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sometimesanalice · 5 months

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Wildest Dreams

Summary: Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected to be waiting at a Naval hangar for a man you’d met two months ago during Fleet Week. Let alone one you’d only known for less than twenty-four hours. (Even if it had been the best sex of your life.)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warning: fluff, smut, and the return of the summer dress whites (minors dni)

(author's note: this was written as part of @laracrofted's 1989(TV) challenge. It is a prequel to Hey, Sailor, but can be read on its own!)

This has the potential to be the best idea you’ve ever had or the worst.

Although based on the way you kind of want to shimmy out of your too tight skin, you’re starting to think it might be the worst.

You are out of place and out of sorts. There are kids giggling and running around with homemade posters covered in bright neon bubble letters and you aren’t even wearing a bra.

Oh god, what were you thinking?

Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected to be waiting for a man you’d only met two months ago during Fleet Week. Let alone one that you had known for less than twenty-four hours and had sex with within the first two hours of meeting. But you couldn’t think about that too much without your face heating up.

And waiting at Naval Air Station North Island, no less.

Oh, this was a very bad idea.

The happy chatter of excited friends and family of the deployed squadron members, who are due to return within the hour, is bouncing off of the cavernous curved walls of the hangar you’re standing in. Bursts of delighted laughter rippling throughout the space.

And with each passing minute the thumping of your heart pounds a little harder against the walls of your chest. Whether it’s anticipation or apprehension you couldn’t say.

Under normal circumstances the energy would be infectious, the atmosphere around you is bubbly and light, but all it does is make you feel like it is glaringly obvious that you don’t fit in here with the rest of the clusters of families.

That is if your nice yet slightly-too-revealing-to-be-family-friendly dress didn’t already give you away.

The only perk of it at the moment was that the breeze against the bare skin of your exposed back was keeping you from breaking out in an anxious full body sweat in the summer heat.

In your defense, you’d picked this dress out for a reason and had chosen it with a purpose in mind. Even if you were second guessing every decision that has led you here.

Over the last two months, you had changed your mind more frequently than the wind changed direction.

He’d been brought into your life on a high tide of champagne bubbles that had swiftly taken him right back out, leaving a wake of nothing but champagne problems.

Every time you thought about recycling the packet of papers that had taunted you and tempted you in equal parts, you were reminded of the warm brown eyes of the person who had given it to you. And it never failed to set your heart a flutter the same way had when he’d given it to you with that soft, cautiously hopeful smile.

You have the registration form that had gotten you through the heavily secured gate clutched tightly in your hand as if you’re waiting for some uniformed security official to come up to question you then escort you off the base.

Although now it’s so crumbled and creased that you don’t know if they’d even be able to read it.

Worst of all, you had no way to distract your busy mind from all your buzzing thoughts.

They’d taken your phone at the gate, a security measure they’d told you as you watched them tag it with your name and put in a slim cubby for you to collect when you left.

Which might be sooner than you thought, because the longer you stand there waiting and shifting on your feet the more you were fighting the urge to backpedal. To spin on your strappy sandaled feet and hightail it back to your car and drive the legally posted limit only until you made it past those intimidating chain link gates before flooring it, getting as far away from this cheery, happy hanger as quickly as possible.

And yet for whatever reason, your antsy feet and tapping toes stay planted on shiny finish of the industrial cement of the hanger.

This is crazy.

You’d thought it as you slipped on and tied the flimsy straps of your pink ruffled sundress and collected all of your things. Pausing to double check that you had your Driver’s License, Passport, and Social Security card in your purse for the fourth time that day.

This is ridiculous.

You’d thought it as you’d drove along the highway to the Naval base that you had only been to only once a couple of months ago. The sun beaming down on your car with hardly a cloud in the sky. A perfect golden California day, even if your mind was in a hazy fog.

This is foolish.

You’d definitely thought that on loop, like a broken record in your mind, as you’d waited in the long line of cars all done up in window paints and streamers packed with grinning, eager faces all queued up for the same reason.

When you had finally made it to the front of the line, your heart had been pounding away beating a mile a minute. Your palms sweating as you handed over the three-page packet and identification cards to the security working the gates.

The Use of Deadly Force Authorized sign was a stark contrast with the smiles of the officials who greeted you.

You were positive you looked as shifty as you felt. But it seemed the only person who thought you looked like a red flag was you. Because they’d barely given you a second glace as they’d waved you through after checking your paperwork. You had almost blurted out Are you sure?, but managed to keep it together as you waited for the red arms of the barrier gate to lift.

That final hurdle officially out of your hands because you were finally there and soon he’d be here.

During one white wine fueled late night evening on your couch you’d allowed yourself to indulge in those tempting taunting what-ifs.

What-if you went.

What-if you waited.

What-if you met him there.

And in your casual research somewhere between the third and fourth glass of Sauvignon Blanc, before you had scrolled back three years on the base’s official Instagram page and googled the sure-to-be redacted version of the visitor’s map of the base, you’d read that sometimes they’d direct visitors to park in a lot on the edge of the base to be shuttled to the designated homecoming hanger.

Thankfully, there would be no shuttles operating on military efficient timetables for you. Since you’d been directed to a parking lot that sat across from a large hanger decorated with waving and winking banners of bold red, white, and blues.

You couldn’t help release a little sigh of relief knowing that you’d be able to make an easy escape if you needed to.

Because if this was going to take you down, if the sun was going to set on your gleaming gilded what-ifs, at least you could leave with your head held high. Even if your tail would be between your legs.

Just in case, you had built it up in your head.

Just in case, he changed his mind.

Because this was crazy, this was ridiculous, this was foolish. But you didn’t want those memories from two months ago to follow you around like a ghost of what could have been.

You wanted to see what it could be. What you hoped it might become.

You’ve thought about that night a lot.

Flashes of sturdy white twill and toned muscles and a low, raspy voice had kept you up more nights than you were willing to acknowledge. You’d lost time thinking about warm hands and a rich laugh and lips that left hot trails along your body that you still felt like a ley line under your skin.

After the mark beneath your ear had faded, the only proof it all hadn’t been some gold rush dream was the flimsy piece of paper currently grasped in your hand like a lifeline.

Before that night you’d never understood the draw of Fleet Week. It seemed like the type of mess you’d purposely avoided. Nights that left you either with a good story to tell over brunch or in mascara coated tears crumpled like a piece of paper on the ground.

But now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to think of it without thinking of it and him with only the rosiest of memories.

Your mind wanders as you remember the way he’d made you felt. Of being around him, of tangled up with him. You’re too busy thinking about heated smiles and pretty scars that the sound sneaks up on you.

It starts out as a low rumble that swiftly builds into a roar that shakes you out of that shimmering lavender haze. Cheers break out in the crowd as people flood out of the hanger and onto the tarmac to get a better view.

Looking around you, there are kids pressing their hands to their ears as the squeal and shout in delight. Their faces turning up to the skies as they enthusiastically wave at the aircrafts flying towards the base with perfect precision.

You get as close to the edge of the hanger as you dare. Toeing the line between cracked industrial cement and sundrenched asphalt, still unsure your place in all of this. Not quite ready to fully give yourself up to the swift current of honey hued possibility.

There are at least a dozen jets approaching in sharp triangular and diamond shaped formations. Clusters of four flying in flawless alignment with one another, their shiny bodies stand out in relief against the cloudless blue skies. It’s a gravity defying ballet as the individual groups merge together in impeccable unison to form one large unit.

Your jaw drops open in awe and your heart soars into your throat at the stunningly impressive sight.

They speed impossibly fast overhead and within seconds all that remains are the contrails of their coming and the knowledge that soon they’ll have their feet back on the ground with the rest of you.

The low, thick whomp whomp whomp of large helicopter propellers approaching behind them in the distance like an echo as more and more of the deployed squadron arrive for their homecoming.

You almost can’t hear it over the steady drumbeat of your heartbeat in your ears.

Because he’s back. He’s here.

After two months of wondering and waiting, you’re about to find out.

It’s all happening now.

“It’s her last fling before the ring! Cheers, bitches!”

You didn’t know whether you were impressed or one enthusiastic woo! away from losing it at the amount of puns Amanda, the maid of honor, had been able to come up with for the evening.

To no one’s surprise, tequila shots and champagne were a dangerous combo.

When the bride-to-be had said she wanted to keep things local and have a staycation type girl’s weekend for her bachelorette party, you and your bank account had been thrilled. It wasn’t until you all had left for the hotel all gussied up in your sparkling hot pink finest to head out for dinner that you noticed all the white uniforms dotting the sidewalks and seated out on some of the outdoor terraces.

It was Fleet Week.

You’ve lived in San Diego for almost five years now. And while running into someone in the Navy was commonplace, in both the grocery store and on the dating apps you’d redownloaded a few months ago, Fleet Week was something that you’d always purposely avoided. Opting to stay home and out of the fray.

However, you were coming off of a break up with a man who had slowly sucked all the color from your world. And this weekend was just the thing you needed to let go, to be unabashedly uninhibited, to reclaim your shimmer.

Your shiny pink dress is three inches shorter and your heels two inches taller than anything you’d ever worn before. There had been a brief moment when you’d felt self-conscious stepping into the lobby of the hotel, aware of just how much skin was on display with short hem and the low dip of the back of your dress, until your best friend had given you the loudest wolf-whistle known to mankind sending you into a fit of giggles.

And instead of shying away from the eyes that had been drawn to you in that moment, you sparkled.

You didn’t quite feel like your old self yet, but you were on your way. You liked this version of yourself so much better than the shell of a girl you’d been before. You liked the one who could be bold and brave and bejeweled.

The upscale bar is packed and it’s just the kind of lively atmosphere where tonight’s bad decisions could become tomorrow’s good stories.

It felt less like a club and more like a large stylish living room, with its cozy clusters of oversized chairs and couches. Pockets of the room were cast in a soft lavender light, while the rest was awash in a golden glow from the massive modern chandelier that ran the length of the room. Gleaming brass accents were offset with the warm tones of the wooden paneling that lined the walls. It was soft, lush, and inviting.

The music was good and there was even a small dancefloor, but it wasn’t so loud that you couldn’t enjoy having a conversation with someone without shouting. The bar looked more like a library than a place to get your drinks with its black leather tufted base and dark wooden built-ins displaying shiny bottles like a prized book collection. And the cocktails were stellar.

It was obvious why so many people had ended up here tonight, both civilians and Naval personnel on leave.

“Oh, hello there,” you hear your best friend practically purr, pulling you from your internal debate about another ordering another shot of tequila.

You look over to see her staring at the door where two tall officers have just entered with a devious gleam in her eyes.

The one on the left was just her type, a pretty boy with the kind of megawatt smile that would have orthodontists dying to get a closer look. He looked the cocky kind of confident now, but you knew if your friend made her move she’d have him wrapped around her finger before the bartenders even announce last call.

The man next to him was the taller one of the two and sporting a mustache that might have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but for whatever reason it suited him very well. Especially when it was paired with that easy grin he was currently wearing as he laughed along with something his friend was saying. Even from across the room you could tell he’d be even more attractive up close.

Their tans and the definition of their arms were offset by the crisp whites of their short-sleeved uniforms. And looking at them you could finally understand the appeal of Fleet Week.

Men like that could easily make a girl lose her mind amongst other things.

You had no doubt in your mind that these two in particular would be a hot commodity tonight. There were already quite a few heads turned in their direction to watch as they made their way towards the bar. Appreciative eyes glinting as they take in just how well they both filled out their uniforms.

Another loud woo! from your group of friends pulls your attention back to them in time to see another bottle of champagne, complete with a bright sparkler, being delivered to the table you had all chipped in for the evening.

At this rate, someone was either going to end up on top of a table or on the confetti covered floor.

You chance another look back over your shoulder towards the two men who’d just saddled up to the bar and are met with a pair of mischievous eyes already trained on you.

An electric touch races up along your spine.

You’re still a safe distance far enough away to where you can allow yourself to take him in, fighting the urge to hastily look away and pretend it was an accident that your eyes connected when you had definitely been trying to sneak another peek at them- at him in particular. You see his smile pull to the left and his cheek tick up as you hold his gaze.

He’s less than subtle in the way he lets his eyes drag over the exposed skin of your back and down the line of your legs before letting them settle back on your face. When you shoot him a pointed raise of your eyebrow, that smirk on his face just grows even wider.

It makes your stomach swoop, and even worse, it makes your own lips turn up in an amused smile in response.

An unabashed flirt.

There’s no doubt in your mind he knows exactly what he is doing. You’re sure he has practiced this kind of silent conversation many times. That over the years he has polished his technique to a shiny, smooth finish.

You know nothing good can come from a man in a uniform, but a man in uniform during Fleet Week is a different kind of trouble altogether.

And one who looks like that? Big and broad, with confidence rolling off of him in waves?

No, nothing good could come from it.

Taking one more sweep of his face you turn away from him and opt to sip on some cold water instead.

Your best friend is still making eyes with the man with the dimples, so you start up a conversation with one of the other bridesmaids you don’t know as well as some of the others. She was a sweetheart, but you could tell this wasn’t her usual scene so it felt like you were doing a lot of the heavy lifting for the conversation.

It also didn’t help that you were trying and failing to ignore the way it had felt when he looked at you, like sparks dancing across your skin that you could still feel like a phantom touch.

You’re struggling to come up with a new topic of conversation when cloud of white sequins and rhinestones and tulle bulldozes into you.

“Come get a drink with us,” the bride-to-be declares as she hooks her arm with yours and starts tugging you towards the bar.

You see that your best friend is already a couple steps ahead of the two of you and heading in the same direction to the bar, purpose in every step she takes.

“You need a break from free champagne?” you ask with a grin.

“I want something pink!” she sings.

You laugh at her dedication to the theme, “Ok, let’s get you something pink.”

“Yes, let’s,” she agrees.

As you get closer to the bar, you ignore the pull in your stomach and the gaze of the broad man who lingers in your peripheral vision. It had been heady from a distance you had no clue how you’d fair with it directed at you up close.

You’re not surprised in the least when your best friend passes by the open space at the bar and flounces right up to the officer with the dimples. And you’re even less surprised when she takes the shot that was held loosely in his hand and tosses it back in one go, before running her thumb along the bottom of her lip and giving him a sharp, feline grin. The now shot-less man rises up to the occasion and gives her a matching one of his own, the interest gleaming in his eyes.

However, you are very much shocked when your soon-to-be-wed friend all but shoves you towards the man with the mustache.

Your hands dart out to catch yourself on the bar, but one ends up on his thick forearm instead as he reaches out to steady you. His other hand is braced low on your hip, big and warm. Glancing down you can see that his pinky is very near the hem of your short dress.

You toss her a withering glare over your shoulder, but she’s already bobbling back towards the group very clearly pleased with herself.

As you turn to look up at him, all words escape you and your breath gets caught in your throat.

He’s handsome as hell.

And up close, that uniform has the potential to be even more life ruining than it was from a distance.

It is almost obscene the way it clings to the bulk of him. The sleeves of his shirt were stretched out around his biceps and pulled taut across his chest. His pants look almost molded to his thighs and long legs. It’s almost dizzying just how good-looking he is in it.

And you’re absolutely mortified.

“Hey, Sailor,” you say weakly at an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness of how you’ve come to be pressed against his hard body.

He throws his head back and laughs. It’s low and lush, rich and raspy. And god, do you like the sound of it.

But there’s still a rush anxious energy that courses through you, unsure if he’s laughing at you or the situation you’ve both been literally thrust into. You’re tempted to step back out of his reach, but his fingers tighten the gentlest bit where his hand still sits on your hip keeping you in place.

There’s amusement dancing behind his brown eyes and that smile of his up close is even more devastating. And you can’t help but shoot him a sheepish smile in return.

“That’s one way to make an entrance,” he grins.

“I am so sorry about that,” you say gesturing to the gaggle of giggling girls watching on from the corner of the room. You get your feet righted underneath you and take a half-step back.

And this time he lets you, his pinky grazing the skin of your upper thigh as he does.

“I’m not,” he says, leaning against the shiny black and white marble slab of the bar top, “I was hoping you’d come over here.”

You refuse to let yourself get flushed, but the heat races to your cheeks all the same.

Instead you pivot.

“I feel like I should warn you, she’s going to eat your friend alive,” you say, gesturing to your best friend who is looking every inch the menace you know her to be.

He glances over towards where his friend and yours are talking. His friend’s shot has been replaced and they’re both wearing a pair of dueling smiles. Their conversation too quiet to hear, but you know that tone of hers and what it means.

The good kind or the bad kind it was too early in the evening to say.

You allow yourself a brief moment to admire his profile, your eyes tracing over his cheekbones and jaw, noticing a few scars that dot his sunkissed skin.

He lets out a low chuckle and looks back towards you, “Good. Hangman has been a pain in my ass for years. Serves him right. It’ll be good for his ego.”

“Hangman?” you ask, eyebrows pinching together.

“Oh, right. That’s Jake,” he clarifies, nodding over to his friend, “Hangman is his callsign. Bagman if he’s pissing me off, which is often enough. We’re both Naval aviators.”

Well, that explained the aura of self-assuredness that radiated from the two of them from the very moment you’d seen them.

The uniform was bad enough on its own, but a pilot?

Trouble was definitely too small a word for this man, he’d need a different category created for him altogether.

“Can’t say I’m too mad at him right now though. I wanted to go somewhere more lowkey, but he said ‘pretty girls like pretty places’,” he gives you a slow smile as his eyes drift over you, “Turns out he was right. But don’t tell him that I said that, he’ll be insufferable.”

And then he has the audacity to wink at you.

You absolutely will not be getting tangled up with a pilot. But you were definitely up for a little fun, and decide there is no harm in indulging in some friendly banter.

“So are you going to tell me your callsign or do I have to guess?” you tease.

“It’s Rooster.”

You swallow down the quip that comes to your mind first, and ask instead, “Do you come with a first name, Rooster? Or did the Navy claim that too?”

He has Bradshaw emblazoned on the nametag on his chest, but you’re so curious to find out the answer. You’ve never been so interested collecting breadcrumb pieces of someone before, there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you want to know more.

“I’m Bradley,” he grins wider, holding out his hand to you.

You look from him to his big hand and then back to him again, debating on how much you want to give him in return. He lifts a playful eyebrow his hand still outstretched as he waits for your move.

So you put your hand in his and give him your name.

Rooster repeats it back as if he’s testing out the way the syllables and consonants of your name feel in his mouth. And if he’s slow to let go of your hand, you let it slide without a comment.

“Well, since it’s Fleet Week and all, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, I think would be pretty unpatriotic for me to not buy you a drink as an apology for my friends and for subjecting you that poorly executed line.”

His features take on a very contemplative look as he lets out a low, quiet hmm.

“I don’t know about that,” he deliberates.

“About the drink?” you ask, fully prepared to make a hasty retreat before you make yourself look any more ridiculous than you already did.

“No, about the line,” Rooster says, whiskey smooth, “I think it was pretty effective.”

“Really? That’s all it took, huh?” you laugh, “You must have been stuck on that ship for a while.”

Flagging down the bartender, you order a couple shots of chilled tequila.

You see Bradley reach into his shirt pocket, pulling out a few loose bills to pay. There’s definitely nowhere for a wallet to go in those pants. Sliding in front of him, letting yourself graze up against him just the slightest bit, you tell the bartender to put the shots on your group’s open tab. You can see them still spying on you, so it was the least they could do for a free show.

You spin towards him and rest your elbows on the bartop behind you with a grin. He just smirks and shakes his head at you with a look that you’d almost want to call fond if you’d actually known him for longer than ten minutes.

“So, how long were you deployed? Are you headed back to wherever home is after this weekend is over?” you ask.

“I’m actually stationed here permanently in San Diego,” Bradley says, pausing for a moment before continuing, “But I am headed out for a two-month deployment tomorrow.”

He’s looking at you closely, as if he is trying to gauge your reaction to him showing you his cards so early. Here today, but gone tomorrow.

This open honesty from him makes him even more attractive in your eyes. He’s the type of man who could so easily wreck your plans if you gave him the chance to. And for a split second, you can almost see the end before anything can even begin.

“Well, it’s nice of the city to give you such a nice send-off then,” you say lightly, ignoring the twinge in your stomach.

Thankfully, the bartender returns with the chilled shots, you thank him and then hand Bradley one of the shot glasses cheers-ing him with your own, “To Uncle Sam’s overly inflated defense budget.”

He snorts and watches as you raise the glass to your lips. Feeling bold under the warmth of his gaze, your tongue darts out as you lick the smoked salt off the rim before swallowing down the shot, not breaking eye contact with him once.

You’re beyond delighted when notice the tips of his ears are a little pink as he throws back his own. The heaviness from earlier shifting into a more exciting kind of tension as your gazes bounce off of each other.

Bradley leans a bit into your space as he sets his empty glass on the bartop, “Can I let you in on a secret?”

“Only if it’s a juicy one,” you counter, more than happy to take the bait.

“It wasn’t just the line. Your little tiara thing is doing it for me too,” he says reaching out and adjusting the rhinestone Bridesmaid headband that you’d completely forgotten you were wearing. His thumb skimming over your temple as he withdraws his hand.

You could handle an unabashed flirt, but a charming unabashed flirt whose smile was setting off a flurry of butterflies in your chest was not on the agenda for tonight.

