongue already at her lips as she leans down.

Chloe can’t help the moan that comes with the first touch of Beca’s tongue. She’s been waiting for it for hours, really since they left the hotel to attend the show. 

Beca seems to take her directive seriously if the way she’s using her tongue is anything to judge by. She’s lapping at Chloe in exactly the way Chloe likes it the most: messy and lewd, her arousal audible in the way her clit slips from Beca’s lips when she sucks on it. She likes it because Beca’s so passionate about making her feel good, and her passion only makes Chloe want it more.

She weaves the fingers of her free hand through Beca’s soft hair, watching as Beca fucks her perfectly. “Just like that,” she sighs as she lets her hips start rocking. “Use your fingers, too, baby.”

They both groan as Beca sinks two fingers into her and she clenches around them. As soon as she relaxes, Beca is fucking her, hard, and it makes her gasp. She hadn’t been ready for that, forgetting for a moment about her self-imposed deadline.

“Beca, fuck,” she moans, ass coming off the couch from the sudden onslaught of pleasure and she watches as Beca ducks her shoulder under the leg Chloe isn’t holding so she can tuck herself even closer. Her fingers twist in Beca’s hair and it might be too tight but it doesn’t seem to bother her. “So good,” she says and feels Beca’s tongue flicking at her clit impossibly faster. “You’re so good,” she repeats and feels her fingers speed up, too.

She knows Beca likes being praised. It’s served them both very well in the past and it’s serving Chloe impeccably well right now. Beca moans at the comment and glances up at Chloe through dark eyelashes, eyes meeting before she closes them to lose herself in fucking Chloe.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with the way Beca starts sucking on her clit and doesn’t let up. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she moans again, grateful for the massive room offering plenty of insulation from the prying ears of the only other room on that floor. “You’re gonna make me come, Beca.”

Beca groans in response and doesn’t change a thing; her pace is relentless and Chloe can feel how hot her body is under her leg from working so hard and she’s so, so grateful for her hard work as her orgasm crashes through her.

Beca’s moaning through it with her and it makes Chloe drop the pretense. She wants Beca. Now. Her cunt is still pulsing around Beca’s fingers when she pulls her up by her hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the point.

“Come here,” she breathes, pulling Beca in to kiss her wet mouth as she drops her leg back to hang over the edge of the couch and make room for Beca to climb into her lap, straddling her on her knees.

Beca’s hand hasn’t left her with the change in position and though she has less room to move, she’s still working her fingers against Chloe’s overstimulated clit as Chloe reaches between Beca’s legs to slide her fingers into her soaked cunt.

The way Beca moans into Chloe’s mouth through their heated kiss is sinful but not as sinful as the way she immediately starts riding Chloe’s hand. Her hand tangles in Chloe’s hair as her hips roll and grind, all restraint gone as she chases her orgasm.

She’s so far gone that she’s not paying close attention to how hard she’s touching Chloe. It’s borderline painful for a few seconds until something in Chloe clicks and the force becomes delicious and somehow not enough. She grinds the heel of her hand up into Beca, slipping a third finger into her with how wet she’s become, dripping into Chloe’s palm and Chloe knows she’s just as wet. She’s thankful she’s sitting on her skirt. She’d rather pay to dry clean it than reupholster the hotel couch.

“Fuck,” Beca whimpers against Chloe’s lips before her hips suddenly change from riding Chloe’s fingers hard to riding them fast.

Chloe can feel how close she is with the way she’s starting to tremble around her fingers. Beca’s fighting it and she doesn’t know why until she thinks maybe Beca hasn’t dropped the pretense like Chloe had.

She’s waiting for permission.

The concept quickly spools Chloe’s orgasm into a coil ready to spring at any second and she has to fight it, too.

This is hot. This is really hot. She loves when Beca is wild and desperate and there are no other words to describe her right now.

Chloe pulls back from the kiss. “Do you want to come?”

Beca’s jaw drops at the words and Chloe feels her clench hard but the climax doesn’t follow as it normally would. “God, yes,” she exhales after a few seconds. Beca is still fucking them both. Riding Chloe’s fingers. Rubbing Chloe’s clit.

Chloe’s free hand catches Beca’s chin and lifts her head to make eye contact with her. “Ask me nicely.”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt Beca as wet as she is tonight and it doesn’t stop. She thinks she can even feel it increase as soon as she says those words.

“Please,” Beca whines immediately. “Please let me come for you.” She holds Chloe’s stare as she says it and she tightens around Chloe’s fingers again.

Chloe hesitates with her answer. The moment is so intense, so erotic she’s not quite ready to end it. They’re existing on another plane of sex than most of their nights. She hopes it continues through the night.

“Not yet,” she finally answers and Beca almost sobs at the response. “Stand up,” she demands, lifting with the hand between Beca’s legs until Beca’s moving.

“What…?” Beca starts, only to say, “Oh, my God,” when Chloe guides Beca’s left knee up and past her head to rest on the back of the couch.

Chloe pulls her forward with the fingers inside her until she has Beca’s clit against her tongue. Beca’s hands immediately fall to Chloe’s head for balance as she rocks her hips forward into Chloe’s face.

It’s Chloe’s turn to be brutal with the pace of her fingers, fucking up and into Beca as she lets Beca ride her tongue. She knows Beca’s orgasm is going to be massive when she lets her have it and Chloe wants her coming in her mouth.

The change in position bought them a few minutes, distracting Beca long enough that she’s not about to lose it any second but Chloe knows it’s barreling down on her again. “You taste so good,” she says between licks.

Beca moans in answer and Chloe feels the wetness increase again. She can hear it, too. It’s obscene. It sends her other hand between her own legs to pick up where Beca left off.

“I’m going to make myself come,” she says before sucking pointedly on Beca’s clit. “Don’t you dare come with me.”

“What?” Beca laughs somewhat desperately. “Fuck, okay.”

The obedience makes Chloe moan and she fucks herself, rubbing hard circles into her clit. She embellishes her moans to make it even harder for Beca to resist until she’s moaning again and again into Beca’s pussy, coming as Beca clenches around her wantonly. 

She looks up at Beca when it passes but she can’t see her face, not with how Beca’s leaning forward, eyes squeezed closed, face determined and desperate to obey as Chloe comes without her, still fucking her, not letting her let go.

“That felt so good,” she says. “You turn me on so much, Beca.”

“Yeah, same,” Beca answers quickly.

“I think after I let you come…” she says it thoughtfully even as she lavishes attention on Beca’s impossibly swollen clit, “I’m going to take you to bed,” she gives it a long suck, “bend you over,” she curls her fingers and massages them into the spot that makes Beca’s eyes roll back, “and fuck you so hard you’ll feel it at your show tomorrow,” Beca’s entire body is trembling with the need for release, “in front of twelve thousand people and you’ll remember the way you’re going to be such a good girl for me and take my strap all night.”

She knows Beca’s losing her grip on her orgasm. Chloe can feel it starting, pulsing around her fingers and she thinks she might need it as much as Beca does.

“Come for me, Beca,” she says and immediately slides her tongue into her as she withdraws her fingers, using them instead to stroke her clit. She can see Beca’s wetness and how it’s all the way to Chloe’s wrist and she groans as the way Beca’s cunt contracts so hard around her tongue she couldn’t remove it even if she wanted to.

‘Massive’ isn’t the term for it.

Beca’s orgasm is earth-shattering and Chloe’s free hand has to shoot up to press against her chest to keep her from toppling forward and over the back of the couch as it rocks her again and again, voice ringing in Chloe’s ears.

Chloe feels Beca’s knees buckling as it passes and she catches her as she folds until she’s sitting in Chloe’s lap again, slumped against her forehead-to-forehead. Both of them are breathless but Beca’s far more winded and Chloe gives her a chance to recover, hands moving slowly and gently over her back, to her hair which she lifts away from her neck to help her cool down. Her blouse sticks to her skin and she feels kind of bad she didn’t let Beca take it off before, but she hasn’t complained about it.

“Fuck,” Beca finally says with a weak laugh as she lifts her head and sits back enough that they can look at each other comfortably, her hands toying with the hem of Chloe’s shirt, still on despite it all. “What the fuck, Chlo?” She smiles as she says it. She brings her hand up to wipe at Chloe’s face. “You’re a mess.”

Chloe smiles in return and lets Beca clean her off. “Problem?”

Beca cocks her head to the side and huffs again, not quite a laugh. “Uh, no. But can you take this off now? You’re overdressed.” She tugs at Chloe’s shirt and Chloe lets her remove it, lifting her arms so she can slip it over her head.

“Better?” she asks, even though she knows it’s definitely better. Her body is on fire and the cool air is a godsend.

“Much,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s shirt aside to rest her hands on her bare shoulders.

“So,” Chloe starts after a few comfortable seconds of silence, hands wandering around Beca’s ass to her waist where she finally finishes unbuttoning Beca’s shirt. “Still think it was fun to be touched by that other woman?” She cocks an eyebrow as she says it.

She knows Beca knows she is the one in control of what happens next; they both know what will happen depending on her answer. One answer will send them to the bedroom and Beca onto all-fours. The other will send them to the shower to clean up while they wait for room service to bring them something to eat.

Beca rakes her hands through her own wild hair after she lets Chloe flip her shirt over her shoulders and off to leave her fully naked in Chloe’s lap. Her eyes are still dark, as are her well-kissed lips which start to curve into a smile. “Yeah, I had a great time. I wonder if she’s free. Maybe we could invite her to join us?”

“Fuck you,” Chloe laughs before kissing her. “Hold on,” she mumbles against her lips and feels Beca wrap her arms around Chloe’s neck and her legs around her waist so she can stand to carry Beca to the bedroom.

“Make me feel it tomorrow,” Beca whispers before kissing her as they cross the threshold into the bedroom.

Chloe drops her onto the bed with a smile. “You will. Turn around.”

The End

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #fanfic #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #it's smut #surprise!

[honeypirate]

Easy Living part two

Part one

Obi Akitaru x Fem!reader

Obi Akitaru falls in love with the girl at the rock show

Also ducks survived the cataclysm

Song one

Song two

Song three

Song four

Song five alternate version

Obi didn't see you outside of the office where you were doing paperwork. He thought you were avoiding him but you interacted with him during office hours so he couldn't really convince himself at first. You had said you were too tired to eat with everyone and just wanted to rest, which is how you got out of family dinners and could sneak in and eat after everyone leaves.

After a week and a half of this, he plans to find you and talk to you. Oh how he missed your jokes and your presence. You get back from your physical therapy and he meets you at the door “come with me” he says and takes your good hand “we’re going out”

You get ice cream, and just walk the town for a while. You figured he would want to talk soon but to be honest you havent quite dealt with your feelings yet. You didnt know what to say. Hey sorry Captain I’ve been avoiding you a little so i could squash all the romantic feelings i have for you since you only want to be best friends. No hard feelings? Also I feel like a failure because Im useless right now?

No. You couldn’t be that honest, but you would be honest enough

He stops by a bench next to the trees that have started to bloom in the warm spring air. You sit beside him, a little farther than usual and he sighs “talk to me. Please” he says softly and you swallow “about what?” you ask, your voice a little shaky and nervous. “y/n” he sighs “okay, i’ll just ask. Why have you been avoiding me after we had tea?” he leans his elbows down on his thighs and looks over at you.

You swallow hard and look down at your toes, giving your ice cream cone you were nursing a lick to buy some time.

“Obi, i’ve just been really tired. It wasn’t you. I promise. As you said, we are best friends forever. Please dont think im avoiding you i promise im not really. It’s just so hard to not use my arm, i cant do my job like i need, i feel like im useless. And youre my Captain! i dont want to be less than you deserve as a team member”

He brushes your hair back behind your ear and you gasp, looking from your toes into his eyes. “I’m your friend first remember? And so here I am, asking you as a friend, please dont think you have to avoid me. I dont think less of you because youre injured, youre not broken or ruined, youre just hurt. And you’re perfect the way that you are at any moment so dont even start with thinking you’re less than anyone. Youre incredibly strong and smart always. Let me be there for you. Right now as a man and not as your captain. Okay?” you feel your heart rate beat erratically in your chest and you kick yourself form coming along. Those perfect things he said to you from the perspective of a f r i e n d. God you loved him so much it hurt. Hurt because he doesnt love you back. More than a best friend anyway.

You do your best to go back to normal, you talk to him more, forcing yourself to attend dinners and joke like normal, ignorning the growing cracks in your heart.

A few weeks later, after a mission you werent allowed to go on, Obi announces a celebration “Since we just had a successful huge mission, we will be celebrating and inviting the companies we have friends in. so the 5th, 7th, and 2nd, will all be attending.” you dont deny that youre excited. You love celebrations because it meant the best barbeque plus you cant wait to talk to Hibana and Konro.

That night after your physio you talk to Maki and Vulcan, planning to take care of the entertainment for the night. Vulcan on the drums, Maki on the electric guitar, and you on vocals. You spent the next few days preparing and getting all the music sheets for them from songs you all put together. A list of 8 songs that everyone would enjoy, or so you hoped.

Your arm didn’t have to be in a sling anymore, it was healed but the muscles were tight and the scar tissue hurt. you had to work through that but your physical therapist said you would work that slowly and it would be almost 100% again.

When the day arrived for the celebration you felt nervous as hell. “Are you excited to do this?!” Vulcan says and pats your good shoulder and you laugh “I’m nervous and excited” Maki squeals as she does a sound check on her guitar “this is going to be so cool!”

When you guys move out to the stage, you get everyone’s attention by tapping the mic, a squeal going through the speakers before Viktor adjusts some settings on the computer.

“Hey guys. We put together a little entertainment for you all. Hope you enjoy it” you look around at everyone as they make their way over to the stage. Obi’s eyes were wide and he was grinning ear to ear, you didn’t tell many about this so it could be a surprise and you knew that was a good choice with the look in his eyes. He made his was to front of the crowd, whistling loudly as Maki began to strum.

Vulcan hits the drums as you begin to sing

“Scar tissue that I wish you saw

Sarcastic mister know-it-all

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause

With the birds I’ll share” after the first verse your eyes flick down to Obi and he has the biggest smile you’ve seen. It makes your heart flutter as you wink at him as you sing the chorus

“With the birds I'll share this lonely viewin'

With the birds I'll share this lonely viewin'”

The end of the first song everyone cheers loud and you feel proud as you laugh with the excitement and atmosphere. Obi is your loudest cheerleader.

Vulcan leaves the drums to stand by the keyboard for the next song as Maki plays the chords.

“You belong among the wildflowers

You belong in a boat out at sea

Sail away, kill off the hours

You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, find you a lover

Go away somewhere all bright and new” your eyes flick down to Obi and you smile softly

“ I have seen no other

Who compares with you”

Some people hold up lighters and those with fire abilities hold some fire up and sway side to side, the atmosphere is light and easy, a moment where no one is thinking about infernals and government problems.

You sang the four softer songs Maki chose first before taking a water break then going back on stage to finish strong with four songs you were excited about since you knew they were some of your and Obi’s favorites.

You look down at Obi when the music starts and the recognition in his eyes makes you grin. You know most people in your company know this song because of Obi. “You show us everything you've got

You keep on dancin' and the room gets hot

You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy

You say you wanna go for a spin

The party's just begun, we'll let you in

You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy

You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'”

You feel your body feel with pride when the crowd sings the chorus and you realize more people know those song then you thought

“I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day x4”

The cheering at the end of this song makes you laugh before you take another drink of water and move on to the next few songs until you end with the last two you were excited about.

“Okay everyone. Two left” you smile at the boos that are scattered “ We’re glad you liked this show and hope you had fun here. There’s extra food so if you’re hungry make sure you fill up” You wink at Obi again as you begin to sing the song as he whistles loudly when the guitar begins, throwing his fists in the air doing his devil horns.

