#[ your stare running through me. // frank. ]

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[distantdarlings]

HOUSE PRIDE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theo is pissed that you seem to be interested in other guys. The two of you are not officially dating so you find it ridiculous that you can't talk to whomever you want. You have feelings for Theo, though, and think it might be interesting to put his jealousy to the test.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Heavy sexual material, degradation, name-calling, jealousy, fem reader, language, dom!Theo--honestly, this is just depraved

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Pyramids - Frank Ocean

---

You pressed your face to your hands, breathing deeply. You couldn’t believe what you were fucking hearing. The pounding in your head refused to subside as he kept demanding an answer.

“Hello? Do you wanna explain why you were practically throwing yourself on Riddle today at lunch?” the brunette demanded, his eyes widened and wild. Your hands dropped and you made eye contact with the boy. You were in disbelief.

“Throwing myself at him? You dick, I tripped and fell on him! That’s just number one! Number two: you are not my fucking boyfriend,” you shouted, “I can throw myself on whoever I want, whenever I want!”

Theo locked his jaw and pursed his lips slightly. A tell of his that meant he was very angry. He didn’t usually speak much after he pushed past this point. More like, just crossed his arms and stared at you, eye bordering on twitching. You scoffed and held your hands out, waiting for a response from him. He said nothing.

“I don’t need you to tell me who to give attention to, Theo. You are not my boyfriend, I am not your girlfriend. I tripped and fell against Mattheo this morning and we both laughed it off, so why can’t you?”

“You just tripped and fell on him and his hands landed on your ass? Oh, whoops, just an accident!” he mocked you. 

“I don’t know if his hands were on my ass or not, he may have been trying to stabilize me as quickly as he could—but besides the point, who gives a fuck if he was touching my ass? It’s not like you’ve been too eager to do anything anytime soon!” you shout, blood rushing through your ears and cheeks. Shit. You did not mean to say that. His head shot back and his eyes widened slightly. You kept the anger imprinted on your face to attempt to hide the embarrassment you were feeling so strongly. Hopefully, he would think this was a super-confident confession written in a rage. Still, he said nothing.

“Oh, forget it! To hell with you, Theo!” you screamed, grabbing your robes and running out of his dorm room. He said nothing and made no move to stop you. Your feet carried you down the hallway and into your own room. 

None of your roommates were here. You figured they were all in different dorms, preparing for the common room party in a few hours. Once every couple of months, some of the Slytherins—usually seniors—will get together and prepare a “house” party. They’re always fun, high-energy, and filled to the brim with Slytherin pride. Merlin, you loved them. 

You had originally declined to go tonight. You had some leftover work that was due on Monday and you almost thought that Theo would invite you to Hogsmeade or something, but you should have known better than that. It seems all he’s concerned about is his reputation. 

You tugged through the buttons on your uniform top and ripped it off your shoulders. You pulled your skirt and socks off, holding the end of your bed for balance. There were a couple of nice outfits shoved in the trunk beneath the bedframe—you figured something in there would do. You reached up and let your hair down from its elastic, allowing it to fall to its natural length. The ends of the waved strands tickled your skin as you yanked the trunk into the open. Inside were a couple of different combinations, all saved up for special occasions. And if anyone asked you, making Theo Nott as jealous as you possibly could was a very special occasion. 

Your eyes fell on a specific top. A long sleeve, skin-tight sweetheart neckline that plunged a little deeper than it should, and a flared, darkened skirt. You reckoned it was simple and sexy. It practically bled Theo’s name all over your body, claiming you as his, though you pretended like you hated that. He never needed to know it, but you secretly loved how jealous he became when you had the smallest interactions with other people. You blow a curled hair out of your face. The fucker could have been running down the halls with a red tapestry taped to his back and you still wouldn’t call him a red flag. He was just what you wanted; what you’d wanted for years. Whether or not he’d ever actually act on your feelings for each other, you belonged to him and he belonged to you. 

You slipped the outfit on, mussed up your hair a bit, and applied a light layer of makeup. With the two tests, three project due dates, and eighteen assignments you’d had this week, you could use a bit of a touch-up. Hopefully, you didn’t sweat it off by the end of the night—though, that was sort of the goal.

You grabbed your wand and slipped it into your back pocket, patting it twice for good luck, and pushed through the dorm door. Down the hallway, you could hear the faint pounding of music. Your heart raced, keeping in time with the deep bass pushing past the walls. Was this a good idea? For a few moments, you stood in front of your door, pondering your options. Your plan for this evening could either end really well or really badly or you could avoid the possibilities completely and stay in like you originally planned. A deep sigh left you as your eyes slid closed. Who cared? This was your life and, you’d said it earlier, Theo was not your boyfriend and you intended on finishing what you’d started with Mattheo earlier this morning.