“Do you want to swap, Rooster?” you tease nodding your head towards the white and shiny black-rimmed hat that is sitting snugly on top of his head.

“Nah, I don’t think I could pull it off as well as you do.” He shoots you another wink, one that has your toes curling in your pretty-but-too-tall heels. “Plus, mine is technically government property. They don’t let just anyone wear it, not without earning it.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip down to your lips.

The shot of tequila makes you brave enough to contemplate asking just exactly one would have to do to earn a turn wearing his hat, but the two of you are startled out of bubble you had found yourselves in at the sound of a sharp slap.

You peer curiously around Bradley to see Hangman looking equal parts shell-shocked and starry eyed after your best friend as she struts away from him with a swing in her hips, her hair bouncing with each step.

“I should-” your own eyes betray you by slipping down to his parted lips when you look back at him, “I should go check on her.”

“You don’t have to go just because Bagman is an idiot. Let me get you a drink and return the favor. Please,” he says, his big brown eyes asking you to stay.

“No, I really should. Thanks for indulging my friends and for the company, Bradley. Enjoy the rest of Fleet Week.” Before you can overthink it, you lean in a press a kiss to his cheek. Giving him one more smile, one that doesn’t feel as bright as you’d like it to be, you turn and leave.

You hustle to catch up with your friend as she makes her way back to your bedazzled group, “Hey, are you ok? What the hell did he say?”

She waves off your concern with a Cheshire cat grin, “Oh, that man is about to be so obsessed with me.”

Over the next hour it is impossible to keep your eyes from straying back to him. You try to lose yourself to the music on the small dancefloor and in the raunchy girl talk. Every time you dared to take a peek at him, you’d been surprised to see him already looking at you instead of chatting up some other girl.

At one point, he’d even been bold enough to pat the space next to him as an open invitation. You’d simply smiled and shook your head at him, laughing to yourself when he dramatically clutched at his heart in response.

It’s not until a very large bottle of Dom Perignon Brut Rosé is delivered your table, a cheer going up as the bottle service girl discloses who had it sent over, that you’re made to reevaluate your plans for the evening.

The two men are still at the bar, but you don’t miss the satisfied smirk of on your best friend’s face as she helps herself to some of the pink bubbly.

Instead of a glass, you’re offered a threat.

“We all know what she’s doing, but if I see you at brunch tomorrow I’m kicking you out of the wedding,” the bride-to-be cheerfully trills, albeit tipsily, as she presses your clutch into your hand and shoos you away. Officially dismissed from your bridesmaid duties for the remainder of the weekend.

You take the long way around the edge of the room to the bar, giving yourself a minute to debate the pros and cons of what you were planning to do. But as the crowd parts and you see him, still planted in the same place you’d left him, all the bullet-pointed items on your mental list dissolve like sugar in an Old Fashioned at the sight of his warm whiskey brown eyes.

This time it’s no accident in the way you slide up to him.

“Well, Rooster, you’ve got my attention.”

“Good. I like your attention,” he says with an all too pleased grin. “I was worried I was going to have to come join in you over there. The last bachelorette party we ran into kept wanting me to give the bride a lap dance. It looked pretty dire there for me for a moment. You bridesmaids are an intimidating bunch.”

He doesn’t strike you as someone who would shy away from the attention.

“Feral, drunk, horny women aren’t your thing? Or are you just anti lap dance?” you ask with a cheeky tilt of your head.

“Feral and horny women for sure. And I am very pro lap dance, I’ll have you know. I’m just picky about who I give them too. For example, if you were to ask nicely, I’d be more than happy to demonstrate,” he offers, his cheek ticking up on one side.

He made you feel an exhilarating kind of reckless. And if you were only going to get one night with him, you were going to make the most of it.

“That’s a very expensive bottle of champagne that just got delivered to us.”

“Well, it’s Fleet Week after all.”

“We established that earlier tonight,” you note jokingly.

“So we did,” Bradley acknowledges with a dip of his chin. “And in the spirit of Fleet Week, it seemed like a good gesture to further advance and cultivate better civilian and military relations.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you laugh.

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what do you think Fleet Week is about?” he asks, settling in and leaning his elbow on the bartop.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Getting free drinks and getting laid.”

“Ok, ok. You’ve got me there,” he chuckles. “Can’t say that hasn’t been part of the draw for me in the past.”

“So you admit you’re doing it wrong,” you can’t help but tease him as you throw a thumb over your shoulder towards the $500 bottle of champagne that’s bubbling away in glasses.

“In my defense, Hangman and I went dutch on it,” Rooster says as he puts his hands up in surrender. “Plus, if you remember, I already had a very pretty girl buy me a drink tonight.” His eyes drag over you pointedly, then lets them linger at your mouth again.

“Only the one?” you ask peering up at him.

“The only one I wanted.”

“And how many others have offered?” you ask, stepping even closer. You can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves even in the well airconditioned room.

He weighs his words before answering, “A few.”

A moment passes between the two of you as crystal-clear clarity settles around you.

The old you would have dropped it, but this version of you, the one you liked being around him was ready to press further.

“So the free drinks have been covered,” you say, fingertips tracing up along the veins of his forearm, “And what about getting laid?”

“I’d be more than happy with a phone number and a date lined up for sixty-two days from now,” Rooster says resting a hand low on your back, his thumb skimming along your bare skin. “But if you wanted, I wouldn’t mind showing you just how invested I am in furthering those civilian-military relations.”

The desire in his eyes makes any lingering doubts in your mind evaporate like a marine layer.

“Is that so, Sailor? How civically inclined of you.”

“Lieutenant Commander, actually,” he says with pride as he straightens up to his full height, his chest looking impossibly broader as he does.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw?” you hum, “Now that’s quite a mouthful.”

The low rumble that escapes his chest makes goosebumps erupt across your body.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as he brings his other hand to the curve of your hip.

“Oh please. You handle multimillion-dollar aircrafts for a living, I’m sure you could handle little ol’ me,” you say with a wink.

It’s a challenge, it’s a dare.

“Yeah, I bet I could too,” he rasps, looking at your lips.

He shouldn’t be so easy to like, shouldn’t have you wanting moremoremore when you’ve known him less than two hours.

You bring your hands to his chest, your fingers toying with the little button near the hollow of his throat, “So, you’re shipping out tomorrow…”

You feel as he stiffens slightly under your palms, but his gaze remains steady on you, “Yeah, tomorrow evening. It’s not the greatest of timing, I know.”

“Well then, I guess if there’s a clock we’re working against, we should probably get this show on the road,” you say nodding towards the door.

You watch as the remorse in his eyes is replaced with a mischievous glint. The solemn press of his lips transforming into a slow, knowing smirk.

And you know he’s game.

“You gonna take me home with you, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse with faux contemplation, looking at him from under your mascara coated lashes, “Do I get a tax break if I do?”

“I’d be more than happy to google it in the cab. And if you do, I’ll even fill out the form for you.”

You see a flash of a grin before he pulls you in for a kiss.

His warm hand and callous fingers glide up your back pressing you against his chest as his lips meet yours. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. Electricity racing from where you’re connected to every nerve ending in your body.

You pull away from him all too soon, smiling to yourself when he chases after your lips.

“I have one condition,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Name it,” Bradley says, dropping another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Maybe two,” you concede.

“Name them,” he chuckles lightly.

“You wear a condom.”

“Of course, that’s a given. What else?” He leans back just enough to adjust your sparkly headband from the way it had tilted back on your head.

“And my last request is… that I get to try on your hat.”

“We can definitely make that happen. Anything you want, baby.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I’m also pretty set on getting to have your cock in my mouth.”

“Jesus Christ.” His hands tighten on your hips, and his brown eyes turn molten.

“I think I’m looking forward to finding out if you’re an officer or a gentleman.”

“I’m definitely both,” Rooster says giving you an all too confident look that promises he has the skill to back up his words, “At least until these dress whites come off.”

You hear another woo! ring out that you know has nothing to do with another delivery of expensive champagne as he takes you by the hand and leads you out of the jewelry box bar.

There are already a few cabs lined up at the rank outside of the hotel. He holds the door open for you, and you slide in giving the driver your address. You’re not sure how Bradley manages to squeeze the bulk of him into the backseat along with you, but you don’t mind the way his thigh presses against yours or the way he rests his heavy hand on your knee or the way his thumb makes maddeningly light circles there.

He laughs when you hold up your phone to him at the flurry of all capitalized and emoji riddled text messages in the group chat that had been created for the evening. And when the driver pulls up to your apartment building, when you try to pull out your credit card, he passes the man a wad of twenties. Way more than the ride cost with a keep the change as he hustles you out of the car.

“Lead the way, baby,” Rooster croons in your ear, his voice low.

And in that moment, you decide you really like Fleet Week.

Who could resist a man in summer whites? Especially when that man is Bradley Bradshaw! Read Part 2 here!

Thank you for reading!

If you missed Hey, Sailor you can catch it HERE!

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You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #1989TGM

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bloody-peach · 3 months

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Eat Me, Drink Me (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x F!Reader smut fic)

(Gif made by me, original image found on google images)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Now Playing: Muse - Sing for Absolution, Marilyn Manson - Blood Honey

Goodie bag: vaginal sex, drugs (aphrodisiac), vaginal fingering, clit rubbing, drinking, dom Vox, bottom Y/N, vanilla stuff around the end [let me know if i missed anything!]