“This is a thing I've never known before

It's called easy livin'

This is a place I've never seen before

And I've been forgiven

Easy livin' and I've been forgiven

Since you've taken your place in my heart”

This one was one of your favorites and you got into it dancing around on the stage. When it ends you laugh and smile as they cheer. “Okay guys. I dedicate this last song to the companies here tonight thank you all for making this not a complete failure. I was nervous but now.. this has been a dream come true of mine honestly. Anyway. For you” you look down at Obi and he nods and then whistles again when he recognizes the song

“A company always on the run

A destiny, oh it's the rising sun” the crowd cheers and you get goosebumps

“I was born, a shotgun in my hands

Behind the gun

I'll make my final stand, yeah

That's why they call me” you look down at Obi and he sings with you

“Bad company

I can't deny

Bad, bad company

'Til the day I die

Until the day I die”

Your voice fades out and Vulcan and Maki finish their notes and the crowd goes nuts. You bring Vulcan and Maki up and you hold hands and bow before waving and exiting the stage.

A few pats on the back and many people telling you how great that was was a little overwhelming and Obi could tell. He pushes through the crowd and takes your hand “gotta borrow this rock star for a moment excuse us please” he says and takes you with him behind the stage where he could let you take a breather.

“Looked a little overwhelmed with the loving crowd” he says and leans against the side of the wall behind the stage. “Just a bit. Thank you Obi” he hasn’t stopped smiling and his eyes are filled with stars for you. “I didn’t know you could sing Little Duck” he says and you chuckle “there’s a lot you don’t know about me Obi” you say with a smirk and drink of your water bottle. “And I love discovering new things about you.” he says softly and you feel your cheeks flush under his soft gaze “is that right?” You ask in a flirty tone and you cock your head with a smile. “Yes. It is” he says and you stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, soft smiles and a warm feeling growing in your bones.

“Hey y/n I brought you some food since we missed out” Vulcan says and hands you a plate “you’re a lifesaver Vulcan thank you!” You say and take it with a grin. Obi kicks himself for not thinking of that and scowls at the weird jealousy he feels spike in his heart at the way you smiled at Vulcan. He shakes his head and excuses himself to go talk to Hinawa.

“That was weird” Vulcan says and you raise an eyebrow in question, mouthful but he understood you “he looked at me like I just flirted with his girl. How weird is that?” You laugh and your cheeks dust slightly pink “I’m sure there was something else on his mind, we’re just friends” you say and take another bite of your barbecue, moaning a little about how delicious it is. Vulcan just shrugs “that was really amazing. Great idea y/n! It was so fun. If you ever wanna jam again I’m down” you smile and nod “I’ll take you up on that sometime”

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?” Hinawa says, acting like it’s annoying him that he has to have this conversation to hide the fact he finds it entertaining that his Captain is so blind. “She’s been my best friend for so long. Wouldn’t I have had feelings for her before today?” Hinawa sighs “are you sure you haven’t?” Obi feels like his mind expands as he connects the dots. “Well damn” Obi says with a slight smile teasing the corners of his mouth and Hinawa shakes his head.

After that night you didn’t see Obi outside of work for a week. It was weird. Like the tables have turned and now you don’t know why he’s avoiding you. He calls you into your office and you feel a little worried.

“You wanted to see me sir?” You said as stood at attention in front of his desk. Outside of this room you felt like he was your Obi but every time he calls you into his office you feel completely different. The atmosphere he held in that room for you, powerful and commanding, you were intimidated and slightly turned on but you never would allow yourself to think of that.

“I wanted to check in on how your therapy is going” he says, his face was stoic and level, but you see there’s something in his eye, something has changed. “It’s going well Sir” you raise your arm and show your limited range of motion “she says I’ll be back to good and cleared for duty soon, since I’m well enough now to have more frequent appointments.” he nods and makes a note on his small pad of paper. “Are your ignition abilities okay? Do you need training there?” You shake your head “no Sir. My abilities haven’t been effected” he nods once and then smiles, a soft smile that shows way more emotion from him than your used to “that’s all. I’m glad you’re doing well. Dismissed” “thank you Sir” you salute and then turn and leave, feeling extremely confused at the emotion you saw in his eyes.

You chew your lip as you pace the walkways of the company, pacing and thinking, (more like overthinking amirite) and trying to decide if you should talk to him. You somehow end up in the tallest room of the building, looking out over the town and the sunset. You get a flashback to your first day as a fire fighter, walking back to the truck with your team you were in the back of the group by Obi and he stopped to look at the sunset for a moment. “Remember y/n, take a moment to appreciate the beauty around you. It’s always taken for granted” that’s what he said to you that made you admire him. The original seed your feelings grew from. You smiled and turned, running down the steps to try and find him, to tell him.

“Hey Arthur have you seen the Captain?” You asked when he was the first one you saw “oh yeah. He just left with the girl from the flower shop” you raise your eyebrows “left with Margret? Why?” He shrugs “I don’t know. Probably a date. She seemed really happy” you laugh once in shock “huh” you say and he just shrugs, going back to his pretending to be a knight with his plasma blade as you walk out of the room.

You pace the halls again until you eventually give up. You won’t tell him. He’ll never know. You hope he’s happy with Margaret, she seems like a lovely woman.

Every day being around him sucks, you wish you could take some time off to go away for a little bit so you wouldnt have to see him, wouldnt have to feel the pain anymore. It made you look forward to your physio appointments but even those are ending soon, only two left before you're cleared. Dont get you wrong, you are excited to be cleared to work again, paperwork was beginning to annoy you, but you were going to miss the excuse to get out every once in a while so you wouldn't have to see him anymore. At least until you have gotten over him.

He notices you pulling away, avoiding him again. He doesnt understand everything was going so well. He was planning this big confession and spent forever with the florist planning the perfect bouquet and getting her help on what girls would like in a confession, he has the whole thing planned out but now you wont even look at him uness you have to. He’s so frustrated! When did communicating with each other get this hard?

You get back from physio and he meets you at the door again, this time hiding his emotions and just giving you a look that tells you to follow him. He takes you to the same empty room you were in yesterday, at the very top of the company. “Captain?” you ask softly, your eyes on the ground and your hands gripping the strap of your bag that is across your chest hard enough to lighten your knuckles. “Little duck” he whispers softly, his voice held something you couldn't place, something you never heard from him before, and when you realize what it is your eyes meet his. It was pain.

“My little ducky” he says softly “why?” you feel your walls break, your hard work to build them up and forget about your love for the captain turned to ash as you cover your face with your hands, tears burning your eyes. “I.. I just” you swallow hard and pull yourself together, you wont cry in front of him. You sniff and grit your teeth, dropping your hands and controlling the emotions on your face “I hope you are happy with Margaret” you say and look behind him, knowing if you saw his pain you’d for sure cry.

“What.. who the hell is margaret?” he says and you furrow your brows as confusing fills your mind. You look to your feet “Arthur said you’re dating Margaret, the florist” he laughs “her name is Margaret? I thought it was Molly, that’s awkward. But no, I am not dating the florist. Why would you believe aAthur? He thinks he's a knight ninja king or something”

“I uh, i gota go” you say and turn to leave but he takes your hand, pulling you to his embrace. “No you dont” he whispers and gently holds your head to his chest. “Tell me. I need you to tell me what is going on. Right now on this roof we are going to tell each other everything we’ve been hiding, starting with how you have been avoiding me again” you feel your eyes burn again, this time because of how frustrated you were with your stupidity..

“I feel so stupid i dont want to say” you mumble into his chest and he laughs “my precious ducky, please tell me” he says softly and you pull back, deciding to look into his eyes when you tell him the truth. “I couldn't deal with being around you knowing how much I love you since I thought you were with someone else. It hurt too much to see you. I thought i lost my chance”

He laughs softly “how could i fall in love with anyone else when the best woman is right in front of me?” you look up at him with a shocked expression and you almost turn to look behind you to see if there was anyone else there but you controlled yourself. You just cleared your throat and asked “what?” he laughs and cups your cheek, his strong callused hands holding you gentler than you could have ever imagined after seeing him crack a jar of pickles when he was opening it.

He leans down to your ear and whispers “I love you. I've loved you since the beginning. My little ducky” you gasp and turn your face to connect your lips to his. You melt into him as his strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you to his chest as he kisses you deeply, his tongue swipes at your lip and you meet him with your own, making him hum in approval as you runs your fingers across his short cut hair on the back of his head, the shaved hair tickling your palms before you move higher to get his longer lengths in your fingertips.

You didn't even remember him picking you up until your feet touch the ground again. “You love me?” you ask when you pull back, right up against his lips and he sighs softly, pressing his forehead into yours. “I love you y/n” he says and you feel your stomach flip as a slow grin spreads over your face before your hands move to his shoulders as your bag falls to the ground and you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist as he catches you easily with a laugh

You kiss his lips again, overcome with happiness, pecking them a few times quickly before peppering kisses around his face “i love you” you whisper between kisses and he laughs as he holds you tight, his heart fluttering to know you feel the same. You pull back and smile down at him “i'm sorry i was such an idiot” you whisper and then hop down from his arms. “you’re not an idiot sweetheart. If i found out you were dating someone else and not me, that would hurt. I would have to avoid you for a while too. I dont want you to be with anyone else but me” he says and you blush, your heart melting as you take his large hands in your own “so when ya taking me out on a real date big guy?” you ask with a blush and he smiles “since you asked, sweetheart, that’s kind of the reason i was with Maggie to begin with” “margaret” “yeah margaret. She was helping me plan the perfect way to confess to you, i had this whole pan. So this friday, you and me, 7pm. I have a reservation downtown and will be getting you the best bouquet of flowers you ve ever seen so get ready” you laugh a little awkwardly “sorry for ruining your plan” you say and he smiles, kissing your forehead “you haven't ruined anything. you love me, nothing is better than that. Plus this means i can kiss you sooner than i was hoping” he leans down and presses his lips to yours softer than before shooting tingles down your spine “and it’s so much better than I imagined” he admits and you grin “then dont stop” you whisper and he smirks “anything for you sweetheart” he says before his lips are crashing into yours again

BOONNUUSSSSS

“So whats this about a duck”

Shinra asks at dinner and you groan as Obi laughs hard. You look pointedly at everyone there “okay but this does not leave this table and if it does i will beat ALL of your asses, so its more incentive for one of you to not say a thing because imagine how the rest of you will feel about the one who spilled” they all nod with a laugh and Hinawa rolls his eyes, knowing you’d never dare to beat his ass.

“Back when Obi and i were greenies” you look to him and he has a shit eating grin on his face as he lays his hand on your knee under the table. “We were just normal fire fighters, so calls like getting a cat out of a tree was nothing new. But this was a call about a duck. I answered the phone and it went a little bit like this” you put your hand to your ear like a phone

“thank you for calling the Fire Defence Agency, my name is Y/n how may i help you today?”

your voice changes to sound like an older gentleman “yes, my duck is stuck, please help.”

voice is yours again “your duck sir?”

“Yes. Herbert the duck. He cannot fly. Come immediately. 2836 the street name rd”

“Then he hangs up. Obi and i were the only ones there since we were greenies and had to man the phones during lunch hour so we roll out and get to his house and sure enough a duck is stuck on top of this mans roof” you hold your hands up and try to shape it out for them “he had this house where the top was sort of curved like this just above his front door” you bring your hands up and around in an arc. The truck we have doesnt have the laddder but it’s not too high so Obi puts me on his shoulders and as i go to grab this little bastard he screams in my face and pecks my eye” Obi is laughing remembering it “hush let me finish” you say to him with a smile

“So this damn Herbert the duck, my eye is watering and it hurts and i'm cursing up a storm as Obi laughs his ass off and tries to hold me steady. i get a hold on Herberts back, holding down its wings so i can easily lift it into my arms and as i pull it towards me he pecks my OTHER EYE” Obi is holding in cackles, he knows whats coming and can hear the mans voice as clear as day in his head “then Obi brings me down and im crying uncontrollably, my eyes burning as this duck watches me smugly hand him over to his care taker and then the gentleman goes”

You change your voice to mimic the mans again “watch out, he’s a pecker” Obi is laughing so hard along with Vulcan and Shinra, the rest chuckling along with.

“And i'm standing there, eyes leaking unctronably from being pecked in both eyes, and he just takes his duck and walks inside his house. I had to go to the doctor and get vaccines for all these diseases that ducks apparently have.” Obi catches his breath and wipes his tears “you should have heard her on the way back from the doctor, two eyepatches on and going on a tangent about how ducks should have gone extinct and left the geese since they are much cuter. I couldn’t stop laughing the whole drive home”

You slap his arm playfully “you saw that picture at the museum they look so cute and kind!” he smiles and holds your hand “I wonder how Herbert the duck is doing” he asks and you smile “probably not as well as I am” you smile around the table at your team and friends, all smiling and still chuckling softly imagining your story.

(Later)

“I can’t believe that one of the first things you liked about me was my tangent about ducks” you say as you crawl into bed beside him. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, hugging you to his chest “you were so cute and funny. I knew I needed to keep you around me because you made life fun and wonderful because that’s who you are” you kiss his cheek as he continues, rolling over and holding you “I knew I wanted to have you forever but I was too dense to realize I loved you” he nuzzles into your neck and lays on your chest, his weight and warmth comforting. “I love you” you whisper and he kisses you neck softly “I love you sweetheart”

#obi akitaru x reader #obi akitaru x y/n #obi akitaru x you #obi x you #obi x reader #fire force obi #obi akitaru #fire force imagines

[rpf-bat]

Underground, Getting Down

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 14. Prompt: “Symphony”. 

You’re a flutist, playing in the New York subway for tips. Gerard watches one of your performances, and decides that his next single, needs a mad flute solo. 

Beneath the streets of New York, the subway station bustled, filled with people. Some moved up the stairs, towards the streets, and others down the steps, towards the trains. Everyone in the crowd was rushing on to their next destination. At the base of the staircase, you stood, playing your flute. 

Your flute case sat propped open on the tiles in front of you. A few bills already lined the inside. A young woman dropped another fiver in, as you played Bach’s ‘Flute Sonata in A Minor’. 

You lifted your face from the instrument for a moment, to call out, “Thank you!” 

The woman had already turned away from you, rushing down the corridor to catch the E train. You shrugged, returning your lips to the flute’s embouchure hole. Even the best buskers, rarely made someone stop in their tracks. The song ended. 

I think I’ll mix it up, you decided, do something more pop for the next song. 

You picked the Bach sheet music up off your stand, placing it back in your bag. Then, you pulled out the sheet music for Jethro Tull’s ‘No Lullaby’.  This one was usually more impressive-sounding, when you had your friend, who played guitar, with you to do the intro. But, he was busy today, at his day job at Starbucks. You would just have to launch right into your solo. 

Your fingers danced over the keys, as the music echoed off the walls of the tunnel. You found your mind wandering, as you played. 

I really thought, when I graduated, that I was gonna play for the New York Philharmonic, you recalled wistfully. But, the auditions for first chair ended up being competitive as hell. Instead of playing high society symphonies, I just play out here, for the commuters and hobos. 

It wasn’t what you had dreamed of - but it was a living. 

As you continued your song, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You glanced up from your songbook, and realized that a man was sitting, eerily still, on the steps. Hurried people were practically tripping over him, but he didn’t move, to get out of their way.  He stayed exactly where he was. He didn’t look homeless, you considered. His face was hidden by thick aviator sunglasses, but his clothes suggested wealth. He was staring at you, with rapt attention, as if your flute, was the only sound in the world. 

You found yourself blushing under his steady gaze, as the song concluded. You lowered your flute-holding arm to your side, and looked at the stranger again, curiously. 

“Bravo!” he cried, clapping, and jumping up. “You were amazing!” 

He walked over, and dropped a handful of bills, into your case. 

Wait, what? All of those are hundreds!, you realized, eyes widening. Who the hell is this guy?

He pulled the sunglasses off his face, shaking his long, dark hair out of his eyes as he did so. Your jaw dropped, when you realized you recognized him. 

“Hi,” he said casually, “my name’s Gerard Way.” 

“I….I know who you are,” you stammered, scarcely believing this was real. Your inner emo kid was screaming. “What are you doing in New York?” 

“Visiting family,” Gerard shrugged. “Well, technically, they live on the Jersey side of the river. But, I always have to stop by Forbidden Planet, when I’m in town.” 

“Oh, you mean the comic shop, on Broadway?” you nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. I….I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Gerard grinned. “I really enjoyed that song, that you just did.” 

