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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 7 months

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#𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

𓆩♡𓆪 being a workaholic is going to kill you one of these days. thankfully, lee comes in with quite a helpful solution. or so it seems. MINORS DNI!!

cw. afab!reader, reader is the doctor, double dragon dicks, slight dub-con, hypnosis (reader is into it but makes fun of lee lmao), dilf, age difference, scent kink, deepthroating, cumming untouched, sensory overload & genital slit/retractable dicks.

lati. thank you so much to the very lovely person who commissioned me for this!! they wished to remain anonymous but i hope you read this and are satisfied with this yummy fic bc i had a helluva time writing it :D

wc. 5325

Your head is going to explode—you're so god-awfully exhausted and stressed that death might as well be imminent. You're going to die from overworking and the endless stacks of papers would be your tomb. Oh god, you're too young to die from work; you haven't even really done all the stuff you've always wanted to do—actually, wait, how old are you again? You don't know.

Kal'tsit and Amiya never really went into any specific details about the kind of person you were before you awoke in Chernobog (well, you think you have a good enough idea of who you once were, but thinking about it makes your head hurt), and they most certainly did not inform you of your age. Well, Amiya did bake you a cake for your birthday and sang happy birthday, but had placed a small handful of colorful candles across the cake that did not indicate your age. And if Kal'tsit knew, then she certainly was in no rush to tell you just how long you'd been around.

But anyway, that's not the point. The point is that you're gonna die. And if you don't die from work, then Kal'tsit would most certainly hang you from the rafters if you didn't finish your work.

It feels like no matter how many recruitment permits you sent off or battle records you reviewed, the pile of documents on your desk was never-ending. It was already so late into the night, and judging by a glance at the clock, most of Rhodes Island should be asleep in their dorms, in the comfort of their beds. Fuck, just thinking about a bed is making you sleepy.

You leaned back in your chair, for a quick breather, and totally not because you're trying to keep yourself from passing out on the spot. Wincing at the sound your back makes in the process—a consequence of having been hunched over for so long.

Man...looks like an all-nighter at this rate. You can feel your sanity shrivel up at that realization. If you could have a stress cry session, then you absolutely would, but even you know that crying won't get you anywhere.

Your oh woe is me! thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your office door opening. Huh? Who else would be awake at this god-forsaken hour other than yourself—?

"Why are the lights all on at this hour... oh?" There stood at your doorway, was no other than Lee. Wait, why was he awake at this time? Was he unable to sleep and decided to go for a stroll around the landship?

He looks a little surprised to see you still perched behind your desk, but his expression quickly shifts to his usual playful and lax demeanor. "Ah, (name). Are you still processing battle records? Well, I never thought you were such a workaholic. I'm impressed," he whistles, sauntering towards your desk and leaning over to peek at what you'd been working on.

After his quick inspection, he exclaims, "But! You'd better turn in sooner. It's not worth it to break your body doing it."

"While the concern is greatly appreciated Lee, I still need to get this all done or Kal'tsit will have my head," you huff out a tired laugh in response. "Cause... she said she could do that and I believe her."

"Why not ask your assistants for help? I'm sure they'd be glad to be of aid to the esteemed Doctor. I could even be of assistance to you (name), I'm rather good with paperwork." At that last remark, you visibly deadpanned—Lee was the last guy you'd ever ask for help on paperwork. You were all too familiar with his many attempts to avoid doing too much work.

"The last time I tried to ask you for help, you coincidentally got a headache and told me I could handle it by myself."

"But I still help around the office, don't I? I'm quite handy during missions even if I'm no good in a fight." Lee seems quite proud to prattle on about how he's such an excellent little helper at your side, but you're not buying any of it. He may be a smooth talker and, you're not ashamed to admit, have quite the attractive face and demeanor, but you're not exactly keen on letting him boost up his ego.

"Lee, in the last mission I didn't see you anywhere in the fight and when I asked, you said you were the moral support," you groan, lips turned downward in feigned annoyance.

"I sense some hostility towards me, (name)," his tail swishes behind his tall frame vigorously as he pouts almost childishly, but you can tell that he's anything but offended. Knowing the old fish, he was amused by your little jabs and didn't mind entertaining you to alleviate your stress levels.

"Good, feel the hostility you old carp," you were trying to appear annoyed, but the second you made eye contact with the titular old carp, you started snickering and even let out a few laughs, with Lee joining in with chuckles of his own. God, it feels good to throw harmless jabs and just laugh without a care in the world. "Sorry Lee, but even if you lend me a hand, we'd have to be multitasking like nobody's business."

"At least take a break if that is the case, (name). It's no good to keep an engine running on fumes," Lee hums, circling behind your chair to place his hands on your shoulders, applying the most welcomed pressure on your sore muscles. "Why not take a step away from this battlefield of a desk, and relax a little on the couch while I go and make us some tea."

"After all, it would be a shame to let those good tea leaves you keep go to waste."

"Ugh, fine," you whine, making a point of dramatically dragging yourself off of your chair before dragging your feet as slowly as you can. Lee places a hand on your lower back and hurries you along to the couch, to which he takes it upon himself to sit you down with hands that weigh down on your shoulders. You're almost a bit embarrassed to feel how swiftly and easily you sink into the sleek leather, sighing in relief as your tense muscles ease up.

"See, not that hard to relax, now is it? Now sit tight while I go make us some tea." He makes a point of patting your head, and you whine in defeat, unable to bring yourself to swat away his hand.

"Mmm."

Satisfied, he saunters off to the mini-kitchen, humming a song that you find somewhat familiar. You don't remember the words, but you certainly find the melody to be familiar. Maybe it was playing on the radio when you'd paid a visit to Aak in his little lab, and Lee might've just heard it playing on a loop everywhere.

Even though you're supposed to be relaxing and thinking about anything that isn't work-related, the workaholic in you is screaming and wailing like a banshee. You're practically having an internal war, and the workaholic is currently winning the bloody conquest. Figures, you could never put away your duties until you were freed by your own passing out from exhaustion or an operator forcing you to take a step back.

The internal struggle is just too much for you to bear any longer. Just...one little signature wouldn't hurt, right? It wouldn't kill you just to sign one measly little signature. Besides, Lee isn't paying any attention right now and if you were quick enough, then he wouldn't know. That's how that old saying goes right? What you don't know can't hurt you. It totally applies to this situation right now!

Having made up your mind, and taking a quick glance at Lee to make sure he wasn't looking, you scurry to your desk like a subway rat. As quietly and quickly as you can, you snatch the pen you'd left on a small stack of papers, and with a sharp click that makes you wince at how much more resounding it is, you scribble your name onto the blank space. It's a sloppy signature, but it looks decent enough to pass by without raising any eyebrows. Yeah, that's—

"Doctor."

Shit.

When you nervously lift your head, there stands Lee. Except he's no longer smirking. He looks almost, impatient. No, he looks pretty mad. Or is it disappointment? You seriously can't tell, but whatever he's feeling, it's clear that he's not happy.

"Heeyy Lee. What a nice night it is, am I right? Say, why don't we drink the tea now, yeah? Haha..." Crap, he's not answering. Trying to bullshit your way out of this one wasn't going to work, but it was worth a shot, right? "Y, you're not mad are you?"

"No." Yep, he's mad. Ugh, if someone says that they're not mad in that tone, then they're seriously mad! And it's even scarier because you've never seen Lee mad before! "Why would I be mad?"

"That's exactly what a person who's mad would say," you nervously quip, fiddling with your fingers and scratching at your skin. You always do that whenever you get anxious, it’s a really bad nervous habit of yours, even if you always end up peeling back skin right from the corners of your nails and have to snip the small peel of flesh off with your nail clippers.

"I worry that you don't take things to heart, (name). It's like you don't consider others' opinions.." he sighs, sounding more like a parent scolding their boisterous teen for the nth time. Fuck, you're seriously feeling super guilty right now; guess Lee had a bit of practice with three certain operators on the wonders of parental guilt-tripping. "And for that, I fear that you'll need more than just a stern talking to."

"Wait wha--"

Ignoring your confusion, Lee fumbles around the hidden pockets of his coat as he searches for... something? You're tempted to just sidestep him and just lie down on the couch and feign exhaustion. Yet something inside of you wanted to see where this would go, keeping you rooted to the ground. And because Lee would see through your bullshit immediately (curse his keen detective skills).

He mutters an 'ah, there it is,' before quickly yanking his hand out and holding some circular object by a mere thread that you suspect may give out at any moment. You may have only seen the device for a few seconds, but you'd recognize that black-and-white spiral pattern anywhere. Anyone would, given that it was always on those weird hypnosis videos you'd come across on the Internet.

"..Hypnosis? Seriously? What kinda scams are you getting into, my dude..?" While hypnosis and mind control weren't exactly sensational news for you, given what Amiya had experienced with Mephisto and his undead herd, it feels rather silly for it to be used in a situation like this. But seeing Lee's impatient posture and the way his tail restlessly swishes behind, you figure that you might as well humor him.

As Lee raises the circular device to your eye level, you can't resist the urge for an eye roll at the absurdity of this situation. He doesn't need to really tell you what to do, you know that you're supposed to look in the center and let the spiral do its magic or whatever. Like, make your head empty and have no thoughts, right?

"Lee, if this doesn't work and I'm not some bread-dead zombie or whatever, I'll--"

Lee snaps his fingers.

Your body relaxes.

All the racing thoughts in your mind cease.

—Ah..?

"There we go. Just focus on my voice, (name). Don't think about anything or anyone else, alright?" His crooning voice echoes in your head, and it suddenly feels like your brain is being physically rearranged. At the same time, it was as if your brain was melting, being numbed with a strange fog that left you feeling empty——No...no, empty wasn't enough to describe this strange mental hollowness that dominated every cell in your body.