A/N: Yep, had to make some smut with Vox now, didn't I? Welp, here ya go! I would recommend listening to the recommended songs while reading this, to get into the atmosphere. Headphones required, just for added experience. ENJOY!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk

~~~♡♡♡~~~

You left the Hotel, exhausted. You had to deal with Niffty trying to kill new guests, Angel Dust’s bullshit with Cherri Bomb, and Husk drinking his life away on top of all the other duties you had there. But the worst of the worst was Alastor, he always loved to torment you and make you suffer or feel scared. Even now as you walk further away from the building, you could still hear his laugh deep in your mind. At least you were able to leave for the night, but you always felt like someone was watching you. Someone....much more powerful than you.

Vox, the TV Demon, has had his eye on you for some time, ever since he caught you on the hotel’s TV commercial. He remembers pausing the clip when it froze on you and he’d jack off, just imagining of what he could do to you. He was obsessed. And he decided that tonight was the night.

You kept walking when you heard electricity buzzing. You looked and it was just a broken neon sign, but it still left you uncomfortable. You kept walking, but the buzzing came back. You started to quicken your pace to try to escape the noise or the potential source of it, but it just kept following you, even when you started to run. You then run into a brick wall, realizing you must’ve turned a wrong way while you ran. You just turned with your back against the wall, unable to escape. You saw a glowing blue square in the dark along with small blue zaps of electricity spreading through the area. Soon, the thing came closer to reveal it was Vox, the overlord that controlled the masses through the visual media. You had never met him before, but you felt a sense of dread, thinking this was another guy just like Alastor. Once he came close to you, he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, darlin'.” You sigh in mild annoyance and say, “Look, I just...Alastor already torments me. If you just want to make my life a living hell like he does, then don’t bother. I don’t need another demon doing it too.” You didn’t have anything against him in particular, you were just too stressed out to deal with another demon who wanted to watch you suffer.

Vox’s red eyes flickered with a mix of confusion, then it turned to deep-seated rage. “Alastor...” he snarled. He controlled himself and then looked at you, with a slightly annoyed look in his face. “Is that why you were running? Because of that radio trash?” He put his hands behind his back, and said, “You know I’m not like him, right? I ain’t the type to get off to torturing folks. Well, not much at least. But you’re different.” He smiled as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “I don’t want to see you suffer, Y/N. I...well, i’m not entirely sure what I want with you.” He looked a little sheepish, an emotion you didn’t expect from him, but he quickly fixed himself and played with a strand of your hair. “But I do know I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I don’t plan on hurting you.”

You wondered why he knew your name, but then another thought came to mind. “Wait...you know Alastor?” He then chuckled, saying, “Do I know him? I wish I didn’t. That motherfucker and I go way back. Can’t stand him, frankly. He’s all about radio and all that outdated shit, but me? I’m all for anything new, as you can see.” He then petted your head. “Has he been giving you a hard time? Of course he would, he always enjoys that kind of shit. You poor thing.” His gaze softened as you put your head down, your expression full of fear and sadness, due to those traumatic memories. Vox gently grabbed your chin and brought your head up to look at him, saying with an unusual tenderness, “I promise you, Y/N, I ain’t like that. I can be...different. If you’d let me.”

You got the sense that he seemed to care for your struggles, but you’ve been in Hell for a long time. Very rarely have you encountered a person who actually cared about anyone. The only ones you knew of were Charlie and Vaggie, and out of all of Hell, that’s saying something. How can you trust what this man was saying? How can you be sure he isn’t out to hurt you or take advantage of you?

You look away from him, your face still holding that sad expression. “I want to believe you, but...how do I know you’re not just manipulating me? This is Hell, after all. Hard to find a genuine soul around here.” Vox sighed, the sound of static echoing through the alleyway. His eyes held a look of understanding, a flash of empathy. “Can’t say I blame ya for thinkin’ that way,” he admitted. “This place isn’t exactly known for its honesty.” He petted your head again, this time almost touching his forehead on yours, his voice going soft. “I don't know if I can promise you heaven, Y/N. But what I can promise you is that I ain’t here to make your life more miserable than it already is.” He then extended his hand, a smile on his face, “How about we try something? No tricks, no manipulation. Just you and I. See where it goes.”

You think about it. Well, he did seem pretty convincing, and whatever he had to offer had to be much better than what you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

You sigh and say as you shake his hand, “Ok.” Vox’s screen lit up with a cheerful grin as he felt your hand in his, the cool electricity sparking between your fingers. “That’s more like it, Y/N!” He said as he shook your hand. He let go of your hand and stepped back with a flourish. “Now let’s get outta this dump. If we’re gonna be...whatever we are, we might as well do it in style.” He then had an idea, his eyes glowing with excitement. “How about we head to my place? The entertainment district ain’t much, but it beats this shithole any day.” His usual cocky smile returned, the light of his screen casting a glow around the alley. “Besides, I’ve got the best view in Hell. You won’t be disappointed, I can assure you.” You smile, liking the idea. “Ok, that sounds real nice.”

You end up following him to his place and you’re amazed at how luxurious it was. Expensive furniture, so clean you could eat off of the floor, and a couch in front of a large window, showing the hellish night sky. You look out the window and he could see your eyes sparkle with delight as you marveled his abode. “Wow...you can see all of Hell from up here!” He chuckled as he crossed his arms, finding your joy adorable. He could get used to making you this happy. “Told ya, didn’t I? Best view in Hell.” He strode over to join you by the window, his eyes looking down at the fiery grounds below. “You get a good look at this place, you realize it ain’t all that bad. Got its charms, don’t it?” You turn to him and you nod. He turns to look at you, a genuine smile lighting up his screen. “Glad you like it, Y/N. Hopefully it makes your whole...situation a bit more bearable.” His gaze lingered on you for a few moments longer before he turned away to the bar, his screen showing an unclear emotion. “Now, how ‘bout a drink? I got a stash of the finest bourbon in all of Hell. Helps take the edge off.” “A drink sounds great. Thanks.”

He smiles to himself, knowing that you were slowly starting to warm up to him. “One helluva drink, coming right up!” As he grabs the bottle of bourbon, he then had a thought. He sat the bourbon down and dug out a small vial from the inside of his tux. It was a bottle of Valentino and Velvette’s ‘Love Potion’, an aphrodisiac they were collaborating on. Val gave him a bottle as a gift, but he never thought of using it. But knowing what Y/N had been going though day by day, dealing with that radio fucker’s bullshit all the time, he figured that maybe you needed a little something to help you relax, to feel pleasure and bliss instead of pain and fear. It’s not a betrayal of your trust if there’s good intentions behind it, right?

He pours the potion into the bourbon and mixed it, making sure Y/N wasn’t looking. “This stuff’s got a kick like a mule, but it’s smooth. Just like me.” He chuckles at his own joke, and he hears her giggle along with it. Oh, how he adored that laugh and how he hoped that once his plan worked, he would hear more of it, along with other lovely sounds. Once he poured a glass for himself, he brought the glasses to the couch, giving you the tainted drink and offering you to sit on the couch with him. You couldn’t help but blush a tiny bit from how he looked, the way he was sitting, offering you to join him in a moment to yourselves. You sat next to him, a bit shy, but soon relaxing in the couch. Vox raised his glass, the light from his screen reflecting from the swirling liquor. “To new beginnings, Y/N. May they be as interesting as the journey here.” With that, you both clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing through the room as you both take a long sip, his eyes never leaving you. Luckily, you didn’t notice his gaze as you downed the drink completely.

You could handle bourbon pretty well, that’s pretty much what Husk served at the bar usually, but never as high quality as this. “Man, this stuff is really good. Sweeter than any other bourbon I’ve had.” ‘Yeah, that’s the love potion that’s doing that,’ Vox thought in his head. He smirks, watching you enjoy the drink. His heart pounded in his chest, light flicks of static on his screen due to anticipation. “Glad ya like it, Y/N. It’s a special brand, adds a bit of sweetness to the usual burn. Perfect for those wanting to unwind.” He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, seeing you this relaxed and comfortable in his presence, even if it was artificially manufactured. He knew it must’ve been a rare sight, one he’d yearned to see for a while now.

He finishes his drink, sitting his empty glass on the coffee table. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” He asks, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. As he asked that, you started to feel a change in your body. You started to feel way more relaxed, your mind beginning to feel a bit hazy. You weren’t sure why; maybe the bourbon was that good. Your body started to feel hot and you could feel a throbbing feeling between your legs. “I...I’m not sure...I...I feel kinda funny...” you say, your voice slightly slurred. Vox’s smirk widened, his eyes glowing with a devilish delight. “Oh, it’s just the effects of the bourbon, darlin’. Besides, you’ve been so stressed out, you haven’t had any time to just sit and relax.” He moved closer, his hand lightly tracing a line up your arm, causing you to shiver. “Just relax and enjoy the ride, Y/N. I promise it’ll be one hell of a time.” His voice drops to a sultry whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You trust me, don’t you?” You feel your face grow even warmer as he started to pull you closer to him, his face so close to yours. “I..I guess so... You are a lot nicer than Alastor..” Vox chuckled, the sound low and rich in his throat. “Well, that’s the highest praise i’ve ever heard.” His hand rested on the small of your back, his fingers tracing small circles against your shirt. “I told ya, didn’t I? I ain’t like him. Not one bit.” He tilted his screen down, his glowing eyes meeting your slightly dilated ones. “Just relax, my dear. Let ol’ Vox take care of ya. You won’t regret it.” With that, he leaned in, pressing his lips against your forehead softly, something you were confused on how that worked, but that thought flew away like all the others. “Just trust me, Y/N. I won’t let ya down.”

In what your mind could come up with, as you stared at him and as he spoke with you, the thought of letting him take the wheel was starting to sound really good and you figured that it was better to trust him than anyone else in Hell. At least for now. “Ok..” Vox’s screen lit up with a triumphant grin, his red eyes glowing with delight. “That’s my girl,” he purred, his hand tightening around your waist. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. He whispered against your lips, “You're so cute, Y/N. Just keep relaxing. There’s no need to fight it.” His other hand started explore, trailing down your body to rest on your thigh. His fingers squeezed gently, a small spark of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to moan. He knew your body was growing more sensitive by the minute. He pulled back, his screen displaying a smug smirk. “That’s it, baby. Enjoy the good feelings. Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I’ll take good care of you.”

His hand continued its exploration, trailing up your thigh to rest on your hip. He dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer against him. His screen returned to your face, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re so responsive, sweetheart. It’s...intoxicating.” He leans in to your ear, his screen barely touching it. “I’m here. There’s no need to be scared.” His touch felt so good, all you wanted in that moment was for him to touch you more. “Ok,” you said. Vox chuckled, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “That’s what I like to hear, Y/N.” His hand slid up from your hip, tracing a path up your side and under your shirt. His fingers curled around your breast, squeezing gently, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. “You’re so sensitive, darlin’. It’s so sweet.” His other hand slid down, resting on your thigh once more. He pulls your leg around him, positioning himself between your legs. He then starts to slowly strip you of your clothes. You were getting really hot, so it was a relief to get all those clothes off. Soon, you were completely nude before him, on full display. Vox’s eyes roamed your naked form, a low buzz rumbing from his chest. “Damn, Y/N. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” His hands traced over your body, exploring every inch of your skin. He savored every moan and gasp, his touch sparking bits of static wherever he touched. He leaned in, his lips against your neck. “I'll make you feel all kinds of good, baby...”

His hand slid down, tracing a path down your body to rest between your thighs. His fingers teased your folds, a spark of static making you gasp. “That’s it, Y/N, just enjoy it,” he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. He then moved his face to you and kissed you deeply. You kissed back just as deep, moaning in his mouth as you felt his fingers slowly slip into your pussy. Vox groaned into the kiss, his fingers going deeper into you. He savored your moans, the taste of you on his screen intoxicating. He pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “You’re so wet, baby. All for me.” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp. His other hand was busy teasing your nipple, pinching and twisting it until you were writhing in his arms. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you...”

With that, he picked up the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervor that left you breathless. You moaned more, the pleasure growing in intensity, “Ahh..mm..ohh..” Vox grinned and moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The combination of him working on your pussy and playing with your breast had you crying out, your body trembling in his arms. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Go ahead and cum for me, baby girl.” It’s not too long until you cum, covering his hand in your juices as your body tensed up.

Vox growled, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he felt you release all over his hand. His fingers slowed, gently stroking you through your orgasm. He slowly removed his hand and marveled at the wetness on it, licking it up until his hand was clean. “You taste so good, darlin’. So good..” His hand moved up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face. “You alright, Y/N?” You were there, still somewhat dazed from your orgasm. But there was one thought going through your head. “I...I...more...I need more...please...” Vox chuckled, “Needy little girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. I’m far from done with ya.” With that, he gently laid you down on the couch, his screen and his body hovering over you. “You ready for more, Y/N?” “Yes...please...I need it...” Vox’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Good girl, ” he purred. You see him take his jacket and pants off, revealing his hard and erect cock. You just sat there, amazed by its size. Could an overlord have a cock that big? Vox smiled, saying, “You like what you see?” He gave his cock a few strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “It’s all for you, baby girl.”

With that, he lined himself up with your entrance, his hands holding your thighs gently. He slowly pushed himself inside you, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. “Fuuck...that’s it, baby... take it in deep..” Once he was fully inside you, he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. You gasp and moan in pleasure as he thrusts into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting the pleasure consume you. Vox felt a wave of pleasure hit him as he felt your arms go around him. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out.” His thrusts picked up in pace, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you. His hand moved down, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit. “You’re so tight, darlin’. So fucking good..” With that, he picked up the pace, his cock pumping in and out of you. “Ahh..ohh..V..Vox...i..it feels so good...” you moaned, causing Vox to grin. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” He continued his assault on your pussy, pounding into you so much that you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how many times you came, but you didn’t care. You just wanted Vox to keep fucking you.

“Gahh, fuck yeah...gotta get even deeper...” He then stopped his thrusts and pulled out of you, flipped you onto your belly, and grabbed your hips. “Hold on tight, Y/N. It’s gonna be a wild ride.” He lined himself up with your entrance once more, pushing inside you with a single thrust. He quickly sped up his thrusts, making you a moaning mess. “Ahh..oohh..yes...yes..I...I love it... I love your cock...!” Vox grinned a prideful smile, proud of the fact he was causing you to lose yourself just from his dick. “You’re such a dirty girl, baby. I fucking love it.” It’s not too long til he could feel his climax coming, and he felt your walls flutter, meaning yours was coming too. “Cum for me again, Y/N. Let it out.” “Ahh..mm..V..Vox..! Please cum in me..! Please..! Fill me up with your cum! I can’t take it anymore..!” Vox growled, your pleas of ecstasy driving him further over the edge. “You ready, baby girl? Ready for me to fill you up? I’ll do it, but only on one condition. You belong to me from now on. You like that?” “I..I’ll do it! I’ll only belong to you, Vox! Please, fuck me!” Vox smiled, thrusting even more. “Alright, darlin’. Here it comes...!” With one final, powerful thrust, Vox released inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. “That’s it, baby..Take it...take it all..” You cum at the same time he does, feeling his cum filling up your womb. You cry out in pure pleasure, your body riddled with pleasure. It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Vox kept thrusting, but he started to slow down, letting you both ride your orgasms for as long as possible.

Once everything was done, he pulled out of you and marveled at the cum-covered mess your pussy had become. He smiled, and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “You did amazing, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair away and he looked at you, a bit concerned since you were so quiet, “You okay, Y/N? Do you need anything?” You turned to him and he was amazed at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes looked so full of joy and bliss, and your smile was so warm and genuine. You could almost cry if you saw it for yourself. He felt his heart flutter when he saw that. Yeah, he made the right choice.

You hug him and rest your head on his chest. “I love you so much...”

Time stood still for a moment for Vox when he heard those words. He hoped that he would hear those words come out of your lips towards him, and seeing and hearing it now, it filled his heart with joy. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He let out a quiet chuckle, his screen pressing against the top of your head. “Well you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I feel exactly the same, baby girl.” He gently waves his hand and summons a wisp of smoke around your neck and along his hand, it soon turning into a collar with a chain leash, him gently gripping onto the chain. You now belonged to him, permanently. And he wasn’t gonna let just anyone touch you like he just did.

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in a soothing rhythm. “Just rest now, Y/N. Vox has got you.” You let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms, forgetting about the world and any worries you had. Vox cleaned you up and carried you to his bed, laying you on it then entering it himself. He pulls you close, letting the sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart lull him to sleep.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x y/n #vox x reader #vivziepop #fanfiction

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hardwriterdeluxe · 21 days

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Second Life

I’ve been were busy recently and haven’t had time to write and I’ve also had writers block, I wanna thank @chavdrone and @kaithescallylad for inspiring me to write this story! ________________________________________________

Oliver was walking home from a friend towards the bus stop when he noticed a new shop. He had been around this part of London many times and had never seen this store before. Its dusty storefront displayed many different styled mannequins in attempts to be trendy, but they just ended up cheesy. Oliver looked at the store and read the half-broken neon sign, “Second life”; it was a second-hand shop. Oliver had time to kill, so he took the opportunity to check the store. It was open, and he went in. He was met by a large arrangement of racks with clothes and shelves; he didn't know where to start. The store seemed to be empty of any customers, and the checkout was empty as well, so Oliver just went around browsing for potential items.

Oliver was your average guy. He studied at some college in London he had recently turnt 20 and described by his nerdy characteristics: brown overgrown hair, glasses, a lanky build, and an normal clothing style. It was out of character for Oliver to blink twice at the White Nike trainers he just passed. His body felt drawn towards the pair, and even though the pair were size 11s and his feet were size 9, he felt obliged to try them on. He grabbed them and went towards a dressing room, not finding any other mirror or place to sit; he went there. Oliver removed his boots and put on the White Nike Tns. At first, he felt amused seeing these large, comically-looking sneakers on his feet, but that soon changed. The sneakers quickly started feeling moist, wet, and they were smelling; he was confused. Becoming uncomfortable, he quickly tried to yank off the sneakers, but to no avail, they were simply stuck, and the size gap weirdly felt snug.

Unbeknownst to Oliver, Second Life wasn't just an ordinary second-hand shop; no, it was a store offering a new life. Each item dropped off by the last owner transferred their essence into the new owner, ultimately forming a second life for the customer. Oliver's body started to change, and his height increased; his body frame started filling out, his lanky arms becoming toned, and his stomach gaining the outlines of some abs. His body gained a lean look, and his body started to emit the same smell his sneakers had; ultimately, exuding masculinity mixed with a new fragrance coming from his body, some cheap Axe deodorant and cologne. Oliver's face started changing; Oliver originally had slim and feminine features, a round nose and jaw, and a kind-looking face. That dramatically changed as his jaw started to square up, some stubble growing in, and his mouth gaining a stupid expression, a stupid grin. His nose swelled up and got crooked from all the fights he "supposedly" had gone through, and his eyes squinted up as well as his brow ridge squared up, his eyebrows becoming full and dark, and his ears becoming pierced. Oliver's hairstyle went from his long hair to a short-styled fade.

Oliver's clothes disintegrated all but his underwear that changed into some blue Nike boxers, as well as his bulge growing to accommodate his new length and foot size. Oliver's body started getting new clothes as a black football tracksuit materialized on him, the pants tucked into his socks, and he ultimately got a chain around his neck, finalizing his new look.

The last step was his mental state; Oliver's mind adjusted to his new persona and changed him into Ozzy, a 20-year-old British chav. Ozzy didn't go to college like those fancy shits; instead, he spent his days hanging with his brothers and working for some money. Gone was Oliver, and the world around him had erased Oliver for good. The store owner watched the whole change back in the storage, checking out another happy customer.

#tf story #scally chav #scallylad #chav lads #kiffeur

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chronicdisasterwrites · 9 months

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these morons of jujutsu high

pairing: gojo satoru, geto suguru, shoko ieiri and fem!reader

genre + warnings: - this is NOT a poly fic. they’re all just vvv good friends. nanami and haibara were mentioned. mentions of blood, death and general jujutsu kaisen TW stuff. smoking, the word “goddamned” is mentioned. gojo being an idiot lmfao.

overall FLUFF !!

word count: 1219

authors note: so this is just a cute, heartfelt piece about the jjk troublemakers including and reader. i was thinking of making this the intro of a potential series but ✨ let’s see ✨

enjoyyyy <3

Is this really my life?

A question that always lingers in your mind.

Being a jujutsu sorcerer was no walk in the park. Death was a regular occurrence in your line of work. Deaths you anticipated, deaths you caused, deaths of friends, and even deaths of curses. None of them are ever easy to deal with. Nothing about this goddamned job is easy.

The smell of blood is as common to you as the smell of antiseptics is to a doctor. The sound of a curse evaporating into nothingness is ingrained in your brain as the sound of a child's first laughter is ingrained in the minds of their parents. Your hands are used to the touch of the cold steel of your weapons as a guitarist is used to the wood of their guitar.

This is your life. Your weapons are your instruments and the world is your stage. The only difference is, you have the blood of the crowd on your hands every. single. day. The blood of curses, the blood of humans, the blood of your comrades, and the blood of your own body.

How could it be that this life; so full of hurt, pain, despair, regret, fear, loneliness, anxiety, and depression, can also have so much happiness, love, excitement, companionship, adventure, humor, and serenity? That’s life, you suppose. But how can a life like yours have so much love alongside such hatred?

Your friends are the reason, you suppose.

These morons of Jujutsu High.

They feel the same emotions as deeply as you do. They have all felt loss, betrayal, grief, and death as much as you have.

Gojo Satoru had basically been raised as a trophy or a high-value product kept in perfect condition for the world to gawk at with wide eyes and ulterior motives. With the weight of the responsibility of being ‘Strongest’ hanging over his shoulders and daggers and spears pointed at him from every direction, he never had the chance to be a mere child. Which is what he was. Just a child. From birth to the present day, he has had eyes on him with the neon sign labeled ‘Strongest Sorcerer Ever’ blinking over his head. Always on his guard, being wary of who to trust. Not a moment to be a child. Not a moment to be a teenager and certainly not a moment to be an independent adult, free to choose who to love or what to do in life. He only has one thing to do. One obligation he has had since birth. Be the strongest. Throughout the heavens and the earth, he alone is the honored one.

It's a pretty lonely role for one person to bear.

Geto Suguru has kind eyes, a simple smile, and an extremely feared cursed technique; but what that smile and easygoing personality covers is his heart burdened with the horrors he has had to face in his life. He too, was born with the responsibility of using his cursed technique to help people. Born with the ability to absorb curses and later use them as he so desires. Living every day just killing and absorbing something that tastes like a rag covered in vomit and shit. Having to force your oesophagus to open up and force your mind to think of something more delicious whilst absorbing the thing you killed a few minutes ago is all second nature to Geto Suguru. Doesn’t mean it ever gets easier. But the smile comes easily to him and his voice stays soft and stable as his words soothe even those who hate him.

Because Geto Suguru wants to help those who are weak, and he would swallow all the curses necessary in order to do so.

Shoko Ieiri is the epitome of genius. Since she was a child she knew fully how to use the reversed curse technique; the ability to heal oneself and others, a technique even the strongest and most experienced jujutsu sorcerers have trouble mastering. Being so valuable means she has to stay in a lot, or go to missions alone a lot. She doesn’t get to choose missions, doesn’t get to accompany her friends to even ‘potentially’ dangerous locations. Being so valuable, she is the first person every jujutsu sorcerer goes to for healing and rejuvenation. Which also means she has to see a lot of her comrades lie on the steel bed, lifeless and cold and limp. She is the one who has to patch them up and she is the one who has to cut them open. Dealing with death and the aftermath is her job.