Deep cool colors swirled throughout the common room, echoing off of every shadow and highlight in the moulding. Everywhere you looked there was another Slytherin scarf or Quidditch team hat. One boy even wore a Slytherin flag around his neck like a cape. You laughed at the absurd outfit. These parties were most definitely one of the best things about being a Slytherin. Say what you will about the house, but they could throw a fucking party. 

You slid through swaying bodies, feeling the bass echo deep in your chest, rattling your ribcage. A couple of your friends were scattered throughout the crowd and slipped in gracefully with their personal friends. As you passed by them, they waved or flashed you a bright smile, all of which you returned. You would come back and talk but, for now, you were looking for someone specific. 

There was a table set up in front of the fireplace, decked out with green and black decorations, and overflowing with tall glasses of firewhisky. Your eyes skated along the length of the furniture until it reached a familiar body. You smirked and grabbed a drink before making your way over.

Enzo stood against the edge of the table, discussing something with one of the “bartenders.” When you stopped in front of him, his lips ceased and his eyes found your chest, then your eyes. His lips remained parted. Sweet, sweet Enzo. 

“Hey, En, I was wondering if you’d seen Mattheo, anywhere?” you smiled. He said nothing for a few seconds before stuttering back to life like an old car. 

“Uh, no, I haven’t seen him anywhere…uh, why do you need—um, I mean, did you need to talk to him?” he stumbled, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. The boy he’d been talking to—some fifth-year—snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away from the two of you to pour a couple more drinks. You stepped closer to Enzo, feeling his body heat on you. The shoes you were wearing granted you a couple more inches of height, which, consequently, put your hairline just above his. His eyes were angled slightly upward as he watched you. 

You waved him against you. He leaned in. The confidence burning through you tonight was more than you’d felt in a long time. You felt hurt and angry and frustrated. You could fix one of those quickly. You traced the skin above his ear, pushing a small tuft of copper hair back. A small shudder went through his body as you pressed your lips against his ear.

“I just wanted to dance and was looking for a boy who’d dance with me,” you said slowly. “I thought Mattheo would be the best but maybe you could…you know…”

You pulled away and smiled sweetly, placing a deep innocence into your eyes, watching as his lips parted and closed multiple times. You tilted your head to the right, allowing your eyes to switch from his eyes to his lips ever so briefly.

“I haven’t seen Mattheo, I’ll dance with you,” he said, licking his lips and swallowing thickly. You smiled brightly and grabbed one of the hands hanging limply by his side. You felt his warm skin beneath yours as you tugged him toward the center of the dancing mass. You were pretty sure you recognized the song playing and proceeded to work all of its beats throughout your body, encouraging Enzo to join you.

“Come on, En!” you laughed. “You’re supposed to dance with me.” He seemed to shock out of a momentary stupor. You felt good tonight and you hoped it was showing on your face and body. He still didn’t move and you reckoned he was going to take some physical guiding. 

As the song slowed slightly, you grabbed both of his hands and slid them around your hips. His breath shuddered through his lips as you began moving the two of you. You dropped your hands to his belt and guided his hips a bit, biting back a smile. He had all of the facilities for these particular…activities, he was just really nervous. Soon enough, though, his hips were moving on their own.

You turned around and placed your back against his chest. Without prompting, his hands dropped down to your hips, gripping them firmly. He moved you against him to every beat of the song. To be honest, he was placing a little bit of blush in your stomach. One of your arms raised to wrap loosely around his neck.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed in his ear, cradling the base of his neck with your hand. One of his hands raised to hold your arm against him as the other stayed intact on your hip. A crooked smile found its way onto his lips as the both of you felt every rhythm the other was putting out. Fuck, maybe you’d picked the wrong boy all along. The way Enzo was grabbing your hips and ever so slowly grinding against your ass had your lips parting in a slow gasp.

“Like this?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Merlin, help you.

If anything could have pulled you out of your current situation, it was the burning eyes you felt against you pouring into your skin like a brand. You gasped a bit and looked away from Enzo. Almost immediately, you found Theo’s eyes on the two of you. Enzo noticed your sudden change of attention and glanced up, finding the older’s eyes. Like he’d been branded himself, his hands faded away from you and, almost as quickly, so did he. Fucker. So much for sticking by you. 

You were used to it by now, though. Where you were involved, Theo was, too. Even though you weren’t actually together, everyone knew you were Theo’s. Anytime you were hanging out with another boy, he always found out. Even if it was just for a school assignment. 