“I….uh, really enjoy your music, too,” you said awkwardly. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl.

“I’m actually working on some new music right now,” Gerard revealed. 

“What?” you blinked. “Really? Wasn’t your last album in like…..2014?” 

“Yeah, Hesitant Alien was four years ago, already!” Gerard chuckled. “I think I’m definitely overdue for something new!” 

“Oh, wow,” your heart hammered excitedly. “I can’t wait to hear the new record, when it comes out!”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna do a whole second album,” Gerard confessed. “I think I’m just gonna put a couple singles out, and see how it goes.”

“I….I see,” you mumbled. This was crazy. Why was he telling all this, to a random busker, that he just met? 

“I wanted to thank you,  Y/N,” Gerard went on. “There’s this song I’ve been working on, for a couple months now. it’s just not sounding right to me, quite yet. You helped me realize what it’s missing.”

“And, what is that?” you wondered, still feeling bewildered. 

“A flute solo,” Gerard grinned. 

“Huh?” you gasped. “Who uses flute music, in a rock n roll song? I mean, besides Jethro Tull?” 

“I love Jethro Tull,” Gerard laughed. “But, for real, it’s not that weird. Billy Corgan had some flutes on ‘Drum + Fife’, on the album Monuments To An Elegy.”

“Oh, true,” you remembered. “Didn’t that drop in 2014, too?” 

“Yeah, I actually got to open for him, on that tour!” Gerard said excitedly. “That was when I decided that I wanted to bring a flute into one of my own songs, someday.” 

“Wow,” you realized, “You’re serious about this.” 

“I am,” Gerard said, looking you in the eyes. “But….can we talk about this somewhere else? I’m worried if I stay in one place much longer, somebody is gonna spot me, and start asking for pictures.” 

“Oh, uh, sure!” you nodded. 

“I think if we go up to the street level, there’s a coffee shop, like, right outside,” Gerard suggested. 

“You’re…..asking me to get a cup of coffee with you?” you grasped. Was this a date?

“Yeah,” Gerard said, turning red, as he awkwardly combed his fingers through his hair. “Is, uh, is that okay with you?”

“......Absolutely,” you smiled. “Just let me put my flute away!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard had insisted on carrying your flute case for you, despite the short walk. He was such a gentleman. You did not, however, allow him to buy your cup of coffee for you. He’d already given you that absurd tip, when he first strolled over to your busking spot. 

You stared at him across the table, as he sipped his latte. This still felt entirely unreal. 

“So, the song I’m working on,” Gerard explained, “It’s called ‘Getting Down The Germs.’”

“...Germs?” you repeated, confused. 

“The lyrics are still a work in progress,” Gerard admitted. He dug into the pocket of his green coat, and pulled out a small, tattered-looking notebook. He opened it to a page near the back, and pushed it towards you. “This is what I have so far.”

You took the book gingerly, feeling as if you’d been handed a holy text. The words on the page, were written in a surprisingly untidy scrawl:

It's never the same and the nights always glow

There's nothing to see and nowhere to go

It's easy to say you're happier when you're disturbed

The green lights in your head

Getting down the germs

I'm lazy and tame and the chimes always blow

A glimmering sound on the breeze when you go

It's never a shame and I've learned to live with the worms

Underground

Getting down the germs

“That sounds really good so far,” you complimented. “I’m guessing that’s supposed to be the chorus?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “I usually write the choruses first. The verses, I’m still figuring out.” 

“Makes sense,” you replied, as you sipped your drink. “What about the melody?” 

“Oh, the melody’s pretty much completely done,” Gerard clarified. “But….I don’t know. There’s this bridge that comes before the second verse. I originally planned for that to be a guitar solo, but it just doesn’t sound right.”

“You think the solo would sound better, played on a flute?” you surmised. 

“Yeah, exactly!” Gerard said enthusiastically. You wondered if the caffeine was getting to him. 

“....Do you even know how to play the flute?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “But, you do.”

“....What are you saying?” you blinked. 

“That’s why I asked you to come up here with me,” Gerard explained. “Y/N…..would you be willing to go into the studio with me, and record a flute solo, for the track?” 

You choked on your drink. 

“Wh….What?” you wheezed, coughing from the coffee that had gone down the wrong way. “A-Are you serious?” 

“....Can you breathe?” Gerard asked, putting a concerned hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, I can breathe,” you managed, trying not to hyperventilate even more.  

“Good,” Gerard smiled, “because I am serious, Y/N. Your flute playing really impressed me. I won’t drag you all the way out to LA, of course. But, if I find a studio space, here in New York, will you work with me?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Oh my god, yes!” 

This wasn’t what you had dreamed of - it was more. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A few days later, you found yourself in a recording studio, in Lower Manhattan. You’d never seen so much professional equipment like this before. You’d always just performed for live audiences.

Can I really do this?, you asked yourself, hit with a wave of uncertainty. 

“Y/N, thank you so much for coming out here, and joining us today,” Gerard greeted you. His smile, somehow instantly put you at ease. 

“This is Doug McKean,” he introduced, indicating a man in the corner. “He’s my producer.” 

“Nice to meet you, Doug,” you said politely, shaking hands. 

“And this is Ian Fowles,” Gerard said, indicating a second guy, with longer hair. “He was my touring guitarist, when I went on the road with Hesitant Alien.” 

“Oh, I remember seeing him, when you guys played Irving Plaza,” you recalled. 

“You were at that little gig we did, in Union Square?” Ian smiled. 

“Yeah, of course I bought a ticket!” you smiled back. “You guys were amazing!” 

“Aw, you really think so?” Gerard reddened, looking flattered. 

“I really do,” you replied. My Chemical Romance had been your favorite band, since your teens. When they had broken up, five years ago, you had been heartbroken. But, you’d found Gerard’s solo work, to be equally amazing - just in a different way. 

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Ian said quietly. “Has Gerard explained to you, what we’re going to be doing today?” 

“Yeah, he said he wants me to do a flute solo for you guys,” you said, almost not believing your own words. 

“Let’s start from the beginning of the song,” Doug directed. “Ian, can you take us from the top, please? I know we got a great take of your part yesterday, but I feel like we can still do better.” 

“Definitely,” Ian agreed. He shrugged his guitar strap over his head, and stepped into the recording booth. You listened intently, as he played the opening notes. The tune was definitely different from anything MCR had done. But, it didn’t sound quite like Hesitant Alien, either. You were intrigued by the new musical direction that Gerard seemed to be heading in. 

“Alright, cut,” Doug called, pressing a button, to stop recording. “Ian, that was good. Gerard, it’s your turn to get in there. I want to hear that verse you were working on the other day.”

“Alright,” Gerard nodded. You watched him put his headphones over his ears, and timidly approach the microphone. A blush crept into his cheeks. Did it make him nervous, to have you, as an audience? 

“The answer’s always no,” Gerard sang, “to questions of a private nature…...the lights are always low, in settings of a conversation…..” 

He seemed to grow more confident, as the song continued. By the time he got to the chorus, he was belting it out. He sounded incredible. 

“....How was that?” he asked finally. 

“Amazing,” you breathed. 

Gerard’s cheeks reddened at your compliment. He stayed quiet, as he watched Doug take the vocal track, and mix it with Ian’s guitar playing. He played back the clip, of the two spliced together. The parts formed an even more impressive whole. 

“Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn,” Doug commanded. “Show us what you can do.” 

You gulped. You weren’t sure that you could do anything, that was on the same level, as what you just heard. 

“You can do it,” Gerard encouraged. “You played an amazing solo, in front of a whole station worth of people yesterday. Playing for three dudes like us, should be nothing.” 

That’s different, you thought to yourself. I don’t have a huge crush on everyone in the station.

“Here’s the sheet music,” Ian said, handing you a piece of paper. “I really like what Gerard’s composed here. But, I think he’s right. It’s going to sound better on your instrument, than mine.”

You took the sheet, and grabbed the flute case, out of your backpack. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the booth. Your fingers trembled on the middle joint of the flute. You glanced up at Gerard, who was sitting on the other side, of the pane of glass. 

He gave you a friendly smile, and a dorky-looking thumbs-up. You chuckled, your nerves dissipating. 

Alright, you told yourself. I got this. You brought your lips to the head joint, and began to play. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“I don’t know,” you said, as you stepped back out of the booth. “Do you think that was okay?”

“That was incredible,” Gerard gushed, pulling you into an impulsive hug. His arms were so soft and warm. 

“Like, wow, what are you?” Ian gaped. “The secret lovechild of Ian Anderson, or something?” 

“Ha, I wish,” you laughed. “I’m just your average band kid.” 

“I wouldn’t call that average,” Gerard insisted, staring into your eyes, as he still held you close. “I was right….the flute just fits perfectly in with the song. And you’re the perfect person to play it.”

“Y/N, I can show you what the guitar and the flute will sound like together,” Doug offered, “If you could, uh, let go of her for a moment, Gee.”

“O-oh, right,” Gerard stammered, releasing you quickly. You blushed, and turned away. 

Doug began to play the edited-together track for you. You couldn’t believe it - your flute, Ian’s guitar, and Gerard’s vocals, blended together, into something incredibly beautiful. 

“I wasn’t sure if the flute was going to go well, with your style of music,” you confessed. “My background is the symphony orchestra. Most of the time, you only really see the flute, used in classical music, like that. I wasn’t sure if you could make it sound rock n’ roll. But...it works! Somehow.” 

“It does,” Gerard agreed. “Y/N…..I’m so, so glad that I met you.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. It made your heart pound, for reasons you couldn’t articulate. 

“Y/N,” Doug said, bringing you back to reality, “that first take was great, but I’d like you to try it again for me, please.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. “I’ll give it as many takes as it needs.” 

“I feel like we could all use some coffee first, though,” Ian decided. “Doug? You want to run down the street with  me, to get it?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s our turn, since Gerard ran and got the last round,” Doug agreed. “Y/N - what can we get you?”

“Oh, just a vanilla latte, I guess,” you decided. 

“Coming right up,” Ian smiled. “We’ll be right back.” 

The guitarist and producer got up and left. Your pulse quickened again, as you realized, that you were now alone in the room with Gerard. It felt different, than it had at the station, or the coffeeshop. Both of those times, there were plenty of other people around. But now…..?

“It’s just you and me,” Gerard said softly. He was still staring at you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you said nervously. “I guess we got quite a day ahead of us, huh?”

“Yup,” Gerard said awkwardly. “Doug’s not gonna let you leave, until you get your part just right.” 

“.....Gerard,” you asked, “why did you pick me for this job? You could have gotten anyone to play flute for you. I’m nobody.” 

“I told you, your performance got my attention,” Gerard reminded you. “I was just passing through the station, minding my own business. But, when I heard the sound of your flute…..I stopped still. I was like, oh my god, this is the sound that I’ve been looking for.” 

“Was it really that great?” you asked, feeling unsure of yourself. 

“Yes!” Gerard insisted. “Y/N, I swear to god, it was like I was hypnotized. By that incredible sound….and by the beauty, of the person making it……” 

“Beauty?” you repeated, your face going hot. Did he mean…..?

“I won’t lie to you,” Gerard said softly. “The moment I laid eyes on you, in that subway tunnel, I was so attracted to you.” 

“You think I’m attractive?” you realized, eyes going wide. 

“Yes,” Gerard whispered, looking you up and down, with evident desire. “I’m sorry…..you probably think I’m just a creepy, older dude….” 

“You’re not creepy!” you shook your head. “Gerard, I’ve always thought that you were extremely good-looking.” 

“You’re…..attracted to me, too?” Gerard put two and two together. 

You weren’t sure which of you took a step towards the other first, but, before you knew it, you were in his arms. He kissed you gently, but your body quickly responded to him, and the kiss rapidly turned more passionate.

He pressed you against the studio wall, his hands trailing down your body, as the kiss continued. 

“.....G-Gerard,” you gasped. “The others could walk back in, at any minute.” 

“If they interrupt us,” Gerard said, his voice husky, “we could always continue this, at my hotel, after the recording session is over.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Gerard panted, as your lips found his neck. “Oh, fuck, yeah…..I got a room at a five star hotel in Times Square, that I would love to show you.”

“When do you have to go back to LA?” you asked, gasping for breath, as he kissed you again. 

“I’m supposed to go home on Saturday,” Gerard confessed. “But, if you keep kissing me like that….I might just miss the flight.” 

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #gothtober #i gotta stop posting these at 2 am

[vyrulent]

Peyton’s NSFW Alphabet 

tagged by: @deliciouslyfilthytm tagging: @havesomesympathy, @vampireknitted, @count-v-dracula, @nanlanmo, @legends-and-savages​ ( zemo ), @deliciousfear​

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

depends on how much energy was used during. if it was exhaustive, peyton will probably roll over and fall asleep. if she’s really into the person, she curls close into said person and enjoys a little playful pillow talk after

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She thinks her legs are her sexiest asset. It’s why she likes to wear heels because she feels like they accentuate her legs. For an intimate part, she likes for her throat and chest to be kissed on, it’s instant faint town

As for his partners, she likes their smile and their hands. She does enjoy a man that has nice hands.

C = Cum (Anything to do with semen)

Kids have never been at the forefront of her thoughts. Peyton would much prefer for a man to cum on her inner thighs or on her stomach. If she’s sucking them off, she’d rather they cum on her chest than on her face/in her hair

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Peyton has thought about threesomes. She’d be okay with being with a woman and a man. In fact, she’s had some fantasies about it where she gives attention to the woman with a man touching on them both.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s pretty experienced. She keeps her sex like mostly hidden from Liv and the others, but she’s had plenty of hook ups and one offs.

F = Favorite Position 

Any but she does like riding generally. if they are more romantic, she likes being face to face, but she does like the act of being flipped around and taken from behind if it starts getting really down and dirty

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc?

Before and after mostly. She likes to have playful pillow talk. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

It does match but she does have a monthly full body wax appointment set aside

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

So enrapt in her lover. She likes to touch their face if they are facing each other and look into her eyes. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

It happens. Peyton has some toys in her panty drawer. It’s at night when she’s had a long day and just needs to relax. She also likes using it with her partner -- having her partner use it on her, letting it vibrate against the both of them as they fuck

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks )

she secretly likes to dominate. she likes to be spanked. she likes calling her lover “daddy” from time to time

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

peyton likes sex in the shower/tub. also on the kitchen floor. honestly just anywhere in general. her office gives a little bit of exhilaration, given that anyone could walk in.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

.being kissed on the neck and her legs/thighs touched can get her motor going

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

two men. she’s not really into the idea of having two men inside her at once. she feels like it would be super uncomfortable at the same time. it’s a nice fantasy to think about, but she wouldn’t want to go through with it

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) 

she likes receiving.  she’s pretty good at it but she’s not a fan of choking on cock or getting spit everywhere

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends.  On most days, she likes fast and rough. But if it’s more romantic sex, she likes the slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

I feel like the only person she’d have quickies with is with Blaine. Blaine brings out this wildness in her a bit. Most of her other boyfriends weren’t so wild as Blaine.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yes. She enjoys learning new aspects of sex and just enjoying it with her partner.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Since she works out, she can go a while in her human verse. In her zombie verse, Peyton can go for nearly the whole night if given the chance.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes! She has quite a few as stated before! And she does like using them with her partners

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

LOVES IT! she likes to see the look on her lover’s face

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

If they are alone, she can get pretty loud - especially if she is really into what her partner is doing to her

W = Wild Card (A random NSFW headcanon)

Peyton has a lot of her old sexy halloween costumes that she wouldn’t be opposed to wearing in the bedroom. Roleplay is not off the table for her.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

I mean, she has a vagina. She waxes. Though, with waxing, she does have to grow out the hair between waxing so there will be times that she has pubic hair. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty normal tbh. 

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

15-30 minutes

#not sfw #( dash games: peyton )

[cc-pdf]

What’s It Like In New York City?

Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Quirkless rock band au

Based off of the song, Hey There Delilah

Word count: 2913

Warnings: Slight alcohol use. Nothing to be worried about though.