"Just relax. Once I snap my fingers, you'll go back to normal. Okay?" Vacuously, you nod your head, the motion akin to that of a rag doll being shaken about. A little unnerving, yes, but it's a rather humorous sight nonetheless. "Good, good. Not so hard to just kick back and relax is it?"

Lee ruffles your hair, inwardly chuckling as he notices more stray hairs begin to stick up from the mass. It truly completes the workaholic and sleep-deprived image that he’s heard so much about from passing conversation he just so happened to overhear. Though, now that he has you like this, he isn’t all too sure what he really wants to do to you. Or perhaps he does know, but he’s just too accustomed to pushing those thoughts to the back burner.

As his hand trails south before resting against your cheek, his thumb comes to rest against your chapped lips—that was no surprise since he’d seen you lick them so much—and he absentmindedly rubs along the uneven surface.

Lee swallows hard and mutters a small ‘pardon me.’

He dips his thumb past your lips experimentally, circling the thick digit around and coating it in your spit. The warmth of your mouth, the wetness of your tongue, and the titillating tension of this situation chip away at something deep inside Lee. Yes, he was quite the trusted comrade whom you'd seek out whenever he made his visits to the landship. But he knew quite well that there was always a bit of tension between the two of you. It wasn't bad, heavens no, but Lee would have to be a fool to not pick up on the playful smiles, the suggestive remarks thrown his way, how you so teasingly expose the more sensuous parts of your body by bending over...Those were just a few he could list off the top of his head right now.

He could name a couple more, but he's getting distracted by the minuscule whines you produce as he continues to probe your tiny mouth. A part of him wonders if you're responding this way simply because it's him touching you.

He's decided. Why waste an opportunity as good as this? He grabs your shoulder and guides you to the couch, which he eagerly plops down upon—yeah, he’s pumped full of excitement, who wouldn’t be? Lee makes sure to spread his legs nice and wide; he’s at least kind enough to not make you spread them apart yourself.

"On your knees." Lee winces a bit at how suddenly you drop to the floor, and he's rather inclined to stop and check for any bruising or irritation. But you don't even so much as flinch, hardly showing any sort of reflexive response to the discomfort. Hesitantly satisfied, the detective relaxes the tension in his body. Well, at least you'd simply have to suffer through some scuffed kneecaps, but nothing too serious that would require the attention of a medic.

"Undress me. Waist down," Lee blinks hard as if thinking over his command, watching as you sluggishly fumble with his belt and attempt to push away the countless accessories that adorn his lower half. Somehow, you manage to undo the leather strap and pull the zipper down, revealing grey boxers. Upon noticing you attempting to pull his pants down even further, he seems to realize something. "Actually, scratch that. Just.. just pull my pants low enough. It'll make clean-up easier..."

He mumbles that last part to himself, but thankfully you pay no heed and instead hook a few fingers into the waistband of his underwear to pull it down. What awaits you is a thin slit, though two pink tips of sorts have begun to slowly slide out.

"Well go on. They won't come out if you just keep staring. Make sure you really use your tongue, okay?" You duck your head dangerously close to the protruding tips and swipe a tiny lick that has Lee's hips jolt ever so slightly. Your blunt little tongue teases him relentlessly, easily covering the tips from view and even occasionally dipping into his slit. The detective groans at that, swallowing down the urge to cum right then and there.

"Oh yeah, I don't want to see you touching yourself in any way. This is your punishment Doctor," he ordered, eyeing your hands just in case you got a bit too into this and decided to get yourself off. He couldn't allow that, now could he?

But you remain obedient, latching onto his slit and coating it in your spit in a bid to ease out his cocks. Lee has to admit that you look adorable with your mouth so lovingly devoted to him, and he's almost tempted to order you to touch yourself, to see you satisfying your own base desires without any shame. Almost.

You should be scared. You should terrified out of your mind, feeling your own body acting your will and unable to do anything about it. But, you’re not. Okay, maybe you’re a bit nervous, but it’s the kind of nervousness that borders on feeling good. Normally, you'd be waayy too scared and end up fumbling over yourself in these kinds of situations, but that's not the case here. Your head is all fuzzy, but it feels, like, good? Your entire body feels warm and relaxed, and while that might've been a bit scary to others, all you can feel is a strange pleasure that induces heat to pool into your belly.

Maybe it’s the hypnosis making your brain feel all funny, or maybe it’s because you just like Lee so much, but you find that following Lee’s orders comes rather easy. Then again, it’s just the hypnosis scrambling your brain, right?

With a sudden pop! that sounds perversely wet, the two tips push forward and expose the rest of his manhood in all its glory. You don't react, don't pull your head back out of surprise, and as a result, his cocks push right up against your face. It'd be comical if you'd reacted with any sort of surprise or nervousness, but there were no such expressions on your face.

He's..he's really big...♡ He has two cocks, both shaped like elongated teardrops, and have a sort of pinkish-red color to them. They look really smooth, save for a few prominent veins that pulse rapidly. Even despite your relaxed body, you can't help the small pang of anxiety at the thought of those... going inside of you. Would they even fit..? Your cunt clenches up just thinking about taking his cocks all the way inside. He'd... he'd really break you if he was gonna fuck your cunt with them...♡

"Suck." Lee watches quietly, his face expressionless as he awaits your obedience. Sluggishly, you nod, and slowly press your lips against the left one—well, your left. Your earlier guessed observation of his shaft's texture proves correct, as the almost unnaturally smooth surface seamlessly slides against your lips, and dribbles of precum stick to your skin. You open up your mouth and begin to suckle on the tip, the sleek texture of his cock allowing it to slide into your mouth more easily.

Lee jolts, clearly being rather sensitive right there. “Fuck, that’s--shit!”

His cocks have a really funny smell; it's all musky and thick and it makes your head spin every time you breathe. It's the kind of smell that you can't help but get addicted to, wanting to breathe it in more even if you're supposed to find it off-putting. Acting on your desires with nothing to stop you, you inhale an extra bit of air as you bob your head up and down on his shaft. Who knew that just the smell of his shafts would turn you on even more? Lee doesn’t seem to notice your strange scent obsession, and if he does, he gives no sign of stopping you anytime soon.

"Excited are we?" He breathed out, hitching a noise that suspiciously bordered on a sensual moan as you pushed your head down to the base. When you repeat that motion, this time Lee moans, a husky and rumbled noise that strikes straight into your core. "Q...Quite gifted with your mouth, aren't you? I wonder where you learned to be so skilled?"

He sounds a bit mocking as if the possible scenario of you on your knees before another man really grates on his nerves. His jealousy wasn’t really rooted in much plausibility, though, since you had often spent countless daydreams conjuring up scenarios like these with Lee in mind. Maybe that’s why you’re so enthusiastically sucking him off even with the hypnosis supposedly making you more robotic—it simply allowed you to act on what you’ve always wanted to do.

Thanks to Lee's little hypnosis trick, your gag reflex is practically nonexistent, evidenced when the pointed tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and all you react with is a muffled moan. Though you’d be ashamed to admit that you’d secretly been testing your gag reflex with a banana whenever you were alone in the break room. It was for science, you swear! And you can get away with saying that because you technically were a neurologist! When scientists do this, it’s an area of interest, not a fetish.

He’s beginning to leak a lot more, salty and oozing pre-cum starting to dribble out in thicker amounts, both inside the confines of your throat and his other cock dripping on your clothes. It even tastes funny too, all salty and bitter and thick—was this even really his pre-cum, or is Lee just really pent-up to the point where he’s leaking out so much? The wise Mr. Lee really was just a perverted old man in the end.

Well, you’d be a hypocrite at this point since you aren’t exactly faring much better either. Your cunt’s been practically melting, slick juices rapidly pooling down and drenching your panties to the point where it’s already started to ooze through. On reflex, you start rubbing your thighs together the best you can, but with how your legs are spread, it comes off as an awkward little butt wiggle. It’s barely enough to even really stimulate you, much less properly get you off, but what little friction you can work up soothes that aching heat, if only barely.

Lee’s moaning a bit louder now, your tongue rubbing the underside of his dick with the kind of pleasurable tickle that makes him want to cum already. But it’s not enough for the detective. He needs more than this. His other shaft is just awkwardly rubbing against your face, with hardly any stimulation other than the feel of your skin. And that couldn’t have possibly been enough, now could it?

“Hey, d-don’t leave this one all alone,” he mumbled, jutting his hips forward in an attempt to get your attention on his other cock, all lonely and unattended to. Though all he succeeds in is shoving his dick further down your throat. “Give it some attention too. Use your hand.”

Giving him a moan of obedience, you clumsily raise a hand to wrap around his poor ignored cock and begin to pump. After barely even a few pumps, when your hand comes back up to enclose the pointy tip, your palm, and fingers are coated in thick globs of pre-cum. They make the motions of your hands easier, the wet glide allowing you to better pleasure him and give the tip that soft squeeze that makes Lee ooze more juices. You can feel a few veins that add a texture to the smooth wet surface, and when your fingers rub against them, Lee shivers a bit.

It’s still a bit difficult to comprehend that he’d be this pent-up to be leaking so much—maybe it was a Lungmenite thing, they were technically dragons after all. But another whiff of that addictive, musky smell and you stop thinking about it.

Clearly, the double stimulation was proving to be too much for Lee, because he orders you to “stop” with a shaky voice, completely different from how smug and charismatic he usually was. You obey, with his dick still stuffed down your throat and his other dick being gently held at the base. He has to take a few moments to breathe in deeply before he gives you his next order.

“P…put both of the tips in your mouth and jerk both of them off at the same time until I cum.”

Your compliance is immediate, and you have to pull his dick out from the depths of your throat (which makes Lee jolt and groan at the loss of heat) and pull at his other dick so it’s angled towards your mouth. He winces at the tugging on his cocks, but as soon as your tiny mouth simultaneously licks on both tips and your hands begin to jerk off both lengths, he forgets all about the discomfort. He’s more focused on your frantic movements and the building crescendo of muffled moans as if you’re moving in tune with his reactions and approaching orgasm.