His jaw was clenched and ticking. His eyes were lidded and ice-cold, angled right at you. You rolled your eyes and huffed, stomping off through the crowd. He couldn’t get whatever he wanted all the time. He needed to pick. He needed to officially claim you as his, take you on dates, buy you gifts, and all that nonsense or he needed to leave you the hell alone. He couldn’t have it both ways. 

You finally came upon the end of the crowd and the staircase leading to the girl’s dorms. You hurried up the steps, not even caring if he was behind you or ignoring you or with a different girl. 

The hallway was completely empty, everybody down at the party or taking an early night. You rushed across the winding floors, trying your best to get to your room before Theo changed his mind. You just wanted to get out of your clothes and makeup and go to bed. Your dorm door appeared around the corner followed by an immense sense of relief.

Your hand closed around the doorknob and—a hand closed tightly around your arm and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as the perpetrator slammed you roughly into the wall just beside the door. It was Theo. He was livid, his breath coming out in hard slants, and his eyes so darkened they appeared black. You swallowed thickly, your breath rushing out of you just as his was. The two of you heard your hearts pounding in tandem.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded, his face inches from yours. Your eyes glanced down from his to his lips, watching the changes in his anger. He waited impatiently for an answer for too long before you realized it wasn’t meant to be a rhetorical question. 

He grabbed your arm once more and pulled you away from the wall. A swift flick of his wand and a fury like no other, and he was pulling you into your empty dorm room. It was almost completely dark by now.

“You want some attention, huh?” he said, casting a flame into the stove set in the middle of the room, his grip on your arm never weakening. He slammed his wand down on your bedside table and pushed you onto your bed. You fell roughly against the mattress, your hands holding you up into a sitting position. He stared down at you wildly, like an angry parent.

“Answer me,” he growled. Your eyes bore the same innocence you’d given to Enzo earlier and you knew that he’d only last a few minutes like this. Already, his facade was flickering and his gaze was softening. 

“I just—I don’t know, Teddy, I—”

“You just, you—you, you…fucking spit it out,” he mocked you. Body betraying your mind, heat pooled in your lower stomach as his face got closer and closer to yours and he got angrier and angrier. If it was anyone else, you’d have gotten embarrassed or angry but with Theo…it was a different feeling.

“All out of confidence, hmm? What happened, baby, you had plenty out there when you were grinding your ass all over Lorenzo Berkshire in front of everyone!”

“What’s wrong with Enzo?” you squeaked, your thumbs rolling over the other.

“He’s not me, you stupid girl,” he roared, his words perking your chest. You pressed your thighs together discreetly, never losing eye contact with him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you.

“Are you serious? Are you fucking turned on right now?” he asked. He had seen you. You didn’t say anything. His hand reached around and roughly gripped your hair, his fingers tugging deliciously on your scalp. He held your head back.

“Answer me, baby,” he whispered, his voice a thousand times different. “Does it turn you on when I shout at you? When you get me jealous and worked up?” The way he was looking down at you had you gulping against the strain being placed on your throat. You nodded.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he laughed darkly, the sinister tone in his voice echoing in your stomach. His hand let go of your hair and grabbed your jaw tightly. He held your face up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you fucking belong to?” An eyebrow quirked. You nodded once more, anticipation hitting you like a train. He smirked, releasing your jaw by pushing you back roughly. Your back came into contact with the bed, the material nearly knocking the breath out of you. 

He crawled over you slowly, letting his lips ghost over your exposed cleavage, neck, chin, lips. He paused and allowed his breath to pour into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, the scent of it burning your lips. He pushed his tongue out and gently traced it over your bottom lip. Your lips parted in a gasp at the contact. Just as soon as your mouth had opened, his had covered it, suffocating all breath. You moaned into him, feeling the way his body held you tightly against the mattress. 

You raised your hand to place your fingers beneath his shirt, but one of his hands reached down and grabbed yours with a speed your intoxicated brain wasn’t capable of comprehending right now. He raised them above your head and held them with a grip like a vice, his fingers violent and unyielding. You’d definitely have bruises in the morning. 

You bucked your hips against him, trying to illicit some contact between your core and his. He grunted at the touch before pulling back and roughly turning you over, pressing your chest into the mattress. 

“Don’t fucking do that,” he growled into your ear, still holding your hands tightly above you. “Do as I fucking say. I’m going to pull this skirt up and I’m going to fuck you and you’re not going to say a word but my name. Do you understand me?” You nodded frantically, impatiently waiting for some contact. 