  After a long day at university you decided you deserved a night out on the town. Although you had piles of homework to do, you decided to put that all aside and just relax and have a few drinks. You grabbed your big winter coat and stepped out of campus into the swirling cold winter outside. L Street Tavern was one of the closest bars to your campus, so you decided to settle down there. Plus, they always have live music there, even better.

  After a short walk through the blistering cold air you had finally arrived at the historic bar. You noticed a flyer on the window it read,

  "Sex Bob Omb playing tonight."

  You had never heard of them before. It was probably just some local band. You stepped through the bars creaking door and took a seat on one of the oak stools. There were only a few other people at the bar. Most of them were probably in their mid 40s or 50s. You had given them a slight wave when you sat down just to be friendly. They had waved back, but then quickly returned back to their conversations. You weren't really looking for people to talk to, you just wanted to relax after the stressful day.

  After a couple of drinks you heard the tuning of a guitar in the corner. You looked over to see a couple people in the corner. They were dressed like classic teenage band members. Black jeans, skate shoes, a random t-shirt they found in the back of their closet. You examined each member. A spiky blond seemed to be the lead. He was tuning his guitar and had a microphone stood in front of him. Behind him was a short black haired girl behind a microphone. She seemed to be the backup singer. The last person was a crazy red haired boy at the drums. It seemed like your typical band that probably practices in the garage. You loved those types of bands. Something about them just seemed so raw and authentic.

  A few moments later you jumped to the sound of the red hair banging his drum sticks together.

  "ONE TWO THREE GO!" He yelled signaling the band to start.

  You never really thought a band like this would be playing at a historic bar in the middle of a harsh Boston winter. But, bands really will play wherever they can nowadays. They have to try and get any recognition they can.

  "This is the beginning of the song." The blond muttered into the microphone with his raspy voice. "I'm hearing voices, animal voices. The creme da la creme. the feminine abyss. And I'm reaching my threshold. Staring at the truth till i'm blind." He began lazily singing with the sound of a rough, badly tuned guitar.

  The lyrics weren't too bad for just some random band. You actually thoroughly enjoyed the sound of such a band like this. You could see the the crazy red hair banging at the broken down set of drums releasing all of his anger. It made you giggle a bit.

  "My body's stupid, stereo putrid. Spilling out music into raw sewage." The girl jumped into sing. She surprisingly had a pretty good voice, although it didn't really suit the vibe of the band.

  "Reaching my threshold. Staring at the truth till I'm blind." They all sang together. They repeated the same verses a couple more times. When the song had ended you could tell they were all out of breath from the loud performance. They were panting like dogs on a hot summer day.

  "WE ARE SEX BOB OMB!!!" The girl yelled out to the bar while raising her hands in the air.

  "I hope you guys enjoyed, but we've lost all of our breath for tonight, peace." The blond said while walking into the back room. Most people started clapping and cheering, some people were booing them at the fact they only played one song, but you just returned to your bitter cold beer in front of you. The cold alcohol entering your stomach calmed you from your hard day.

  A few moments later the band members took a seat at the bar near you. It seemed they just wanted a few drinks after that harsh performance.

  "Miller Lite, please." The spiky blond said to the bar tender under his raspy tone.

  "Same here." The other two members said. The bar tender poured the three drinks and slid them across the bar to them.

  "You like the show?" The blond looked over and asked to you, as you sipped your cold drink.

  "Yeah, wasn't expecting such a lame band to go this hard." You said looking over to him.

  "Hey, we try our best to look professional here." He snapped back at you.

  "I'm just teasing." You said focusing back on your drink.

  "So, you from around here?" He said with his masculine tone.

  "I go to university near here, but I'm originally from New York City." You said fiddling with the rim of your drink.

  "The big apple, huh? Must've been rough living there." He responded.

  "Not really..." You said taking a sip of your beer.

  "We're from around here. Cambridge to be exact. We spend a lot of time over in Boston though. Trying to get a good gig." He explained while taking another sip of his Miller Lite.

  "I'm sure you'll get a gig. You're pretty good." You said trying to sound nice.

  "Thanks. Maybe you can come watch us here again sometime." He said passing you a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket with their schedule printed on it.

  "Thanks, but I'm leaving the city for a few weeks to visit family back in New York. Maybe I'll see you after. My names y/n, by the way." You said looking into his bright crimson eyes while grabbing the schedule. You could see the disappointment in his eyes.

  "Oh, well that's a downer. You must be pretty busy with school too..." He said trailing off.

  "Damnit Bakugou, stop flirting with the poor girl." The red hair chipped in. The girl laughed along.

  "Shut up you prick, at least she's not a whore. I'm not even flirting." He snapped at them while getting up to go to the bathroom.

  After he had came back things were pretty quiet after the remark the red hair had made.

  About a half hour later you decided you should start heading back to campus. It was 12:30 and you needed some rest.

  "Hey, I'll try and come see your band when I come back." You said waving to them as you walked out the door.

  "See ya!" The blond said with that tired voice of his.

  "Yeah, see ya." The other two trailed along.

  You knew you probably wouldn't see them again because you're always so hung up with school. It didn't really matter to you anyways, they were just some random band at the bar.

  Little did you know, the ash blond, Katsuki Bakugou, thought you were absolutely stunning. With that perfect h/l, h/c hair of yours, your big, e/c eyes, and your little smile, you were nothing but perfect to him. You were stuck in his mind for the next few weeks. You weren't some crazy little fake fan girl looking to fuck for once. You seemed genuine.

  You had pinned the schedule he gave you onto the cork board in your dorm. Although you didn't really care too much to go and see them again, maybe it would be nice to check and see if they're still playing at L Street Tavern when you get back.

  Only a couple days later you got on the bus to New York. It was a long ride, but it was worth it all in the end. You desperately wanted to see your family after 4 long months of living alone at school.

~

  A couple weeks after your encounter with Katsuki Bakugou you still hadn't left his mind. Your beautiful name was glued to his brain. He decided to tune up his guitar and start a song about you. He liked to get his thoughts out by writing songs. It calmed him. He started with a simple,

  "Hey there y/n, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty." He thought it sounded cheesy, but he continued writing it anyways. He enjoyed the sound of a rough acoustic guitar against a sweet love song. He had never written a song like this before, it was all so new to him. He usually wrote songs about his anger or hate for people, usually engaging in more of a hard rock, or head bangers.

  A couple days later he decided to find an open mic to play the song at. He was pretty proud of the new tune and couldn't help but share it. He found an open mic session at a small family owned restaurant right around the corner from L Street Tavern. He was worried you might show up and hear the song, but he remembered, you were staying in New York for a pretty long time.

  The night of the open mic had come. He stepped into the tiny restaurant and sat down at a table with his guitar. There was quite a few people at the restaurant that night. He hoped they would like his newly crafted love song.

  Eventually, he stepped into the space with the cheap microphone and pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder.

  "I wrote this song for a girl that's been stuck in my mind for the past few weeks. I hope you enjoy." He said into the microphone.

  Authors note - Hey, I would suggest maybe listening to Hey There Delilah by Plain White Ts during this part :) okay back to the story.

  He started gently strumming his guitar to a rhythm.

  "Hey there y/n what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes you do. Times square can't shine as bright as you. I swear, it's true." He began the song with his lazy guitar playing. He continued the song. He could tell most of the people in the restaurant enjoyed the honesty behind the lyrics. It made him happy someone was enjoying his work.

  "Hey there, y/n. Don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen. Close your eyes. Listen to my voice, it's my disguise. I'm by your side." He sang under his gruff voice.

  "Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. What you do to me." He led on with the catchy bridge.

  "Hey there, y/n. I know times are gettin' hard. But just believe me, girl. Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar. We'll have it good. We'll have the life we knew we would. My word is good." Bakugou carried on.

  "Hey there, y/n. I've got so much left to say. If every simple song I wrote to you. Would take your breath away. I'd write it all. Even more in love with me you'd fall. We'd have it all." He went on, after that singing the bridge again.

  "A thousand miles seems pretty far. But they've got planes and trains and cars. I'd walk to you if I had no other way. Our friends would all make fun of us. And we'll just laugh along because we'd know. That none of them have felt this way. Y/n, I can promise you. That by the time that we get through. The world will never ever be the same. And you're to blame." He sang emotionally while strumming along.

  "Hey there, y/n. You be good, and don't you miss me. Two more years and you'll be done with school. And I'll be makin' history like I do. You know it's all because of you. We can do whatever we want to. Hey there, y/n, here's to you. This one's for you." After this he slowly ended the lovely song with the bridge,

  "Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. What you do to me, oh oh, woah, woah. Oh woah, oh. Oh." He sang softly, ending the song by strumming all of the strings on his beat up guitar.

  After he had finished the sweet tune someone came up to him.

  "Hey kid, that song you played was actually pretty good. The lyrics and rhythm were amazingly catchy. No one can ever go wrong with a classic love song. Maybe I can help you get big. I know some people in the industry. I came here to find some new musicians, actually." The mysterious figure said to him.

  Bakugou was in shock. He knew people liked his music. But not to the point where somebody like this would notice him. Especially this song. It was just some overly cheesy love song.

  "Thanks." He said not knowing what to say. He was speechless.

  "Here, give me a call." He said while slipping his business card over to the blond.

  Of course later that night he couldn't help but call the guy. He had never heard anything like this from someone.

~

  Y/n was nearing the end of her trip. She was sitting in her Mother's car on the way to the bus station back to Boston. She couldn't help but over hear the radio.

  "Hey we have a new love song from this band called Sex Bob Omb. I thought it was pretty good, how about we give it a play." You couldn't believe what you just heard, so you immediately turned up the volume on the radio. You could hear that spiky blond's classic voice over the sound of a relaxed, acoustic guitar. It seemed very unlike the band to have a song like this, or even be on the radio.

  "Hey there y/n, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes you do." The song started out gently. You jumped at these lyrics. You thought you were dreaming. But you weren't...

  "Mom, I think this song is about me..." You said trying not to sound insane.

  "Sweetie, it's just some song on the radio I'm sure you're over thinking it." She said calmly.

  "No, Mom, I saw this band at the tavern a few weeks ago. The lead singer was talking to me at the bar." You denied her.

  "I'm sure it's just a coincidence." She said keeping her eye on the road.

  "Times Square can't shine as bright as you. I swear, it's true." You softened at these lyrics. The way he wrote them... It made you feel like you were the only girl in the world that mattered.

  "Hey there, y/n. Don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen. Close your eyes. Listen to my voice, it's my disguise. I'm by your side." You couldn't help but feel like he was actually by your side, like he stated. You wished he could sing this to you, with that guitar of his, while looking you in the eyes. You really were falling for some mysterious guy. You would have never thought you would fall for some rebellious band member... or someone that you barely even knew. Music had never moved you in a way like this, it was so connecting, yet unexpected.

  Finally, You had made it back to your campus. You rushed up to your dorm to see that schedule he gave you. You wanted to see him again. The lyrics of the song made you melt. It warmed your heart. Making you fall for the random blond even more. Thankfully, the band was booked pretty far ahead on the schedule.

  A few nights later you caught yourself back at L Street Tavern hoping to see them there. You were sure they wouldn't be there now that they had made it on the radio. But it didn't hurt to try and see if they would be there.

  Unexpectedly you heard the sweet voice of the girl scream,

  "WE ARE SEX BOB OMB!"

  You turned around and made eye contact with the blond. His face flourished red. You couldn't stop staring into his glistening crimson eyes.

  "Wait, it's y/n." He said walking over to you, stopping the other band members.

  "The girl you wrote the song about? I thought that was just a made up name." The red hair said furrowing his eyebrows.

  "You came..." He said looking into your love struck eyes.

I really wanted to make a story inspired by this song so I hope you liked it. :)

Please comment some more songs you would like me to write stories about.

Also yes I got the name Sex Bob Omb and the song they sang is from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World hehe. Also, L Street Tavern is a real bar in Boston!

#bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #quirkless bakugou #quirkless au #band au #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugo #bakugo x reader #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #mha quirkless #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #bakugou fanfic #mha drabble #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou

[vesperlionheart]

Vesper’s Quarantine ‘Finished’ Reading List

If you’re stuck indoors and feeling anxious sometimes the best thing is to drown your brain in distractions until you’re able to function again. Thus, I’ve put together a list of Sakura centric stories to entertain you. There’s a lot of shameless self promo here, fair warning, but it’s my blog and my blogpost so that’s where we’re gonna start.  Some of my favorite fic are ones still being updated but this list includes only stories marked as [complete]. 

[Finished personal fic]

Obelisk: Kingdom of Man By: VesperChan 'She could swear she smelt sulfur when she exhaled. Nothing good ever came from boys who smelled like sulfur.' An ancient Egyptian curse and a world of dreams opens Sakura up to a life devoid of safety. In the darkness her nightmares bow themselves to her. In the morning they feast on her heart. AU SakuraMany Obelisk: Kingdom of Beasts By: VesperChan One Kingdom down, three to go. Carrying the scars on her heart, Sakura must brave the dreams again as this time, there are more sinister things then men waiting for her when she goes to sleep. The wolves have come to feast and her body will know their teeth. AU SakuraMany Obelisk: Kingdom of Monsters By: VesperChan More than halfway through the curse, Sakura's nightmares hold nothing back as fangs and spells seek to drag her down and bury her with the dead. Monsters have come at least to feast on what is left of her bones and devour her wounded heart. Beyond the scars and bloodshed, her soul is beginning to fade under the dim lights of another enchanted speakeasy and ruby eyes. AU SakuraMany Obelisk: Kingdom of Gods By: VesperChan Entering the final kingdom, Sakura stands atop a castle of sand to face down the gods who first orchestrated the curse and began the bloody tradition of collecting human souls in a little black obelisk. Gladiators, Egyptian gods, and blood thirsty pharaohs paint a vivid picture on the inside of her mind as she sleeps, dreams, and struggles once again. AU SakuraMany Total word count for Obelisk series: 565,292 (just over half a million words)

RED KING By: VesperChan In the wild country where it never snows but always freezes, the Red King marches his armies against the White Tsar. That is why Sakura is swept away from the lonely streets and the empty barracks into a car with a bastard prince and a promise of redemption, but if only she can face the demons that chased her in the first place and be what the king needs in his war. SakuraCentric 

Touken Revolution by Vesperchan (rated E)  Sakura, a sword smith, is nearly killed for what she really is: a sage, one who can animate weapons into warriors and give bodies to the souls she hears inside swords. Now a refugee in the land of Kiri she's building an army because it's her only hope for survival and maybe even happiness. SakuraKiri Sakura centric

Things We Lost in the Fire By: VesperChan Years later, living alone in the woods with half a dozen dogs, questionable reading material, and crippling non-attachment issues, Sakura realizes she has turned into her teacher. Agebent Sakura Sensei ShiSaku

Jealous gods by Vesperchan When a coup takes the lives of the king and the rest of the royal family, Sakura, the sole surviver, escapes to the edge of the world with Kakashi to strike a bargain with an old god. Her worship in exchange for his power. She's warned he's a dark and jealous god, but that's not enough to sway her. ItaSaku Kakasaku darkItachi AU

Lindworm & the Tam Lin Love a Changling by Vesperchan Sakura travels as a curse breaker across the land, doing what she can to put some peace back into the world. She doesn't think much of it when she breaks the curse on a lesser dragon or a fae knight, but maybe she should have. MadaSaku, HashiSaku Poly

A Confluence of Stars by Vesperchan (my WitcherAU) With the war over between two princedoms, Sakura, a sniper, returns home to celebrate Confluence with her grandmother, the local Story Keeper. She had expected it to be nothing more than just another celebration when the star rivers overlapped and the poor people partied. But, along with the rest of the world, Sakura soon realizes that Confluence did more than just give people a reason to celebrate. A wicked new world filled with monsters and magic straight from Baba's tales spills into theirs, and Sakura is forced to turn to her rifle and her stories to make sense of it. Sakuracentric 

Sugarplum by Vesperchan "They will use you up, and love you all the while, until there is nothing left of the girl you used to be." Sakura had been a chosen one, once upon a time, but that was years ago, and all the magic has left her. Still, the world calls her back and she has a new role in supporting the next girl savior many years her junior. ItaSakuSaso

Stag by Vesperchan  He was a wizard with a tower and a set of rules he should never break. Sakura was a girl with just a bit of budding magic he decides he can't ignore. Some things were made to be broken. TobiSaku 

[Finished general fic list]

Hollow Point by Sariasprincy @sariasprincy​ Arms dealing is her trade, but young and in a man's world, it takes a criminal mastermind to play with the big dogs without getting bit. TobiSaku/ItaSaku. Crime!AU. Rated M for mentions of adult themes.