That's a lot of death for two eyes to see and two hands to explore.

Meeting them, knowing them, and growing to love them is the most rewarding experience your roller coaster of a life has had to offer by far. Checking out every single cafe Japan has to offer, milking Satoru of all his wealth by going out to eat and Satoru eating the most (ironically), pissing off Yaga-Sensei, celebrating birthdays, arguing and then making up with actions instead of verbal apologies, being the loudest group in every train station, smoke breaks with Shoko and Suguru while hiding away from Satoru, spending sleepless nights under the stars with Satoru, teasing Nanami and Haibara for acting like a 50-year-old married couple, fighting curses and always having each other’s backs. This was your family. However dysfunctional and however small.

So now, sitting in the classroom watching Suguru and Satoru bicker about who knows what this time, with Shoko sitting next to you fiddling around with Satoru’s sunglasses making faces and terrible impressions, bathed in the golden rays flooding the room through the windows as the sun goes down, you ponder the question; is this really your life?

You hear your name being called and the train of thought comes to a halt, as you look up to find honey-gold eyes staring back at you.

“What’re you thinking about so hard?” Suguru asks with his soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“She’s obviously thinking about how right I am and how wrong you are, Suguru,” Satoru interjects with his usual cocky smile and teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, she definitely thinks a seal can beat a hippo in a fight to the death,” Shoko quips with unimpressed eyes and an obviously sarcastic smile.

Satoru slaps his hand on the desk so loudly that the sound reverberates throughout the entire floor you’re on, “HAH! Thank you Shoko, exactly what I’m saying. Of course I’m right.”

He wears an accomplished smile as the sarcasm completely flies over his stupid head.

“Gojo… I was joking. You’re obviously wrong.”

You can almost hear something crack in his head. The sound of disappointment.

“HEY just think about it okay? So a seal-“

As a new chapter of bickering begins between Shoko and Satoru, Suguru nudges your shoulder with a quirk of his eyebrows, silently repeating his previous question.

You look at him, look back at Satoru and Shoko and shake your head with a content smile and a huff of laughter, “Just thinking about life, I guess.”

With a hum and a smile Suguru relaxes on your other side as you both turn your attention to the ongoing argument unravelling before you.

Yeah. This really is my life.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #shoko x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #gojo uses sarcasm but fails to understand it when someone uses it on him #shoko is babygirl #geto is babie boy #nanami and haibara are a certified married couple #yaga wants to die #i love them your honor #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #shoko ieiri x reader

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5starluvr · 22 days

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Night active

Paring:Bang Chan x Reader

Genre:Angst,fluff at the end?

Warnings:none

Spider Kids

This chapter didn’t come out to my liking at all (i rewrote this 5 times and decided to scrap everything and completely redoing it just a few hours before

Rain lashed against the windowpanes, mirroring the storm brewing inside Y/n. Another text. Another "running late, sorry babe." This time, the excuse wasn't even creative. Just another night sacrificed at the altar of the recording studio, another date with Chan turning into a solo act for Y/n.

She stormed out of her apartment, the crumpled reservation for their fancy dinner clutched in her hand. The address was meaningless now, another casualty of Chan's workaholic tendencies. The neon glow of "JYP" mocked her from across the street. It was a familiar sight, a beacon that usually promised exciting new music, but tonight, it felt like a prison holding her love captive.

Pushing open the heavy metal door, Y/n was met not by the expected cacophony, but by an unsettling silence. The air hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and burnt popcorn, remnants of late nights spent chasing sonic perfection. Yet, the mixing console was untouched, the keyboards lay silent, and the screens displayed static ghosts of unfinished projects. A knot of worry tightened in Y/n's stomach.

"Chan?" she called out, her voice echoing eerily in the empty studio.

She navigated the maze of cables and instruments, checking the sound booth, the vocal recording room, even the dingy kitchenette - all deserted. A growing sense of unease gnawed at her. This wasn't like Chan. He might be late, he might be stressed, but he wouldn't simply disappear from his own studio, not without a message.

Desperation clawed at her. She tried calling him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Panic bloomed in her chest. Had work finally pushed him over the edge? Had something bad happened?

The crumpled reservation slipped from her hand, forgotten on the worn floor. The fancy dinner, the carefully planned evening – all insignificant compared to the gnawing worry that had taken hold.

Y/n knew this wasn't just about a missed date anymore. This was about Chan, and the terrifying possibility that under the relentless pursuit of his passion, he might be lost.

The studio walls seemed to close in on Y/n. Each unanswered call, each ignored text, resonated like a hammer blow. Panic transformed into a cold dread that gnawed at her insides. She tried calling the studio again, just in case, but it went straight to voicemail once more. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the glow of the computer screen.

Desperate for any sliver of information, she frantically searched the news. Traffic accidents, building fires, even a report of a rogue squirrel causing a power outage – nothing. Then, a headline jumped out – "Spider-Man Thwarts Bank Robbery, Two Villains Apprehended!" Relief washed over her, so sudden it almost made her dizzy. Chan was alive, that much was clear. But the elation was short-lived.

Spider-Man.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Her usually reliable, grounded boyfriend was also the city's hero. The missed dates, the late nights, the cryptic excuses – it all made a horrifying kind of sense. But where was he now? Was he injured? Had he gotten caught? The image of Chan, hurt and alone, flashed in her mind, and a fresh wave of terror threatened to consume her.

Y/n knew waiting at the studio was pointless. Grabbing her jacket, she raced out into the rain-soaked night. Chan's apartment was the only other place he could be. The journey felt like an eternity, every car horn, every siren, a potential omen of disaster.

Reaching his building, she sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, ignoring the burning in her lungs. Her trembling hand fumbled with the keys, finally unlocking the door. The apartment was dark and silent.

Calling his name, she flicked on the light switch. Empty. The air hung heavy with a familiar cologne, a ghost of his presence, but no sign of Chan himself. Disappointment clawed at her, a cold companion to the gnawing worry. She checked every room with growing desperation. The kitchen was spotless, his usual mess of takeout containers and forgotten mugs absent. The living room held no sign of struggle, just the usual clutter of his life – books, instruments, a half-finished model airplane. Finally, she reached his bedroom, the last bastion of hope and dread.

Pushing open the door, Y/n's heart hammered against her ribs. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, revealing an unmade bed, clothes strewn across the floor – a familiar, comforting mess. But the sight that made her blood run cold wasn't the scattered laundry.

A figure perched on the windowsill, back to her, clad in a sleek, crimson and blue suit. The unmistakable mask with its large, white eyes sent a jolt of terror and… something else, a flicker of recognition, through her.

"Chan?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

The figure remained motionless, but a soft sigh escaped it. It turned slowly, revealing the familiar face beneath the mask, etched with exhaustion and concern.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" His voice, distorted by the mask's modulator, was a low rumble.

Y/n stared, speechless. The pieces clicked into place – the missed dates, the frantic exits, the news reports – it all pointed to this. Her boyfriend, the reliable, music-loving Chan, was also the city's hero, Spider-Man. A bewildered laugh escaped her lips, laced with a touch of hysteria.

"You... you're Spider-Man?"

Chan winced at the laugh, a sound devoid of joy, and carefully climbed off the windowsill. "Look, Y/n, I—"

He started to explain, but Y/n cut him off, her voice surprisingly steady. "Hold that thought. Right now, I just need to know you're okay. Why weren't you answering my calls? Where were you?"

Relief flooded his features, momentarily pushing aside the guilt. He reached out, but stopped before his hand could touch hers. "I was... busy with something. I couldn't risk taking my phone out."

His explanation was thin, and Y/n's gaze narrowed. "Busy with stopping another bank robbery as Spider-Man, you mean?"

Chan flinched again. The secret was out, hanging heavy in the air. He sighed, deflating. "Y/n, I... I didn't want to lie to you. Being Spider-Man is a huge responsibility, and it takes up a lot of time. But I never meant to hurt you."

He took a tentative step closer, but she remained rooted to the spot. "Did it never occur to you that maybe I could understand? Maybe I wouldn't want you to give up saving people, but I also wouldn't want to be kept in the dark."

Hurt flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a pleading look. "Y/n, please. Give me a chance to explain everything."

He gestured towards the bed.

Chan sat there, the mask tucked under his arm, his face etched with worry. He sat beside her, a comfortable distance maintained.

"You said you wanted to explain," Y/n said, her voice quiet.

He took a deep breath. "It started a few years ago," he began, his voice low and sincere. He recounted the fateful night he was bitten by the spider, the awakening of his powers, and the dawning realization of the responsibility thrust upon him. He spoke of the fear, the exhilaration, the constant battle to balance his life with that of a masked hero.

As he spoke, Y/n listened intently. The anger began to recede, replaced by a grudging respect. She saw the burden he carried, the sacrifices he made to keep the city safe. But his words also revealed a crucial flaw.

"You never gave me a chance to understand," she said once he finished. "You treated me like I wouldn't handle it, like I was too fragile to know the truth."

Chan looked down, shame flickering across his face. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, of you judging me. I thought keeping you in the dark was protecting you."

"But it wasn't," Y/n said softly. "It pushed me away. It made me feel like our relationship wasn't important enough to confide in."

Silence stretched between them again, heavy but not without hope. Finally, Chan spoke. "Y/n, I love you. More than anything. This whole… Spider-Man thing, it doesn't diminish that. I just want a chance to show you."

She met his gaze, the hurt still lingering in her eyes but softened by a flicker of understanding. "I need to know if there can be a balance," she admitted. "A life where you can be a hero and still have me by your side."

Chan reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. "There has to be a way," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I won't give up on being Spider-Man, but I also won't give up on you."

Y/n squeezed his hand gently. "Let's talk it through," she said, a glimmer of hope returning to her voice. "Together."

If you’re user is red i can’t tag you | tags list: open

Taglist: @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @kpopsstuffs @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne @ilychee08

#Spotify #stray kids #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz imagine #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #bang chan #skz #bangchan imagines #bangchan scenarios #bangchan x reader #christopher bang #straykids angst #stray kids imagines #•~spider kids~•

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jo-harrington · 1 year

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Closing Time (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie watches the reader slay a dragon. (Reader works at Claire's in StarCourt and deals with a shitty customer before closing the store.)

Previous Part: Leave of Absence

Warnings/Themes: Semi-established relationship (friendship? Eddie isn’t sure what they are either), fluffy. Reader is not a Hawkins native, but it's kind of just implied. Eddie is a romantic boy and makes everything fantastical in that silly head of his. Also he makes a crude (ish?) joke. Typical teenage boy/young adult stuff. Nothing crazy,

Note: This is my first drabble I'm actually posting. (I haven't written actual fics in a hot minute, only headcanons). I hope it's good, but it really was an opportunity for me to get my frustrations out after work in a store for the first time in 2 years since I moved to corporate. And I kind of liked it so I might write more. (Therapy who?)

(Future Jo here...You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.)

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

"Ma'am, I'm sorry that this is confusing, but it's store policy."

"Then I'd like to speak to the store manager."

"I am the store manager," you explained, smile dropping right off your face only to be replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

Eddie stood just outside of the store, leaning against a railing that overlooked the Food Court, and watched you. It was a Sunday, which meant the mall was closed early, and all of the stores were dark except for yours. The gate was halfway down, but he could still see the tenacity--the ferocity--in your eyes as you dealt with an unruly customer and it took everything in him to ignore the little shiver that went up his spine.

When Eddie first gotten a job at Tape World, he had briefly wondered if it was a mistake. He had mostly been given closing shifts to offset gigs at the Hideout on Tuesdays and Hellfire on Fridays. Not to mention school once it was back in session. And seeing how closing shifts meant he was missing out at the opportunity to be dealing at local parties over the summer...well he didn't need to pass algebra to know it was costing him some potentially serious cash.

But the pay at Tape World wasn't awful and it was steady. Wayne seemed to be proud of him for finally having a steady job, despite the assurance that he would always be proud of Eddie. The discount was nice, and his manager let him promote Corroded Coffin shows at the counter.

And then there was you.

At first glance, it didn't make sense to anyone. You with your pastel purple name tag, mega-watt smile, trendy clothes, and stacks of scrunchies. And Eddie with his alleged devil-worshipping, superior taste in music, non-conformity, and hair wild either from too much head banging or the single window AC unit in his trailer. Shit, even he didn't understand it in the beginning; he thought you were everything he said he hated.

But you weren't.

Just like he wasn't everything the entire town said he was either.

Instead he found someone who was just like him, only sort of not at all, with your own flock of lost little bedazzled, pastel and neon sheep that you were protective of. You were a misunderstood soul, a compassionate leader, and one of the most patient people he ever met.

Except for right this minute.

The lights in the mall itself started to dim and the music went silent. Yet, there you still stood in front of one of the local PTA moms as she complained about a return.

She had already been in the store when Eddie arrived to meet you at the end of your shift. (Sunday nights were your...well, Eddie didn't know what to call them. Not date nights; not yet at least.) And you had given him one quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder before you geared up for battle.

But Eddie had been watching as your mood devolved ever since, and you went from understanding, to annoyed, to fuming. And here you were now, looking as though you could singlehandedly manifest a pit to open up beneath Loudmouth Linda to swallow her whole if she carried on with her rant.

And it was kind of hot.

Eddie wouldn't consider himself someone who thought anger was sexy. It was scary. He had seen the way his father would get angry over the most minor things and it stayed with him his entire life. He would freeze, even at the most minor indication that anger was being directed towards him. From his father, from a teacher, from Officer Callahan--although Hopper was usually there to rescue him from that one.

It was different when it came to bullies at school or the townies that spoke in hushed tones when he passed them by. He could stand up to the jocks and the popular kids that pushed him and his friends around. He could ignore the scathing looks from the busybodies at the grocery store. And as much as it hurt to be cast away by almost everyone he met for years, he knew that it wasn't anger--actually he wasn't sure what it was, really--that caused them to do those things.

Just like it wasn't really anger that fueled your fight for the past fifteen minutes. It was purely righteous indignation as you were attacked by this absolute dragon of a woman.

Deep down, he wished he could be your savior, having dealt with the spitting venom of these townies before on numerous occasions. But you were no damsel, and this wasn't your first battle either. You took every insult with grace, every octave of a raised voice was met with an equally raised voice before going back to calm. You verbally jousted, using every trick in your book, and when they didn't work...

"Once again it is against the policy of StarCourt Mall to have customers in the building this late past close and I will have to call Mall Security to come and escort you out regardless of your choice ma'am. So we can either proceed with your return and you get the money back that you paid and not a cent more or I tell my staff and security that you are no longer welcome in this place of business. And security will have to take your picture as they escort you out."

...You simply slayed the beast. With a smile. Although Eddie believed you were actually just baring your teeth in warning.

There was that shiver up his spine again, and were those goosebumps on his arms?

He sort of hoped to be on the receiving end of those teeth sometime soon.

Regardless, your customer was left speechless as you processed her return and called security to escort her to the exit. Eddie smiled smugly as they passed him by.

It didn't take long for the lights of your store to finally shut and for you to duck under the gate before locking it.

He didn't even get a chance to congratulate you on your victory and tell you how absolutely epic you were before you were walking face first into his chest and sighing as your arms went around his waist in a hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled and put his arms around you, one hand instantly rubbing up and down your back.

“Hi.” Your reply was muffled and you squeezed him a bit harder.

"Y'ok there?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly and rubbed your cheek against his t-shirt. “You wanna get DQ?” You looked up at him for a second.

“I could use a blizzard,” he agreed.

“Cool,” you sighed and settled back against him. “People suck.”

“They do.”

The two of you stayed like that in relative silence for a few minutes and as much as Eddie wanted to go on--to tell you that the lady was out of line, that she was entitled, and that he could never handle it as smoothly as you did--he knew that wasn't what you needed right now.

He momentarily wondered that it wasn't all bad, not being your knight, when he could instead be the home you returned to after battle.

And he would happily do it, even if you never asked him to.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "I've heard people threaten to call security many times. Mostly on the receiving end, sometimes as an innocent bystander."

"Oh yeah?" You finally looked up at him, nose wrinkling with a smile.

"But I think that was the first time it almost gave me a boner," he admitted.

"Eddie!" you pushed away from him and slapped his arms as you laughed, eyes shining with joy. Your worries were not forgotten, he knew, merely smoothed over by, hopefully, your adoration for him. "You fucking perv!"

"I said almost," he defended.

He would be there. Happily.

Next Part: Team Building

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #Stranger things imagine #stranger things #what do I tag this #stranger things drabble

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fan-a-tink · 1 month

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Young Royals Ep6 thoughts

Things they need to resolve in episode 6

Wilmon, endgame? Will they actually have gone through all that shit only to break up at the end? Is that really the message Lisa wants us to take away?

Sara & August: will they be together? How is that going to work? Would they tell people?

Sara & Felice: how will Felice react to hearing about Sara and August? Will she be friends with Sara again? Are they finally going to properly talk? Pleeease!

Eriksson family: Will Micke come back? Any kind of resolution for that whole sub-plot? Are they going to move house?

Royal family: are they having any kind of conversation about Erik? About how they neglected Wille?

Hillerska: What is the result of the report? Will the school close? Is everything just going back to normal?

Wille & August: are they just going to hate each other for eternity? Are they still attending their couple’s therapy? Will they talk things through about Erik?

August’s eating disorder: is that finally going to be addressed properly?

Frederika & Stella: are they just leaving that story hanging? Is it ever going to be addressed?

Are the girls going to New York, and is Sara coming?

What is Simon’s second birthday present for Wille?

+ scenes we know are still coming:

Neon party

Lake scene (swimming & crying)

Simon: „Can we just forget about everything that’s happened, just for tonight?“

Car whooping scene

Wilmon staring at each other during (potentially) a graduation event

Simon & Linda comforting each other, and Simon & Sara talking by the car

The girls hugging in Felice’s room

Kristina: „Wilhelm, one day you will be an amazing king.“

Wille: „What if I don’t want to?“

That one picture of Felice and Sara together at (probably) the neon party

Did I miss anything?

And more importantly: How the fuck will all of that fit into one 50-minute episode?

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals season 3 spoilers #young royals s3 spoilers #yr s3 spoilers #young royals s3 #yr s3 #wilmon #wilmon endgame

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melancholicmarionette · 2 months

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[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]

Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM

“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”

“I will fucking kill you.”

Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.

Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.

Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.

“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.

The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.

“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”

“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”

“So what is today’s topic, then?”

It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.

They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.

“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”

“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”

“And suffering.”

“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”

“You cannot just drop that on me.��

“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”

“Collab…”

“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”

Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.

“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”

“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.

“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.

“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”

“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”

“We should edit her name out before we upload.”

“We should.”

“…We’re not going to.”

“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”

#danny phantom #sam manson #valerie gray #like what if I just wrote them as two weirdos talking about weird shit #that’s what I did #fanfic

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formulaforza · 7 months

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ahh happy 20th birthday mackyyyy <3 i hope i’m not too late for the sleepover but i would love a max one that’s along a friends to lovers vibe please 🥹

—jupiter

summ. it all comes to a head at a bar in austin, texas. title from this. 900+ words. rare mack x max crossover.

Daniel always knows the best places in Austin. That’s how you end up with the Red Bull former golden-boys; Daniel and Alex and Carlos—and the reigning champion (both of the world—and of the Red Bull Dance Moms pyramid) Max. Heidi tags along, too, and so does Lily, and while we’re in the business of people bringing their girlfriends, Carlos drags Lando along. It’s quite the sight, the eight of you in a half-full dive bar, sipping beer in a red leather booth and eyeing up the pool table lit by neon lights.

Max is sat at the booth, a tear in the leather scratching against the back of his leg, watching on with a smile as you, Heidi, Alex, and Lily wrap up your round of pool. Your eyes light with excitement as you line up a shot, and Max can’t help but admire it—your focus and grace, each and every movement you make around the table fluid and confident.

He feels a sense of pride and admiration—two things he has no place feeling—watching you. You pocket the ball like it was nothing, and then you’re winking at your opponents, dusting off your shoulder with a laugh and a sip of beer. He watches you intently, your smile forcing him to grin.

“Max?” Carlos asks, voice horribly teasing and waving a hand in front of his face. It was like Max had forgotten he was at a table with his friends.

“Hmm?” He hums, his attention back to the table. “Sorry, what?”

There’s a spattering of laughs amongst the guys, all of them more than acquainted with the familiar sight of Max’s longing—and the dreadful reality of your obliviousness.

“Just wondering if you plan on letting your balls drop anytime soon,” Daniel retorts, a toothy smile on his face. Max rolls his eyes, drowns his silence in the neck of his beer bottle. Fuck you, he mutters, and it echoes around the glass bottle. “All of us have seen the way your stupid ass looks at her.”

“You guys read into things too much,” Max laughs, trying to shrug off the attention. “You guys read into things too much. We’ve been friends for so long.”

Across from him, Lando scowls. “Disgusting, mate. Just ask her for dinner and get it over with.”

“I’m sure he will,” Carlos adds, “as soon as Hell freezes over.”

His eyes land back on you, and even though he can’t hear you over the chirping of his friends and the lull of the bar, he can tell you’re talking trash while Heidi lines up the game-winning shot. He can’t help but think Carlos is right, that he never will make a move.

He just. There is something extraordinary about you—your kindness and your smarts, the way everyone feels at ease around you, the way he feels at ease around you. He thinks that you are entirely too intelligent to not have caught on already, picked up on that fact after all these years that he’s always had this horrible affection for you—been disgustingly and utterly in love with you for as long as love has been in his vocabulary. You’re too smart not to know already, which means you don’t feel the same way, because if you did. If you did, this wouldn’t be a conversation at all and the two of you would be half-wed by now.

The night continues on, and with every round of pool, every round of beer, his mind keeps wandering back to the conversation—to the teasing. He’s acutely aware of your presence, always, of your laugh in the seat next to him and the way you’re sat closer than you need to be.

With every shared joke, every exchanged smile, every eye roll from his friends, he finds himself with a growing certainty. Maybe. Maybe, just maybe, this is the time to take his leap of faith.

There’s never going to be a right time, he thinks. Not now, after all this time for self-doubt and destruction. There’s never going to be a right time to potentially destroy a friendship. Never, but especially not with you.

It’s a few more rounds before he musters up the courage, now around the pool table as your teammate. You’re both watching Carlos coach Lando while he lines up a shot, and Max leans in closer. Instinctively, you turn your head, bring your ear to his mouth to hear what he has to say to just you.

He wonders if you can hear his heartbeat, how horrendously rapid it is. If you could, you’d never believe it. “You know I love being your friend, right?” He asks, and you pull away to laugh, meet him with a funny look because of course you know that. He rolls his eyes at your contorted face and gestures for you to lean back in, so you do. “But, what do you think about going on a proper date?”

You pause, cue stick in hand. It feels like the entire dive bar holds its breath, even though you know it’s only you and Max aware of the sudden crossroads put at your feet. That, in a dingy, dimly lit bar in Austin, Texas, with the smell of barbeque and beer and the sound of country music playing in the background, you and Max stand on the precipice of something new. That Max, faced with that reality, was finally ready to dive in head first.