“Keep your hands there,” he instructed as he slowly let them go. You curled your fingers around the edge of the bed to keep them locked in place. You didn’t dare disobey him. 

Behind you, you could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he pulled it from his jeans and dropped it to the floor. The anticipation was killing you, your thighs pressing tightly together for a chance at some friction. The heat between them was beginning to become too much. 

He pressed bruising kisses along the side of your neck, trailing them down your shoulder. His teeth cut along the flesh, ripping blacks and blues into the sensitive skin. You whimpered at the feeling, knowing good and well he just wanted everyone to see whose you were.

His fingers ghosted along the outsides of your thighs, tracing the chills that appeared in their wake. You shuddered against the sheets, waiting to feel everything he was about to do. You couldn’t see any of his movements and, for whatever reason, that amplified the feeling by a million. 

There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of rustling clothing. No part of him touched you and you found yourself becoming more and more desperate by the moment. You reckoned he was removing unnecessary items of his outfit but if he didn’t do something soon, you were going to start pitching a fit. 

Then his thumb pressed against your thin undergarments, right where you needed him the very most. An awfully audible moan left your lips and your spine arched against his touch. Merlin help anyone who walked by this dorm or, worse, tried to come in.

“Please, baby,” you sighed, your fingers clenching tightly against the mattress. His hand roughly grabbed your hair once more, tugging your head back.

“My name only, you dumb slut,” he insulted before pushing your head back into the sheets. One hand held your head to the bed as the other lined his hips up with yours. 

No matter how many times the two of you did this, you’d never get used to it. He was just so much better than any of the other boys in school. And there were a lot of them too. None of them felt like Theo and he knew it, too. He knew that you would always come back to him. He was impossible to leave. His touch and rough, degrading words were addictive and you couldn’t stay away from him. Your friends had told you over and over again that you needed to drop him and completely move on but you just couldn’t. He was the closest thing to a drug you had.

He tucked a finger beneath your undergarments and slid them over to the side. He placed a hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he ordered. You complied. He spread the material over his fingers slowly, coating each one thoroughly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand disappear and reintroduce itself with your core. The tips of his soaked fingers skirted between the slit of your skin, lathering you in his touch. Just as he’d instructed, his name poured from your lips like a prayer. 

He pulled his hands away and quickly replaced them with a dark, warm heat that pressed into you agonizingly slowly, stretching every part of you out.

“Fuck, it’s been a while,” he groaned breathlessly, pushing into you until he bottomed out. His lips curve just above your ear, every moan and whisper touching your mind like a soft hand. As he began to move, they became louder and made less sense to either of you. His name curled around the room. You worshipped him. The reverence you placed on every syllable touched his chest and slid down to his core. He gasped into your ear. You sounded so fucking good.

It didn’t matter if he fucked every girl in Hogwarts, none of them could ever compare to you. 

“Theo, baby, you feel so good,” you screamed, the words vibrating your skin. 

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed. You moaned aloud as he pressed an especially sharp thrust against you. “I know, I know.”

“Please, please, please,” you babbled, your words pathetic and useless. His hips never ceased their brutal pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “Are you my girl? Or are you Enzo’s?” He growled the last part, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair. You yelped at the feeling, tilting your head back to relieve some of the pain.

“No, no! I’m yours, Teddy, I’m all yours, please,” you begged. 

“That’s right, baby.” He released your hair. Every movement of his body brought you closer and closer to your end. His hands gripping your hips and pulling himself toward his own, his lips curling against your ear, his weight holding you perfectly in place.

Neither of you would last much longer and you both knew that. Every deep push of his hips drove you further into your pleasure as you began to close around him, gradually coaxing a release out of him. One of his hands dropped down to trace tight circles against you, ignoring the way your hips quaked to get away from the overstimulation. You were done for. 

Every sound pouring from his lips began to mingle with yours a bit closer as he pushed you through both of your final breaths. His hips got slower and his grip loosened on your waist. The loss of his support sent your weakened body falling back down to the mattress. A breathless chuckle came from him as he laid down beside you, his shimmering skin luminescent in the moonlight. You presented him with a tired smile. 

“Could Enzo fuck you like that?” he asked, a proud smirk imprinted on his lips.

“I don’t know—I’ll let you know when I find out.”