Where it Happened also by @sariasprincy​e He was the new head of Cardio and her new boss, and though she thought him a little full of himself, it seemed there was more to the famed Uchiha Itachi than he led on. Not that she could claim her life was that uncomplicated as well. ItaSaku. Modern AU. Grey's Anatomy AU. Rated M for mentions of adult themes.

Nightmare in Red by @sariasprincy​ Haruno Sakura used to think the eyes were the windows to the soul, but after witnessing the horrors of the Sharingan firsthand, she's convinced they are the doors. ItaSaku. Nonmass. Rated T

Blurred Lines  by @sariasprincy​He was an international criminal. She was a federal agent. And she wanted nothing more than to arrest him - or shoot him - if only he would stop providing her leads to more desirable criminals first. MadaSaku. Rated T.

The Man in Black  A man in black haunts her hospital. But what does he want and why is it that Sakura is the only one that can see him? ItaSaku. Modern Myth AU. Death AU

The Choices We Make by @sariasprincy​He was the Head of the Uchiha Clan and she the fearless discipline of the Hokage, but how the hell was she supposed to find the strength to tell him she was pregnant? MadaSaku. Rated M for mentions of adult themes.

halcyon days by jaylene @thefreckledone​ Sakura sees dead people. Well, two dead people to be exact. Everything changes. Sakura-centric. Indra/Sakura/Ashura. 

hands like houses by @thefreckledone Sakura finds herself trapped in the past and discovers a new family along the way, however unwilling she may be. Time travel. Fix-it fic. Sakura-centric.

Borage by @thefreckledone Sakura is in search for answers. What she finds doesn't please her.

Forest Fire by Moor @kendochick-moor Mod AU. Sasu x Saku x Ita. A small spark can launch a forest fire.

Forest Fire II by Moor @kendochick-moor Sequel to "Forest Fire". University AU. Sasu X Saku X Ita. After Sasuke inexplicably broke up with her when he leaves for Oto, Sakura throws herself into her school and social life. Friends like Ino, and surprisingly Itachi, are there to help her along the way. Meanwhile another threat, in the form of unbalanced Uchiha Madara, stalks her, ever nearer.

Tipsy series by Moor @kendochick-moor Mod AU. MadaSaku. The 1-5 part  of the "5 Drunkfics" prompts.  (Rated 'M' for language & themes)

Akatsuki Sakura AU by moor  DeiSaku, ItaSaku. Konoha-verse AU. Akatsuki Sakura AU. Raised by Uchiha Madara as part of the Akatsuki, Sakura is sent to infiltrate Konoha's ranks. Things become complicated when she is promoted to a team with one of Konoha's most well-respected ANBU captains, Uchiha Itachi.

Soulmates by Moor - KakaSaku. Age-swap AU. Based on the "Soulmates" prompt from the October 2015 tumblr KakaSaku fest. Kakashi has a reputation as an enfant terrible; at least, until Sakura sensei takes him under her wing. Rated M for later chapters.

Fancy Footwork by silverfootsteps @silverfootstepswrites For Sakura, there's always been dreary days of schoolwork and unreliable people. Who knew a clumsy womanizer, an accidental pervert, a soft-hearted glutton, and an incredibly sexy virgin would light her life up like this? A friendship founded on dancing and the strange threat that tied them all together: "Fiji". AU

Equinox by silverfootsteps Sakura is half-siren, half-human, and 100% unprepared for what waits for her when she moves to a little seaside town. A place where calling someone a monster always receives the answer: "….well, duh". Monster AU. Multisaku.

Lullaby by Silverfootsteps Sakura is part-siren, part-human, and learning how to deal with a nest of lovable dorks. But nothing seems impossible in the sleepy little town of Old Pines, where magic hangs heavy in the air and a certain werewolf has learned to stop pissing everywhere. Sort of. Sequel to Equinox. Monster AU. Polysaku af.

Butterfly by silverfootsteps After winning her first and only Olympic gold, Haruno Sakura shocks the world by announcing her retirement from skating. When she returns to her little hometown of Konoha, she finds that not much has changed. The same old temples, the same old persimmon trees. Resigned to a quiet life, she settles in for what she hopes will be an uneventful retirement. Skating AU. Itasaku.

Five Kingdoms for the Dead by Evil Is A Relative Term After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

Vertigo by Cynchick Sakura accepts the most critical and dangerous mission of her life, but the price of success may very well be her soul. When your entire world turns upside down, how do you keep from going under? DeiSaku.

An Indispensable Assistant by TayMor Professional. Intelligent. Intuitive. Haruno Sakura is the assistant every boss wants. She is smart, she is capable, and she is experienced. Operating with her own hard and fast rules, Sakura has one, very important personal rule. Never fall in love with your boss. However, being indispensable to Uchiha Itachi will put that rule under heavy duress. AU. 

The Third Chance by TayMor reviewsJust because he died didn't mean he got to stay dead. The Rikudo Sennin reincarnates Uchiha Madara as his 26 year old self and he begins his third life broken, humiliated and full of despair. But things change as Madara finds himself competing against Sasuke for the attention of Konoha's favorite medic... MadaSakuSasu Set after the final battle and during the blank period.

Rainy Days by Wynth It took her a while before Sakura was convinced that she was once again in her twelve year old body, but by that time it was too late. •Time-Travel / AU•

Consequences of Saving a Life by BelleDayNight reviewsAt the end of the war, Neji is revived by Sakura. She has saved his life, now she is responsible for it. The Hyuga clan leader covets the power that Naruto and Sakura could bring the clan with unions with Hinata and Neji. Can they survive the politics of the noble clan? Naruto trains with Sasuke and Hanabi for CPE while Sakura and Neji embark on a mission together for the Daimyo.

Take It or Leave It by kc-archive  Akatsuki & Sakura. After a moment of shock, Sakura realized that two fully grown, fully naked men were sitting squished uncomfortably together in her bathtub. (dubcon warning)

Till Death Due Us Apart  by SpeedDemon315​ Ever since he was gone, she never was the same. The world was warm and cheery while she was cold and dreary. She thought there was no hope left for her…or was there? Oneshot, character death [SasorixSakura]

Bringing Back What's Dead by SpeedDemon315  Sequel to Till Death Due Us Apart. She made a promise to herself to discover a way to revive him and have him finally see his son. What happens when your greatest enemy from the past is the only one who can grant your fondest wish? SakuraxSasori

Time Flies Like An Arrow by katlou303 Sakura traveled back in time with the intent of changing everything, but something went wrong, and now she's a four-year-old civilian having nightmares about impossible monsters and losing friends she has yet to meet.

Uneasy coexistence by DeGlace One grinning shark–man. One pink–haired medic. Ankles. Teeth. Kisame x Sakura. Yes, you read that right.

The Art of War by leafygirl  Entry for the LJ Kakasaku AU contest. Sakura gets stuck following her teacher after a bet with her friends. But his mysterious life is nothing she ever expected.

Vespertine by Cynchick  Two enemies strike a bargain to save what they both hold dear. He will reveal a truth that shakes her beliefs, drawing her into a web of lies and betrayal. She will offer the redemption for which he never hoped and show him how to be human again. ItaSaku.

Caught and Set Loose by Celtic Oak AU. On a mission, Sakura and her companions find themselves in the custody of the wildest clan of the East Province. Forced to accept their hospitality and a redheaded escort, the medic must make the best of her situation, wherever it leads her. GaaSaku. 

#fic rec #fic list #Sakura Haruno #Fanfiction #have fun #happy reading #this was a big list #sorry #long post #I tried to make them short #I failed #lol #shameless self promo #there's a lot of fic finished out there #that's a lot of hours #days of reading #links #so many links #mostly ff.net links #it's easier to find fic on ff.net #AO3 is like an ocean #unless you bookmark

[gildedmuse]

Oh, cool, the show is throwing new title cards at us. You know I love that shit, show. Oh, and Luffy's name is wearing his Strawhat! Adorable! I wonder what everyone else has....

Ahhh... Brook got a musical note, of course, plus the K is shaped like a bone for the fun (because he is all bones yohohoho!). Franky has his Signature Star, which is just 🌟SUPER🌟. And Robin has her... Sunglasses?

I mean, yeah, okay. I might have incorporated like sprouting arms or books but the sunglasses are part of her design. I guess it works.

Ah, it just keeps getting better! Chopper's so cute! And he's got a little X in the second P just like in his hat! Oh, and even more adorable a cherry blossom in the first P and a freaking hoof print in the E! Too cute! (ETA: opps, no, they're both blossoms. Made it cuter than it was.)

In the meantime they straight up made the I in Sanji a fork. So too pretty different approaches there. A bunch of smaller details hidden in the letters verses just straight up making one of the letters a fork.

Whatever, it all works.

I'm kidding. It must work because everyone else gets the fork treatment. Which is fine, they're all objects that are important to them. Usopp gets his slingshot and Nami has an orange, which I can assure you is not just an orange but a symbol of her town and the fact that she is loved.

Sort of like how Usopp gets his slingshot which is incredibly important to him due to it being a sign of how he has become a brave warrior of the sea.

Establishing a pretty obvious pattern now if just sticking their most important objects in their names. No points for guessing what Zoro is going to get.

I mean obviously it's a....

Wait.

Is that suppose to be a FUCKING EYE?

Is this some kind of joke to you?

Now maybe - maybe - it's suppose to be slashes through the O although in that case there aren't even three of them, the thing he's very much famous for, but let's face it. It looks like an eye. Which...

Is this because the boy lost one?

Do you want a fucking fight, title cards? Don't think I won't.

And let's not pretend there were no better options. Zs can be made of three swords or sword slashes.

Like... Famously.

I'm watching you, you fucking title cards. Zoro and me are keeping all three eyes on you. Don't try this shit again.

#A FUCKING EYE #what is wrong with you #why are you hating on my boy #dont think i wont remember this #and get revenge #one piece #one piece opening #the strawhats #monkey d luffy #soul king brook #cyborg franky #nico robin #You're not a demon child you're a lovely person #tony tony chopper #sanji vinsmoke #usopp #nami #cat bulgar nami #roronoa zoro #A GODDAMN FUCKING EYE!? #is he a joke to you?

[redevenir]

to eat flowers and not to be afraid

woozi x reader

wc : ~ 7690

a/n : i first wrote this piece for @svtwritenight and i kept writing because it felt very nice. the title comes from this verse by e. e. cummings : « since the thing perhaps is to / eat flowers and not to be afraid » from voices to voices. I don’t think there is a specific warning here. There is only one sentence that I find disgusting, but nothing triggering. Vague references to past disasters and deaths.

« "Alas," he cried to himself in his dismay, "what ever will become of me, and how is it all to end? If I stay here upon the river bed through the long watches of the night, I am so exhausted that the bitter cold and damp may make an end of me—for towards sunrise there will be a keen wind blowing from off the river. If, on the other hand, I climb the hill side, find shelter in the woods, and sleep in some thicket, I may escape the cold and have a good night's rest, but some savage beast may take advantage of me and devour me." »

The Odyssey, Book V, Homer.

You put your hand on the doorknob. You’ve been sleeping here for a few weeks now. Compared to other places you’ve been before, this one is starting to feel comfortable. You can’t call it otherwise though. There are walls in your head, walls that you built when everything was falling apart. Vulnerability kills, you’ve learn it fast. You cannot afford to be sentimental, especially toward a mere concrete structure and yet, you’ve already overstep the boundaries you’ve set yourself. It’s not gratitude, it’s just… It’s nice. It’s nice that the two-story building is here. That it didn’t crumble like most of them, it’s nice that in what was barely a town before you’ve found it empty. That all four apartments were empty when you came in. That there’s a fireplace in each one of them. That the vegetation around has grown enough to hide most of the windows of the one you’ve chosen for yourself.

You remember the day you arrived there. Terrified of getting caught, you had rummaged through all of the apartments as fast as you could, storing all you thought might be of use. Then you had barricaded the three unoccupied ones, establishing yourself on the second floor. You hung bells behind the front door, bells behind the lobby door. Bells hung very low all over the staircase, so you’d know if someone was to come in. Nobody had so far. It was just you, day after day after day, and you were beginning to feel safe. Able to spend a few hours a day without worrying. A luxury. Just you, the bare trees around. Sometimes you’d see the occasional boars, down the road. How are they still alive? Don’t ask yourself, worries will come back. You know it now: you know nothing. You will never fully understand any of the crazy things that has happened so far, because most of them don’t make sense. Most of the time, you try – very, very hard – not to think at all. Just another way to stay safe.

You open the door to the shelter. You’re soaked, you’re tired, you can’t see a thing. It’s been a mistake, going out today, you realized. A useless loss of time and energy. You wanted to watch the road, see if there was anyone passing by. That was the first lie. No one was « passing by » anymore. You just wanted an excuse to go out. You’re being unreasonable. You know inside – you can’t even word « home » in your head, not now, not tomorrow, not a year from now – inside is safe. Home is too comfortable, too dangerous. Inside in the only safe. Home will get you killed. It will make you less and less careful. Exactly like today. You’ve been outside for hours, knowing from the start it’d be worthless. And if anyone had indeed walked that road, you couldn’t even know. The clouds were too thick and everything was too dark for you see a thing, and that was before the rain started to fall. But you stayed there. Almost confident in your warm safe place, almost looking forward to the fire you’d be lighting up to dry your clothes and warm yourself up. One might say – but there is no one anymore – you were already lucky it was just good old-fashion rain, not the burning, acid one. You tell yourself you’d recognize the deadly clouds. Maybe that’s the second lie.

Standing before the building’s door, you feel sick. It’s disgusting. All you have lost, all that is gone, for you to be this carefree. Nausea rises up your body. You shiver, close your eyes, breathe. Confidence is a concept of the past. Confidence will get you killed. Breathe in, breathe out. It is the only therapy left now. And now you’re scared. You put your hand in your pocket, touch the big rock you always keep in there. Heavy. Uncomfortable. You grab it, take it out. Breathe in, breathe out. You open the door, welcomed by the soft music of the bells. Quick, you check the entrances of the ground-floor apartments. Still barricaded, nothing has changed. Breathe in, breathe out. You climb up the stairs, as fast and as silent as you can, only to find the doors of your floor as closed as you left them. Breathe in, breathe out. You enter your flat. No harm done. Just as quiet as ever. Still, you don’t light up the room for a few days, except for the fireplace. Your shoulder hurts a bit, so you try to massage it absentmindedly. It’s winter, you assume, and you cannot afford to sleep without the warmth provided by the fire.

Summer is over, you realize, looking at the window, wondering how long you have left before all the leaves have fallen again. It’s the second time you’ll be watching them do so here. What’s exhausting, you think, is that you have no purpose whatsoever. You never left from your shelter. If you’re being honest, you haven’t even taken the time to consider it. You know you don’t want to leave. Leaving would be dangerous. You feel weak now. Your reflexes have dulled. What’s more, there is nowhere you’d rather be. And – this one, you can’t word, even in the heart of the night, even when you know no one has heard your voice for actual years now – you don’t want to see people. Either dead or alive. Enough losses, countless deaths. You don’t remember the last friendly face now, everyone has faded. Voices you remember, though. Heartless words, the various announcements of various Disasters. Now it feels as if all of it happened at once, but there is, buried in your brain, the memory of days longer than weeks when all people were doing was waiting, waiting for the news, waiting for an explanation, waiting for the way to defeat whatever force was at work against them. And then there were none.

Jihoon breathes. In, out. Finds a fix spot, focuses on it. There are blue flowers at the bottom of that small building. Keeps on breathing. Deep blue, five thin petals. Breathe in, breathe out. It’s borages, he thinks. They’re edible. Who’s eating them ? Panic begins to creep in again. Breathe in, breathe out. They’re in bloom, so it must be spring, right ? Deep breathe. He’s quite sure there is a way to make herbal tea of some sort with borages. He backs away into the woods. He’s not ready yet. He needs time to process the news. He walks deeper in the forest than ever before, tries not to overthink it, not yet, not while he’s moving, and exposed.