But in reality, you’re on the verge of bursting yourself; that burning hot coil in your lower belly has become unbearably tight and even if your brain is all fuzzy and feeling weird, you still feel of pang of desperation to reach your climax as well. Your body acts on those desires for you; sucking harder, jerking faster, licking all the sensitive spots—

“Dammit, you—(name),” he panted, expression all scrunched up,” make sure you drink it all up. Don’t… spill!”

He shuddered and dug his fingers so hard into your skull that he’s probably leaving imprints behind on your scalp, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now. From the way he pulls down, your teeth grazing against his tips—he wants to keep them in there as he finishes in your mouth, grimacing hard enough to reveal sharp canines and wheezing your name, the sensation clearly is a lot for him. It’s enough that you gag a little, greedily gulping down the gooey release as best you can to keep up with the excessive amount that floods into your mouth.

There’s just so much; would he fill your belly with lots of thick cum when he fucked your pussy?♡ If he came this much from a simple blowjob and handjob, then how would there be when he finally worked his way to your cunt. You… you’d definitely get knocked up with his babies if he came inside...♡ Just the mere thought of Lee possibly impregnating you with his potent seed is all it took, and you were coming for him, seizing up and sobbing with a few selective moans—incoherent and sweet.

It takes a bit longer for Lee to come down from his climax, your warm mouth milking his dick for a few more spurts of his release, but he practically collapses against the couch once it’s over. It was most certainly the strongest orgasm he’s had in quite a long time, so he just needed a minute to calm down, that’s all. So he sucks in a nice deep breath from his stomach (diaphragmatic breathing was certainly beneficial for the lungs!) and breathes out heavily—

The audible sound of gulping quickly snaps him out of his stupor, and when he glances at you, he catches a glimpse of your cute stubby tongue swiping at the excess release on your skin.

"Did you—?" Lee jolts forward like he's been hit by a lightning bolt and for a moment he looks flustered, his thumb pressing your jaw down without any resistance as he scans your slack mouth. He'd been so focused on the high of his orgasm that he forgot that he was going to order you to spit it out. "Hah, you really swallowed it all, huh?"

You don't answer him, hazy eyes staring up at him blankly as he thumbs away the small streaks of his release on the corner of your lips. It felt rather strange to see you so quiet, considering that it was commonplace for you to be throwing teasing remarks his way. Well, if he ignored the fact that you were hypnotized—

"Oh right, forgot you're still hypnotized. Sorry about that," he murmured, mostly to himself. Heh, look at him, forgetting that he'd hypnotized you and had to snap you out of that trance. He really is getting old if he can't keep track of that. With a graceful flick of his wrist, Lee finally snaps his fingers, the sound as crisp as the crunch of an autumn leaf that resounds in the empty room.

Like a switch, the haziness in your eyes fades away, and the familiar twinkle returns. You blink. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart around the room, seemingly a bit nervously before they land on him. Realization seems to hit you and—

"You are such a horny fuck, y'know that?" Yeah, there you are. You're certainly back to normal, with no repercussions whatsoever. Well, except for him getting a bit of an earful from you, though Lee can just smile as your words go in one ear and out the other.

"Ugh, you dirty old man, my underwear's all sticky now," you hiss, shifting your thighs and grimacing at how slick your inner thighs are now. Lee breathlessly chuckles, flashing you a lazy smile as his body sinks into the couch. When you attempt to lift yourself up, you huff once the familiar pins and needles feeling makes itself apparent in your legs. "And I can't feel my damn legs, and—ow, my fuckin' knees..."

Hearing the metal clink of his belt, you realize he's attempting to slip on his pants in a somewhat presentable fashion. Oh, you thought he would touch you even more, and—wait, were you seriously disappointed by him not going further? Geez, what's wrong with you?! This wasn't like all those hentai stories where the girl becomes a slut for the guy's cock—everyone knows that hentai has the worst logic imaginable when it came to sexual happenings!

Besides, Lee would have to at least take you out to dinner and wine and dine you before you can officially admit that you'd be a willing slut for his cocks. You have standards!

"Now now, no need to fuss (name)," Lee hums, paying no mind to your rather cute attempt at a threat, having long gotten used to your little quips. "Have some tea, it's still warm; it'll soothe your nerves."

"You seriously think a cup of tea is gonna calm me down?" You gawk at him incredulously, grunting as you force yourself to stand up. Grumbling a quiet thank you as he places a steady hand on your hip, you plop down unceremoniously on the couch next to him. "Because you're right. Gimme that."

You hold out your hand like a child asking for a cookie, and Lee places the cup in your open palm, but not before shaking his head and snorting at your childish mannerisms. After pouring himself a cup and inhaling the rich aroma of the tea, he finally takes a sip and sighs in contentment.

As you sip at the lukewarm tea and bask in the atmosphere, you ponder whether these late-night relaxation sessions will occur regularly. Heh, you suppose that you're a bit of a masochist if you find this stern admonishment enjoyable and something to look forward to. Perhaps next time, Lee will go even further than what he did this time. A delicious shiver runs up your spine at the thought of all the ways the laid-back detective could toy with your body.

If that was the case, you were looking forward to next time.

#lati's commissions #arknights x reader #arknights smut #lee arknights #arknights lee smut #arknights lee x reader

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thechaoscryptid · 9 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thanks for thinking of me, nonnie 🥰 This was actually a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, picking 5?? It was a good excercise in remembering I actually do like a lot of my past catalogue lmfao

The summaries got kinda long and I also wanted to do a little commentary on each so I'm gonna put the full post under a cut but the short list is:

Singularity (Shigadabi)

i've looked for love in every stranger (to get to you) (Sylvix)

Hello, My Name Is Human (Odazai)

Divinity (Matchablossom)

Blur (Sheith)

Singularity | ShigaDabi | General

Alpha Arietis dies in a brilliant storm, spraying billions of years’ worth of accumulated gas and matter through the cosmos as it collapses in on itself. Great fingers of dust reach toward the endless abyss, and cradled in the palm of the cooling nebula, a godling sleeps. His heart is white-hot and aching, all the pain of his progenitor’s end pulsing through him as he curls in on himself. The gazes of the other gods weigh heavily on him as the universe swims into focus. Their whispers ripple across galaxies to wash over his still-tender form, awakening in him an anger that beams into the darkness as his eyes open, twin crimson spheres cutting through the endless night.

This was such a fun style experiment!! I wrote it for a zine and it was by far the shortest fic bc I decided to go with the dialogue-less option; it felt better suited to the space vibe.

I looked up so many astronomy facts for this too, which was fun bc I'm a bit of a space bitch (even though I probably fucked it all up for the ~narrative~ lmao). Did you know! Beta Capricorni, one of the stars in Capricorn (Dabi's sign and mine - we share a birthday, and it is my favorite BNHA factoid), is commonly known as Dabih, derived from an Arabic legend saying Beta Capricorni and Alpha Capricorni, aka Algedi, were "the lucky stars of a slaughterer."

I really really want to dive further into the concept of gods being birthed from dying stars at some point - there's so much I didn't get to in this fic just bc of limits and themes and such, but I think it's fucking cool even if it's not popular.

i've looked for love in every stranger (to get to you) | Sylvix | Explicit

“Yeah. Listen, Fe, I’m sor—” “Don’t,” Felix says. When Sylvain opens his mouth to protest, Felix cuts him off. “Seriously, don’t. I don’t want your apologies.” Sylvain arches a brow. “I just want you—” (And oh, those words on their own are nearly enough to unwind that barbed wire, but somehow it hurts worse knowing it’s not what Felix really means.) “—to be better.” Felix takes a deep breath, turns to the kitchen counter, and fiddles for a second too long with the tabs on the pizza boxes. “I hate watching you hurt yourself.”

Man, where do I start with this one. I picked at this fic for over a year and a half before deciding to finish it for a bang, and I'm so happy about how it turned out. One theme that shows up a lot in my writing is "love is an action and a choice," and I think this fic showcases that beautifully.

Sylvain's so fucked up here and I love him so much. This timestamp from the middle of a breakdown and subsequent guilt about said breakdown just...really hits home. And Felix being there - CHOOSING to remain there - through that one and all previous ones? clenches fist They're in love, your honor.

I just think it's important to show that being kind of a shitty person doesn't preclude you from being loved, nor should it.

Hello, My Name Is Human | Odazai | Mature

“No need for sorry,” Oda says, the words automatic. “That’s not your place.” It’s the wrong thing to say, comes out nothing like he’d intended. Dazai flinches as though he’s been shot, curling up into himself and away from Oda before scrambling to his feet. There’s no easy grace in his movements today, only a quick, jerky retreat before Oda comes to his senses and darts after him. He wraps a hand around Dazai’s forearm to tug him back, and there’s nothing but rawness in Dazai’s eye when he turns around. “Let me go,” he says icily. “It’s not your place.” “Dazai.” “Fuck off,” Dazai mutters, shrugging Oda’s hand away. “I’ll go die alone, then. In my place.” “Hey,” Oda says, soft as anything as Dazai’s turned half away. He holds his palms out, the same way he would for a stray or lost child. Dazai takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he continues. “Your place-” “An executive doesn’t have a place,” Dazai says. “A weapon doesn’t need one.”

This was the spiritual precursor to in the morning i'll be with you, and upon rereading, I realized I wrote pretty much the same fic twice 😅 There's just something that hits EVERY time about softness in the face of bluntness about doing and wanting terrible things. I chose this one instead of in the morning because of one of the places the two fics diverge, actually.

In this fic, Oda actually says "I love you" to Dazai and Dazai does not take it well, and it feels important to me that not every I love you is received with an equally passionate "omg I love you too." But like I said for the Sylvix above, it's also important that it's expressed, even if it hurts or isn't received or reciprocated.