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[amhrosina]

Be My Baby

Summary: Frank takes you on a weekend trip to his cabin after you have a rough week at work. Your first stop? The enormous bathtub with enough room for soooo many activities.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k

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a/n: hello! i'm back! my personal life is still a wreck but i missed writing for frank. this is probably the most self indulgent fic i've ever written lol it is quite literally the most ooey-gooey romantic plot before the softest smut imaginable. what can i say? i'm a hoe for soft frank. enjoy & thank you to the nonnie that requested something similar to this!

warnings: softest smut imaginable, fluff to the max, 'i'm an asshole to everyone except you' trope, a teensy little bit of crybaby reader if you squint, frank would burn the world for reader, reader is sOoOoO in love with frank (who isn't??), they're both a little wrapped up in each other's world and don't give a shit about what's happening outside of them type of vibes, pet names, etc.

From what you had seen, Frank’s cabin was cozy and warm, but since your arrival half an hour ago, you’d only had the luxury of soaking in the tub while Frank took care of unloading the car. He’d insisted on doing it alone, claiming his girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger for anything, and honestly after the week you’d had, you were temporarily glad he was as stubborn as a mule. You were sure that sentiment would fade the next time you were feeling bratty, but for now, you tried your best to relax and forget what an awful week it had been at work.

The heat of the bath water sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine, enticing a low groan from your lips. Sinking further into the water, you realized just how big the tub was. It stretched at least six feet across and was almost deep enough to stand, clearly a custom made feature of the cabin. You supposed Frank probably needs the room, being as large a man as he is. Still, it felt like you were in a luxurious hot tub, rather than a regular bathtub.

“There’s a button to turn on the jets if you want ‘em.”

Frank’s gentle voice carried across the bathroom, startling you from your relaxed state. You hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned, eyeing his powerful figure as he made his way toward you and sat on the edge of the tub. It was easy to get lost in the way he moved, and you tried your best to not stare at the muscles straining against the black longsleeve he was wearing.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out to softly run his knuckles along the curve of your damp cheek. He was always gentle with you, but the desire to take care of you was even more present in his eyes than usual. It really had been a shitty week.

“This place is amazing.” You said in awe, turning your face away to hide your grin. His hand, already knowing what you were trying to do, softly gripped your jaw and turned it back to face him.

“You barely saw the place.” He chuckled.

“Whose fault is that?” You raised an eyebrow at him and sat up, fully exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes briefly flicked down to your nipples, hardening as the cool air touched them, before returning his gaze upwards. “Get in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He nodded and stood, but began walking in the opposite direction of the bath. You furrowed your brow, watching him tug his shirt off and throw it on the counter. When he saw your expression, he grinned.

“Hang on. I brought something for you.”

“What do you mean?” You called after him, but he was already moving again.

He disappeared through the doorway, generating even more confusion, before returning with an assembly of things tucked under his arms. You watched as he worked his way around the room, placing various objects here and there until finally he flicked off the lights and turned to face you again.

The room was now aglow with flickering candle light, coating Frank’s looming figure in a warm haze. He’d gone for mostly unscented, knowing how strong smells could give you headaches, but had left in a few lavender candles because he knew how much it relaxed you. He also managed to sneak an entire bottle of champagne into the car without you noticing, of which he was pouring into two flutes. You blinked back tears as he handed you your glass, unable to express how warm your chest felt at the effort he was putting in to make you feel better.

“Frank.” You murmured, smiling bashfully, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” 

“‘s what you deserve.” He shrugged, stepping out of the rest of his clothes. 

He sank into the tub next to you, tugging your body against his in a swift motion. He sat with his back against the edge, allowing you to easily settle your knees on either side of his thighs, facing him in the dim room. You sat just a little taller than him at this angle - chest pressed against his warm skin, arms resting on his broad shoulders - and God, he looked divine. The drive had taken a few hours, just long enough for the stubble to return to his cheeks after this morning’s shave, giving him a rugged look that you thought was just so handsome. You were unable to resist the temptation of running your nails over it in a soft scratch, eliciting a groan from deep in Frank’s chest. The rumble reverberated through your chest as you pressed yourself fully against him, seeking more of his affection. He tugged your head down onto his shoulder and began running his fingers along the base of your neck in a soothing pattern.

“You never answered my question earlier.” He murmured, resting his jaw against your head. “You okay, sweet girl?”

You sighed, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as you mulled over your feelings. You were a sensitive soul to begin with, and your boss had been on edge all morning when he finally snapped at you for something you had no control over, which ultimately had you tearing up for the rest of the day. When you’d walked through the door crying, Frank’s eyes flashed violently between anger at your boss and sympathy for you. The sympathy had won, and now you were in a beautiful cabin in upstate New York, wrapped in his strong arms. Still, you weren’t sure how you were going to deal with your boss’ temper when you returned to work on Monday.

“I don’t know,” you finally replied, shrugging, “Can you ask me again later?”