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 5 months

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I would have typed it out but didn't want to risk it being filled up before I finished typing ^^;

The Arcana HCs: When MC hides their natural hair color

~ @fox-daddy thanks for the request friend! I hope I do it justice ^.^ ~

-- for background: MC is insecure about their hair color and covers it up with dye. Due to unforseen circumstances, the potion they need for it runs out of stock and their roots start to grow out! How do the M6 respond? --

Julian

He's surprised, but he's not that surprised

Like yeah, it turns out that you have a different hair color! You learn something new every day!

But you're a magician, right? You're telling him that you don't just close your eyes and mumble something mysterious and then your hair goes "poof!" and it's the color you want it to be?

Assumes it's just a preference thing until you tell him that it's because you're insecure about it

Might ask for a strand of your hair so he can put it under a microscope and study how the stuff you uses changes its properties. Compliments both shades the whole time

Might also try creating his own hair-coloring concoction to tide you over until you can get your usual stuff again

You caught him grinding dried beetles, Nevivon salts, and charcoal together at three AM and applying it to his copious chest hair to test its effectiveness

Has to be told not to tell other people about your hair color

Occasionally asks if he can peek at your roots to remember what the other color is

Asra

Oh, they already knew

In fact, he was the one who remembered the stuff you used to keep around the shop and connected the dots when you came back looking the same except for your hair color

And they were the one who told you that it was an old habit of yours and left it up to you to decide if you wanted to keep it up

Yes, he helped you apply it the first time (and still loves to participate if you invite him)

Yes, they took that as their cue to try out plenty of colors on their own hair

He had the wildest neon tips for a while

Muriel's still getting over the heart attack he had, waking up to see his childhood friend crashing at the hut with glowing rainbow streaks randomly clumped through their curls (and eyebrows! It was creepy!)

When you run out of your supply, he's quick to cast a glamor over it to help with the anxiety before running through his own magic books to see if there's anything useful to try

They like both hair colors on you, but their favorite is the one that makes you comfortable in your own skin

Nadia

She thought she could see a hint of roots here and there, but she never really pursued it because there were more interesting things to talk to you about

So when those roots started growing out to the point that they were very noticeable, she was a bit surprised

Are you changing things up? Are you dying your roots to introduce a new color, or are you growing out an old one?

Would you like any wardrobe additions to complement it?

You don't really need to tell her that you're insecure about it, she's very tuned in to your needs and it only takes a comment or two from her for her to recognize your reaction and change course

Immediately sets up some kind of appointment to get your hair to its normal color while you wait for the stuff you usually use to become available again

Briefly considers dying her own hair and quickly decides against it

Will make back up plans in case this happens again, and does bring up potentially experimenting with other colors as well, if it's just the original color that you dislike

Maybe a nice, deep purple to match hers ...?

Muriel

He already knew and didn't mention it

Seriously, do you know how tall he is? The first glimpse he gets of people is the tops of their heads. You'd have to be dying your hair multiple times a week to hide roots from him

That aside, he's more observant than he lets on. He's seen the stuff you use to color it tucked in the corner of the hut

And he's never brought it up, because if anybody knows what it's like to be insecure about parts of your body that you can't help, it's him. You don't know how quickly he'd shrink if he could

So when you run out, and the roots start to show (from your perspective), and you keep waiting for him to comment on it ...

He doesn't

Not until you bring it up at least. He's just going to assume that you decided to grow it out or stop hiding it

If you do address the elephant in the room, he'll just tell you that he doesn't really care

At least, not about the color. He cares if you're happy, obviously, all the colors look good on you -

Aaand all that mushy talk is all it takes for his face to go up in flames and for him to go for a quick walk to cool down

Portia

She didn't figure out that you were dying your hair because she saw your roots, sweetie, she figured it out as soon as she had the chance to help you wash it

What, you think an expert handmaiden like her doesn't know treated hair when she sees it? Do you know what kind of extensive training she did to help milady with her luscious locks?

She's also completely oblivious to people being insecure about their looks. Especially you. You always look great

So she doesn't even think twice before pointing your roots out to you as soon as they start to show! She's never seen you let this happen before, what's up with that?

Are you trying something new? She can help!

You're insecure about your hair color? What?? Why???

... yeah, she won't force you to talk about it, but if there's any kind of backstory or explanation she will ask you to spill the tea

She'll also pull out all of her own hair care know-how and cobble something together to dye your hair the color you prefer until you get your usual stuff again

Surprised that you don't just magic it to look however you want

Lucio

It took him longer than you expected, to be honest

You already had a few close calls on longer trips, where bathing options were limited to the streams you passed by with whatever toiletries you had packed

And you know he's his own bisexual version of *extra* when it comes to his appearance

His eyeliner application routine is meticulous, finnicky, and a daily source of frustration when he inevitably slips up

This doesn't translate onto you, though, because you're his wonderful, gracious, super cool MC who makes life exciting and new again. He's not paying attention to your roots!

Until they really start to grow out, and he has a mini meltdown about it

You mean to tell him. That you have been regularly setting aside time to pay attention to your physical appearance with something as exciting as hair dye. And you didn't think to invite him?!?

Yeah he doesn't have opinions about the color or a bunch of curiosity about why you dye your hair, he's just mad you left him out

Let him back in, please. The dogs need highlights on their tails

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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fefairys · 5 months

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"Karezi is one of those baseline type of ships that exist in any given franchise. The kind with blinking arrows pointing to it and a neon sign saying "THE TEXT INTENDS FOR YOU TO SHIP THESE TWO." It has endgame written all over it. Which, despite some endearing qualities and some decent conversations in service to the idea, is what makes it a bit boring. To whatever extent Homestuck is capable of serving up a conventional, recognizable morsel of "fairytale intent" on a platter, this might be it. A statement expressing what it considers to be its equivalent to the boy-meets-girl, written-in-the-stars, journey-to-the-white-picket-fence sort of pairing. Which is not an inherently bad thing. There's a always place for arcs like these, and a certain comfort people take from grabbing on to the white-picket-fence outcomes and rooting for them. A lot of people were pretty stoked about Karezi. Stuff like this conversation obviously is going to start shoveling coal into that engine pretty hard. But these features are what give it a predictable quality, and thus make it much less likely to be fully realized in the long run. Instead, later it's given more value as a foil relationship, a thing that threatens to happen often, because it's "supposed" to, but functions as a basis for turbulent departures. A backdrop of stable, comprehensible relationship potential against which some more unpredictable and challenging outcomes for them both start to play out.

Karezi as the male/female lead, meant-to-be sort of ship, is, well, it's obvious. It's obvious to me at least, because I'm dangling it out there, obviously. Therefore I feel it must be obvious to you. And as such, I feel you must know I see it as obvious, and intend it as obvious, in this big feedback loop of self-evidentiary storycraft and trope jockeying. Any time this is true, I think awareness of the circumstance tends to leak into the consciousness of the characters involved. Characters in HS tend to be pretty self-aware (like Striders and Lalondes), but even the ones that aren't as much like these two) still tend to carry a form of subconscious selfawareness. (Feel free to chew on this oxymoron for a moment before continuing.) In other words, on some level, Karkat and Terezi both just sort of know they are the male and female leads in a lengthy heroic tale, and thus their sense of this propels them toward attraction, as if satisfying unspoken narrative obligation. This must especially seem true for Karkat, who lives and breathes the tropes of his romance films." -Andrew Hussie

#homestuck #sams reading homestuck again #karkat #terezi

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jabberwockprince · 10 months

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ITS ME AGAIN, EXCEPT I DONT HAVE ENERGY FOR A FULL PIECE BUT!!! THIS EXTREMELY GOOD ADDITION ON THE HANAHAKI DISEASE DISCUSSION BY @instantartific INSPIRED ME TO DRAW!!!

as much as i love to bully rin with existential crisis and shit, i still think he'd be the last one to break down - but the first one??? to fall out of line??? to me its definitely eloni

as usual, me rambling under the cut!!

right off the bat, i do like to think a lot about how eloni sees himself as the weakest link of 1010 - entirely because he gets less fans. their entire existence revolves around entertaining, so if he cant even do that, then what's the purpose of him being around and all? its a very unfair way to live but it's not like they were even supposed to have opinions about it. and that's the beginning of his downfall. the fact that his popularity is affecting him on an emotional level when it shouldnt even be a THING. he already feels outdated, defective and more!!!

i also think that eloni is torn between the fear of being caught and the need to be seen. like, this is something brand new that's happening to him. he's an anomaly and one of a kind BECAUSE of these feelings. to a guy who rarely gets the chance to shine???? IMAGINE. IMAGINE WHAT THAT WOULD DO TO HIS ALREADY CRUMBLING IMAGE

like come on guys. there's a reason eloni is always paired up with haym. they're very cute together as a fun duo with fun dynamics, but in boybands, there's always that one guy who only serves to uplift others.

something something, sentience and self-awareness are a nightmare, it sucks that there's no one you can trust wholeheartedly (nym put this into cooler words, go read the linked post! go go go!) and the second you deviate, there's the immediate threat of being reset. all of you? gone. BUT THERE'S ALSO. THE POTENTIAL OF STANDING OUT

yes. he gets little sprouts and vines instead of specific flowers to really emphasize how much of a weak persona eloni believes he has. even if he's found out, it won't be grand. it will be a relief to him (or so he thinks) but he's certainly not going out with a bang. also the green plants blending in with his own designated color? there's another metaphor in there, i just cant put it into words!! small inconspicuous little things that amount to something extremely dangerous and painful!!!!

i imagine eloni sees this hanahaki disease as catharsis, since there's no way he could've ever voiced his feelings, the only way for him to be noticed is through an external force that's extremely hard to ignore. its eating him up from inside out, but in his eyes, it's fine because it gives the world an excuse to look at him

and in the event of yinu's mama straight up outing eloni to neon j or the others, i also think he'd have the most tame, accepting reaction to it? or like, not necessarily accepting, actually but resigned. part of him was anxiously waiting for it to happen, while also dreading this very moment

on the subject of the plant itself and how it coexists with eloni, i think that his vines and sprouts are very small very thin but that they're the most constricting things ever. like, they get EVERYWHERE in his joints. in every crevice and space available. whereas purlhew might instead just have an ungodly and suffocating amount of blue flowers located entirely in his chest cavity until he bursts. or haym might have very localized sprouts and blooms that just. pop. as if attuned to every feeling he's trying to repress. i dont know what zimelu has, but it needs thorns. and rin? well. WELL <3. ITS A POISONOUS PLANT FOR SURE <333

#no straight roads #no straight roads 1010 #nsr #nsr 1010 #nsr eloni #hanahaki disease #purinsu art #sorry im losing my mind over all this good writing i've been seeing and receiving #i specifically imagine eloni as the catalyst for everyone else #like. no one is surprised that its eloni. but it still serves as a way to remind the rest of 1010 #that theyre not safe #so to speak

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builtbybrokenbells · 6 months

Text

Gold Dust Woman | xiii

Gold Dust Woman finally learns how to pick up the pieces and go home.

Read part twelve here

Listen while reading: unknown/nth - Hozier (listened to this and cried the entire time I wrote this 🤭)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: ANGST, sadness, crying, breakups, feelings of regret/heartbreak, sad jake, swearing, smoking, some fluff! Sorry if I miss any!

only one more left after this one 😁 buckle up for the last bit of the ride (I was going to wait till the poll ended but I could NOT wait any longer. I’m so excited to finish up this piece as it’s been my main focus for so long. also lightly edited. my apologies 🫶🏻) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

Another city, another show. You were so caught up in the whirlwind of your life that you seemed to have forgotten what home truly was. Hotels were more familiar than you thought they ever could be, and you craved for a moment alone in your own house despite previously hating the emptiness that screamed from the walls. The show the night before went by without a hitch, and the weight of your decision was sitting heavy on your shoulders. You knew what you had to do, you just hadn’t yet gotten the chance to do it. After the concert came to a close, you were all too tired to even think about managing a night at the bar. You drove to the city over which you would be playing for tonight, and checked into the hotel rooms with no intent on leaving until the next morning. Dylan had fallen asleep in your bed with you, mid conversation about the high points of the night.

When you woke, she was still deep in slumber in her jeans and hoodie, neglecting blankets and pillows completely. You crawled from the mattress, a headache lingering but making a promise to leave as long as you had a sip of coffee. You showered, did your makeup, and dressed all before she even made a shift in her position. You opted to leave her there to catch up on her sleep, knowing that out of anyone, she deserved it most. You thought maybe the early morning would be the best time to execute your plan; not many were awake, and you might be able to reach Sam’s room without interception from anyone else. You knew that if you had to see any sad eyes or wistful faces, you would crack and crumble to the ground before you could even get to your destination. You slipped onto the patio attached to your room before making the leap to end the race, needing a moment to collect your thoughts before the inevitable end.

You sat on a flimsy deck chair, a cigarette smouldering between your fingers as you gazed out at the city. Despite your own drowsiness still existing, the world was awake and begging you to join it. Cars passed, honking angrily at pedestrians and other drivers in hopes it would make them hurry. The sun was bright, casting a glow over the ground that made even the busiest of streets seem inviting. Sidewalks bustled, and shops were decorated with neon signs inviting potential customers inside. You wondered if when the pain passed, you could resume some semblance of normalcy that you had been craving for so long. Then, you wondered if normal would be better than your previous sense of the word with Sam by your side, taking on the world with you. As excited as you were to find out, your hands still shook with anxiety for the future.

You were not doubting your certainty of loving Sam; you knew that to be true in every sense of the phrase, and you had known it long before your revelation in the bathroom the night before. Loving Sam was one of the easiest things you had ever done, and you knew that regret for picking him was implausible. Sam had an iron grip on your heart from the minute you met him, and he showed no signs of letting go. What you were doubting was your ability to choose the right path, and your willingness to let go of Jake. As much as you loved Sam, you knew you felt it for him, too, and you were not prepared to accept that you would never have Jake again. As much as love terrified you, letting go was also high on your list of fears. But, as they say, when one door closes another one opens, and this was not a grievous end as much as it was the next chapter of your life.

You loved Jake completely, and so much so that when you thought about it for too long it made your chest ache and your head spin. He did not lack anything in the slightest, but your driving force was justified by the fact he was just too similar to you. You shared the fear of intimacy as well as commitment, and you both struggled with vulnerability and communication. Because of that, the emotions housed between you were often volatile and difficult to navigate. You were a self-assured hot headed person who needed someone to ground you, and you feared that Jake would feed into that side of you because he housed so many of the same traits. So, it was not a lack of love causing you to walk away; it was simply because you knew you had the same ability to hurt him as you did love him, just as he did for you. Loving someone means taking risks, but a risk that large could be fatal, and you were not willing to sacrifice him or yourself at the hands of pleasure.

You thought for so long that your cigarette burnt to an end before you had the chance to enjoy it, and the sun had slightly shifted positions in the sky. Now, it was shining directly on you, illuminating the extent of your sins and showcasing it to anyone who cared to watch. No matter what the right decision was, hurt was inevitable, and you all but paved the way for it to be. It was only right for you to play the game in which you thought it should be, because dragging it out any further would only be torture for everyone involved. You tossed the cigarette to the ground, not even a cherry falling out to reminisce on the fire it used to have. You felt the same, discarded and out of place as your flame slowly flickered away. Your only hope was that after the day was through, you would begin to shine brighter than ever before.

When you went back inside, Dylan was still snoring peacefully with no sign of stirring anytime soon. You chuckled at the sight, grabbing a blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed and gently throwing it on top of her. You stepped towards the door, letting your hand rest on the knob as you gave yourself a pep talk. You knew what needed to be done, but had doubts about your strength to do so. Underneath your hard and confident exterior, you were nothing but a mess of cowardly second-guesses and insecure assumptions. You feared that once you stepped outside, any sense you had talked into yourself would flee and never return. With a deep breath, you swung the door open and stepped outside. The silence was astounding, and it seemed to be loud enough to deafen you. The sheer emptiness of the hallway was overwhelming, and it felt like it was slowly paralyzing you as it encouraged you to run circles.

With an unsteady nature, you stepped forward in the direction of Sam’s room. You made it halfway, then had to stop and reconvene your thoughts. “Why is this so fucking hard?” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. You leaned back against the wall, inhaling deeply in hopes that it would aid you in your search for confidence. You ran your palms across the fabric of your jeans, the scratchy material sending a shiver down your spine and regulating your body. “Okay, y/n. You can do this. It’s not that hard. Just knock on his door, and take it from there.” You whispered, knowing that if anyone were to see the state you were in they might have genuine concerns about your mental well being.

Just as you were about to continue on your journey, a door swung open just ahead of you. You snapped your head up, looking in the direction of the noise as a genuine fear flooded you. It looked like Sam’s door, which only prompted you to want to run. After a few seconds, a body stepped into view, and almost all of your nerves calmed. “Oh, hey, Aaron.” You sighed, laughing at your own foolishness.

“Y/n!” His eyes lit up as if he’d won a grand prize by finding you in the hallway. “I was just coming to get you. Makes my job easy.”

“Oh, me? No, actually, I-I have something I have to-“

“I think you’re going to want to come with me.” He chuckled as he walked towards you. He held out his arm, beckoning you away from the wall.

“No, Aaron, I have something really important to do, and-“

“This is more important, I promise you.” He said, waiting for you to join him. You watched him, hesitation clear in your face as you looked between him and Sam’s door. When he raised an expecting eyebrow at you, you let out a sigh that trailed off with a groan, slumping your shoulders as you walked to join him. “I will make up for whatever I’m taking you away from, but I really think you’ll be happy to come with me.”

“Whatever you say,” you sing-songed, letting him guide you towards the elevator. You both disappeared behind the doors, leaving Sam’s room as nothing but a memory as you were transported down to the first floor. “So, what’s this about?”

“It’s a surprise.” He chuckled. “I’m just thankful you were awake so I didn’t have to fight with you.”

“Come on, Aaron. You can’t drag me away from my very important things and not even tell me what it’s about.” You complained, tapping your foot against the ground as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, how about this: I’ll tell you what we’re doing if you tell me what you were doing that was so important.” Your movements paused as you racked your brain for an answer. There was no way you were willing to tell him the true intent of your journey, and the elevator dinged before you could come up with an excuse. “That’s what I thought.” He laughed, walking out without another word. You let out a huff of annoyance as you followed behind him, but you could not argue with his clear advantage over the conversation. He led you into the lobby of the hotel, making sure you were close behind him in case you had any inkling to turn away. The room was oddly quiet for a morning; nobody seemed to be waiting impatiently to check out, nor did the staff seem hassled with work.

When you made it to the front doors, Aaron greeted the bodies that were waiting for you. You could not see past him, so who was there would come as a surprise once he stepped out of the way. When the doors swung open and your manager stepped forward to exit, your heart sunk and your stomach churned. Jake was looking down at his phone, sunglasses on and wearing what looked to be the clothes he slept in the night before. When you woke that morning, Jake was not the first brother you had hoped to have an interaction with, nor was he the one you had the courage to face. You barely had enough nerve to walk towards Sam’s room, and you knew you would not have the strength to maintain any kind of normalcy with Jake.

“Didn’t know you were coming along.” Jake smiled, joining you by the side, but his excitement did not seem to match his words. He knew you were coming, and he had been shaking with anticipation since finding out about it. This was not your idea of a worthwhile trip, not because you did not want to see Jake, but because you wanted to see him so badly that it made your chest ache. You did not know if you would make it through the day without cracking under his pressure, and you knew if you did let him back in, you would only be breaking his heart even further.

“Guess everyone’s full of surprises this morning.” You tried to smile, but it came out with more similarity to a grimace rather than anything welcoming. “Not even sure why I’m here.”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shook your head, avoiding looking over at him for as long as you could. When you felt his hand grace your lower back, you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Trust me, you’ll be happy you came.” He said, tightening his grip ever so slightly. You had to fight every molecule in your body to not give in to the touch, to lean into him and forget every single thing you had sworn to that morning, but you persevered. Even if it was with great difficulty, you still considered it as an accomplishment.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You breathed, climbing into the backseat of the vehicle they had waiting for you. He slid in beside you, closing the door gently and locking you into seclusion with him once more.

“Have I ever lied to you, Gold Dust Woman?” He asked, looking over at you. You caught his eye for the first time that morning, feeling the breath catch in your throat.

“Not yet, Jacob.” Out of all the times you wished you could be alone with him, you never once thought you would wish you could get away from him. You looked out of the tinted window, mindlessly drumming your fingers against your leg in a clear show of anxiety.

“You seem tense.” He noted, inching closer without even realizing it.

“Oh, just tired.” You lied, hoping it would ease his worry enough to give you some more time to collect yourself.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, sneaking his hand towards you and settling it on top of your own. You closed your eyes, revealing in the intimacy that would not last long. You hated knowing that you would have to put the moment to an end even if you were enjoying it so much. No matter if you still wanted Jake, you knew that all the conclusions you had drawn were correct and of grave importance. The longer you let the dance continue, the worse the situation would end. You had hurt him enough to know that you no longer had any right to be selfish, even if you so badly wanted to.

But, delaying the inevitable had always been your area of expertise, and for simplicity’s sake, you thought it alright to do it one last time.

“Can we just… can we just be friends, today? Co-workers?” You asked, avoiding looking at his face. You knew the pain that stemmed from your words was evident and quick to surface. “Yesterday was just… it was a lot for me, and I think I just need to sort my thoughts out before jumping right back into it.”

“Friends…” he deliberated, slowly releasing his hold on your hand. “Did you just friend-zone me?” He asked, almost laughing at the incredulity of the question.

“Just for today, Jacob.” You assured him. Even if it was a lie, you knew it was for the best. Your intent was to get both of you through whatever Aaron had planned for you, and then deal with your personal matters afterwards. If you were to break the news to him so bluntly and so soon, recovery would not be possible in the near future.

“Just for today,” he pondered, looking out the window. “Don’t think we’ve ever been good at being friends, sweetheart, but for you, I’ll try my best.” And he was right. Jake had been much less of a friend than any of the other boys. For a long time, he was an active participant of the party lifestyle that was so accessible in your home, and he grew into an acquaintance. Neither of you were fond of the bonding process, and fell into routine of knowing each other while remaining strangers. Within the months leading up to his confessional session in your bedroom, you had managed to bridge the gap between stranger and friend. You were caught alone more often, sharing secret hangouts away from the others to avoid jealousy or confusion, usually filled with shared music and drunken fun. It was never anything serious, or so you thought. Now, thinking back to the few days you spent with him as a ‘friend’, it was clear to you that Jake was trying to tell you he loved you without actually needing to say the words.

You felt even worse recalling his silent show of adoration, because you realized you had always been doing the same thing to him as Sam had done to you, yet he never seemed broken or bent out of shape because of it. Jake had grown familiar with the idea of loss, but he had not let it get in his way. Friends was never in his itinerary, but when it came to making you happy, he would sacrifice everything including his own life. “So let’s try for a day,” you said, more intrigued by the idea. “Even if we suck at it, it’s worth a shot, right?” He looked back at you, thrilled that you had finally found the strength to look in his direction. He gave you a small smile, not pleased about the idea, but curious as to what it would be like. “Can you spend an entire day not trying to get me into bed?” He chuckled, holding your gaze as he thought of a response.