Divinity | MatchaBlossom | Explicit

“I don’t need anyone,” Kaoru whispers. He’s always been good at making bad decisions when it comes to Kojiro; this is another in a long line of failures and he’s not willing to admit yet that maybe Adam fucked him up past the point of no return. “It’s fine,” he mumbles when he hears Kojiro shifting. He’s too afraid to watch him walk away. “You can just go.” And instead of leaving, Kojiro shuffles forward and hugs him. Kaoru is surrounded by impossibly gentle arms and the scent of pine, and though he’s used to the latter, he hasn’t been touched like this in a long, long time. “I’m not going to go,” Kojiro says softly. His face is buried in Kaoru’s shoulder, lips warm where they brush across his skin. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not, Kaoru. I don’t want to.”

God this fic actually kickstarted my writing motor after being really burnt out and plateaued on skill for a while. While it's not my most technically skilled fic (I don't think any on this list are, tbh?), it was fun to write and it's still fun to read.

I loved being able to take a softer turn with Kaoru's anxiety as opposed to some of the harder mental health issues I'm used to expressing in my writing. And Matchablossom were really just out there on screen being Like That at all moments, huh? Their dynamic is just such a joy to play with, whether it's softer like this or harder like some of my other SK8 fics.

Blur | Sheith | Mature

“Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve made of myself, and it still isn’t enough. You know they always said shoot for the stars? I didn’t just shoot, Shiro, I helped save those stars. Where is there to go from there? There’s no coming back down to Earth after you’ve seen realities collapse around you. There’s no normal.” “It doesn’t need to be normal,” Shiro says. “I WANT normal!” Keith’s chest heaves, throat raw with the force of his insistence as his truth is birthed into the world. Twenty-five years’ worth of longing shake themselves loose from inside him and when they bleed out, so does his energy. He sinks to his knees, shaking as he repeats the words again and again. “I want normal. I want to be normal, Shiro, why can’t I be normal?”

This fic is just 9k of me bleeding my truth onto the screen, I'll be real (it should also be stated my self-destructive behaviors aren't physically harmful, that's artistic license). It hurt to write and it hurts to reread bc not much has changed in the years since I wrote it, but it's good, and I stand by the rawness of the narration. Dealing with a personality disorder and suicidal ideation (especially unmedicated and without therapy - bitches be rawdogging reality and I'm bitches) fucking blows. It's exhausting, and it makes you feel inhuman.

This scene especially knocked a few realizations loose for me, bc I don't remember writing it; my head just shut off, and then I looked at the page and went "ah. Oh dear. This feels like something I need to unpack, huh." And here we are, several years later, still unpacking lmao

#asks answered #anonymous #my writing #self rec #shigadabi #sylvix #odazai #matchablossom #sheith

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totheblood · 2 years

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totheblood's sleepover

hi all! hope you are having a fun night, i wanted to do something fun in honor of me hitting 800 followers. i just recently started writing and can't believe i have hit this milestone and that this many people enjoy my writing! also a huge thanks to everyone over at @tshwritersnet, thank you for the endless support, kindness and friendship.

ships. send me a description about yourself and I'll ship you with a character (not limiting to marvel)

cast your mutuals. tell me what to cast my mutuals/friends as and i will!

character playlist. send me a character and i'll make a playlist for them

song recommendations. tell me about yourself and i'll give you a song that reminds me of you

fmk. fuck marry kill, pretty self explanatory?

moodboard. give me a vibe and a person and i'll make a moodboard for them

movie reviews. send me a movie and if i have seen it i will give my honest review on it

graphics. do you need a graphic? send me an ask with what you need it for, what you want it to say, colors and overall vibe, and i will do my best to make it for you

fic recs. tell me what you like, and i will suggest a fic for you

free compliments. send me your work, (fics, moodboards, playlists, graphics) and i'll compliment it

questions. ask me anything, and i will give you the honest answer.

advice. need advice? great! im great at giving advice.

rant/vent. if you need a place to let out your thoughts i'm here

get to know me. send me one of these prompts and answer it for yourself! so we get to know each other

blurbs. send me a prompt from the following list, who you want it written for, and i'll write a short blurb

broken trust

“ you broke your promise. “ “ i never intended on keeping it. “ “ thought you were one of the good ones. “ “ i can’t believe i'd be so stupid... [to trust you]. “ “ you broke your promise. why? “ “ you promised me. “ “ so? “ '' don’t bother with an apology. '' '' it’s my fault for being so naive. '' '' you don't deserve me. not anymore. '' '' trust goes both ways. '' “ you lied to me. “ '' trust is earned. you have to give it to get it. '' '' this wasn’t supposed to happen. '' '' you weren’t supposed to lie. “ “ why couldn’t you just be honest with me? “ “ what else did you break? “ '' i thought we could be honest with each other no matter what. '' '' why don't you trust me? '' “ think you can forgive me? “ “ maybe one day. but it’s gonna take some time. “ '' you don't think i trust you? '' '' well, clearly not! '' '' i know you don’t trust me... '' '' you should have known better. '' “ did i break your heart? “ “ i promise — “ “ don’t. “ '' you seriously expect me to trust you after the shit you just pulled? '' “ trust you? are you [fucking] serious? “

grumpy/sunshine prompts

“ it's different when [he's] with me. “ “ honestly, i don't get you two as a couple. “ “ you can do so much better. “ “ i love [her]. i know that might not be enough for you, but it is to me. “ “ [B] hates everyone. “ “ everyone but you. “ “ how could you possibly love someone like B? “ “ it's really none of your business who i'm dating. “ “ he's always been there for me when i needed him. “ “ you don't know [him] like i do. “ “ [he's] more relaxed in private. “ “ you love me, don't you? “ “ too much to function. “ '' how did you pull someone like that? '' '' how come i'm the one with a resting bitch face but you're the one with an attitude? '' '' you are sunshine incarnated. i hope you know that. '' '' but you're so cheery, and [he's] so... weird. '' '' [he's] not a bad person. '' '' you might be the only person i can tolerate, but not even you can bring out the best in me this early in the morning. '' '' you're lucky you're cute, because your eternal optimism is super annoying. '' '' you complement each other well. '' '' i've never seen you this happy with anyone before. '' '' [she] makes you smile. that's quite the achievement. '' '' oh my god, you're smiling? '' '' just because i happen to hate everyone else, doesn't mean i don't want to spend every second of my day with you. '' '' you're the only one who's ever going to see me this way. '' '' this way what? '' '' this happy. '' [beat] '' not counting our wedding day. '' '' smile. it's not gonna kill you. '' '' you're angry. '' '' i'm not angry, this is my everyday face. '' '' so what exactly did you do on your parents wedding day? '' '' uh... counted the hours until i could go home and play mario kart. ''

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amazingmsme · 2 months

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Omg that tag vid 🤣 I can completely picture the main trio just spinning around the watch post and feigning going left or right at the cafe tables, tossing chairs to try to slow down each other. As for your most flustering fics hmngh so many of yours put me in Lee mood, and this got long and turned into my rambling like a nerd- apologies in advance!

I'm gonna say the Stanley Parable fics Disobedience Shan't be Rewarded, and Is the Bucket Worth it, Stanley? are some of the ones that get me the most. I think it's the way you right the Narrator. I have a weakness for Gods using their powers to mess with someone helpless and those fics scratch that particular itch for me wonderfully. Also, mock sympathy, and condescension fuck me up so bad in Lers and you write it so well? 🫣

Ooh Hands To Yourself gets me bad though 😭 Pretty sure that fic made me hide my face in blush multiple times; Essek especially took me out in that good Lord I haven't even met him but you made me frightened to haha as an easily flustered Lee. 🤣 There was also quite a few neck and ear tword focus and given those are some of my own worse spots, I was scrunching up reading certain parts there lol. Oh! Another thing about Essek's characterization I loved- how he feigned genuine anger, because I would absolutely panic and trip over myself to people please out of fear and fall right into his trap 🤣 Then after it comes out he's not actually upset and my bad anxiety would go away and turn into anticipation, like right before i go on stage for a performance. I think I'd more just get flustered, jumpy and skittish.

I thought your Castlevania fic The Moderator and the Monster are One in the Same was also super cute; I also wrote an Alucard/Reader fic a while back based on the library scene since it took me out. Still haven't finished the show because I don't want it to end/make me sad haha.

Fuck Off and Let Me Sulk took me out jfc, just found that now and we have similar tword thoughts lmao- Alucard calling Trevor out? I am always down bad for mean, teasy as Hell, Alucard. His voice and mannerisms kill me, and his adorable back and forth with Trevor at the end was so cute?

Okay no more rambling I swear! Hope you had a good rest and that this is semi-coherent; I'm gonna pass out now cause it's nearing 7am 🤣 Getting creative in the middle of the night is both blessing and curse

LXGSMAHSKD THIS IS LIKE THE NICEST THING ANYONE’S EVER SAID OMG THANG YOU ILY!