You felt his cheeks widen into a small grin. He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t think I won’t.” He teased, calling you on your avoidant tendencies before you could even notice them yourself.

“How long have you had this place?” You wondered, nuzzling into his heated skin.

“I bought it a few months after Maria and the kids.” He said softly, almost whispering when he had to relay his wife’s name aloud. “Thought maybe I was done with the city. Change can be good, ya’ know?”

“But you came back.” You lifted your head from his shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. 

“But I came back.” He parroted, nodding. “And then I met you.”

“And you stayed.” You finished for him.

“Of course I stayed. Couldn’t leave you behind, sweet girl. ‘ve been sweet on you since the day I met you.”

This was true. From the moment you’d met, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind toward you. You had no idea, of course, that this type of behavior was incredibly far away from Frank Castle’s usual attitude until you’d met Matt Murdock, who was so shocked at Frank’s subdued personality and general softness around you that Frank had to physically close Matt’s gaping jaw for him.

“But you never sold the place?” You questioned.

“I figured we might need somewhere to run away to every once in a while. Are you mad that I didn’t tell you about it before today? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely worried that he might’ve upset you.

“How could I be mad when I’m sitting in this enormous tub, surrounded by candles and champagne, pressed up against the man of my dreams?”

He smiled then, and you could tell it was a genuine smile because of the way his cheeks dimpled at the corner of his laugh lines. It was an award winning smile, you thought. You gently set the empty champagne glasses on the edge of the tub before cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“My Frankie,” you mumbled, running your thumbs across his cheekbones, “What would I do without you?”

You really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but every time you looked at him, you felt yourself being pulled closer and closer to him. His compassion and kindness toward you, even after everything he’d been through, was something you couldn’t avoid leaning into. All your life you’d been taking care of others, and finally, here was someone begging to take care of you.

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay? ’m here to stay.” He mumbled, bringing the pads of your fingertips to his lips for individual, soft kisses. “I love you, and ‘m gonna take care of you forever.”

Tears welled in your eyes as an overwhelming rush of emotion passed over you. In your arms was a man that should’ve been bitter and angry at the world around him. He had earned the right to become spiteful and hardened, and no one could fault him for that. And yet - and yet - in your arms was a man that loved you with his entire being. Who understood you at your core, saw the dark parts of you, and loved those parts even more. Who was soft for no one but you. Who you loved, too.

A tear slid down your cheek as you kissed him, long and slow and sensual because you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He smiled into the kiss, cradling your head with his beautiful, calloused hands. It wasn’t enough. You needed his gentle touch everywhere. Pressing yourself against him, you felt yourself sliding along his achingly hard cock, raising the already warm temperature in the room to searing. Heat pulsed between your legs, begging to be touched.

“My pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before following the curve of your jawline to your neck, “My pretty, sensitive girl.”

The praise made your head swim. You rocked your hips again, sliding along his length until you were hovering directly over him, waiting for the go ahead to sink down. He grunted, pressing open mouthed kisses up your throat before coaxing your hips lower and lower. You gasped when he finally pushed into you, and Frank took the opportunity to lick the inside of your gaping mouth as he did so. You shuttered against him, wanting everything he had to offer and more.

“P-please, Frankie.” You murmured, arching your back as he bucked his hips upwards.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He breathed, wrapping one of his enormous hands around the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him as you rode him. His other arm was wrapped around your torso, tugging your hips forward and back to stimulate your clit against the base of his cock. It was such an erotic way to be held that you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. He leaned his head against your forehead and kissed the tears that made their way down your flushed skin. “Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I l-love you.” You purred, stuttering as he made his way down your body, kissing everywhere he could reach. When he got to your pebbled nipples, you sucked in a sharp breath. He knew exactly how to get you off, and he was staring right at them.

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to each of your nipples, eliciting a pornographic moan from deep in your chest. 

He continued to push and pull your hips in a steady rhythm, grinding your clit against his pelvis as you bounced up and down his length. Slowly, in a teasing manner that had a new wave of fresh, needy tears streaming down your cheeks, he leaned forward and circled his tongue around the sensitive nub. You whined with impatience as he pulled away, only to offer the same kitten lick to your other breast. You knew he would take care of you like he always did, but his teasing was making your entire body tremble with anticipation. 

“I know, I know,” he cooed, kissing the valley between your breasts, “‘t’s okay, baby. Be patient. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a mewl. You felt the hand Frank had been using to hold your head steady loosen its grip, and suddenly, he was softly wiping the tears away from under your eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re doing so good for me, bunny.” He murmured, and you very nearly came at the pet name he loved to praise you with. “‘m gonna make you feel real good, okay?”