“That would be the ultimate test of willpower, but I suppose I could try. Do you think you can spend the whole day rejecting me if I can’t?” It was your turn to laugh, finding the nature of the conversation easygoing and comforting. You missed laughing with Jake, and you hoped that after the day was through, you would still be able to laugh with him again.

“I think I can manage.” You nodded.

“Alright, Gold Dust Woman. Friends for a day.” He said, extending his hand towards you. You grabbed it, shaking it with a little bit of force. You felt guilty knowing that he was ultimately agreeing to the loss of you, but you were enjoying the happiness too much to break his heart.

“Friends for a day, Jacob.” You reiterated, dropping your hand back to his side. The rest of the car ride was silent, both of you wondering how you would be able to separate love from your relationship. It was a daunting task, but you were both too stubborn to admit you would not be able to do it. When the car rolled to a stop in front of the venue you were supposed to play at later in the evening, you were confused as to why you needed to be here so soon.

You broke out into the day, squinting at the stinging sunlight in your eyes. You waited for Aaron to join you so you knew where you were headed. He guided you into the back entrance of the building where you immediately noticed a crowd of people much to large for so early in the day. You bit your tongue instead of inquiring about your curiosity, knowing that you would find out why you were there in only a few moments. Jake immediately found himself busy with a crowd of people who were stationed outside of his dressing room, and Aaron guided you towards your own. He had a smile stuck on his face, clearly excited to see your reaction to the news of what you would be doing. When you peered inside your room, Rachel, your stylist, was sitting inside and on her phone to pass the time. “About time you got here,” she said, looking up with a smile. “I was beginning to think that you would never show up.”

“I’m here,” you laughed, giving a small wave to serve as a greeting.

“Sit,” she ordered, directing you towards the wardrobe chair. You did as you were told, taking post in the seat as she grabbed some items from her suitcase of supplies. “We’re going to spend a lot of time together today.” She said as she ran her fingers through your hair.

“Don’t we spend lots of time together already?” You asked with a small smirk on your face.

“Today’s a special day,” she informed you, turning your chair so she could see your face. “Did nobody tell you why you’re here?”

“No, and I’m assuming by now that nobody will.” You didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, but after being pulled away from Sam so early in the morning with no good reason as to why, you couldn’t help but feel slightly put off. She laughed at your comment as your personality showed through and as usual, it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“You look better today. Brighter, more relaxed. You sleep good last night.” Her comments hit you like a truck. You knew the last two weeks your appearance had been lacking, so run down by the exhausting back and forth you had found yourself in. Running without a destination was tiresome and pointless, but now that the finish line was in sight, you could not lie and say that you did not feel better just by seeing it. You had your energy back, and your mind was finally calmed down just by knowing that you had a real chance at happiness. Until it was in your grasp, though, you refused to accept that this was the end. Your hesitancy to accept finality was not because of doubt in your decision, but because you knew the brothers too well to think they would let this go without a last word.

“Yeah, we did sleep really good last night.” You said, closing your eyes as she began applying makeup to your face. “Think the tour life is just catching up to me.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, dusting eyeshadow over your eyes. “Or the Kiszka life, maybe?” You peeked at her through the eye she wasn’t focused on, surprised that she made such a bold comment.

“Well, they do say that you shouldn’t fall in love with your coworkers.” You said, closing your eye again. With how public your ordeal had been made, you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be upset that she was commenting on it.

“Especially not two of them.” You both shared a laugh, finding it easier to joke about it than make it into a conversation. “Don’t let them steal your shine, Gold Dust Woman. They may be special, but not as special as you.”

“I’m trying,” you assured her. Within a few moments, she was finished with your makeup and pointed you towards an outfit she had picked out for you. She allowed you to change before pinning everything in place, and only took a few moments to do your hair. “Casual today?” You asked, looking the mirror as she worked on the waves in your hair.

“Simple, but beautiful.” She said, spraying on hairspray as she continued. She styled your bangs, making sure they would stay in place before stepping away to take a look at the finished product. “What do you think?” She asked, waiting for an answer. You looked to the mirror, dawning over the detail of your makeup. It was so well done that you could barely tell you were wearing any. Your hair was perfectly in place, and your clothes matched the look effortlessly.

“Very 70’s,” you noted, looking down at the bellbottom jeans. The tank top you were wearing was very low cut, one half a burnt orange and the other a rustic brown. The fabric was connected just under your breastbone with a large gem, and the shirt settled just around your rib cage. She threw a leather jacket your way with a smile and shrug of her shoulders.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s a great thing.” You corrected, throwing the tan coloured jacket over your shoulders.

“Then it’s showtime.” She smiled, ushering you to stand. She guided you into the hallway where groups of people were standing with cameras and sound equipment. You looked back over your shoulder at her, nervous about what was to come next. Between a cluster of bodies, you caught sight of a familiar head of hair. You felt relief flood through you, knowing that whatever Aaron was putting you up to, Jake would be there to do it with you.

He looked around, noticing you almost as soon as you emerged from your dressing room. He broke off the conversation he was stuck in, and pushed through the crowd to join you. When he was fully in your line of sight, you felt like you had been punched in the stomach from his beauty alone. He was dressed in an all white suit, a flash of his chest showing and the lower button of his shirt loose. He had a ring on his finger, a chain around his neck, and a smile on his face that matched the ethereal aura he possessed. You managed a smile to match his despite your anxiety, comforted by his familiarity and always happy to be in his company.

He joined you by your side, clearly itching to wrap an arm around you, but stuck his hand in his pocket instead. He was always open for a challenge, and if being a friend was the subject at hand, he would try his absolute best to achieve the desired outcome. “You know what we’re doing, yet?” He asked, looking down at you. Even if he was adamant on complying with (in his opinion) your ridiculous request, he could not hide the pure adoration he held for you in his eyes. It was hard to ignore, even when you weren’t looking for it, and the strength in which he felt for you nearly sent you to your knees. On top of trying to force yourself out of love with him, you had to try not to punish yourself for the choices you made. Breaking his heart was never something you intended, but it was something you both knew was a possibility.

“Dressing up and taking pictures? That’s usually all you guys do.”

“Ha,” he rolled his eyes, mocking your weak insult. “You’re so clever, you know.”

“I try.” You grinned. He was trying to ease your mind with humour, and it was working. The longer you laughed with him, the less you thought about anything else.

“Pictures will definitely be involved, but not necessarily the focus of the day.” He said, giving you a hint in hopes you would figure it out on your own. You looked around, thinking hard as your eyes gazed at the bodies in view.

“An interview?”

“There you go, sweetheart.” He nodded.

“Like, a real interview?” You asked again, the reality setting in. “For like, a magazine?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, chuckling at your excitement.

“They actually want to interview me, too?”

“Of course they do,” he said, finally reaching out and placing a friendly hand on your upper back. It did not strike you as romantic, rather just a friend sharing your elation. “I meant it when I said that you were meant for this, y/n.” Your heart warmed at his soft smile, and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrap your arm around him, too. It was not laced with any implication, much less like any other touch you shared with him previously. Instead, it was just a physical show of your appreciation for each other. Even if you were not going to end up with Jake, you knew that you had a wicked respect for him as a person and never wanted to see a lifetime without him in it. Even if you were in love with him now, you knew he had the ability to be the best friend you had ever had, and you were holding on to that knowledge to get you through the rest of the battle.

Aaron stepped towards you two, happy to see the comfortable dynamic the two of you were engaged in. He had a small fear of you two not wanting to try and get along for the occasion, especially since the last few weeks he had seen nothing but the two of you ignoring each other. “Alright, are you guys ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded.

“They’re going to take some pictures first, then the two of you are going to sit and answer some questions. That sound good?”

“Together?” You asked. Aaron nodded. “Okay, sounds good.” The manager gave you both a smile, then nodded his head down the hallway as if to tell you to follow him. When he took off in a fast walk, you both followed suit without any further questions. He lead you down to a nearby room that had been cleared and set up with loads of photography equipment. There was couches off to the side, and beside the white screen for the photography background, both of your guitars were set in stands, clearly polished and shined for the occasion. “They look awfully pretty together, don’t they?” You asked, looking over at Jake. He gave a small chuckle, slowly nodding his head at your words.

“Yeah, they do.” He replied, looking off at the distance but not necessarily at the guitars in question. A sad smile crossed your lips, but you didn’t let it linger. Before you had a chance to move on from the minor hurt, a photographer was quick to join you in the room.

“Alright,” she said, looking between you both. “Let’s get some individual shots, then some together. Mr. Kiszka, we’ll do yours first, if that’s okay.”

“After you, Mr. Kiszka,” you noted, a laugh stuck in your throat. You stepped to the side, allowing him to take the centre of attention. It wasn’t long before she was positioning him and snapping pictures. Some of them on his lonesome, but mostly of him with his SG. You were thankful for Jake’s growing collection; after the tragic loss of his SG due to the altercation between him and Sam, he at least had a backup to play for the meantime. You couldn’t hide your smile as he posed, finding yourself lost in the small details of his face. Even if you knew that a relationship with Jake was not in your future, you couldn’t deny his blinding beauty. His presence took up all of the space in the room, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain. You didn’t mind living in Jake’s shadow for the day, as a guitarist and as a person, because he deserved the attention. His talent and his personality was well deserving of recognition, and you were happy to witness it first hand.

“You’re up,” Jake said, placing his guitar back on the stand.

“Okay.” You nodded, making a move to stand in his previous position. You tried to relax yourself as much as you could, lowering your shoulders and putting on a blinding smile. The flash from the camera was overwhelming every time it went off, but you tried your best to not let it bother you. She took a few pictures of you in different positions, getting your best angles before asking you to grab your guitar. You did so, carefully holding it in your hands and positioning it as she asked you to. Eventually, she asked Jake to join you. He grabbed his SG, waiting for her to direct him further. She stepped forward, guiding him towards you and placing you back to back. She helped you position your arms to show off the instruments before taking a step back to see if she needed to change anything.

You were standing, leaning against each other as you held your guitars upright, slightly turned to face the camera. She took a few with no smiles, and a few with. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t thrilled about the outcome; she showed you both the product of her work, and you had fallen in love with the last picture. You were both standing in the same position, guitars shining brightly under the studio lighting, and you had smiles on your faces so large that you would never be able to guess there was any turmoil beneath the surface. Your eyes were glistening with the joy of being with each other. Despite the impending heartache, you had to stop and appreciate the moment of warmth. It was a memory you would long remember, likely until the end of your time, and the fondness would be solely accredited to Jake.

“Can we get a copy of that one?” Jake asked, feeling the exact same as you did about the picture.

“I can edit it before I send it, if you’d rather me do that.” She offered, but he was already shaking his head before she finished speaking.

“No, that’s okay.” He said, looking to you in hopes you agreed.

“Yeah, just like that is fine.” You nodded.

“Alright, sounds good to me. I’ll get started, and the interviewer will be here in a few minutes.” She said, smiling at the two of you. “Thanks, guys.”

“Thank you,” you said, head still spinning at the idea of being plastered on a magazine. Jake placed a gentle hand on your back once more and guided you towards the couches as the photographer left the room.

“See, that wasn’t bad.” He offered, taking a seat first. You sat down behind him, shaking your head.

“It was so cool.” You tried to hide your own gushing about the situation, but it was evident in your features. He laughed at your face, unable to hide his feelings for you as he did so. He settled back on the couch, fighting every urge to touch you in hopes that you might give in first. You settled back, too, also finding it difficult to keep your hands off him. You hoped that once the truth was spoken and the storm had passed, the desire to be with him would somehow disappear.

A few moments later, a young woman stepped in, different from the one who took your pictures. Behind her, there was a crew of people with audio equipment who would take care of the filming. She moved to greet you, shaking both of your hands and introducing herself. She settled on the chair beside the couch, pulling out a clipboard from her bag. “Alright, I won’t take up too much of your time. We just wanted to ask a few questions for the next issue of Guitar World. This tour is the talk of the town, and Gold Dust Woman is one of the biggest up and coming bands around.” She smiled at you as she finished her statement. You thought you were going to choke on your own shock, your heart racing and your eyes widening as you tried to process what she was saying. You had no idea the interview was for ‘Guitar World’, and you had no idea that you had gained enough popularity for such a prestigious magazine to know you by name. “They’re going to film, just so I have the interview on record to write the article later, so don’t mind them.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jake smiled, eyes lingering on the interviewer for a second too long. You noticed, shamed at the rush of jealousy you felt flood your body. You had no right to feel such things about him anymore, and you needed to get yourself out of that headspace as soon as possible.

“So, if you guys are ready, we can get started.” She offered. You both gave a nod, not finding any argument for the statement. “Perfect.” She said, settling back in her chair and giving a thumbs up to the staff running the filming. One they gave her the go-ahead, she started slow, getting you both to state your names and your band’s names. After that, she jumped right into the bulk of the questions. She started with Jake, asking a few simple things about their new album and their plans for the future. She noted the Grammy nomination they had received very recently, and inquired about his excitement on the topic. Eventually, she turned to you and began her deep dive into your musical career. “So, y/n, you and your band seemed to come out of nowhere; have you been a band for long, or is this something new for you?”

“Well, we’ve been a band for quite some time now, but we mostly played at local bars and restaurants around home. We’ve always been fond of the idea of doing something more, but never really had the chance to do it until now.”

“That’s fantastic,” she noted, making sure you knew she was listening. “Now, ‘Gold Dust Woman’, is that a play on the infamous Fleetwood Mac song, or does it mean something more to you?”

“I suppose both,” you chuckled. “I’ve always been a huge fan of their music, and Stevie Nicks in particular, but I was actually given the nickname a while back by a very important person to me. When we agreed to tour with Greta, we hadn’t really talked about an official name. I brought up the idea and they all seemed to love it. From there it was history, I guess.”

“So it’s almost like you get to carry a part of that person with you wherever you go?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, unable to hide the smile that was forming. “I owe a lot to that person, even outside of music, too. They helped me get to where I am today, and I couldn’t think of a better way to thank them for it.” You tried not to look over at Jake, wanting to avoid any sneaking suspicions from the public that it was him you were talking about.

“How has touring been so far for you? You said this was your first time?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s been fantastic so far. Seeing the world, spending time with my best friends and doing the things we love most… I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“Do you have any plans for an album for yourself?” She inquired.

“We definitely talk about it, but we don’t really have a label or anything of the sorts. I’m actually a recording artist when I’m not on stage, so if we do something, I can see it just being a private event for us.”

“I think now you’ll have labels fighting for you; the energy you have on stage is electric, and I don’t need to mention the talent, because that’s just a given.” You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat with a blush at her statement.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to ease your nerves as you spoke. “That’s the dream, really. Music has always been a passion, and to think we have a shot at doing it full time is absolutely mind blowing.”

“I think we’re all wondering about your relationship with Greta. Have you been friends for long, or only in the recent months?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been friends for years, now. It’s been really cool touring with friends, because even when we’re exhausted, the work still doesn’t feel like work. Just like a little family living life together.” She smiled at the statement, nodding along with your words. Then, she turned her attention to Jake.

“What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Oh, me?” Jake asked. “I agree wholeheartedly. Given the opportunity to work so closely with such fantastic people has been nothing short of remarkable. They’re all very passionate about their work, and they have proven to us beyond anything we ever expected that they were meant for that stage. It’s been an honour to work so closely with them, and if I could have it my way, I’d tour with them for the rest of our careers.” You looked over at him, a small blush dusting your cheeks at his kind words.

“You guys really seem to fit together in terms of visuals; has there been any hardships along the way? I know that sometimes everything might not be as perfect as it seems.” After a moment, he gave a slow shake of his head.

“No, not that I can think of. The benefit of working with people who you connect with on a higher level is that even when we struggle and all of our ideas seem to clash, we always come out stronger.” He said, confident in his answer. “I can’t speak for the future, but so far, it’s been delightful and almost cathartic in a way to connect with people who live and feel the same way about life as we do.”

“Awesome,” she grinned. “And of course, this might be a loaded question, but from one musician’s perspective on another, what is your opinion on Gold Dust Woman?” He drew in a long breath, leaning his head back for a moment as he thought about his answer. Eventually, he looked over at you while he collected his thoughts, then looked back at the interviewer.

“I think that they embody the spirit of what music used to be, and in todays age, that’s incredibly hard to find. As a musician, I have so much respect for their work and the energy they put into it and as a guitarist, I feel like there is so much that I learn from her all of the time. It’s wonderful to share a love for something so beautiful, especially when it’s something we can teach each other more about every day. I’m grateful for her talent and all of the ideas that she brings to the table, because watching her work her magic on that fretboard has inspired me to work harder with mine.”

“You seem quite fond of her,” she noted. Jake let out a small laugh, nodding his head.

“Yeah, you could say that. She’s more than my colleague; she’s my best friend. Family, even. I mean look at her up on that stage when she performs. It’s like she’s the modern day Stevie Nicks. I hear it in her voice, in the passion and the love for music, but it see it in her eyes and her heart. She’s got this aura that follows her around wherever she goes. It screams rock and roll, and power, and all of the other wonderful things that come with it. No matter who you are, I think it’s hard not to admire her when she’s doing what she loves most. And aside from the talent, she’s just a great person, and I can confidently speak for all of us when I say that it’s been an incredibly inspiring experience to be able to work with her.”

You could not seem to tear your eyes away from him as he spoke, your throat constricting and your eyes threatening tears. You had never heard words from Jake that were quite like the ones he spoke, then. They were full of truth and more profound than anything you had ever heard before. You never would have believed someone could speak about you with such admiration, and the fact that he was willing to admit it to the world was overwhelming. You had to pry your eyes away from him, feeling yourself falling in love all over again despite knowing that you couldn’t have him like that, anymore. You had made your decision, and you had to stick with it. It was the only way you would make it out alive.

“How do you feel on that subject?” She asked you, pulling you out of the trance you were stuck in.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you shrugged. “I mean, Jake is a phenomenal guitarist and working so closely with someone who can create magic with an instrument has been enlightening and encouraging. Despite popular belief, it’s never been a deterrent for me to work with someone who is so skilled. If anything, it’s been a huge benefit, and I find everything he does it’s very influential. When I feel like I should give up, I can look to him and find the inspiration to keep going. He teaches me just as much about music as I have for him, and as a musician, I envy the talent he has. I hope that I continue to have the opportunity to grow and play alongside of him, and that I can continue to know him as a person. We owe our success as a band to Greta, but I owe my success as a guitarist to him.” You could feel him staring, but you did your best to fight the pressure to look back.

“My final question for you guys is quite a simple one; we couldn’t call ourselves a guitar magazine if we didn’t ask the most important question of all. What guitars do you both play?” You both laughed at the simple nature of the inquiry, looking to each other to see who wanted to go first.

“I have a 61’ Gibson SG. Although, back when they first produced the line of guitars, they sold them under the name Les Paul. It’s my go to, and my pride and joy. I have a few other ones I use, but that guitar is definitely my number one.”

“I mainly use my 57’ reissue. It’s a Les Paul Gold Top style, and it’s been my tried and true since I started writing music.”

“Alright,” she grinned. “Thank you both so much, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you. I hope to talk again sometime, and I hope that the rest of the tour brings just as much happiness as the first half has seemed to. Maybe next time we see each other, you’ll have a new record for us to fawn over.” She told you.

“Thank you so much.” You said, reaching out to shake her hand. Jake did the same, and the both of you settled back in your seat as the crew filed out of the room. You let out a long sigh, heart still pounding in your chest. When the room was empty aside from the pair of you, you finally turned to look at him. “Did you mean all of that?”

“Of course I did, Gold Dust Woman.” He whispered. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling the sting of heartbreak begin to make its appearance once again. You had no idea how to let him go after he said such beautiful things about you. He checked the clock on the wall, noting the time of day before he spoke again.

“Did you want to grab some lunch before soundcheck?” He asked. “As friends, of course.” He added, making sure you were aware he was still adhering to the agreement.

“That sounds like fun.” You agreed, almost wishing that you did not agree to be friends for the day. The longer you spent with him, the more your morals seemed to disappear.

“I’ll go get changed, then we can go?” You nodded, unable to speak any more words without either ending things forever or professing undying love for him, and neither seemed like an option you wanted for yourself. Without any other conversation, he stood and left you on your lonesome.

You leaned back into the cushions of the couch, praying that they would swallow you whole and hopefully end your incessant misery. You knew that going out with Jake would only worsen your predicament, but you couldn’t seem to refuse the offer. Much like the beginning, he was irresistible in his charm and impossible to forget. You weren’t even sure if the devil or the angel was behind the decision, and you didn’t seem to care enough. Whether good or bad, you were bound to enjoy the experience anyway. If you had to leave him, you would at least have one good memory to end the experience with. You settled your shaking hands, satiating your thoughts with empty promises to yourself as you stood. You knew that in no way was entertaining any further relationship with Jake the right thing to do, but you were just too much of a coward to confess it.

You walked into the hallway, almost immediately running into Aaron. He gave you a pat on the back and a few words of gratitude for your cooperation. You made it a note to genuinely thank him later on once the turmoil in your heart had settled. You walked towards Jake’s dressing room, waiting patiently for him to finish up. You did not have to wait for long, because within a few moments, his door swung open and he was back in your company dressed in his regular clothes. He had a pair of sunglasses settled low on his nose and a lazy smile on his lips. It only took a few seconds for sandalwood to choke you and your sin to catch up in time for the kill.

Wordlessly, you walked out of the back door of the venue. You headed in the direction of the street in search of somewhere to eat. The sidewalks were barren in contrast to the cars passing by, and you only had to walk for a short while before you came across a strip of buildings. There were a few local shops, but your eyes landed on a coffee shop that peaked your interest so much that you couldn’t bother to see what else the town had to offer. Jake noticed your expression, not needing to ask if that’s where you wanted to go. When it came to caffeinated beverages, you were always the first in line. He led the way to the front door, opening it for you and allowing you to go inside.

The vibe in the air was immediately calming and the smell of coffee filled your nose. You let out an audible sigh of relief just knowing that you would have one in your hand soon enough. Jake stood beside you in line, silent but relaxed as you both looked over the menus. “What do you want to eat?” He asked, turning his head to look over at you.

“I think the ham and cheddar looks good,” you noted before looking to the next board. “Oh, they have soup!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice quiet. He had to laugh at the glee you felt for such a simple idea. Before you could say anything else, he took a step towards the cashier. You followed behind him, but clearly didn’t need to aid him in ordering. He listed off your coffee, the sandwich and your favourite soup out of the list they were offering. He ordered for himself and paid before you could even think to grab your wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, Jake.”