I remember having so much fun with the Stanley Parable ones, especially the first one! It was pure self indulgence rewarded by an unexpected shower of attention lmao. & omg my sweet baby boy Essek, trust me you’re gonna love this prissy bitch once you meet him! I was literally like a horse trapped in that box before the race & once I officially met him I shot off like a rocket! I really need to write more critickle role tbh cause I have so many ideas! Although I gotta admit, I’m not sure that one’s mine, so can’t take credit for that one, but I do have a long ass shadowgast fic that just so happens to have a very teasy Essek. & don’t get me started on castlevania! Omg I fell so hard for those boys! Their dynamic is so fun & their banter is hilarious! They need their own get along shirt, I feel like it would end badly lzavakdhkq but yeah, Alucard is a teasy bastard & he loves to bother Trevor, & the human is just too cute for his own good

Please don’t apologize for rambling! This made me really happy & it’s so cool to hear about what fics y’all really like! Especially when they’re ones I really enjoyed making! Wish I got better sleep, but the fucking construction woke me up & bug man is coming to spray, so fuck it, we ball. But omg please get some sleep! I mean, I’ve definitely been there after a night of endless creative flow, so I absolutely feel you. Sleep tight, & hope you have sweet dreams! & to everyone else… good morning! 😂

#asks #thelaughtercafe #tfb community #fic hall of fame

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echoesofadream · 1 year

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no literallyyyyy I loved when he was rawr emo boy grr !! but now he is wealth wealth rich Justin Bieber going insane. I guess we should have seen it coming, considering his young debut age and big success ofc hed land in that weird space eventually... aw this Made me kinda sad actually like it was funny being like yucky greasy long haired sweaty gamerboy but actually hes just child labor ptsd crashdown era :(( maybe he can collab with vernon and make a cringey emo song and get motivated to become a rockstar instead of twitch streamer? *have u seen Vernons solo its. its uh im really embarrassed I will forever remember the review a mutual or something posted "the song/mv is like something I made up to make fun of him" lol...) oh my god im getting more and more stressed thinking about jungkook now... even tho im not following him super closely cause yeah I dont have time to watch all those lives cheesus I dont rlly like lives anyway unless theyre special like tea time w hao or jungkook drinking wine or the hilarious bts live the legendary one anyway.... many worries.... also I agree maybe drugs would be good for him? its best to suffer in swagfull ways if u should suffer but I fear he doesnt have enough swag like, technically its swag to be an alcoholic but Liam Payne of one direction is swagless so his alcoholism is cringe so I think maybe jungkook couldn't pull of drug addiction unless he like killed someone maybe or became a girlblogger ? hmm much 2 think about and im sooo tired im gonna sleep now zz goodnight echo -misa ofc

Hi hi good morning misa hope you slept well 💞

wait you’re right. This must be a really confusing time for him because he has everything he could ask for but all his members are doing different stuff and like what should he do? When hes been working for one goal since literally t h i r t e e n y/o literally a CHILD. Like he has strived to be an idol and the best and given everything he has, literally sacrificed his youth. Like i would be so lost. But it seems like maybe he is just chilling. Maybe he should keep the dog…

That said yesssss can he PLEASE make emo music I KNOW hes got it in him, he can make IU-esque ballads also, punk rock indie pop.. but he should become a rockstar.. well whatever he wants i mean i think he just needs direction.. baby boy… AKDJFK thats so funny i think i saw something similar that vernons* lyrics seemed AI generated but yours is even funnier. Yeah good idea. Also no I cant watch his like three hours lives no matter how much i love his voice id rather just listen to decalcomania 1 hour version than all those endless kareoke covers. Hmmm yes all the fics ive read where hes done drugs hes been in like a downward spiral and im afraid theres truth to that, i think he could possibly go overboard also especially if he needs the drugs to do music. And hmm he does seem to be drinking in those lives and idk how to feel about i mean its his life i just mean theres a difference between decadence and suffering artist. Not to self insert on my favorite kpop boy but i think he also has the addiction gene. Maybe he should stick to the dog walks and gym routines for the sake of his wellbeing and maybe just go be a twitch streamer if thats what he needs💔 i feel like hes got so much inside of him to let out but its stifled by the fact that hes a 20 smth (idfk) millionare whos been cut off from the outside world due to being an idol since literal childhood. ok wow this is depressing. :/ i agree he should kill someone, he needs new demons

*playing Sad girl by lana*

#decalcomania my time hate everything cover ummm all of my life cover #and hes learning drums #he can also play the guitar right #so he needs to combine the anger and the sadness and make a rock album #where he literally screams #in a artistic contrast to his clean idol vocals #and he can also put SO MUCH emtions in his voice #so he could make the most heartbreaking songs i know it #maybe he should start smoking #for a raspier voice #he can play with his voice so much as it is #it has so much potential #it would be fun if he just took the world most angelic and trained voice #and fucked it up a little #and ruined all our expectations

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monsterenergysimp · 4 years

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Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats super cool actually

i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

[link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x y/n #youtubers #caffeinated ramblings

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

Text

“Mom got lost again” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Little snippets about how “Batmom” (reader) will never find her way in the Mansion. But it’s fine, really, because she can always count on her husband and children to “save” her. //DRABBLE

So. I was watching one of those “Architect’s digest” video on YouTube where they visit houses that are millions and millions of dollars worth, and besides the fact that I was thinking “wow look at all those beautiful things I’ll never be able to afford”, I couldn’t shake another thought off…and that was that I would totally get lost in many of those houses. Like, the way some are designed, they’re literally Dedalus’ labyrinth my dudes. So anyway, here’s not-really-a-fic-nor-a-drabble for you, a sort of snippet kind of thing, about this. Hope you’ll like it :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

Before the kids

“Hey Alfred, where’s (Y/N) ?”

He asks, one early evening as he just got home from work and knows you were going to meet up with him at his place.

“Oh Lady (Y/L/N) wanted to go see the library, so I took her there.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce arrives in the library, but you’re nowhere to be found. Wondering where you went he calls you but it seems like your cell don’t have any battery anymore. He starts to walk around the West Wing, looking in every room and…Finally, he finds you.

You’re sitting down against a wall in the corridor, looking discouraged, staring at your dead phone. You spot him and jump to your feet, looking very relieved. You then rush in Bruce’s arms, he catches you in extremis and you exclaims :

“Oh my god ! Bruce ! I love you !”

Insert a lot of kisses on his cheeks a really huge hug, as if you haven’t seen him in ages. But I mean, getting lost any place is sort of distressing, and you looooove that man. So much.

A little confuse, although always happy to have your affection, he asks :

“What…is going on ?”

“I got lost…”

“You got lost ?”

"You have a very big house.”

Highly amused, Bruce responds : “I do.”

“So I got lost.”

“Ah. And what were you doing sitting there ?”

“Well…My parents always taught me to stay where I was, if I ever got lost somewhere, so when they’d came to look for me we’d be sure to see each others instead of passing right next to each others a thousand times…”

Bruce can’t help but burst out in laughter. Even more so that you genuinely looks like a kid that got separated from her parents. And oh, oh you love his laughter.

It’s always a feat, when you can hear it. Especially when it comes from the heart like right now, when he genuinely laughs this deep beautiful laugh, because he’s happy. Because you make him happy.

He’s not laughing at you, he just laughs because...You’re too much sometimes.

And exactly what he needs. Too much is good, for a man like him.

He takes your hand and shows you around one more time.

But he can see that even so, you can’t seem to remember the layout of the house, and you getting lost will happen again for sure.

And he’s right. He showed you around his manor so many times, yet it seems you just can’t remember certain places. Like you memorized the places you go the most, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, access to the Batcave...and most of the time you find your way around easily (albeit sometimes still a little lost).

But there’s entire areas of the house you try not to venture in or...it ends with Bruce coming to your rescue. Or Alfred. But he usually leaves Bruce to do it, as the man just...loves the way you two love each others.

It’s always rather cute. And it warms the butler’s heart.

Never in his wildest dream would he ever have thought that his Master Bruce would find someone like you. Someone accepting and understanding, and loving him unconditionally. And someone that Bruce loved fully in return, and whom he cherished above all.

Yes. Alfred often let Bruce go on the hunt for you across the Manor, simply because he shipped you both since the very first time he saw you together, and he thoroughly enjoyed when his Master Bruce was acting like a lovesick puppy around you. When he was acting like a “normal” man, just hopelessly in love with his wife.

And it was so pure, and beautiful.

So what if sometimes you’d wait a little long, lost in those endless corridors ? Alfred knew that Bruce would find you. Always. And that when he did, as usual, you would make Bruce’s heart melt, and he’d feel happy just by seeing you and...honestly it was all wort it.

Bruce sometimes suspect you do it on purpose. That you get lost just so he can find you. And honestly ? He really doesn’t mind...

Saved by the little bird

"Over a year of living here, I swear I still can’t...where...wait, didn’t I just pass this damn yet-again-another-living room ?! Aaaah what the fuck why is everything looking the same. Fucking shit. What a shitastrophy. Fucking cockburger son of a bitchtits little f-”

“Um...Are you ok, mom ?”

Oh sssshhhh...Alfred wouldn’t be happy with you for swearing around your young son. Dick was only eight, after all.

He had started to call you “mom” since very recently, and it always made your heart skip a beat. Made you feel utterly happy.

As the boy came in behind you from the corridor, you were about to kick a potted plant out of frustration (another thing that Alfred wouldn’t be very happy about). You turn around, slowly get your foot back on the floor, and say :

“Um. I got um...Lost...”

“Lost ?”

“Yes...I just...can’t get used to the size of this house. I wanted to get something that Alfred said was in the East wing, which is somewhere I never really go. And um...”

“You got lost.”

“Yes. Don’t make fun of me ok, your dad is already enough.”

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you !”

Your son says, a little virulently, as if offended you’d ever think such a thing ! You smile at him, because how sweet could this kid get really ?

“Alright little buddy, sorry I ever made such an assumption. So, if you’re not gonna mock me...maybe you can save me then ?”

“Save you ?”

“Well, I’m lost. And you don’t seem lost.”

“That’s because I’m not, I always found my way out of the labyrinths in fun fairs very easily !”

He tells you, smiling widely, excited at the prospect of helping you.

“Where do you need to go ?”

“Let’s try to get to the kitchen.”

“I know the way ! Come on !”

He takes your hand in his little one, and drags you behind him, leading you across corridors and rooms up until...

“Here !”

He tells you, smiling widely. And it’s so cute, because he’s missing a few teeth and his smile is just so pure...You just want to squish his little face and hug him to death.