“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “Need you.”

That was all it took for Frank to finally snap. In one swift motion, he wrapped his lips around your breast and began to run his tongue across your sensitive nipple. His hand traveled from cradling your cheek to rubbing small, sloppy circles around your pulsing clit. You keened, overcome with so much pleasure that you felt your entire body trembling against Frank’s.

The bathroom was big enough for your soft moans to echo, and other than the sloshing of the bath water, that was the sound Frank heard as you came apart on top of him. Your head was spinning as the heat in your gut finally found its release, uncoiling in waves of overwhelming pleasure that sent you reeling. 

“That’s it,” he breathed, “Just like that, pretty girl. You’re so good for me, baby.”

His fingers hadn’t stopped circling your clit. You were quickly growing overstimulated and conflicted, wanting nothing more than to keep riding him while also needing to get away from his dexterous and sinful fingers. He watched you for a moment, in awe - the way your lips parted every time a moan slipped out of your mouth, the heaving of your chest as your heart rate tried and failed to return to normal, the intense trembling of your limbs every time he circled your clit. He wasn’t worthy. He knew that. He didn’t care. He’d take care of you for as long as you’d let him, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

“F-Frankie,” you stuttered in between heaving breaths, “I can’t- I’m- It’s sensitive.”

“Shh, sh, sh, sh, I know, baby. I know,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone and up your neck, “Can you give me one more, bunny? Be good and give me one more.”

You shuttered against him, resting your forehead against his and breathing out a sultry whine. He continued his onslaught of kisses along your jawline, following the upward curve of your chin until his lips were on yours again. His agile tongue swept into your mouth mid-moan, sending heat into your already molten core.

“Wanna feel you come around me again, baby.” He groaned and tightened his hold around your torso, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing your mouth in his again. 

He had brought you to the brink again already. You squeezed around him, earning a rare groan from Frank. The usually stoic and quiet man let out another sinful moan when you arched your back and squeezed again. He was as close as you were to the edge, and God, the tension was palpable. 

Finally, in a moment of pure bliss, he nipped at your bottom lip and let out a soft, barely there whimper, which sent you careening off the edge and into oblivion. You could feel yourself clenching around him as you came, but your head had been sent straight to a euphoric haze. Your heart thundered in your chest as Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and held you tight against his chest, coming inside your sensitive, throbbing pussy. 

You’d both worked yourselves into a haze, high off each other’s touch. The comedown was gentle and warm - soft caresses of each other’s skin, chaste kisses pressed to collarbones and fingertips, thundering heartbeats slowing in unison. The bath water was surprisingly still warm, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into Frank’s chest with languorous, droopy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, running his fingers up the length of your spine.

You nodded into his chest, sighing. “I’m perfect.”

“‘m glad.” He responded, kissing your forehead lightly. “‘m sorry you had such a rough week.”

“I’m not.” You giggled, glancing around at the luxurious bathtub you were in. “This place is like a dream.”

He held you tighter against him, resting his chin on your head before responding. 

“You don’t know the half of it, pretty girl.”

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[scariusaquarius]

devotion.

Sosuke Aizen x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and Orihime are abducted and taken to Hueco Mundo. While Orihime's purpose is clear, your purpose seems to be more...personal

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A/n: a bleach fic??? of course! I just got done rewatching Bleach and FINALLY got to Thousand Year Blood War (i'm on episode 4, NO SPOILERS PLEASEEE) and EVERYONE is serving cunt and dick. Here's an aizen (with grimmjow sprinkles) fic

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Genre: Horror, Angst, Friendship, Romance Rated: explicit Warning: Humiliation, Dubcon/Noncon, Oral Sex (male giving/receiving, female giving/receiving), Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Voyeurism

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Author: ScariusAquarius

His eyes were squinted as he stared, his gaze calculating and scrutinizing as you stood before him. His body language was lazy and candid as he rested his chin on his hand; uncaring of you and your being as you attempted to still your shaking. Like a cat, his brown eyes were zeroed in on you; watching your every move from the slightest tremble to the subtle way your throat was clenching as you held your breath.

"You must be so afraid...knowing who it is that is right in front of you."

Truthfully, you didn't know his name. You weren't kept in the loop of what was going on with your friends nor why Orihime had disappeared suddenly, but from the way everyone would quiet down when you would come around; especially Ichigo...you were certain it was all because of this man.

This terrifying man who had your body feeling so heavy, you almost couldn't bear to keep standing. This man who had your heart wanting to burst within your chest and the pressure in your head to crush your brain.