“I know, I wanted to.” He assured you, moving down the line to wait for the order. When everything was ready, you both carried the items to a secluded booth in the corner. When you sat down, silence became you once more as if it were your destiny to have so much to say but be unable to speak it. You were so wound up with anxiety that you found it difficult to begin eating. Instead, you sipped at your coffee and found yourself delighted at the taste. Once again, he proved to you his ability to remember the details that nobody else cared to look for. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he noted, grabbing his phone from his pocket. He was occupied with the screen only for a moment before you felt your own vibrate. You grabbed it, checking the message he had sent you. There was an attachment, and when you clicked on it you felt a whole new wave of shame wash over you. It was the picture the two of you had gotten together during the photoshoot. “She emailed it to me during the interview. Figured you might want it too.”

“I do, thank you.” You muttered, never letting your eyes move from the photograph. It was an infinite reminder of the elation the two of you felt when around each other, and it would forever haunt you because you knew you had to let it go.

“Speak your truth, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, taking a bite of his own food.

“What do you mean?” You asked, cracking the lid of the disposable soup container.

“Something is on your mind.”

“No, I’m okay.” You shook your head, another punch of guilt thrown when you saw he had somehow also known what your favourite soup was. He seemed to know everything about you without you ever needing to speak the words, and it seemed like every higher power had intent to punish you, and they were doing their job splendidly.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t lie to me, y/n.” You looked up to meet his eye, immediately crushed under the weight of his stare. You had to correct your previous thought; it was not the picture that would haunt you for a lifetime, but rather him as a whole. How strange it felt to be haunted by someone was still alive, but that was exactly how it felt to be in his presence in that moment.

“What do you want me to say, Jake?”

“Anything,” he pleaded, although not blatantly apparent in his desperation for an answer. “You didn’t ask me to be friends for a day because you can’t make a decision; you asked me to be friends today because you already have, and it’s not me.”

“No, Jake.” You shook your head hoping he would see reason. You hated that he could decode every lie and half-truth that came out of your mouth before you even spoke it. “It’s not like that,” it was like that, but you were nowhere near ready to profess it.

“Then what is it, sweetheart?” His voice was not condescending, nor angry. It was inquisitive, like he just needed to know what the truth was.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, closing your eyes to block out the tears that were begging to be shed. “I know that it hurts, but I don’t know where it hurts. It doesn’t stop, and I don’t think it ever will. And I know that we suck at being friends, because I’ve spent the entire day falling more in love with you than I ever was before. You get on camera, and you say those sweet things that nobody else has ever thought about me, and you look at me like I’m the best thing to walk this earth, but I’m not, Jake. I’m far from it, and you need to realize that, too.”

“So that’s your plan? You want me to stop loving you so you don’t have to pull away, first?” He knew, and he knew from the minute he saw you. You couldn’t back down and you couldn’t run away. He had you cornered, and you felt like you were going to snap under the pressure. “If so, that’s never going to happen, angel. I’ve loved you quietly for years, and I can keep loving you quietly while I hope you come back. Falling out of love with you has never been an option, so I’ll learn to live with it, even if it hurts.”

“And I’ll love you forever, even if it hurts.” You said, a grimace taking hold on your lips. “I can’t figure out how to stop loving you.”

“Then why are you trying if you haven’t made up your mind?” You looked up, tears blurring your vision as they landed on his face. He had locked you into stalemate yet again. You wished that you didn’t have to feel it anymore, but you felt everything. The pain sprinkled with regret, the shame mixed with sadness, and the love coated with desire. You felt everything for him, but you knew you shouldn’t. It was a terrible game to play, the one in which you tried to differentiate between right and wrong, especially when it came to him. From the very beginning, the rights felt wrong with Jake and the wrongs felt right. When in his company, you had no idea how to draw the line between needs and wants, and you had no idea how to implement any sort of morality when he was more powerful than any sin or holy force. “You can say the words, y/n. I can take it.”

“I don’t want to.” You shook your head.

“You have to.” He said, defeat clear in his face. He had lost, and he needed to hear you say it in order to begin to heal from the wounds.

“Jake,” you sighed, hands shaking as you reached for your coffee cup “don’t do this, now. That’s not why I came here with you.”

“Maybe it’s why I came, y/n.” He offered the idea, knowing that you hadn’t yet thought of that possibility. “I love you, and you know that, but if I’m not what you want anymore, I need to learn how to be your friend. It’s going to suck, but it’s something I have to do, and I have to start now if I’m ever going to be able to do it.”

“I love you,” you whispered, biting the inside of your lip to stop the tears from falling.

“But you love him more.” He said, watching your face to try and understand if he was reading the situation right. “It’s okay, angel.”

“It’s never been about that,” you shook your head. “It’s not about loving someone more, or even wanting someone more. It’s just been about what feels right, and what you and I have been doing is fantastic, but it’s just as hard as it is good. I don’t know if I can do that for the rest of my life.” Your heart ached for him, and the pain that was clear in his eyes. He had no fight left in him, and neither did you. It was a horrible thing to say, but it was the truth. You and Jake had been no stranger to struggle, and perhaps the complications lied within the lust that so often overshadowed your emotional need. You had forgone the emotional connection in hopes that sex would solve it for you, but the truth of the matter was that you both had no idea how to love one another despite feeling it so strongly. The good days were great, but the bad days were horrible. Days of ignoring each other, the name calling and yelling all pointed straight to failure.

You knew you could love Jake forever, but the work that you would need to do was extensive, and the idea alone sounded exhausting. He was worth the work, but the knowledge that heartbreak was still such a huge possibility if you chose him was a major deterrent. It was not a lack of love that was driving you away, rather just your fear getting in the way once more. If it were any normal type of pain, you would be able to see past it, but heartbreak over Jake was entirely new type of pain that was worse than any other.

“That’s okay, Gold Dust Woman.” He assured you, but you saw a glisten of tears in his eye. It was gutting, and you had to look away to stop yourself from crying, too. “We tried our best, and that’s what matters.” He cleared his throat, trying to cover the quiver in his voice, but you noticed it more than you heard the words he was saying. “No matter if you’re with me or not, you are the fire that burns in my heart, y/n. It has been a privilege to love you, and I really hope that maybe I’ll get the chance to love you again someday.”

“Jake,” you pleaded for him to stop. Your heart could not take the weight of his grief, and you were certain if he continued, you would succumb to the temptation of loving him.

“I get to speak my mind, too.” He defended himself. “I love you so much, y/n. More than I ever thought I could, and I’m happy if you’re happy. Loving you has never been a selfish thing for me; I do it even knowing that it could hurt me, because your happiness is above everything else. I’m just grateful to have spent time with you at all.”

“I love you, Jake.” You said, reaching out for his hand that was resting on the table. “I keep thinking that things would be easier if we did this the right way, but there is no right way, and it hurts no matter what I do. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s okay that this wasn’t for us, but it kills me. I wanted it for us so badly, but sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“I know, angel.” He said, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Can we… just wait until we’re back at the venue? One last date, in love and happy.” You asked, but it was more like begging. You could bear the weight of the separation yet, and you would do anything to delay the inevitable.

“You don’t look very happy, baby.” He said, reaching across the table and swiping a tear away with his free hand. You closed your eyes, fighting back a sob as he held your face in his hand.

“I’m with you, so of course I am.” You breathed, but more tears fell just from speaking the lie of happiness.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He said, voice so quiet that it barely broke through the air of misery. You did as he wanted, eyes opening only to be met with his own saddened face. “Dates are supposed to be fun, there’s no need for tears.” His comfort served little purpose, because there was one falling down his own cheek as he tried to calm you. You lifted your hand, settling it atop of the one he had on your cheek. You managed a small smile through the mess of tears, uncaring for the public display of emotion.

“You’re right,” you sniffled, nodding your head. You wiped your face clean, taking a breath to calm yourself down. “Dates are meant to be fun.”

“So much for friends,” he chuckled, wiping his own cheek free of tears.

“I told you, we sucked at it anyway.”

“We did.” He agreed. “Destined to be lovers, stuck being friends.” He attempted to make the joke, but the reality of his words was harsh. You took another drink of coffee, hoping the beverage would warm your soul and give you the energy to make it through the day.

You both got lost in small chatter, ignoring the outside world and choosing to remain in the little comfortable bubble you had created in the cafe. Inside, nothing could hurt. At that table, you were free to love each other forever and never have to worry about stopping. Outside, the cold world would put an end to the relationship you had worked so hard to save. You wished you could stay in the cafe until the end of time, with Jake and away from any other worldly trouble, but it was just not plausible. Eventually, when both of your phones began to ring, you knew you had to move on and let go. Letting go was the hardest part of living, but you knew you had to face it sooner or later. You could only hope that when the storm cleared you could both move on and better yourselves from the mistakes you had made with each other, but the thought of learning from your mistakes with Jake only to use the lessons with another was sickening. As much as you knew that you needed to, letting him walk away was terrifying, and the thought of him loving another was gut wrenching.

When it came time to leave, you both were dragging your feet walking out the door. With his hand in yours, you began the slowest walk of your life, using a snails pace to avoid the inevitable end that came with your arrival. The building came into view like a grim foreshadowing of the future. Before your reached the door, you had to stop him in hopes of savouring one more moment of peace. You turned to face him, hand still resting in his own as you tried to catch his eye. His gaze seemed glued to the ground, fearful of looking up at you in case you caught sight of his weakness. “I love you, Jake.” You whispered, snaking your arm around his neck. He pulled you into him by your hip, so close to your face that your noses were brushing together.

“You could take any type of love, multiply by a million, and you still would only have a glimpse of how I feel about you.” Your heart was shattered, all of the pieces lying sharp in your chest and stabbing into you with every breath you took. You leaned forward, kissing him softly as a show of affection, but also as an apology for the pain you caused. For a few beautiful seconds the world seemed right, but as always, it had to come to and end. He placed another soft kiss to your lips, just like rubbing salt in a wound. “I’ll always be here, Gold Dust Woman. If you ever change your mind… I’m here.”

“You’ve always been too good for this world, Jake. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be more for you.” He shook his head, face still unbearably close to your own.

“You are everything, angel.” He corrected, not willing to accept any slander towards you. “In another world, you and I are happy together. Just because it’s not this one doesn’t mean that you aren’t enough for me. Maybe you’re just too much, and I don’t know how to appreciate all of it yet.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment too long. He had to force himself away from you, knowing that it was doing nothing but hurting you both more. “Thank you for everything, y/n. These last few months have been so amazing, and it’s all because of you.”

“Thank you, Jake. You have no idea how much you’ve done for me.” He gave a tight lipped smile and a curt nod, knowing he shouldn’t continue feeding into the conversation, but wanting it more than anything.

“Here’s to being friends, Gold Dust Woman.”

“To being friends,” you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears begging to make a return. You both let your stare linger for a moment longer before you eventually took a step towards the building. He watched you walk away, desperate for you to stay but unable to muster the courage to say it. He knew the most amicable thing was to let you go, but it was horrendous for him knowing that once you walked through that door, you would never be his again.

You nearly broke down the door with the strength you used to open it, tears flooding your cheeks once again as you walked towards your dressing room. As you stepped inside, you managed to stop your sobs just enough to catch your breath. Unfortunately for you, it was not enough to evade the questions of the person who took post in your room, waiting for your return.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” You looked up, shock and sadness written all over you with no way to hide it. As if the universe was playing a trick, another violent lesson after your months of nothing but learning, Sam was sat on your couch, looking up at you with major concern.

“Fuck, Sam.” You swore, wiping your face free of the mascara stains. “You scared me.” That was not what you truly wanted to say; in fact, you wanted to send him away and cry in solitude, to tend to your wounds without an audience, but you thought that maybe his comfort was exactly what you needed. The rainbow shining after the storm, sitting on your couch waiting for you just to prove that life could still be beautiful despite the pain.

“Sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, taking a step towards him. “It’s okay, I’m okay, everything is okay.” You promised, but you were trying to convince yourself of the fact more than anything else. “I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been trying to find the time to talk to you all day.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the days events.

“Well, I’m here now.” He assured you, standing to meet you. He reached out, drawing you in to him with an open arm and an invitation. You gravitated towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He responded with the same energy, holding you tightly and revelling in the warmth of your touch. You settled your head on his chest, taking a deep breath to relax your mind. In his arms, it felt like the war was over; you had won, and it was time to go home and rest. “Oh, I got you a coffee. I heard you were here early this morning, so I figured you didn’t have time to stop and grab one for yourself.” He said, pulling back from you only slightly. Your heart warmed at his words, comforted by the idea of him thinking of you.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You smiled, already feeling the pain begin to melt away.

“Oh, and congratulations on the interview.” He grinned, reaching behind him to grab the cup sitting on the table. “I know we’re supposed to be keeping our distance, but I just had to come and see you. Being on the cover of Guitar World is a huge deal, and I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s okay, I’m happy you’re here.” You assured him, feeling your heart speed as you prepared to confess all of the things you had been waiting to tell him.

“Me, too.” He smiled, handing you the coffee that was still hot. “I’m always happy to see you.” You closed your eyes, letting the cup warm your hands as you mustered the courage to speak. Before you said a word, you brought the lid to your lips and took a long sip of the beverage. As you swallowed it down, you almost grimaced at the taste, immediately looking down at the lid. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t remember how you liked it, so I got some cream and sugar on the side.” He said, suddenly recalling the bag of items that was also laying on the table.

You felt frozen, your eyes stuck on the lid marked with nothing but a big, bold red flag. The blood drained from your face, leaving you pale while dread seeped in to take its place. The interaction, although small, spoke louder than anything had before. A flash of memories took over you, recalling all of the coffee cups presented to you from Jake in the past, all marked with hearts and smiles, and the exact order that you would have had if you bought it yourself. You thought you might be sick, your stomach churning with unease and anxiety as you continued to stare down at the cup in your hands. The interaction was earth-shattering, making it obvious to you of one horrific thing; Sam knew you, and that was true, but just not enough. After months of dates at cafe’s and restaurants, he couldn’t seem to remember the simplest of things, and for some reason, the fact was abhorrent for you to choke down.

Sam knew you, but he did not know you as well as Jake did, and after all of this time, he was still not the one for you.

You had spent so much of your life wishing that Sam would notice you, that he would suddenly become the person you had always hoped he could be, but it was all too much to ask of him. All of those months ago, the euphoria of finally hearing that he cared about you the same as you felt about him seemed to overshadow the reality of the situation. Your love for Sam had clouded your judgement in the worst way possible, so much so that you had put him in a pedestal and opted to ignore every flaw and red flag, just so you could continue viewing him as this perfect person you had created in your mind. If Sam wanted you so badly, he would have cared enough to notice how bad you wanted him. He would have taken the step, crushed the fear of rejection and loss so he could have his chance to be with you, but he did not. He waited until the very last second to speak, until you were emotionally vulnerable and unable to see the difference. Sam loved you, and you loved him, but it was never enough to make the difference. If Sam was meant to be with you, the universe would have allowed it long before now, and it never would have sacrificed Jake in the process.

As much as you hoped Sam was the one, he was not, and your former self wept for the person you wished he could be. You were such a fool for Sam that you disregarded every warning the higher powers had been trying to show you. Jake making his move on you that night was not a cruel trick, nor a joke made by the universe to laugh at your struggle. It was a sign and even more so, a reminder that if Sam was meant to be yours, he would be. It was the universe begging for you to move on, to actually see the world you had been missing out on due to your blind loyalty to someone who refused to notice you. Jake approached you that night because he loved you wholly and selflessly, the same way you had been loving his brother. He took the chance despite knowing you were foolishly in love with someone else, and he did it with strength and courage, even if he knew he was bound to lose sooner or later.

Choosing Sam was not a way to avoid heartbreak; it was only the beginning of a lifelong struggle with what-if’s. Sam had the opportunity to love you for years, but never managed to take the leap. Jake loved you so much and so quietly that it killed him, and when he finally understood he couldn’t just stop loving you, he found the courage to confess despite his own fear of vulnerability. By choosing Sam, you would only be admitting to your inability to grow and change, and you wouldn’t be facing up to any fears that you had been trying so hard to conquer. Loving Jake had risk, but real love always did, and he was more than worth the risk. If you truly grew as much as you believed you did, you would have recognized that your fear was for good reason, but nothing close to what you previously thought it was; you weren’t scared of Jake breaking your heart, you were afraid of losing the only person in the world you had ever genuinely loved with every single part of you. It was not a fear of hurt, rather a fear of failure, but in that moment, you knew you loved Jake enough to make anything work. Failure wasn’t an option, because you would die before losing him.

As you sat, staring at the coffee in your hands, you challenged every single thing you had ever believed in. When you looked up at Sam, you knew that you had made a mistake. Sam was not your person, and he never would be, but you had already broken the heart that had sacrificed everything for you. With little hope and little faith, you knew you had to right your wrongs one last time, to atone for the sins you had been recklessly committing for weeks. You had already broken two hearts, and now you had to break a third before ever having a chance at peace. You knew you had to, but the struggle lied within finding the strength to do so. Your only solace was in the idea that you may still be able to salvage the relationship with Jake, and that after so much heartbreak, you might actually be able to mend two back together.

It was time to pick up the pieces and go home, and home was a person, this time, and not the one you previously thought it to be. Jake had always been home to you even if you failed to realize it, and your only hope was that home still had his heart open to you. If not, you wondered if you had the right words to get Jake to find room in his life again for a Gold Dust Woman, because his Gold Dust Woman was more than ready to love him for the rest of her life.

pale shadow of a woman, black widow, pale shadow of a dragon, dust woman

haven’t i always said that it’s not over until it’s over? ;)

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

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freesia-writes · 11 months

Note

OMFG!!! Congrats on the 500 sweetface!!! That's gotta feel amazing <3

For the prompt, could I possibly have #10 with Fives?

hehehe thanks so much friend! Heeeere you go! Also... these are getting LONGER... I'm concerned that by the time I get to #13 they're gonna be like 10k words, LOL. That being said, hopefully this is a delight! I never realized how nerve-wracking it could be to try to write for someone; you want it to be everything they ever dreamed of but you're a totally separate brain, with only one line to go off of! LOL. And it's so hard to end these! I want to write a whole novel off of each one. ;)

“You shouldn't be with him. You should be… with me." - Fives Word Count: 3.7k Content Warnings: None really Fives x GN!Reader with a boyfriend ;)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was arrival day, and you were already dreading the agenda that lay ahead of you. Two separate squads and their Venator-class cruisers were scheduled for a quick turnover, requiring immediate service, detailed repairs, and thorough inspection before being ready to go as quickly as possible. Somehow it felt as though it had been happening more often lately, and you were starting to wonder how many of these damn cruisers there were. Your team was starting to chafe against the longer hours and constant pressure, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel -- a few days off, provided there were no unscheduled arrivals that would throw the whole thing out the window.

The first cruiser docked with a whoosh, and the debarkation routine began. The previously-empty platform was suddenly swarming with mechanics, droids, shuttles, officers, and troopers, each headed in their own direction. Your boyfriend jostled your shoulder playfully as your crew headed for the ion engines, walking ahead of you to catch up with some other friends. You offered a feeble smile but weren’t quite sure what he was aiming for. Sometimes he treated you more like a “bro” than his girlfriend, except when he wanted… well… you know. But he had been kind and fun, taking you out to dinner and buying you things often, and while you could suggest quite a few ways you’d like to see things change, you didn’t want to be nit-picky.

You cleared the thoughts from your head as you saw a herd of troopers exiting the ship, a blur of white and blue indicating that it was none other than the 501st. Your face curled into an inexplicable mix of a grimace and a grin, scanning the familiar helmets out of habit. There it was… the tiniest flash of red, in a downward triangle right in the middle… And just like that, it took you back to that night, memories flashing across your mind to the rhythm of your footsteps as you continued distractedly toward the work that lay ahead.

Flashing lights, neon signs. Raucous voices, cheers, laughs. Good conversation, suggestive whispers, the effervescent warmth of liquor in your veins that fueled the anticipation of potential adventure and meaningless fun. The dark hair clenched between your fingers, the heavy breathing, the throes of passion and the gentle, intimate caresses afterward. That simple tattoo, a small 5, that you’d touched and kissed and fallen asleep against…

“Watch it!” A sharp voice broke you out of the replay, and you stumbled sideways as a couple of grumpy pilots made their way past. You could hear laughter up ahead, as your boyfriend and two others watched your distracted mishap. Flipping an obscene gesture their way, you pulled your bag higher up on your shoulder and hurried to catch up. Today was not the day to be daydreaming and dawdling.

What you didn’t see was the lone straggler behind the group of clones, now free of their helmets, exchanging quips and laughs as they headed toward their day of freedom. He shifted on his feet, holding his helmet at his hip, watching you scuttle toward the ship. His brow furrowed, a litany of expressions decorating his face, and he slowly turned to join his brothers, tearing his eyes from you and leaving them on the ground as he made his way to rest and refreshment.

The engines were a hot mess, requiring more than a few trips back to the supply station for some of the most abstract parts you’d ever heard of. What they were doing on this starship, you didn’t know, but they were definitely putting you through your paces when it came to maintaining it. You brushed the hair from your face, christening your forehead with grease, and smacked the maintenance panel shut with a huff. You were already late for lunch, and had skipped breakfast, and therefore were in an absolutely horrible mood.

The mess hall was fairly empty, most having finished their meals and cleared out by now. Your boyfriend had waited for you, surprisingly, chatting with some crewmates and beckoning you over when he caught sight of you with your tray. You slid onto the bench next to him, accepting his sloppy kiss and side hug as he finished the story he was telling, and promptly began stuffing your face with the most unexciting ration bar you’d ever touched. Most of the exciting stuff in the food line had been gone already by the time you went through, including the apples, which were one of your favorite things, even though they seemed plain.

“Whoa, easy girl, they’re not gonna run out of food!” came his playful taunt, and you elbowed him in the ribs in response. You’d initially loved the witty banter between the two of you, but sometimes the jabs had an edge, or didn’t quite land, and you were beginning to tire of it. Your complaints had been brushed off as being “overly-sensitive” or “not being able to take a joke”, so you let it slide, but you didn’t appreciate it quite so much anymore.

As the group of you headed back to the ship for hours of maintenance and inspection, a figure caught your eye on the side of the platform. A clone trooper, still in armor, was heading back toward the ship, scanning the herds of people bustling about their duties. You squinted, drawing closer, wondering why any of them would choose to be here when they had such little time off. Perhaps he’d forgotten something. But as you both approached the maintenance hatch, you saw the helmet clearly.

“Fives?” you asked, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. After your [pretty darn awesome] little fling together, you had both enjoyed some conversations here and there, but it had been clear that there wasn’t really any future there… He was constantly being toted around the galaxy, and you… well, you were stuck here. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about it since, though… What it would be like if your lots in life were different. It had been a one-night stand, yes, but there had been substance in your discussion, intriguing glimmers of personality, and a depth, kindness, and intelligence that had really left an impression on you. “What are you doing here?” you continued, watching him turn toward you quickly at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hi. I… I thought I left something on the ship,” he began, pulling his helmet off to reveal those rich brown eyes and sharp features. You began to form a question as to why it would be in the maintenance sector, but he continued quickly, “But while you’re here…” The couple of crew members with you, including your boyfriend, were lingering in the doorway as well, watching the interaction. “They’re doing a crew appreciation thing at 79s tonight, and I just didn’t know if you… all… knew about it. Free snacks and cheap drinks for mechanics and whatnot…”