“Ah my savior ! What can I ever repay you with ?”

You ask, taking an overdramatic tone of voice, knowing little Dickie always loved when you two played pretend and such. He takes the gruffest voice he can and says :

“Well, my lady can repay me with...um...Cookies, yes I think cookies will do !”

“Cookies ? Well this sounds fair, for this dashing saving you just did ! Macadamia or chocolate chip ?”

“Both ?”

“Both it is !”

It happened many times, that you paid your oldest son with cookies, after he saved you from getting lost in your own house...Even as an adult, he’d demand payment of fresh cookies, and then would go show them off to his siblings, refusing to share, as the “good” older brother he was haha.

Lost together

You find Jason in one of the many gaming room, while you were trying to get to the kitchen. You know for a fact that there are no gaming rooms on the way to the kitchen, but you can’t really figure out where you messed up...Was it when you went left after the third bathroom ? Or when you took the stairs down right before one of the mezzanine ? Wait, did that mezzanine have a piano ? Because if it did then it was the right way, if it didn’t, then you were on the other side of the damn house. Or maybe just right next to...Yeah ok. Lost again.

But you found Jason.

Maybe he could help ?

The boy was sitting in a huge comfortable leather armchair, reading a book. When he heard you come in the room, he snapped his head up and a huge smile illuminated his cute little face.

“Finally ! Mom !”

He jumps off the armchair, putting down his books, and goes to jump in your arms. Then he says :

“I was trying to go to the arcade room ! Because I wanted to beat your high score on Tekken, but I always only followed someone there, and I can’t find it anymore...”

Ah. The arcade. One of the only room you sort of knew where to find...If you started from the front door. Or your bedroom. Not from a random room god knew where in the mansion.

Why was this house so big ???

“I’m sorry to bother you with this, I know I should’ve paid more attention when Alfred showed me, but it’s just-”

Oh no. Oh no the little one was looking at you worryingly, probably because you weren’t responding, and he thought he was being a pain.

Little Buddy always thought he was bothering people...So hurriedly, you said :

“Oh no no Jason, you’re not bothering me at all ! It’s just um..I’m um...I’m sort of lost too.”

“You are ?”

“I am.”

“Really ?”

“Really.”

“Well damn.”

“Haha right ? Usually your father or Dick would save me. Or Alfred.”

“Yeah same.”

“I actually rarely walk around alone now that I think about it.”

“Yeah same !”

There’s a short pause, where you look at each others and smile at this little moment. And then, as you slowly both realize that you’re lost, IN YOUR OWN HOME, and the ridiculousness of the situation down on you, you explode in laughter.

You end up getting back to the armchair, and Jason settles comfortably in your lap as you continue to read the book he was reading, out loud, and he listens to you happily. Nobody ever really read him stories before you and Bruce...

Bruce finds the both of you later in the day, fast asleep in the armchair, Jason latched on your arm as you hug him to you.

He finds the sight so adorably charming. He sits down next to the two of you, enjoying this moment of quiet and peace. And then he picks up the book you were reading, reading it himself...Ah. It’s one of his favorite childhood book.

He reads it, waiting for you two to wake up, not wanting to disturb your sleep.

It’s rare, that he has some free time. And he really doesn’t mind spending it watching over his sleeping wife and son, waiting for them to wake up and guide their way back to the part of the house they know...

Damn. Damn he loves them so much.

"I memorized the blueprints”

“And see, here’s a secret passage !”

The boy says excitedly, as he shows you and Bruce a hidden door in one of the wall, behind a heavy tapestry.

“...Wait...I didn’t even know that was there...How did...What ?”

Your husband asks, half-confused, half-impressed, with maybe a little hint of hurt pride in there as well...it’s his house after all.

“I memorized the blueprints of the house that are in the library.”

The little one says, smiling widely at his new father. Bruce responds :

“I have those blueprints, I never saw this secret passage ever in my life.”

“You must have the “official” blueprints, the one Allan Wayne gave to others. The blueprints in the library, the ones I found, were tucked away inside one of the book and showed more than the “official” ones. Your great-great-great-great-great grandfather was a very paranoid man, I assume he pulled a Madame Winchester on the builders.”

“Madame Win...Huh ?”

“You know, famous Winchester mansion ? Super haunted ? She gave instructions to many different people to build certain things and there isn’t really blueprints that shows a correct layout of everything ?”

“Right...Sure...”

“I assume you were too busy building the bat cave to really pay attention to the house. But it’s quite a wonder ! There’s so many new secrets I haven’t discovered yet !”

A soft, tender smile spreads on your husband’s face as he looks down at Tim. Bruce says :

“That’s quite a discovery you found there my boy, and you say you memorized it already ?”

“It was easy, I just had to keep in mind the-”

And then Tim started to get lost in long complicated explanation that you didn’t understand, while your husband seemed very interested.

You couldn’t help but smile. How cute...

Today, you were sort of glad, that you got very lost in your own home again, and got saved by little Timmy. He hadn’t lived in the house for very long by that time, but already knew it even better than Bruce, apparently.

It was so nice, to have such a sweet little on in your life again...Dick hadn’t been by in a while, busy with the titans. And Jason...

You didn’t want to think about Jason.

Or at least, not in the way you would end up thinking about him. You wanted to remember his smiles, and how he always got lost too in this house. Not...Not...the broken body Bruce brought back...You...

You shooed the memory away, and focused on your son.

Tim was now going on and on about how he found really cool places that weren’t on the normal blueprints, and how he wanted to show Bruce and you.

And Bruce was smiling. For the first time in ages. Your husband was smiling, faced with such an excited little one.

So yes. Yes, today you were glad you got lost in your own home, and that your tiny son found you and showed you the way. That it lead you to ask him how the hell was he that fast in memorizing the house’s layout, and then him explaining things about the blueprints.

And consequently, how Bruce and him started to truly bond, started to talk about the house and about the Wayne legacy...

It was nice. To finally see your husband smile again. Propelled by a sudden surge of motherly love, you hugged Tim tight, and the boy, a bit confused at first, hugged you back without much questions.

And this sight.

His wife and his son hugging.

It warmed Bruce’s heart in a way his heart hadn’t been warmed since he lost Jason.

Yes. It was good, that sometimes you’d get lost in your own damn house.

This is a fun game

By the time Cassandra came into your life, this “mom got lost again” thing became sort of a game. It was about who would find you first, when they realized you were lost.

You’d be gone a little too long after saying : “I’m gonna go get the ice cream in the freezer”, and they knew. It was time to set a party to find you.

“3, 2, 1...GO !” And they’d run in each different direction, searching for you.

The winner gets cookies. Baked by you...

Cass liked that game.

Because even if she lost, she would’ve spend quality times with her family. Fun times. Looking for her beloved mother.

Mother.

The only mother she ever had.

Mom.

It’s a word that always easily rolled off her tongue.

Mom.

“Found, mom.”

You jumped a little in the air, as your only daughter suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She was looking at you upside down, and it took you a little bit to realize she was actually dangling off in a very spider-man way off of the floor just above. She must’ve heard your footsteps (or more likely, your growls about being lost again).

She jumped off, and you felt your heart stop, suddenly fearing she would fall down but..Not, she agilely jumps over the rail, and is in front of you, smiling.

Finding you was Cass’ favorite game. Because when she did, you’d always look at her fondly, give her a hug, and praise her for being the best.

And for someone like Cassandra, who grew up treated like an emotionless machine by a man who never viewed her as more than a weapon...it felt nice, to have such a loving person in her life.

When Cass thought of you, her mind filled with bright colors, and her heart with warmth. Because she grew up never learning how to speak, her thoughts didn’t quite work in words like most people, but in colors and temperatures.

And you, you were reassuring colors and soothing warmth.

Mom.

Such a simple word. Yet it took her a while to be able to even say it.

Now she could speak, in big thanks to you. And her father.

She loved you guys so much. So much.

She loved you.

“Mom.”

She says, reaching a hand for yours. And you take it, smiling once more, shaking your head and apologizing that you made her look for you...Oh.

Oh but she doesn’t mind. None of them do.

Because when they find you. When they “save you”, you always look at them with such unconditional love. No matter what.

Finding you is Cass’ favorite game.

It always leaves her feeling nice and warm, loved and safe.

Finding you is Cass’ favorite game.

And one day, she’ll be able to tell you all of that. One day, she’ll be able to tell you to never apologize, because she loves to look for you. She loves you.

One day. One day she’ll talk to you about all of this.

But for now, it was fine for both of you that her feelings translated in only smiles, affectionate touch, and one very important word...

“Mom”.

“I won’t let you get lost !”

Damian hated the mere idea of you being in any kind of distress.

ANY kind.

So when he learned that you would often get lost in the Manor, and even as everyone assured him it just sort of became an inside joke within the family, your youngest son took it upon himself to make sure you’d never get lost again.

He started to put up signs everywhere in the house, giving indications as to where you were and where was what. Detailed little maps, arrows and such. Drawn by himself. It took him WEEKS to finally cover the entire Manor.

It’s something no one ever thought of before because...Although you often got lost, it was always nice to try and find you, and well, you would still know your way around the part of the house you’d most go to.

In fact, when you got lost, it was often because you’d go in a wing you didn’t know much for whatever reason, and they’d know where to look for you.

So they never really saw a reason to make signs telling you the right way. Or yeah, they never really thought about it.

But Damian...Damian was set to make the house “lost proof”.

As a result, you definitely didn’t get lost as many times. Which was...nice ?

But once, at dinner, Dick was reminiscing of that one time you got lost in the attic for some reason, and couldn’t find your way out, and him and Jason had to get you, and how they laughed a lot and you praised them for saving you...

And Damian grew quiet. And upset. When you asked him why, he refused to answer, but the next day, you ventured in a part of the house you rarely went to so you could go fetch something and...