Later on, when he’s hidden behind branches and leaves, laying on the ground, he needs to breathe again. He feels his heart pounding in his chest, out of terror, out of anger, out of curiosity, also. Has he been seen ? And if so, who saw him ? Is he going to see the sun rise again ? And who is leaving here ? He assumes it’s a loner, for keeping a company is putting one’s self more at risk. He hasn’t. Breathe in, breathe out. Are they armed ? He barely sleeps that night. He does not lie to himself, knows he has to meet them. He simply wonders which approach will be best. Of course, he can’t just present himself, hands in his pocket. What would be the right way to make sure they’d see him as a peace-seaking stranger but intimidating enough that they wouldn’t try to murder him ? Jihoon feels a bit sick, that he has to think about it this way. It is sick. All of it is fucking sick. He doesn’t try to picture the stranger, for he knows his imagination would create a macabre mix of people he’s known and people’s he’s seen dead. He breathes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll go, and knock at the door. On his guard, but decent. Tomorrow, he’ll be brave, and go to the two-story building.

Tomorrow lasts for days, he finds out, as he keeps weighing the pros and cons of knocking on that copper-colored door. Every day, he walks for a bit through the woods, close enough so that he can see the small building, and stay there. It’s a nice door. He likes the color. Once again, he lingers. And then, he remembers that it doesn’t matter what the outcome might be. He has nowhere to be, no one to see. There is no purpose left for him in this existence. He has no plan. Shit, he’s been sleeping in the woods for months now – he cannot admit to himself there is a high chance he has been doing so for years. It is for this exact situation that the saying « nothing to loose » has been made up – of course people back then had no idea of what it actually meant. Breathe in. It’s a friendly door, he decides. Breathe out. He stands up, and begins to walk what’s left of the way to the building. 

And then he hears a crack and feels a piercing pain through his right hand. Before he can shout he’s punched in the face as he tries to turn around to see his assailant. He’s wrestled to the ground, all he can see is a messy mass of hair as they bring a hand – cold, small – to his neck. He screws his eyes shut. And nothing. Nothing happens, only heavy breathes. His, uneven because of the atrocious pain in his right hand. And the ones of the stranger who attacked him. Breathe in. He opens his eyes. They meet a furious gaze and overly frowned eyebrows. He doesn’t read anything out of it, and, as he tries to take a better look at the angry face, he realizes he’s almost surprised to see a human. He knew it, of course. Only humans use ceiling lights, as far as he knows. Still, he’s surprised to see a human face. Silence lingers.

« What were you doing ? » Your voice is croaky. He’s surprised once more. Curiosity oversteps and he wonders – when were your last words ? Clearly, he takes too long to answer, for you press over his wounded hand and he screams in both pain and surprised.

« I-i-i was going over to tha-aah-t building. To meet… who-whoever is living there. »

« Why »

Jihoon thinks, quick, quick. Breathe in.

« I figured – ahh – why not ? » Breathe out.

You remain silent.

You tell yourself you don’t feel bad, not a bit. Still, his hand looks ugly. Overall, he’s looking pretty bad. He smells of dirt, of mud. He hasn’t showered for a very long time, you guess. The air smells bad too. You look up at the sky, keeping your hand on his jaw, without pressure – you don’t want him dead, and his good hand is out of use. It takes you a bit of time but sure enough, you find the clouds. Far, but visible. You look back at the guy you knocked out. He knows. He’s been looking in the same direction as you have. You assume he can smell the air, too. Breathe in. You pity him. You sigh. You can fix this.

« Do you have anything of value nearby ? »

Jihoon screws his eyes shut, like you just slapped him. Shit. You take it as no. Take it as a they-re-way-too-far kind of no. You lift your hand off his jaw, stand up, and give it to him instead.

« Let’s go inside then. »

You’ve lit up a fire. You figured he deserved it. Hadn’t he just lost all his possessions, however meager they might be ? You try not to look at his face too bluntly, and you wonder if he’s holding up his tears. Instead, you let him walk, slow, oh so slow, around the room while you rummage among the branches of dry wood. Surely, you can find enough of them to make him a splint of sort. You’ve done it for yourself before – it did not heal as well as it should have, but it healed anyway. Without looking at him, you realize you know exactly where he is in the room. It’s been so quiet for so long, that even his soft steps are like thunder to your ears. You vaguely notice that he doesn’t go near the windows. Good, you think. Lesser chances of being seen – and you try hard not to wonder for how long he’s known about you being here.

Jihoon thinks he has rarely been this stupid, and he hates it. Turns out, he actually had things to loose : food, his clothes. At least he’s alive – but what for ? He looks at your back, annoyed, curious, still scared. You broke his hand, took him to your place and now you want to... fix... said hand - he tries not to think about the fact that taking him inside means saving him from a terrible pain - possibly lethal. He watches over the room, looking for any clue about the resident. He knows, of course, he won’t find any personal item – who has managed to keep one ? But, maybe, from the way you’ve organize the furniture – he notices the small heaps of stones under the windows. One of the walls is yellow, a bright yellow. All the others have this dull, white color to them but on this one, he sees traces of hands on the paint – the stores had been closed for a long time when you painted it, he guesses. Is it even paint that you used ? Breathe in. He remembers the bells that gently knocked over his head on your way up the stairs. Breathe out. Surely, it’s a friendly wall.

« Sit down on the chair. »

Again, it comes off wrong. A weak, faint, trail of voice. Jihoon wonders, had the situation been reversed, would you have been able to scream or shout ? He quickly decides you wouldn’t, and feels a bit sick when he puts it in the « good news » part of his brain. He does as said, sits quietly, showing his left side to the fire, while you sit down on the brown fabric sofa before him. It is massive, very long, and looks quite off. Who needs such a big couch? He gives you his hand. You take his wrist with caution – he tries not to remember when was the last non-aggressive touch he’s been given – look at his hand from every possible angle, change it when you notice him wincing. You remain silent for a little while, and organize the cheap, self-made sort of first-aid kit you’ve managed to assemble over time.

« Let me take care of that. »

You notice the brief look of surprise on his face. Of course, of course. He remains silent, however, and you start to fix up the mess you’ve made with your stone. As long as it takes, the two of you keep your words for yourselves. You don’t tell him you don’t really know what you’re doing. None of you mention the loud pounding of the toxic rain outside. You thank the men of old for inventing the concrete. Jihoon tries not to think of his stuff, doomed to rot. Fire warms up both of your faces as you work.

It’s very early – you know it, because the birds have just started to sing. You’ve put a new log moments ago. The intruder is dozing on the couch. You assume he’s had a long day, between your encounter, the broken hand – you didn’t tell him how bad it was, if he’s made it so far, he already understood. But you can’t fall asleep. You can’t think about falling asleep. You’re frightened. Of course, he can’t do you any harm. Still, it’s so sudden. When did you turn into this human-shaped scaredy cat ? You shut your eyes, open them up. Look away from the fire, to the sleeping form. Now you can take a good look at him.

A bit shorter than you are, around your age – maybe older, maybe younger? Hunger has a terrible way of making people look younger, you’ve found out. Yet despair makes them look older, so who knows. His hair looks as wrong as the rest. Dark, messy. You assume he’s tried to keep them on the short side by his own means. He’s underfed – but so are you. He looks fiery – dangerous, you think, if he’s survived so long, and come so far. Then it hits you. You’ve made it so far. You’re the one who found this removed place, barricaded it, you’re the one with a stock of heavy stones near all of you windows. You’re to be feared as much as he is. All of this has turned you into a cold-blooded huntress – or are you still a prey on the lookout ? Who will tell the difference now. Everyone who had once known the vulnerable you has disappeared. You feel the nausea creeping in. Breathe in. Tomorrow you will offer him to take a shower

None of you talk much. Jihoon notices how you keep avoiding to look at him straight in the eyes. He’s not much help, so he lights up the fire, cleans up a bit. Days are shorter now. If he comes near the windows he can feel the poor isolation. Still, he hates to do nothing, tries to keep himself busy. With the bunch of pens you’ve gathered as a reflex more than anything, he learns to write with his left hand. It is hard, and messy, and he’s glad no one will see it. The first conversations you have are about plants. It’s a safe topic, harmless, useful, and it appears you know as much as he does. Although, you can name them, whereas he had to learn to recognize them the hard way. You both list what’s growing around, exchange a few cooking ideas. You say nothing about his diet, but the first time you cooked meat in front of him you let him have it all. And the second time. The third time he asks you to stop, you retort he needs it. Jihoon really can’t do anything about it, but the first time you cut it in half, he smiles.

One night, as you’re both sitting in front of the fire, it escapes from your lips, like a confession held up for too long, you turn your head to your left to face him.

« I grew up on the coast, too. » He’s surprised, as usual, tries to look at your face from the side, and you see the outline of a smile, the light squinting of his eyes. « Is that so ? » You hum in confirmation, turning away to face the fireplace again. Jihoon takes his time, tries to list all the things he knows about you. From your accent – thick, slow-paced – he gets you’re from a different district than him. Obviously though, you’ve met people from his. How else would you know what he hasn’t told you? You’re good at hunting, at least good enough that twice a week you catch something for the both of you to feed upon it – mostly birds or rabbits. You’re generous, he knows that. His mere presence here proves it. You like the color yellow and don’t know the very basics of medicine. You’re taciturn – or cautious? There is no way of telling which was there from the beginning and which has come from a traumatic series of disasters. Not a fast runner. You understand his need for space – you never say anything when he closes the dark, old, heavy curtains during rainfalls. You still haven’t asked anything about him before. And this, as much as he’s thankful for it, makes him uncomfortable. Do you not ask because you don’t want him to ask you back? Obviously you have things to hide. You’re so well off here. No one can reach this level of comfort – isolation, warmth, food, even the amount of bells you’ve gathered is suspicious – without having some ugly deeds on their hands. He has too. Or maybe – he shivers – you don’t ask him because you suspect where he’s coming from? Or worse, maybe you just plain know it, and don’t wish to address it. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe you were just craving companionship as much as he was, maybe you don’t care, maybe you don’t want to care, and maybe he shouldn’t.

He must take it slow, not overwhelm you. He’s still worried you might send him off once his hands is all good – although he knows it will never be the same. Good at fighting, he adds to his list – or are you just good at ambush ? He finally settles for the next thing he wants to know.

« Have you read any of the books in here ? »

Safe, keep it safe. Be normal.

« Some, not many. Also, they don’t teach you that in school, where I come from. » Jihoon wants to slap himself. He knows that. Of course he does. The illiterate districts, how did he forget? Even after it’s all gone, inequalities remain. However alien it might look now, you are still walking on the ashes of the same damn country. He tries to contain his discomfort and remain casual. What will you do, when you find out – it’s not an if, he knows you will, he has no desire of leaving you now. Is he doomed?  

« Anything good ? »

« The dictionary sure is handy. »

That’s the first time you hear him laugh. It’s light and bright, as he shakes his head a bit, and it makes you smile as well.

That’s the first time he sees you smile. It’s genuine and hidden, and he might have missed it if he had closed his eyes a bit longer. It’s a friendly smile, he decides.

He asks about the geography, and, as expected, he knows more than you do about this district. He tries not to feel the pain in his chest when he understands you’ve just walked blindly until you couldn’t anymore, as far as you could from the terrifying remnants of civilization, that you didn’t have a plan. He tries really hard, but still pats your head kindly, throat tight. All you’re really sure about is that you had never been this far north before, and that you didn’t know what true winter was. He should be used to it, by now. No one was prepared and yet every time it is a slap in his face to find out others have been through hell as much as he has. Jihoon is simple. He wishes no harm to anyone. He doesn’t ask  for the specifics – not yet. He does not need to know much you’ve been screwed up – he doesn’t want to admit how mad it will make him. But he starts to teach you. He draws map on the floor, using dry leaves as borders. He rummages through the books, finds some he likes. He even asks you if he can go into the other flats, you know, in case there might be something he’d like. You say yes to everything, he finds out. You cut him out every time he tries to justify himself. The first time you tell him he lives here as much as you do is the first time he wants to smooch you.

It’s the middle of the night, and you’re trying to wake him up, hand on his mouth, tugging at his sleeve, when you realize you don’t know his name. He’s been there for weeks – the slow healing of his hands tells you that much – and not once have you asked for his name – you feel too guilty to realize he hasn’t, either. You’re already too scared to worry about it, and you shake his arm vigorously as your ushered whining intensifies.

« Wake up, wake up, wake up, oh please wake up, someone is near, someone is there I’m begging you please just wake up already. » Jihoon opens up his eyes in panic at the sound of your supplication. He whispers hurriedly to you, and it hits you once again that he is survivor too. At that moment, you see he’s ready for anything, he’s always ready for anything.

« Who ? Where ? How many ? »

« Just outside, I saw moving shadows at the edge of the forest. I think two, maybe three. » You’re a good huntress, he trusts your sight. But before your eyes you see the quick change in his attitude. From the serene companion to a determined fighter. He looks at you straight in the eyes, all sleep forgotten. « Do you think they’ve noticed us ? »

« I think the curtains do a great job at hiding us, we don’t have any light on... »

You both end up hiding in your bedroom, barricaded, doing nothing. What could you do anyway ? You’re no murderer – apparently  he isn’t either. No bell’s melody is heard. The shadows don’t come in, you don’t come out. It’s the first time Jihoon actually comes inside your room. Sat on the floor, he says nothing about the bed, that clearly hasn’t been touched for a long time, judging by the layer of dust. He says nothing about his hand you’re holding. He notices your bag, the few clothes you’ve hanged. He’s grateful they also fit him, even if it’s probably unflattering. Otherwise he would have been stuck with what he had on his back when he met you – not much, almost torn to pieces. There are small lines drawn on the wall near the headboard, he wonders what you were trying to count, and how long you’ve done it before giving up. He jumps a bit when you tell him it’s birds – forgot you were watching him.

« They’re… Well. It’s uncanny. » You don’t look at him, you’re staring at the ceiling. He watches all of the signs on your face that tell him your fear, trying to learn your language, so that the slightest thrill won’t go unnoticed. You deserve it, don’t you? To be acknowledged. His hand tightens a bit around yours.

« Uncanny... ? »

« You know. What do they do when it rains ? » Jihoon misses a breathe. Oh my god. How, after all this time, can there be a new terrifying side to the Horrors ? He’s lived in the woods for so long, and not once has he though about it. He’s been worried for himself, of course. He stopped counting the sleepless nights he has spent anxiously hoping his little shelters, made of whatever he was able to find at the moment, would hold on. He’s been careful not to eat carcasses, out of fear they might be poisoned but this, this is new. This is a precise, specific aspect of terror. He feels dizzy and his train of thought is out of reach when you move to face him, close, hand on his face. Soft, gentle, even if he winces a bit.

« Hey, hey, don’t fret, you whisper. Corvids are super smart, and they’re the only ones I see here. Don’t overthink it. I stopped. »

He slowly catches his breathe, and says nothing as you keep holding his wrist in your hand.

You barely sleep for days after that, and Jihoon wonders if you’ve felt that way with him first. You ask him to keep you up and for the first time since the day he lost all of his remaining clothes and food – the very day he met you – he wants to cry. But he stays with you. You barely go to your room anymore, therefore when you pass out on the couch, exhausted, he stays with you, makes sure he doesn’t fall asleep, for he doesn’t want to loose your trust. He sees it now. You’re no danger. You’re terrified, and you’ve been alone for a long, long time. So he complies

« Can we build a greenhouse ? Or, at least, organize a garden? »

« I guess we could… But it’d be very obvious there’s people in the house. »

Jihoon shrugs. « Whatever. »

You look at him, startled. « Are you not worried ? »

« What else is there to do anyway ? I think it would be nice to have a project. And to achieve it. » You don’t tell him you need seeds for a greenhouse to be useful. You don’t want to argue, you want to trust him. If you’re being honest, you’ve been observing him since he first arrived. For a long time, it was anxious surveillance and side-eyeing. Like animals meeting at sunset, wondering how lethal the other may be. Now… Now, you wonder how bad it has been for him, so bad that he never brings it up. You assume he’s killed people, you fear he was among those who worked for a faster destruction of humanity’s ruins. Did he take part in raids over these little communities? Burn them to the ground, for the mere reason they were trying to keep a kind of society going? Was he – it’s hard to admit it’s a possibility – working for the government? You shake it off. You want purpose, and safety, and kindness, and Jihoon has been all of it and more – you cannot tell him yet how much you enjoy when he caresses your hand, you’re pretty sure he only does it when he thinks you’re asleep.