“That’s awesome,” you said warmly, catching his eye with your soft smile. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Yeah! You… all… deserve it, with all your hard work. Anyway… Maybe we’ll see you there,” he said, eyes roving across the group before he retreated into the expressionless safety of his helmet. He gave you one last nod before turning to head out. You snuck a glance over your shoulder as your team climbed onto the ship, noticing his fist clenching and unclenching at his side as he walked.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” your boyfriend muttered as you exited the taxi in front of 79s.

“Hey. I never get to choose what we do. You said you’d be a good sport. Plus -- free food!” you said enticingly, feeling disproportionately enthused as the neon lights and bumping bass met your senses.

“I know, but a clone bar? I don’t know… isn’t that kind of weird?” he whined, taking your hand begrudgingly as the two of you made your way in the door.

“Why would it be weird?” you said, voice getting louder so he could hear you over the music. But you never heard his reply as the raucous noise of the bar took over.

* * *

“Okay, ‘free snacks’ may have been a bit of an overstatement,” you chuckled, a few drinks and three bags of salty crackers later. The two of you had come to an uneasy truce, settling to play cards and watch the various interactions going on around you. There had been a few arguments, some decent arm wrestling matches, and a general spirit of joviality that was infectious. Well, to you, at least. The music shifted to something right up your alley, and you rose to your feet, holding a hand out. Your boyfriend took it, with the tiniest of eye rolls, and followed you downstairs to the dance floor, making a quick swerve last minute to order two shots at the bar. You laughed, reaching a hand out, but he gulped one down, and then the other, to your shock and slight disappointment.

“Alright, now I’m ready!” he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you back toward the dancers. It was an improvement to his mood, at least, though you’d be talking about the rudeness of the act later, for sure. The dance floor was particularly full tonight; a number of ships had reported back to Coruscant at once, making for a diverse and colorful crowd. That familiar warm, tingly feeling was flowing through your veins and you smiled, letting the music fill your mind and flow through your body.

* * *

“Yoo hoo!” came the taunting call as Jesse waved his hand in front of Fives’ face. “Did you seriously just drift off mid-sentence? Man, that clanker must have hit your head harder than we thought, eh Kix?”

“That brain was damaged long before that,” Kix answered, running a hand over his closely-shaved hair and intricate skull tattoos. Jesse’s laughter was joined by Hardcase and Echo, who were reclining in the large booth with the rest of their brothers.

“Sorry -- got distracted,” Fives muttered, shaking his head and looking back to his squad. The conversation continued, with quips and jabs, as well as heroic tales that expanded each time they were told, but he couldn’t stop glancing off to the side. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor, appearing between the bodies all around you and then disappearing again into the crowd. There was a funny clenching feeling in his chest, as he remembered the scent of your hair, the darkness of your eyes, and the little gasp that had accompanied the way you moaned his name… Suddenly there was a funny feeling under his codpiece as well, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on whatever joke Hardcase was completely botching at the moment.

The dance floor cleared a little bit, giving him an unobstructed view of you, though he wasn’t sure if it were an improvement or not. Your boyfriend had decided that now was as good a time as any to try to grind on your backside like an adolescent horn dog, and you kept trying to shift to a more natural and fun way of dancing together but he was persistent. And getting a bit gropey. Finally, you gave up, and Fives watched as you left the dance floor, stalking to the refresher in a huff. The boyfriend slumped over to the other end of the bar, toppling onto a stool and waving to the bartender.

“Be right back,” Fives said, scooting out the side of the booth. “Refresher,” he muttered in response to the questioning glances, and was quickly forgotten as he edged down the packed hallway. He lurked awkwardly outside the doors for a few minutes, wishing he’d come up with a better plan, when you finally reappeared, sending a little jolt of energy down his spine.

“You made it!” he said with a clearly forced brightness, startling you out of your rumination.

“Yeah,” you answered, any joy at seeing him dulled by the disappointment of how it was all going.

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head with apparent concern on his face. The way the hair on his chin accentuated the expression was adorable, and his interest lifted your spirits a little.

“Sorry, yeah,” you answered, getting jostled to the side of the hallway as a group went past. “Long day at work, regular life troubles, you know. Nothing crazy like the stuff you have to face.”

“Hm. From what I hear, getting shot at might be preferable to that sometimes,” Fives muttered, arching an eyebrow with a little sparkle in his eye. That got a genuine laugh out of you, which changed the whole mood of the interaction immediately.

“What is TAKING you so long?” came a belligerent voice, as “boyfriend” came staggering up behind Fives. “This guy bothering you?” he asked, jabbing a thumb at Fives, who wrinkled his nose in disdain at the pathetic creature next to him.

“No, we were just chatting,” you said quickly, noting the edge of the voice and the clumsy movements. He clearly didn’t recognize Fives, despite him having been the one to invite you here, a detail that was not lost on the clone, who gave you a look that couldn’t have been more plain -- really?

“Alright, well let’s go,” said the boyfriend, who wasn’t worth even giving a name, and he reached for your hand, giving it a sharp tug, which pulled you right across Fives, who found a sudden urge to grab you right back and tell this little womp rat to scurry off into a hole somewhere. You paused for a moment, turning back to face Fives, whose intense gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks for thinking of us,” you said, giving one last smile before being whisked toward the door.

* * *

The next day was not going well. You hadn’t slept much at all, tossing and turning with all kinds of thoughts and considerations that kept you from any sort of real rest. The boyfriend seemed to be in a crappy state as well, rubbing his head and squinting at the bright light as he worked next to you. There was a distinct tension building between the two of you, and you knew it was going to come to a head. It would be good, because there were things that needed to be said and addressed and changed and dealt with, but you weren’t one to look forward to conflict. Neither was he, so the two of you puttered about your mechanical duties until it was about lunchtime, when you set your wrench down with the intention of getting to the mess hall on time for once.

Alas, fate was not on your side. The walk between the shipyard and the cafeteria was just enough time to get into a huge fight with your boyfriend about last night, which ballooned to include topics like drinking, respect, joking, autonomy, and all sorts of other things. It was a hot mess, and while you tried to keep it civil, you were both tired, frustrated, and clearly triggered. By the time you got to the mess hall, it had reached the breaking point, and you turned to flee for solitude, tears streaming down your face, as he yelled criticisms after you, much to the surprise of quite a few onlookers.

You found a supply closet, smashing your hand on the keypad so the door would whoosh closed behind you, silently cursing the fact that you couldn’t slam it. You threw an arm up against the wall, resting your forehead against it and burying your face in the cool grey metal, surrounded by shelves and the whirring fans of the ventilation ducts above your head. You wanted to cry, but now you couldn’t, which somehow made you feel even worse. There were so many emotions, it was impossible to sort them out. You were frustrated with the situation, angry at yourself for tolerating so much, confused why there couldn’t be a middle ground, and despair at the aching pain of yet another failed relationship. Or had it failed? You felt sick to your stomach at the thought that, knowing you, it might just get patched up and continued, with hopes that this time it would be different. Were you really so stupid?

The door slid open, and you flattened against the wall, hoping that whoever it was would find their supplies and leave without even noticing you were there. But when it closed, and no footsteps were heard, you shifted slightly to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone had come in at all. To your surprise, a fully-armored clone stood just inside the door, ducking his head to peer through the many shelves that lined the walls, making the rather large closet feel incredibly small and claustrophobic.

“Fives?” you said in disbelief, leaning out from the shelves you’d crammed yourself between.

He let a single curse word fly as he jumped to the side, knocking over a stand full of brooms and mops, sending them all clattering to the ground as he frantically tried to regain his footing. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling as though you’d already emptied yourself of all the crying and anger and pain. He stood tall, righting his crooked helmet, and cleared his throat, staring at you from within the helmet.

“You scared the kriff out of me,” he said, modulated voice still sounding a bit shaky.

“Sorry?” you answered, having no idea how to go about this conversation with all that had transpired. “Why are you coming in a supply closet?”

“I heard you…” he said quietly, pulling his helmet off now and setting it on a shelf nearby. “I wanted to see if… if everything was alright.” His face was earnest, but there was a nervousness to his gaze and stance.

“Ugh,” came your ashamed response at the spectacle you’d provided in the halls. “It’s fine. Or it will be. I don’t know. This isn’t really how I usually am…” Why were you explaining yourself to him? Perhaps it was because he was the first person to seem to truly listen to you and care about you in a while. Perhaps you felt a need to justify yourself. Or perhaps you were still just reeling from it all.

“And how are you, usually?” he asked, taking a step closer and leaning against the shelf next to you. “You seemed quite a bit more lighthearted when we…” he drifted off, grasping his hands together.

“It’s just been a long week,” you offered, shrugging it off.

“Are you happy?” he said suddenly, with a confidence that came out of nowhere. His chin lifted slightly as he regarded you. “I know we didn’t know each other very long, but in what time we did have together, it was clear that you are incredibly intelligent, witty, and fun. In more ways than one,” he added, hoping the insinuation would bring some levity. It did bring a tiny smirk to your face, as you wiped some leftover tears from one eye, thinking about the slightly adventurous escapade you’d enjoyed. But it was quickly overwhelmed by confusion at his words.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I… I didn’t just forget about you, you know,” he said, swallowing and pausing for a moment. “I figured you weren’t interested in anything else, and I was shipped off…”

“And now you’re back to judge my choices?” you snapped, shocked at your own vehemence. Clearly, you’d been on your last straw… about six straws ago… He straightened in surprise, holding up his hands in surrender.

“No! I just…” he stopped again, lowering his hands slowly and taking a deep breath before speaking in a quiet, solid voice.

“You shouldn’t be with him. You should be… with me.”

His amber eyes were locked on yours, simultaneously intense and kind, confident and vulnerable. You were reeling at his words, mouth slightly open. You were sorry for your sharpness, sorry for your assumptions… And sorry for your choices as well. The way he put himself out there had a wildly disarming effect on you, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he say something like that when you were clearly a mess?

He closed the space between you, slowly approaching with tentative caution, and lifted a hand to your face. His hands were rough yet gentle as he cupped your cheek, eyes growing larger as he took a shaky breath in. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’ll respect your choices, always. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and seeing you here… seeing the way he treats you… I just… I had to say something.”

You searched for the right words to say, but could find none, instead closing your eyes and nestling into his warm hand. A single tear squeezed out and rolled down your cheek, falling to your shoulder in silence. He continued, voice softer now, “I know I don’t have anything to offer you… no stability, no future, nothing. But you deserve better than… that… at least… And I’d like to do my best… while I can.”

You lifted your hand to his, pressing into it as though you could communicate your overwhelming emotions through a single touch. A small smile curved the corner of your lips, and you felt a sudden freedom at the prospect stretching out before you. Opening your eyes, you felt as though your chest would explode as you saw his face, so close to yours, so earnest in his affection and admittance, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, grateful, hopeful kiss. His sharp inhale was quickly followed by the warmth of his embrace as he wrapped you in his arms, pressing you against the shelf behind. When you finally came up for air, you leaned your forehead against his, a thousand questions held back by the simple savoring of the moment.

“Fives,” you whispered, and his heart leapt at the way you said his name, “I’m a mess.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in again, lips brushing yours as he answered, “Well I’d love it if you’d be my mess.”

#star wars the clone wars #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #fives #clone trooper fives #fives x you #fives x reader #fives fanfic #fives fanfiction #fives lives #tcw fanfic #clone fanfiction #clone fanfic #clone fanfics #clone x reader #clone x you

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alectoperdita · 7 months

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Oh hell, I am all about them drugged confessions. If/whenever you’re up for it. 💕

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

Jumped this one ahead in the queue since it's someone's birthday. 💜💜💜 Enjoy, my friend! I hope this has enough of the stuff you dig about them.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

content warnings: referenced non-consensual drug use and mildly spicy because Seto is thirsty

---

The city lights stabbed into Seto's eyes. The city's heartbeat—a frantic cacophony of bumper-to-bumper traffic, music spilling out of late-night shops and restaurants, and an overwhelming pulse of humanity—pulsed against the back of his head like a second migraine.

He lifted his heavy head and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. Not an easy feat when the world wouldn't stop spinning. Seto could feel the planet's rotational force itself.

In the sky, a bloated, sickly yellow moon hung on the black canvas, a dim bulb when compared to the Oriental Pearl Tower's neon blue and magenta on the opposite riverbank. The phalanx of lit skyscrapers behind the landmark formed a blinding wall that threatened to lighten the night sky.

No wonder they were sitting at a standstill in traffic. He was in the Bund. Shanghai. He was in Shanghai. Not for the first or second time, but the city's nightlife never failed to overwhelm.

It came back to him in bits and pieces. The Pan-Asia Duel Monsters Championship was in China this year, which KC was a sponsor of, along with a dozen international and domestic corporations. Seto wasn't here to compete, though. He was here to do business and build guanxi.

Which meant night after night of hard drinking and tedious back slapping as Seto endured their patronizing compliments about his passable Mandarin. Endless rounds of maotai until his blood must be 90% alcohol. That was the preferred poison of the old-school elites, the ones who built their wealth on the backs of a rapidly booming economy that outpaced everyone's wildest imagination. Not even Japan had sustained that kind of boom in the post-war years.

Potential liver failure was the price of doing business in this country.

That was last night, though. Seto was sure of that much, even if the passage of time seemed theoretical at best. Tonight, he'd been swept into a gaggle of their children, mainly the sons of the previous night's party officials and business moguls.

The fuerdai. His "peers."

Ha! Gozaburo had handed him nothing. Everything Seto owned, everything he accomplished, was through his own sweat and blood.

Seto will give them one thing: their tastes were decidedly less provincial. While their fathers drank baijiu like fish drinking water, they preferred cocktails, or at least pitchers of iced green tea mixed with Crown Royal.

Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated how fucked up he could get on such a simple mixture.

That was the last thing he could remember. He drew a yawning gap between the afterparty at the club and this taxi cab.

Seto sank into the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach lurched. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were stuck in traffic. He might not be able to keep it down in stop-and-go traffic.

An abrasive—a familiar abrasive voice—encroached from the fringes, though. An equally combative voice shot back in a different language.

Seto's head lolled to the side, away from the window and toward the other passenger in the backseat. Reluctantly, he pried his heavy eyelids open. God, why was he so tired? It felt like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row.

His fellow passenger was Jounouchi, locked in a heated conversation/argument with the cab driver.

Right. Jounouchi was also in Shanghai this week. Except he was here to compete in the tournament. And unlike Seto, he didn't speak a lick of Chinese.

Not that his laughable grasp of English fared any better.

"Fuck, I'm telling ya, it's the other Marriott!" Jounouchi groaned in Japanese, running a frustrated hand through his bird's nest hair. It looked softer than it had any right to be, though. The strands ought to be bleached to hell and back after this many years.

But Jounouchi had been updating his wardrobe and his deck in recent years. Every victory advanced his look and style, and even netted him some media training like someone deserving of media notice, which was why he was playing in the Pan-Asian championship. Seto couldn't ignore him like he once did, like he still tried to in vain sometimes.

(And sometimes, he very much didn't want to ignore Jounouchi, wondering if he could catch the other man's attention in return...)

None of that explained why they were in the same cab, though.

Jounouchi tried again to communicate. It hurt to listen to him butcher English to that extent. The cab driver appeared to grow even more irate, threatening to eject them entirely.

Giggles spilled uncontrollably out of him. Of course! Of course, Jounouchi's incompetence got them stranded on the opposite end of the city from their hotel.

Fortunately, he was a snack to look at, even if his brains were nothing to write home about.

Seto's words croaked out of him, repeating in Mandarin what Jounouchi had been trying to convey. God, why did it hurt so much to speak? But even his drunken slur sufficed, earning a grousing retort from the driver that Seto should've just said so sooner while shooting a death glare at his other passenger through the rearview mirror.

At the sound of Seto's voice, Jounouchi jolted in shock, releasing the driver's headrest he had been clinging to. After several awkward moments of staring, he inched closer to Seto, stopping short of touching him. But the proximity and the tight enclosure made Seto's skin crawl. Not in an unpleasant way, though. His body tingled and felt a touch flushed.

How would Jounouchi's skin feel against his?

"You alright there, Kaiba?" asked Jounouchi, seemingly floating closer. He waved a hesitant hand in Seto's face.

Base urges welled up in him. He wanted to grab Jounouchi's hand and bite it, no better than a dog, as he once mocked the other man for being. Better yet, he could drag his tongue across the rough palm and lap at his knuckles. Suck his thick fingers into his mouth and learn contentment from how they could fill his mouth.

Seto was never drinking green tea mixed with whisky ever again.

He managed a small noise of confirmation before he twisted away, curling as best as he could around the seatbelt. Something like a whimper pushed at the back of his throat, but he refused to release it. He wouldn't humiliate himself any further. Just as he wouldn't crawl across the middle seat and cuddle into Jounouchi's lap.

But god, he wanted that so much it hurt.

A warm hand landed on his back, and he nearly surrendered as Jounouchi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay." Jounouchi spoke softly, but somehow it rang louder than the many decibels of Shanghai traffic. "We'll be back at the hotel in time. Just hang in there."

Seto spent the rest of the journey folded into himself, wedged firmly against the side of the taxi, trying and failing not to tremble under Jounouchi's caring touch. With a hushed tone, Jounouchi explained what had happened. It was pure coincidence that he ran into Seto and his "party" at that particular club. (Coincidence is giving chance too much credit. There were only so many high-end nightclubs in the city.) Jounouchi had wandered over to say hi before rejoining his own group. But out of the corner of his eyes, he'd noticed that Kaiba was acting unlike himself. In fact, the entire group seemed a bit off.

Seto was coming to his own conclusion before Jounouchi shared his.

Seto had been drugged. And since he knew better than to take random shit handed to him by strangers, it must've been slipped into his drink. Or maybe it was in the communal cocktail pitcher to begin with.

"They were trying to drag you off to someplace else. Don't ask me where. But you didn't look like you wanted to go, so I stepped in," Jounouchi trailed off. He'd yet to remove his hand, but it sat unmoving, a steadying weight on Seto's back helping to ground him to reality.

"I can't imagine they were happy," Seto muttered.

Jounouchi chuckled. "Not one bit. Acted like I was trying to kill the party. One chick threatened me with her stiletto heel."

"My knight in shining armor." Seto found himself laughing, then regretted it when his head throbbed.

"Don't worry, I didn't hit any of 'em. Mighty tempting, though. I just kinda threw you over my shoulder and high-tailed it outta there. That was how I knew you were really outta it. You barely cursed me out."

Heat associated with both shame and arousal rushed through him. It turned out those biceps he secretly admired weren't just for show.

"Finally, we're here!" exclaimed Jounouchi. His hand also regrettably retreated.

Seto watched blearily as Jounouchi overpaid the driver and leaped out the door. He didn't go far, though. He jogged around the vehicle to Seto's side and yanked open the door. As he leaned in and over Seto to undo the seatbelt buckle, the woody scent of Jounouchi's cologne flooded Seto's nostrils. And his strength was plainly evident as he braced his arms around Seto's shoulders and hip.

"Alright, up we go," urged Jounouchi.

Under any sober circumstance, Seto would've never allowed this to happen. To let Jounouchi touch him, especially as a caretaker. But Seto was the farthest thing from sober, fucked up on whatever combination of alcohol and party drugs he had been unwittingly fed. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own two feet.

So he relied on Jounouchi and his strength. Clung to the man's sweat-slicked neck.

The doorman didn't give them a second glance. Why should he? Seto was simply the latest in an endless stream of drunken guests stumbling back into the five-star hotel.

A lobby concierge approached and tried to help, though. Both Jounouchi and Seto waved him off. Jounouchi likely because he didn't want another stressful not-conversation, and Seto didn't want anyone but Jounouchi touching him right now.

"Hey, what floor?" Jounouchi asked after propping him against the wall of the elevator carriage.

Seto patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his wallet. He didn't expect the fuerdai to rob him blind like a common mugger, but you never knew. He tossed the leather wallet to Jounouchi and croaked, "Key card."

The tournament competitors were provided with single-bed guest rooms. Seto, on the other hand, occupied the Vice Presidential Suite for the week. Their elevator shot toward the top floors, bypassing the dozens of floors between the ground and the suites.

As they ascended, Seto snuck covert glances at the other hand. Despite the air conditioning running at full blast, Jounouchi was still huffing and sweating. Who could blame him? Summer in Shanghai could be blistering.

"Can you walk?" asked Jounouchi when the elevator doors finally parted.

Struck muted, Seto shook his head. His heart raced as Jounouchi wrapped a burly arm around his waist, and together, they hobbled down the hall to the suite's door.

The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, drawing an impressed whistle from Jounouchi as he took in the room.

"Yeah, guess I should've known. You wouldn't be caught dead living like us commoners. Where's the bed in this joint?"

The mention of bed caused something hot and heavy to coil in Seto's navel. Without meaning to, his arm tightened around Jounouchi's neck, which only prompted the other man to grip him tighter, mistaking the action as a plea for more support.

"Bedroom," he moaned, knocking his head against the side of Jounouchi's. He might be imagining it, but he swore Jounouchi shivered and pink flooded down to his neck.

Seconds later, they stumbled into the adjoined bedroom. The spacious room apparently didn't warrant any comments, because Jounouchi deposited Seto on the bed and disappeared from sight.

To say Seto was disappointed was an understatement.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Jounouchi had already done the "decent" thing: extracted him from a dicey situation and brought him to safety. Seto didn't need to embarrass himself in front of the other man any further.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, kicking a leg out blindly.

"Relax, it's me."

Silly though it was, Seto did relax as soon as he registered Jounouchi's voice. His firm but careful touch.

"Here. I got you water from the minibar and a cool towel. It's unopened. I promise."

Seto stared helplessly at the two items being offered to him. Jounouchi made no moves, either. They were at a stalemate. At least until the other man sighed and pressed the moist towel to Seto's sweat-dampened forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, and he unleashed a faint moan at how good and chilly it felt.

"C'mon, you gotta drink the water, too. The whole bottle, then I promise to leave you alone."

Panic spiked through Seto's system. Being alone, something he never minded before, suddenly sounded unbearable. He didn't want Jounouchi to leave.

He reached out. Not to take the proffered bottle, as refreshing as its content may be, but to grab Jounouchi's forearm. Jounouchi froze under his clutch.

"You can't leave. I won't let you," said Seto before he could stop himself.

Jounouchi's breath hitched. As he stared at Seto's face, his eyes darkened with something unspeakable. He licked his lips. "Okay, not leaving. Not tonight. Guess someone's gotta keep an eye on you and make sure things don't take a turn for the worse. But you gotta at least let go of my arm. I'll take the couch outside."

Seto slid closer. "I want you—"

Jounouchi gasped. Seto could kiss him at that instant, but his head spun.

He wanted Jounouchi in every conceivable way. Wanted to feel his naked skin against his skin. Wanted to feel his weight pressing down on him as his cock pushed into Seto's hole. Wanted to shatter apart and then let Jounouchi piece him back together in the afterglow, warm and content.

He thought Jounouchi might grant him those things. If only he'd ask for them. But the words remained stubbornly lodged in his throat as sobriety started to creep in on the edges.

"I want you to stay with me," he whispered, holding Jounouchi's shell-shocked gaze.

Tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. One day, Seto would give voice to the whole truth.

Read other prompt fill ficlets here

#yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #ygo #replies #saiikavon #my fanfiction #writing prompts #phew i didn't expect this one to end up this long when i started writing this morning #definitely just let the vibe carry me on this one #my knowledge of Shanghai nightlife is at least 15 years out of date but i remember drinking so much green tea and whisky #it's a good drink not too overly sweet #but the easier the drink goes down the easier it is to get shitfaced #gonna take a break from tackling more today but I have a long weekend so looking forward to working on more of your guys' requests #watch this space!

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