All the signs telling you which way to go were gone. Which didn’t worry you much, you knew you’d be found by one of your family member before long, or would just find your own way out after a while.

But it was odd nonetheless.

It’s only when Damian found you, and “saved” you that you understood why the signs weren’t on anymore.

Damian too, wanted to “save” you from getting lost. Wanted to laugh with you because it was silly that you got lost in your own house. Wanted you to bake him cookies as a reward for saving him. Wanted to share those bonding moments with you...

It was so cute, and showed how far Damian really went since Talia first dropped him on your door, that you couldn’t help but hug the hell out of your baby.

He was a little embarrassed, but hugged you back nonetheless.

Yes. Yes Damian had come along way, since he first came into your life. He learned how to love, how it felt to be loved, and how...how sometimes he would crave for your attention.

And so he took down the signs. So he could save you. So he could share this with you, just like you did share those moments with all his other siblings.

He took down the signs, because you getting lost was an important inside joke of this family...And because he was, now, part of this family.

What even is this place...

Duke thought he would never EVER find his way back in this new house.

His bedroom was in...east wing ? West wing ? ...SOMEWHERE.

The first few days of living there were overwhelming, and he constantly had to make sure he wasn’t far from one of the other family member because he was so afraid to get lost.

He couldn’t remember the right way to anywhere. This was all too big.

He grew up in a small two bedrooms apartment, in the heart of Gotham’s sludge. He could find his way in this gigantic city easily, knew the place like the back of his hand but...

The Manor ?

It was uncharted territory. In every sense of the term.

First it was on the outskirt of Gotham, in the hills, a place he never set foot in.

And then the house, but also the land around it was bigger than his neighborhood ! It was so foreign for him...

But he hid this well. He hid the fact he was overwhelmed well. And just made sure he’d always be with someone when walking around the manor.

He tried to remember the way they took, he really did. But every time he thought he got it, they’d use another way and he was totally lost again.

Alfred showed him around the first day, but it was too many informations at the same time. Him and his ADHD couldn’t process it.

What would you guys say, if he mentioned he was getting lost in the house ? Surely, you’d mock him. Or just feel sorry for him ?

He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to know. Acclimating to this new life was already hard enough, what with discovering his meta-powers, having to deal with what happened to his parents, and living in this all new environment.

You made it comfortable and easy for him. You were just so welcoming and loving. But it was still hard...he was only a boy.

And so he said nothing. And now...now, lost and walking through corridors that all looked the same, he dearly regretted it.

He turned a corner, and...there you were.

“Oh, hey Dukie”.

He smiled shyly, afraid you would know he was lost, and said :

“Hi.”

“What’s up ?”

“Nothing, I was going to- I was exploring the house.”

He was about to say he was trying to get to the movie theater, where Damian and Cass were surely waiting for him by that time, so they could watch a movie. But what if he was totally off ? Far from where the home cinema was supposed to be ?

“Exploring the house” sounded like a safe thing to say.

“Oh, careful not to get lost haha. Happens to me all the time...”

Wait...What ? Were you joking ? He wasn’t sure.

“Actually, I’m lost right now. I wanted to take a shortcut from the kitchen to the bat cave to see Bruce -I miss him- -Yeah I know only saw him couple of hours ago-, but I must’ve taken a wrong turn...Somewhere...”

You were holding your chin in your hand now, trying to remember where you could possibly have taken the wrong turn. And Duke realized you were serious.

“You’re lost ?”

“Yeaaaah. Go ahead, you can laugh. I know I’d laugh at myself too haha. I just could...never quite figure out how this house worked ? I grew up in a one bedroom apartment, sleeping in the living room with my brothers. And then when I moved in on my own I had an even smaller place. So. It’s a change. Even after all those years I’m still not quite used to it.”

“Ah me too ! I mean, I just can’t figure out the layout of this place !”

“Ah ? Hey, for you too, sometimes you think you definitely know where you’re going and then you find yourself outside in the garden and you just have no idea how you got there ?”

“Yes !!!! I was sure of my way so many times but then one wrong turn and...here I am.”

“Well Duke, believe me I get it. I get it haha.”

You then proceeded to tell him all the most embarrassing stories of you getting lost, including that one time at a charity event held in your house, someone asked you to take them to a certain place, and your asshole of a husband let you do it just because he knew you wouldn’t find the way, and because you getting lost with their guest was the only fun entertainment of the night.

And this.

This simple shared thing, of you two getting lost...

It was amongst the first time Duke really felt home. Really felt like he wasn’t alone.

Those past few days had been difficult for him. This was all so new.

And yet, with a few smiles, silly stories and support..You made him feel like he was truly home. And he didn’t even notice the hours you two passed, sat on the floor in that corridor, before Bruce found you and took you back to where you initially wanted to go...

Saved by the littlest bird

Thomas is about eight, and you’re about to have a heart pinching flashback as he’s going to remind you of your first baby...

Dick was going to be almost thirty, by then. He was married, and with a kid on the way (I’m not here for ship wars, you chose with who he is, wether it’s Babs or Kori, or whoever else). Oh, how long ago it was, that his little eight years old hand would hold yours to guide you across the manor...

Too bad. Because right now, you definitely needed some help navigating around. Lost again. Ugh. T’was getting old.

“Mommy...You’ve been living in this house for over 15 years now, how can you still get lost ?”

Your littlest baby. Thomas. Appearing from around the corner, and as he saw you, rolling his eyes like never before. Yet smirking, in a very “Bruce” way. Ah. Like father, like son.

“...”

Is your only answer.

You avoid his judging gaze, but did it in a way that was overdoing it, so he knew you were just pretending to be embarrassed haha. He rolled his eyes, and then takes out a walkie talkie and says :

“I found her Damdam, she’s in the West Wing near one of the drawing room. Over.”

“Ok, thanks little buddy, let’s meet up in the kitchen, over.”

“Ok cool, be right there, over.”

This little exchange made you smile, oh those two were very close. Well, all your children were close. But Damian and Thomas had a little something, because they were the youngest, and because Damian took to heart his big brother role. He was also the only one still living in the manor by that time, all your other children having their own place in Gotham, going to college or already working...a wave of nostalgia threatened to take over you, and you quickly thought of something else.

“Little buddy”, Damian called Thomas. Copying you for sure. How cute.

“Come on mommy, I’ll take you back to the kitchen. You can make us cookies then, yes ?”

“Of course my baby, any flavor you want.”

“Well Damian will surely want the white chocolate chip ones, so I’m good with those too.”

Thomas was such a sweet consilient boy. He didn’t really mind anything, and would follow you guys anywhere...as long as he could be with his family, and enjoy their presence, he just never minded.

He definitely had a stubborn and strong personality, but he was still oh so sweet. And nice. Even if he did mock you a lot for getting lost in your own home...

“Where did you get the walkies ?”

“Dick gave it to me last time he came, so we could cheat at hide and seek. Don’t tell Tim.”

You chuckle, imagining how nuts your kids would get because Dick always goddamn won...

Ah and of course Dick would give a talkie to his littlest brother. To be honest, Thomas reminded you of Dick in lots of ways.

They were both gentle, funny, sweet and nice...with outburst of anger and pride sometimes. Ah quite like Bruce too. You loved them all so damn much.

“Now come mom, I think dad will be home soon too ! We can watch a movie before the patrol ! With cookies !!”

You smile, and you take your son’s hand. Your youngest boy. Reminiscent of when Dick used to do this. All those years ago.

Reminiscent of a time you didn’t feel so weak...

(I’M SORRY I HAD TO ADD THIS LAST LINE FOR IT TO FIT IN THE WORLD I SORT OF MADE !! If you know you know).

And if you’re wondering who the hell Thomas is : Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Shaky steps and bad teaching, Master of Diaper, How do you make babies ?, What it means to be a big brother - By Damian Wayne and After Batmom’s death)

Bonus : There’s a moment, in one of the video I watched, where the guy showing the house off is basically like : “You might think this is a beautiful dining room…but it’s not, it’s a breakfast room”, and I had random flashes of Alfred showing the manor to one of the kids, or even to Batmom as she first comes to the house, and him talking about the “breakfast room”, and the boys/Batmom just not being able to get over the fact there’s a room that exist just to eat breakfast in…(wait till they see the personal SPA floor uh). Only Damian would be like : “Tt. Only one breakfast room ?” XD. Anyway. I thought I shared, because it made me laugh to imagine how ridiculous Wayne Manor is. Wait worst, in one of the video the people living in it had a room bigger than my entire apartment that existed for the SOLE PURPOSE OF CUTTING BOUQUETS OF FRESH FLOWERS ??????? That I’m sure they wouldn’t have. I mean, a garden that Alfred would cherish, for sure. But...an entire room just to cut FRESH (the dude really put an emphasis on that) flowers...My guy...what...

_________________________________________________

Ok the end. Hope you liked whatever my thoughts were on this Saturday night. I didn't put as much effort in this as I usually do and wrote it rather fast, hope it’s still ok, I just wanted to share a little something that wouldn't leave my head up until I finally wrote about it :).

PS : Also it’s all sort of a joke I thought about, I know most people would probably find their way after living for ages in the same place, but ah you get what I meant haha. Also I get lost in my own basement sometimes because of how the layout is, so ya know...hahaha.

#Batmom #Batfam #Batfamily #Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Damian Wayne x Reader #Batfam x Reader #Batmom x Batfam #Jason Todd x Reader #Cassandra Cain imagine #Richard Grayson x Reader #Tim Drake x reader #Damian Wayne imagine #Tim Drake imagine #Batfam imagine #Richard Grayson imagine #Wayne Manor is CRAZY #Fem!Reader

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seancekitsch · 3 years

Text

Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest, as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends.