« Alright then. » You never tell him you’re not even sure there were trespassers that night.

Time passes, and he forgets there is a world outside of the one you both share. He forgets his life before you as he learns more about yours before him. Slowly, carefully, you tell him where you were, and what you were doing every time you heard the news of a Disaster. He holds you tight when you remember the nuclear one, more vividly than any other, for one of the bombings happened in your are. You heard it with your own hears, saw it with your own eyes, smelled it with your own nose. He apologizes and promises never to ask again. You brush it off, telling him he’s not the one who blew it up. You keep for yourself the nausea you never quite got rid off, the loss of balance when you run, the broken ankle you had to fix yourself. How sometimes you have to sit down under the shower, and bite your fist because your brain is confused between the toxic rain and the hot running water.

You contemplate the large pot of cooling water. It is routine now. Filling it up in the shower, boiling it, waiting. You don’t know if the running water’s infected, but what are the odds? It is already a miracle it’s still running, and quite clear at that. You remember the last time you saw a river after a downpour. Red from the blood of melting fishes. Sickening scent. Maybe that’s the reason why you’ve waited for so long to settle down – you’ve let your guard down, you don’t even realize it’s a home now, it’s good, you don’t know it yet, but it is good. It was the last sight of your agonizing town, when you ran, still in your work uniform, without a goal, without a plan. Away.

« How did you paint the wall yellow ? » He asks, as he plucks the petals of a heather sprig, a very satisfied smile on his lips.

It catches you off guard, as always. The first change you notice is his voice. It’s dulcet now – you remember the word, because it is in one of the few books you’ve read here. You like it. It is small and soft, and has a pleasing meaning. You look at your companion. It fits him well – you forget you first meant his voice.

« With great difficulties. Once I was done I realized I had no turmeric left, and I felt like an idiot. »

« It’s nice. I like yellow. »

You hum. « With a lot of madder we could probably get enough orange for another one. I’ll show you. »

It’s summer now. Days never get any warmer, and you both agreed to spend some time outside, enjoying the sun on your skin. You’re walking in the woods, Jihoon following you, as you’re both looking for dyer’s madder. Every few minutes he points out some plants he’s recognized, waits for you to tell him its name, and gives his verdict.

« Here. »

« Bear leek. »

« Grandiose. I respect them. These ones, on the other hand... »

« Fool’s… par… sley… ? » You, muse, unsure.

« Never. Eat. That. »

You raise a hand to catch a pear – pears are safe, pears are delicious – and Jihoon tries not to stare at your arm’s skin, bruised, torn by the fog – how long as it been ? Will it heal someday ? You know there are plants good for healing skin, but none of you knows which ones, and you’re both too afraid of making a severe mistake. Anyway, Jihoon has seen your body, as much as you’ve seen his, knows there are more like these, ancient. You’ve been caught under the rain more than once, and you’ve been hurt. Hurt by human hands. That he knows as well, you’ve been among those poor bastards used for testing, when the rain began to fall. He’s seen the little scars inside your arms, from the shots of whatever they put into your veins. It’s fucking disgusting. Jihoon wants to set someone on fire – he remembers, of course, there’s only you with him.

You watch as Jihoon opens and closes his hand absentmindedly.

« You know it will never heal properly, right ? » You ask, mouth full of big chunks of pear.

« I do, thank you. » You shut your eyes, and Jihoon feels guilty about the venom in his voice. Of course, he’s resentful, and, well you’re the one who smashed his fingers, but still, he hates the miserable look on your face. He watches as you breathe in. The pear juice drips down your chin. You swallow the last chunk.

« There’s nothing more I can do to fix it. But I-I can make up for your loss, you know, you breathe out. I can keep hunting, I can cook... » He softens, as you can’t finish your sentence. He let frustration take the best of him. He knows, he’s been replaying the scene over and over at night. He would have done the same, and it is worth it. Companionship. Having someone else around. It is so much worth it. His voice is but a whisper when he tells you « Okay, it’s okay, it’s neat, I understand, I’ll stay. » and he means it.

This is your first quarrel, but it is nothing, nothing compared to the next one, Jihoon ruminates. The second one is big, full of shame, of disgust, of anger and torment. It’s a hurricane of every frustration you’ve ever had in your life, hurled to his face. It was too good to last, he tells himself, but when you spit at his feet it still feels like a slap. He’d rather have you shouting at him. You’re just disgusted. He gets it, anyway, how unfair it must be for you. How iniquitous it is for you.

You come from a poor district, that much you knew. What you don’t know, and what he does, is that it was not only one of the poorest, but it was supposed to remain this way. Nothing was ever done to improve people’s life down there because the elites never wanted the scum to rise above their condition. Of course, he doesn’t say it like that, but when the « illiterate states » expression escapes him, he knows you won’t let it fly. So he tells you everything, and how things actually happened during the Fall. How it was no accident that the first bomb was dropped on the cities with the most workers. How they knew, up there, that no one will complain. How he heard, half-whispers in the streets, about the tests done far over there. Hopes of creating a vaccine against radioactivity – but were they, really? So little was heard, it was like a urban legend. That was when you spit at him. Of course there were testing. They had gone door-to-door, the doctors in their white coats, going through each household, claiming to offer a cure, without ever saying who were the actual guinea pigs. And anyway, they certainly weren't going to be able to work any more, so why not, what's the point of being skeptical now? You only stop when you realize it is over anyway. You cannot seek revenge nor destroy the government – it’s already a thing of the past. When tears run down your cheek in rage, he takes your hand and apologizes. Even though he wasn’t there, even though it wasn’t him. Jihoon feels someone has to make amends for you. So he does.

You say nothing of it after. What could he do about it. Jihoon is kind. Jihoon never hurt you. You let it go, like all the rest.

It is very early again, when you come back from your hunt, distraught, and hurt. It is the bells Jihoon hears first, immediately sitting straight, shaking the sleep off, adrenaline rushing. He runs to the door, checking it’s well locked, expecting the worse, a heavy stone in his left hand. It’s only when you try to open it, and pathetically whimpers it’s you that he opens, closing right after you rush in. You shakily make your way to the water, splashing it on your face as fast as you can.

Bad doesn’t even begin to describe how bad you look, holes in your clothes, shaking, is that blood on your shirt ? Nothing else looks like blood, Jihoon has learn, it is unmistakable. When he comes closer to you, you’re already trying to get a hold of yourself. He notices your fists moving slowly in the air, as you try to recover an even breathe.

« What… ? »

You face him and the end of his question is useless. It’s not that bad, but your face is marked, tiny bits of skin are missing, leaving your skin red and sticky. You reek of disease.

« Did it rain ? I didn’t hea... »

« The fog. » Your voice is breaking. « It’s e-even in the f-fog now. » You curl up on yourself, and Jihoon takes matters into his own hands. Puts them on your shoulders, guides you to the small bathroom in the corner of the bedroom. Helps you out of your clothes. He doesn’t want to invade your personal space, so he focuses on the sounds of water running. Gently pushes you inside, as your whimpering turns to wailing that you try hard, very hard, to silence. It’s crushing, really, that after all this time you still feel the need to hide your vulnerability from him. He takes your hand, comes closer to you, lets the shower soak him, and whispers to you it’s okay, really, you can let it go, it must be so painful, don’t worry and I’m here and don’t, oh please don’t worry. You hold him strong as you cry out loud for the pain, curling up again. It will never end. You’ve acted without caution and you’re a fool. As he washes you up you promise to yourself never to be this dumb again – you cannot let him down.

That night you sleep on the bed, and Jihoon realizes you’ve almost never done so since he’s here. He crawls in after you, laying close but careful not to touch you. He knows your skin will be sensitive for days. You fall asleep right away, exhausted, empty of all tears, without a word, and he tries to remember how it feels to be under the rain – it’s been a long time. He’s been relying on you for too long, it is about time he returns the favor. Tomorrow, he’ll be better.

He doesn’t let you leave the bed for days, doesn’t let you alone for more than a few minutes, he moves the sofa and the table to the bedroom. The only thing he cannot carry with him is the fireplace. So he wakes up, lights a fire, assembles a breakfast for both you to eat together, spends his day reading, talking with you when you can, whispering to you when you’re too tired to answer, napping, washing up, putting logs into the fire. The memory of a past convalescence floats between the sheets, a fossil from another world. How can you even remember it? It is there, though. The first one. You had just left the hangar for a few minute, to enjoy some fresh air after inhaling sawdust for hours. It was not a bad job, you’d tell yourself. Useful, crafty. The incessant creaking of electric sanders made it possible to have private discussions, which was already a luxury when you had started to work. When it rained for the first time on your small port town, a summer shower – you come from the sunniest of the districts, after all.

You’re chewing on leaves of mint, as you watch Jihoon tidying the room. You let your mind wander as he hangs your shared clothes in front of the fire to dry. Jihoon can stay still, you tell yourself. He can be quiet, and collected, but he needs something to do, something to think about, and unless he finds it he get antsy. You cut him some slack, remembering you’re quite similar in this aspect. That you were once calm and level-headed, until it was no longer manageable. However, there is a chance he has always been restless – maybe that’s why he endured better than you did before you met. Jihoon has the heart of a lion, and surely anything he’s done was for his survival or others’. You don’t doubt him. He nice, he is caring. He has this boyish, grumpy face, and he’s both knowledgeable and...

« What are you thinking about ? »

You jump, eyes wide.

« What ? What is ? »

« No-nothing ! You’re very reliable, that’s all. » He chuckles at that.

« Well, it’s nice to be acknowledged. »

You don’t answer, face burning hot. You miss Jihoon’s fond smile and the red on his own cheeks.

When you finally go outside again, buds herald the return of spring. You keep sleeping side by side, like it was never a question. It takes even longer for you to go out again, yet you’re terrified of Jihoon getting hurt alone outside. But he is careful, quick. When he comes backs, he seems even more worried about you than you are about him. Slowly, you sleep closer and closer in bed, like it would change something to your fate. Like it might make things right, after all. If you keep close enough, who knows, maybe you’ll be protected. Maybe no one will ever notice any of you. You never let go of Jihoon’s hand. And you say nothing when he starts to put his hand on you side to sleep, his breathe not far from your neck. It comes slow, and gentle, and tender. He is patient, and impatient, and what you don’t know is that it is as impressive, as intimidating for him as it is for you. What is he supposed to do when he’s holding you in his arms, when every time he’s been this close to someone was during fights – including with you?

So when you tell him you’re scared, but not of him, he understands. And so do you when he tells you sometimes when he wakes up he forgets you’re the one on his side. But surely it is okay there are burning butterflies in your belly when you feel his breathe on your ear when he tells you this and that. This time you notice the pink flush on his cheeks – he does not answer.

« You were right, it is very nice. »

« Told you. » He doesn’t even look at you and keeps drawing. He’s gotten a lot better, you’ll admit. Now, his handwriting is even better than yours – which probably has gotten worse, since you never write anything. You contemplate the small plant you managed to put in a pot, amazed that such a simple, delicate setting makes you feel so good. All you had to do was to pick a bit of fern and put it in a useless pot full of earth. With Jihoon’s drawings hanging on the walls – some of them drawn on the walls – you are now at home. You sigh in contentment, sinking deeper into the couch. This spring is cloudy, but the fire burning in this house is infinite.

«I feel blessed you’re here.»

Jihoon looks up, sees you spread out over the sofa. He already feels the blush on his face, but he is tired. He stands up, walks up to you. He kneels down by your side and takes your hand. He swallows his saliva as you sit up, looking worried. He pulls a little on your arm, so you’re face to face, and gentle, brave, insane, he kisses you.

Eyes closed, you reach for his hand.

Tomorrow means nothing now. There is no hope of anything getting better at this point, yet here you are, holding hands with him, waking up with him, making plans with him. Why not?

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi x reader #to eat flowers and not to be afraid #ljh #apocalypse au #my writings

[lucindarobinsonvevo]

Good News This Week for Fans Of Eerie, Indiana Who Just This Week Put Out Their Long Time Unreleased Album ‘Broken Record’  

“We had no idea we were making a controversial record when we made it.” Band member Simon Holmes said this week, in an interview about the release of Broken Record, “I was just writing about my experiences. I guess my life was controversial.”  “I always felt like Simon never got enough recognition.” Admits the band’s front man Marshall Teller, “So when we made Broken Record I told promotion that it had to be equal this time, not like the mess that was promotion for JSNTF. When they decided not to put the album out, it felt like the label was just twisting the knife.” (note: JSNTF is Just Say Not To Fun was the band’s previous release) “Of course, then we had to throw something together from cut tracks and other bits we had lying around. I was never happy with the quality of America’s Scariest Home Videos. 

Broken Record was mostly forgotten for two decades before the band’s third member and later addition to the band, Dash X, was asked about it on an Instagram Q&A (of all things) when responding to a question from a long time fan he revealed that the band’s entire back catalouge had been destroyed by the label in an ‘accident’ and chances of release were ‘minimal’ unless ‘the bastards who keep leaking our tracks want to give us a copy’. Indeed, hard core Eerie, Indiana fans will know that various tracks from Broken Record have been making their way through fan groups for the last two decades since the initial recording. How they got there is difficult to say, though some sources claim that ‘Weird Kids’, ‘Tension’ and ‘Bigfoot is Real’ were all set to be singles and sent out to radio stations, and others claim to have taken them straight from work tapes of the record. One enterprising fan claims to have traded rare Taylor Swift tracks to someone who gave them a copy of ‘Ousted’, which they then shared on Periscope. 

Of course, how this release came about is as strange a story as one might expect from a band who released a concept album about being hypnotized into hating fun. Long time collaborate of the band, Janet Donner was apparently looking for pictures of her girlfriend and band mate Melanie Monroe (Both were considered part of the Indiana Six) in her storage locker with Teller when they came across a box marked ‘Marshall’s Junk’ inside was a variety of old ‘memorabilia’ from the era where all six projects were active at once. Among the junk was an old work tape of the first time the group recorded the album’s centerpiece ‘MMNH’, sheet music for several other tracks, and a large binder promotional material, lyrics and old photographs. Seeing that they now had the last remaining copy of any track off the album the band decided to get together and re-record it as a special gift to their fans. ‘Janet is a bit of a character. She hates to throw away anything to do with work, but she’s utterly ruthless when it comes to her personal life. She’s got three storage containers full of junk, and a house where she won’t even hang up artwork.  We used to tease her, but I guess it paid off in the end.” Teller said of the find

But what of the album itself? Well, the overall sound is like no other Eerie, Indiana album that’s for sure. Despite all their changes and use of multiple genres, one thing always held every E,I record together and that was Teller’s skillful guitar playing. Complicated riffs, long solos and difficult to reproduce life performances were a staple of the group, but almost utterly absent on this record, but not gone entirely from the tracks meant to be released as singles where the pop flavouring the band usually has remains undiluted. 

The most stand out track on the record is MMNH, which is sung by both Teller and Janet Donner, who take on the role of a dysfunctional couple arguing over the top of a beautiful piano track. The liner notes say that this fight is based on the arguments of Holmes’s parents and the personal digs that they take at one another are extremely niche and telling of that. While there are certainly no lack of tracks were Teller takes an emotional, confrontational stance with his singing, here it sounds much more refined and serious than he did at the time this album was originally recorded. Donner takes her voice an octave higher than her usual singing, and comes across as loud, and shrewd, at one point breaking down into tears while still singing. Conversely, Teller only gets louder, and angrier as the song progresses to a peak around the seven minute mark where his voice cracks, he stops and Donner sobbing is the only sound on the tape for minute afterwards. It’s an uncomfortable listen, to say the least, but the performances are perhaps some of the best in the career of both singers. The worktape version of the song is five minutes longer and very clearly an extremely early pass. Throughout the recording, someone, probably Donner, is wearing very loud, jangling jewelry. There are several long pauses on the track of Holmes at his piano, contributing a rare vocal performance of background vocals, which were cut from the final track. At the end, you can hear Holmes say cut, and Teller comforting Donner, who insists she’s fine just emotional. The track is experimental and clearly emotionally taxing, just like the rest of the album. While I wouldn’t have put it so close to the other most emotional track on the album, Broken Record, it’s certainly a one of a kind experience. 

Broken Record, the tile track, is also an extremely emotional track, but personally I think would have qualified the album and the track for grammys. The track is written and played solely by Holmes, the only track of it’s kind in the entire Eerie, Indiana cataloge that was released, though there are rumors that there were more Holmes led tracks that he personally refused to release due to dissatisfaction with his singing voice. The track is a ballad, performed with a guitar, and is essentially a letter to Holmes’s brother, Harley. He sings through the run time, apologizing for not being able to not protect him enough. In the gentle climax of the song, he professes to feeling like a broken record, apologizing and apologizing and feeling like he’ll never say it enough. This track too is a deeply emotional listen, and extremely sad. At the time the song was written, Harley Holmes was in a military academy after getting into to much trouble in the small home town of the bands two founding members. Truly, Holmes has a nice singing voice, but it’s imperfections make the track all the more compelling in my opinion. Thankfully, one quick look at his Instagram account shows that his relationship with his brother seems to be a happy one. The leaked version of the track is not notedly different to the released version, other than it’s remarkably low quality (probably from years of being traded as an MP3 through various fan emails), and sounds far sadder than the version released now that Holmes’s relationship with his brother is doing better. 

Of course, the track-list is not devoid of the usual Teller-isms one finds on an Eerie, Indiana album. The supposed first single ‘Bigfoot is Real’ is a spot of real sunshine on a very bleak track-list with your usual flavour of complicated riffs. The song is devoted to celebrating the friendship between the two leads, who met as children and in their own words were ‘kind of obsessed with proving that their hometown as weird’. It’s a fun, fast paced moment of happiness on the album. 

Ousted, the final leaked track is a song with steel drums leading the charge. Though Teller is once again the singer, he’s clearly just the mouthpiece for Holmes, who sings about being ousted from his home life with his parents and moving in with Teller’s family. While it seems like it might be another sad song, it’s actually a loving song about finding family and non-typical family structures. The opening samples a recording of the actual court appearance where the Teller family was awarded full custody of Holmes by a judge. The liner notes suggest that this was recorded by Teller illicitly because he wanted to remember the day ‘Simon became my brother for real.’ Like the band’s final effort, Reality Takes a Holiday, Broken Record is a one two punch sort of record where the theme you think you’re going to get isn’t quite what you get. Yes, Broken Record is about the disrupted home life of Holmes, there’s a lot of love in the happier tracks. Weird Kids, Inbetween Tweens and Bigfoot is Real are all about being loved and accepted by your friends, and the deeply rooted friendship between Holmes and Teller. It ultimately becomes a record about finding a home and a family who love and accept you for you. 

Dash X is largely absent on the album, though he is the guitar player on the intermission track, but since he was not a member of the band during the initial recording, and he is busy with his current job as a voice actor there is seemingly not a lot of use for him here. Not to say he doesn’t pop up on some tracks, there was an entire extra verse added to High Strung for him where his raspy, gravelly voice adds a new layer of sound and texture to an otherwise cutting floor worthy track. Another track that feels like a miss is Under Foreign Stars, which is a Teller penned track about feeling alone in a new town that belongs on Foreverware, or an early demo tape far more than it belongs here. 

The liner for the album contains the lyrics, and a lot of previously unseen photos apparently taken by Donner of Eerie, Indiana in the studio recording in all era’s of the band’s existence. Including an extremely rare picture of PDA between X and Teller, who were closeted at the time. When asked about the owner of the broken collarbone features on the back of the album, Holmes revealed that it actually belongs to Melanie Monroe, and that it was technically because of her that the album was re-recorded they wanted to pay homage to her and use an old x-ray of hers instead of the one that was featured originally, apparently a broken arm belonging to Teller after disregarding the instructions of a waterside. 

When asked if this means that Eerie, Indiana was reuniting, Holmes said that they were not, this was currently a one of project to say thank you to their fans. “Eerie, Indiana fans have always been such great supporters of our individual careers, we wanted to give them something new. But there’s always hope about Eerie, Indiana putting out new music. Who knows. Watch this space!” 

#eerie indiana #Simon Holmes #marshall teller #dash x #janet donner #mitziedits #another adition to the EIAACU #(eerie indiana as albums cinematic universe) #this one only took me 4 hours and i like it way more than the other one lol #i thought simon deserved more than the two lines he got in the stah album so. yeah

[a-simple-imagine]

When Worlds Collide - Chapter 1

Synopsis: Unsure of what to do, you head home for the night but while everything looks the same nothing is quite what it seems. Even the people you know are acting weird.

Based on the events of Into The spider verse only instead of ending up in Miles’ universe you end up in the MCU

Pairing: MCU!Natasha x fem!reader

Words: 2.4k+

Warning - Swearing

Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for a good few years now, I've been the one and only... Spider-Woman. I'm pretty sure everyone already knows the rest; saved a bunch of people, saved the city, and then I saved the city again, and again, and again, and again. Joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Nearly caused the end of the world. Ended up saving it instead with a little help. Became an official avenger. Look, I'm a comic book, a cereal, even an action figure. This job can be hard. There were moments I wanted to give up: I almost did but after everything, I still love being Spider-Man. I mean who wouldn't? So no matter how many hits I take, I always find a way to get back up. because there’s only one spider-woman. And that’s me. 

"Y/L/N. Looks like you've got some friends in very high places."

Eagerly rising to your feet, you awkwardly wave goodbye to your less than chatty cellmates. You couldn't get more than two words out of most of them. There was one guy who was more than happy to get close to you but as his hand moved on your thigh you knew his intentions were less than favourable. The officer shut the door behind you and led you into the centre of the bullpen where an all too familiar face stood. A smile breaks out onto your lips instantly.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Let's go." You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you stumble behind the billionaire. He was being surprisingly calm about the whole thing but somehow that was worse. You expected a lecture or at least a light scolding but he was silent as you walked to the car. You'd screwed up so many times but he had never had to bail you out of jail before. Maybe he was just disappointed which again is worse than him being angry. Happy stood by the black town car eagerly awaiting your arrival. He pulls open the passenger door and you're glad to see another familiar face. Tony slips in first.

"Hey Happy!" You smile as you slide onto the leather seats beside him, the door closing after you. You fumble with your seatbelt, securing it before relaxing. You fall into silence as the car drives away, worried about what Tony has to say. He seems much more interested in his phone though and happy was being about as chatty as normal. You shift awkwardly in your seat, looking at the passing world outside the window.

"So breaking and entering, huh?" Tony pipes up. You glance at him but his attention is still elsewhere

"It was a complete misunderstanding. That was my apartment-"

"Tell that to the woman whose place you broke into." He slyly interrupts. With a huff, you turn back to the window. "Do you want to tell me where you got these?"

He tosses you a clear plastic bag that held what few personal items you were carrying. You're not sure what he's talking about considering there are some keys, your phone and a pack of gum. Your brows furrow as you glance to him, he seems to be inspecting your web-shooters. He meets your curious eyes. "Got what?"

"These," He shakes them before you. He made them so you're confused why he's asking but try to think nothing of it. Your shoulders rise in a shrug.

"You wanted to implement them as part of the suit itself but I insisted on them being separate components so I could use them without."There's no clear change in his expression for you to figure out how he's feeling. Tony adjusts in his seat, leaving your web-shooters in his lap. "How did you find me? I didn't call you."

"I know everything," He shrugs. "Especially when a kid in a Spider-Man suit breaks into a random apartment."

"I didn't break in," you argue, brows furrowed.

"Then why were you arrested?"

"Because the cops are idiots," You grumble, folding your arms over your chest. This whole situation was stupid, is it really breaking and entering if it's your own apartment? If anything the woman who called the cops should have been arrested for breaking into your place. Your key wasn't working in the door and so you had resorted to picking the lock, that was pretty normal but you hadn't expected there to be someone inside. Or that she had already called the police. You tried to explain the situation but it barely made sense to you. You spent what felt like days in jail so you were grateful to Tony. It was a complete misunderstanding, I swear."

You watch him as everything goes quiet again. It's a little suspicious that Tony just showed up, you could have been any kid in a suit. Didn't mean you were actually the one and only Spider-Woman. You could have been cosplaying but you decide not to press him. He seemed deep in thought which for some strange reason reminds you of the dinner you hadn't attended. Maybe that's why he seemed so distant. "I-I'm really sorry," you mumble out quietly as the car comes to a halt at a red light. "I didn't mean to miss dinner- I was just swinging along and next thing I know I'm in Times Square and I've skipped half the day. I really did want to be there, you know I love helping Janet out with dinner. And I'm sure whatever you had was great-"

"I'm gonna stop you there," Tony interrupts, "Because I don't know what you're talking about."

Was Tony okay? It wasn't like him to forget things so easily first the web-shooters, now this. "You invited me to dinner yesterday? When you came to give me my new gadget, don't you remember?"

He shook his head. "Didn't happen." Your eyes narrow in on him as you try to figure out if he's messing with you or not. "These web-shooters of yours look just like the ones the kid has, do they work?"

"Uh... yeah they work normally but I kinda... sorta... broke them," you admit softly, dropping your gaze. Wasn't the first time you broke them and it probably wouldn't be the last. Tony got so tired of fixing them he taught you how to solve most issues you may have with them. This was probably the third time you had broken them since he taught you. "But I was hoping to fix them when I get to the tower later, I'm getting really good at it."

"...okay?" He replies. "Either they're props, I can't imagine they're all that hard to copy or you stole them."

"Stole them?" You're almost offended by such an accusation but you figure Tony has to be messing with you. "From who?"

"Spider-man?"

"Myself?" You question slowly. "Why would I steal from myself?"

"Not you, the real one."

Now things were getting a little too confusing. He thought you were a fake? If you were gonna be a fake a superhero, your first choice probably wouldn't be any version of a spider-themed superhero. "You're making zero sense- No offense but who are you even talking about?"

"For the sake of making this whole thing end faster, do you know Peter Parker?"

"I do... not."

He pulls out his phone and after a moment, showing you the screen. You observe a guy in a blue and red suit swinging between buildings similar to how you do. It abruptly cuts to him stopping a car in its tracks. You'd never seen them before, didn't recognise the suit either. "What am I looking at?"

"Spider-Man. That isn't you?"

You shake your head. "My suit looks nothing like that."

"So you're a liar then," He shrugs. "Figures."

"I am not," You fire back. He doesn't respond and you sink down in your seat. "Where are we even going?"

You get no answer. The rest of the car ride is silent which makes you antsy but you don't know how to talk to him. Everything was too weird including the fact you were currently pulling up to a big facility with the classic 'A' on the side. You had expected to go to the tower. You sit up in your seat, practically placing your face against the glass to get a look at the building.

"When did you build this?" You ask, glancing briefly to Tony. "What happened to the tower?"

You jump out the car the moment Happy comes to a stop. The place was huge and very impressive, to say the least. "This place is awesome. Is this the new avenger's facility? I've been thinking we could do with an upgrade."

"Just get inside." He brushed past you, dampening your mood a little.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y gather the circus."

'Right away boss'

You didn't recognise the voice but you can figure out it's an A.I, did he implement another one? Where did this guy find the time for all this? He takes you into what seems to be the living area joined to an open kitchen. People were dotted around the area. You recognised some, others? Not so much. The first person you notice is Natasha. She was sat on the couch and her hands were wrapped; she must have been training. You give her a smile which she doesn't return. Same old Nat. You look to the others. A wave of confusion taking over. Was this the B team?

You stand quietly beside, Tony, eying each person carefully. "This is... remind me of your name, kid?"

"Y/N."

"This is Y/N. She was arrested for a b&e and I need you to look after her for a little while, okay?" Tony was talking like you weren't in the room, weren't an avenger and weren't a grown woman who could look after herself.

"Why?" Some blonde dude pipes up and as your embarrassment takes over, you take a step behind Stark.

"I don't know what to do with her," He shrugs. "Can't let her run around unsupervised when she's claiming to be a superhero."

"I'm not claiming," you mumble more to yourself than the others. "I am a superhero."

"Spider-Man, meet the avengers." Tony takes a step to the side exposing you to a group of strangers and Natasha. You gave an awkward little wave. "Avengers, Y/N. I'll leave you to get aquatinted."

Tony leaves you alone abruptly with the avengers who clearly have no idea who you are. And they all look completely unbothered by your presence. You share pleasantries with them, quick introductions. There was Clint, he shoots arrows apparently. Sam, he didn't tell you much other than his name is Falcon. Some red and green guy very politely explains that his name is Vision; you don't question it. As you move on to a girl, it takes you a moment to figure out who she is but before you can say anything she tells you her name is Wanda, maybe she was deep in character? and last but not least you walk up to the man who called out before. He shakes your hand.

"I'm Steve Rogers." His name instantly brings back memories.

"The Steve Rogers?" You wonder quickly, "didn't you die? I'm pretty sure I went to your funeral."

He is visibly uncomfortable with your question but you were just curious. You were almost certain you'd attended this guys funeral with Peggy a couple of years ago. "I think you've got the wrong guy."

You decide not to press him further. After introductions, everyone just went back to doing their own thing leaving you with the only person who stayed; Natasha. She was still sat on the couch, only she had a bottle of water now. You were surprised she wasn't the first one to bail. You walk closer to her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, I guess." Natasha shrugs

"Why the fuck do you work with Elizabeth Olsen? Isn't she an actress?"

Natasha watches you for a moment before frowning a little. You sit down next to her. "Who?"

"And where is the rest of the team? I don't know who these people are?" It's hard to explain to an avenger that the rest of the avengers aren't avengers. Something was definitely wrong here. Plus how can Natasha not know Elizabeth Olsen when she clearly works with her?

"What are you talking about?" Natasha asks brows knitted together as she looks over you. You decide to just drop the topic and move on to your next problem; broken web-shooters. With a heavy sigh, you get up off the couch.

"Does this place have a lab at least? Maybe I can fix my web-shooters since I'm stuck here."

"Oh yeah, I'll show you." Natasha was being uncharacteristically nice to you. However, this place was huge and you were more than likely to get lost trying to find it if Nat didn't help so you're not about to turn her down

"Lead the way, firecracker," You flash a smile. She didn't like that nickname. She hated the fact you and Maximoff used it whenever you talked about her. The redhead breezes past and you follow behind her to a state of the art workshop. It was spacious and expensive-looking, that's for sure. You couldn't even begin to fathom what half the machines were for. Tony really must have forked out for this place. You sit at a workbench, using a tool kit you found after ten minutes of rooting around. Natasha lingers in the lab with you but she's not really saying anything. It's a little awkward but she was tasked with looking after you.

"You don't have to watch me, you know? I can look after myself."

She doesn't respond but she also doesn't leave either so you let her be. It doesn't take long to fix your gadgets after you realise that it's just the button that's not working. Once finished you twirl on your stool with a satisfied smile. "Now, I just need to test 'em,"

"Do it outside. I don't want to have to clean up after you." She hummed. With a simple nod, you slap them on your wrists and charge outside. It's a nice day, the sun is shining, the compound seems busy. You walk around the grounds, trying to find the perfect spot. As few people as possible was the goal. Two fingers on the button a thread of white shoots out and connects to the side of the building, using it to pull yourself towards it. You land on all fours against the wall before crawling higher. The pain in your leg was evident but nothing compared to when you first fell from the sky. You lean off the side, freeing up one of your hands to test the other shooter. You fire a quick blast following it with your eyes only to see Tony had returned and was stood beside Natasha. Fuck.

"Get down, now!" He growls

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