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

#my work #marko lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #marko x reader

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #friends with benefits to lovers #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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hesther-mcg · 3 years

Text

chained

➥ pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

➥ summary: the one where two people are chained to one another, hopelessly in love but every bit of wrong for one another

➥ rating: angst, song fic, biker!bucky au

➥ warnings: explicit language, mentions of toxic relationship

➥ a/n: happy valentines day! in the name of irony i’m going to post this today, bc i can. this has been rattling around in my noggin for a bit now and i actually rlly like this. i hope u do too. i highly recommend listening to the song while reading, its also available on spotify.

chained :: elle king ft. cameron neal chained marvel m. list

We can run away, but we can’t hide for long

And all that lingers harms us

She’d tried it—moving houses, running away from the problems she was used to, changing things. She’d already tried it, and it had worked beautifully at first. The high of being in a new place, a place all to themselves, it was wonderful. And it had brought out the man she had started to believe was gone, the man she’d loved for so many suns and so many moons; years of her life having been spent growing alongside him, and she felt nothing short of complete satisfaction.

“Thanks for running away with me,” she’d whispered to him in the late hours of the night, head rested on his bare chest and his calloused hand running up and down over the delicate skin of her back.

“I’ll go wherever you want me to, babe,” was his promise, spoken softly into the dark with a tenderness reserved for her heart and ears only.

But all good things came to an end, and her life had brought truth to that statement. Things settled, routines came back and everything that lingered became visible. The issues that remained, the unspoken anger and unresolved conflicts rearing their ugly heads once again. She’d tried to pack up her life and her love and run away, but she was learning that she couldn’t hide for long.

I can lie to you, but the truth comes alive

Every time I die saying goodbye

Everything was a slow progression, the honeymoon phase wearing off slowly but surely; the conflicts creeping in where they weren’t welcomed. Again, everything was fine at first, they seemed to move as a team and it filled her heart with a warmth almost indescribable—they were so much of the same mind, in her eyes.

But then things drifted off course, the scales tipped in every which way except balanced—right where she wanted, and irritation grew to be the default when she saw his hands reach for the motorcycle keys. Betrayal became the default when she looked away from him and nodded her head, giving a flat and unconvincing ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘have fun.’ Hurt became the default when she bit her tongue until her mouth filled with the taste of crimson copper and her sobs shook her entire body, the sound of a roaring motorcycle engine filling the house.

She could lie, but he always knew. They had their problems, they battled through their conflicts, but they were still positive and negative forces magnetically pulling the other closer, two links in a chain stuck together for eternity.

Cause I don’t want to change

but I can’t stay this way

Love was a lot of things; sometimes she thought of it as something warm and familiar and safe, and other times she was convinced it was the chain that kept her around. She loved him, god damnit did she love James Barnes, but she knew that she was nearing her limit. Her heart could only take so much before she’d lose herself completely, and then she was done for beyond that point. Forever damaged; irreparable.

When Y/N thought about a life where she was on her own, miles upon miles away from the man she only wanted love and comfort from, her chest felt similar to how she imagined a sinkhole made the earth feel. The memories they shared, the laughs and the cries and the endless fun, it would forever haunt her if she were to leave—but one could argue that they already haunted her, already plagued her thoughts and dreams and every second she was breathing.

“What do you want?!” He’d screamed when she’d brought up her concerns, arms raised in the air and brows furrowed.

“Things can’t stay this way, James,” she’d stressed, fingers knotting her hair as they frantically ran through the strands.

And I don’t even mind staying chained, and thinking of you

Thinking of you

“What if I don’t wanna change?”

The breath had caught in her throat at his words, heart sinking to the pits of her stomach as her teary eyes bore into his, his figure blurry but radiating frustration.

“Then I’ll leave,” she threatened, the words burning her mouth as she spoke them. “I love you but I won’t let that stop me.”

But she always did—when he crawled into bed with slow movements and gentle hands, words soft, sweet, and oh so guilty. Apologies and false promises, admissions of love and sweet nothings, it mended her heart for the time being and she remained in the same place.

Is it up to me?

It’s always been up to you to find the peace we needed to

Strength had been dwindling, strength to fight for a relationship immersed in chaos. When things blew up, when the road grew rocky and dangerous and sometimes even lethal, it’d always been her to struggle putting the pieces back together. His words of affirmation and endless charm was the glue that only temporarily mended the cracks, but it was her will and her strive that got them there in the end.

Strength was dwindling, and she was starting to give up. “It’s always been up to me, James,” she’d told him, voice quiet, scratchy, and broken. “It’s always been me, but it’s on you now.”

He hadn’t responded, lips slightly parted as he took in the way that she didn’t even bother looking at him. He knew he’d been digging a grave, and he was starting to see that eventually he’d have to lie in it if he didn’t straighten up. The problems in their lives, in both him and her, they were deeply rooted and while she’d been trying to hack away at them, he’d only been watering them.

Is it said and done, is it carved in the stone?

How many days is it gonna take ‘til we get back home?

Most days, he did nothing but convince her that their fate was sealed—that their ultimate demise on the horizon and refused to move for anything. She’d tried and tried to tell herself that that wasn’t the truth, exalted all resources willing into existence the fact that they were meant to be—stuck together for the trials and tribulations that life undoubtedly bring them.

Things could change, and perhaps they would; nothing was said and done for them because only Y/N could write her story and only she could choose her ending.

But the harder she held on, the longer the path seemed to be. If what they had was a journey through struggle and strife, then the journey seemed years and years long—an endless battle to just make it through the days to even see the end of the road, and it more often than not left her wondering how long it would take before they would make it back home. How long would it be before they returned to where they started—sickeningly sweet, head over heels in love and willing to do anything under the sun for one another.

Cause I don’t want to change

But I can’t stay this way

If this was what growth was, then she wished someone had told her of how painful it was. It felt like scratchy throats from screaming matches, aching chests from nights spent clawing away at the burning skin, and so many more things that weren’t even worth listing. The point of it was that she was finally reaching the point where the door was opening, creaking slowly and revealing the outside world where she could escape.

Y/N didn’t want to escape, but she was starting to see that maybe it was what she needed to do. At one point she had loved her life because he had made the sun shine brighter every day and the stars twinkle a little more each night, and while she longed for that version of James he was not anywhere in sight—and hadn’t been for a long time.

She knew she couldn’t stay this way, she knew it and felt like a complete idiot every time she saw her own reflection, but, much like the aforementioned growth, this change was just as painful. And pain was something she’d felt enough of.

And I don’t even mind staying chained, and thinking of you

Thinking of you

The doors had all been slammed, every single one had the unfortunate fate of being in the path of an angry James, and a few of them hadn’t survived and refused to close completely.

“Why do you want to leave so bad, huh? If you don’t wanna be here then just fucking leave!” The emotional torment was clear as day in his voice as he screamed to the top of his lungs, and it tore her heart to shreds.

“You know damn well why!” She’d shouted back, face beet red as her chest violently heaved. “I don’t fucking deserve this, Buck, and I’m sick and tired of it!” Her nerves buzzed under the surface of her skin and she could feel her pulse in her face, and the man before her only stared back with dark eyes.

“You won’t change,” she’d sobbed. “You won’t and you know it, and if you loved me you would.”

“Y/N—” he’d started, taking a step forward but she’d held her hands out, pushing herself against the wall to get further away.

“No.” Her words were shaky yet void of fear; actually, James could hear the grit that she’d developed after dealing with his shit for so long and he felt his chest cave in slightly. “You stay there and you listen to me.”

Will you wake me up? Will you shake me up?

Cause I’m losing my way in the game

The cracks and creases on her heart deepened greatly, and when they did so she felt every bit of it. The way his eyes bore into hers, as if he was searching her soul like he’d done so many times before, made her look away—for this time she couldn’t trust him to search with good intentions.

“I’ve tried for a long time to make this work, and you can’t tell me you don’t see it. You’re not stupid, James; don’t pretend to be.” She’d shook her head with her last statement, hair going every which way and tears almost filled his eyes because she was right. “But it wont work if something doesn’t give and I’ve given enough!”

He nodded lamely, because that’s all he could think to do. He knew she didn’t want his words, they didn’t matter right now.

“Are you even serious about this? About us? You know this isn’t a joke, this is MY life! It goes way beyond just you and your issues and your anger,” her arms waved around in the air. “James, I’m losing myself in this and you’re supposed to save me!”

The tears did fill his eyes then, stinging the blue orbs and causing him to blink rapidly. He felt like shit, and every bone in his body ached with guilt.

Even at our best, my love

Neither one of us was ever really good enough

The realization that some things truly weren’t meant to be, that some people really weren’t meant to be together, was a tough pill to swallow. Y/N felt herself choke on it multiple times throughout the years, but it was finally down and done with. She couldn’t say if they were never meant to meet, or just never meant to stay together, but either way she knew that they were a recipe for disaster.

Her chemicals and his mixed together didn’t make the love that lasted a lifetime, the kind that made it through the dark and the light of the rocky road through life. They made poison, a stunning and paralyzing formula of toxic traits and deep rooted issues. They weren’t a match; even at their best they were never compatible—just too blind and in love to see it.

“I don’t know why I can’t change, and I will always stay this way,” she sang softly, her heartbreak shining through under the bright lights of the stage in a bar miles and miles away from the man she loved. The band behind her kept up well, putting the raw emotion behind every beat and note that this song required, and for that she was grateful. It was a slight break in the constant dull that she felt, a break that she was beginning to believe she wouldn’t see in her lifetime.

“And I don’t even mind staying chained,” the drawl in her voice was nothing short of old soul and broken dreams, and it wouldn’t have fit in anywhere other than the rundown bar filled with folks of a similar kind. She’d worn heartache daily long before she walked away from that house, but now it never seemed to wipe off. It was never ending, and so was the thought of him. She truly was chained to him, and sometimes in the middle of tear filled nights she told herself that he was still chained to her as well. “And thinking of you.”

Thinking of you, thinking of you, thinking of you.

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