You wanted to reply; to tell him that you didn't know him nor why you were here, but you couldn't even speak. Not with the blue-haired man with the weird mask and a hole in his abdomen holding onto your shoulder so tightly that it felt like he was crushing you.

"Hey, he's talking to you."

The blue-haired man was ruthless. When he had appeared in front of you before your kidnapping, you had almost thought that he had always been there and you just didn't notice. You had continued walking until suddenly, there was this heavy pressure that was familiar yet brutal, unlike the way your friends' auras felt.

Your whole body had stopped moving; knees crumbling in the middle of the sidewalk and chest feeling as though it was caving in. Then, there was a hand tangling itself around your throat, and you were being lifted, blue eyes cruelly amused at the way you choked and struggled to breathe.

"You don't even have enough spiritual pressure to be important," he had said. "you're not even worth keeping alive, but whatever." and suddenly, you were here in this dark and desolated place; cold and barren of any light. At least, that's what you thought had happened.

Everything had been a blur after the blue-haired man had simply flicked your forehead and knocked you unconscious.

You knew these people around you were dangerous and, to be frank, not normal. You weren't sure what was going on or what these people wanted from you, and you couldn't help but to be speechless from the fear running through you.

The blue-haired man gripped your shoulder tighter, and you couldn't help but to yelp in pain from his grip as it suddenly heated up. Red light was glowing from beneath his hand, scorching your skin and burning your flesh as he yelled.

"Hey, what are you, deaf? Didn't you fucking hear me?"

"Easy, Grimmjow."

The light dissipated instantly, but his crushing grip never wavered. Tears spilled past your eyes and down your chilled cheeks, unable to look away from the ground as the brown-haired man who was sitting so uncaringly spoke; his voice calm and...almost soothing.

"We don't want to scare her now, do we?"

Grimmjow, as you had learned, just clicked his tongue and turned his gaze away from the man, saying nothing. The frightening man spoke again.

"It's not nice to not look at someone when they are speaking to you."

His tone was...almost soft; but you knew when a wolf was in sheeps clothing. You knew that whoever this man was...he could kill you or let Grimmjow kill you if he wanted to. Quite honestly, he probably was planning to do so...would being obedient prolong your life enough for someone, anybody, to save you?

You shakily glanced up at him, his cupid lips curled up into a small smirk as he spoke.

"Aw, you've made her cry, Grimmjow."

"Tch, weak bitch."

The man uttered beneath his breath, his grip on your shoulder tightening more, and you couldn't help it when more tears fell down your cheeks. The man chuckled for a moment before he acknowledgd.

"I'm sure you have so many questions...why are you here...who are you...what does this man want from me...where am I....am I right?"

To avoid having your shoulder burned again, you replied shakily, too afraid to speak above a whisper.

"Y-Yes..."

The man chuckled and placed his hand down against the arm rest of the chair. There was a moment, however, when a slight breeze kissed your face and you couldn't help but to blink. Within that second, the man was in front of you, your chin in his grip and making you look up at him.

What just happened? How did he do that? I...I didn't even look away from him...all I did was blink...what's going on...who is this man?

"You have a right to be afraid...in fact, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Even though you barely have any spiritual pressure, you can still stand up on your own two feet. That's no easy task when in the presence of so many powerful beings."

You couldn't look away from him no matter how much you wished to. You were frozen in shock and from the sheer amount of weight that was on your shoulders, inlcuding Grimmjow's grip.

"I do wonder what it is about you that had your friends trying very hard to protect you. Are you special like Orihime Inoue? Do you have extraordinary abilities as well? Or is it that Ichigo Kurosaki cares about you more than anything else?"

Your heart was racing, pounding within your chest, and you whispered to him shakily as he seemed to look you over; his gaze making you feel almost violated as the man gazed at and through you.

"I...I don't know...what you mean."

His eyes narrowed just the slightest, and it was quiet for a moment before he chuckled.

"How cruel of Ichigo to not warn you nor tell you about anything. I wonder if he truly does care about you...I mean, don't you think it's unfair that he kept you in the dark about what he is and what he does?"

Suddenly, the man let your chin go to cup your cheek, his hand warm and almost inviting as his voice deepened just the slightest.

"Don't you think it's wrong that Ichigo disregarded your feelings and kept you away? He might as well had given you to me himself.."

"I...I don't understand...who...who are you?"

The man hummed, tilting his head just the slightest as a chuckle rumbled from deep within his belly as he played with a piece of your hair.

"My, where are my manners? I can't help but to lose my tact when in the presence of women. My apologies...my name is Sosuke Aizen."

There was something familiar about the name; something that was itching at the edges of your consciousness, and while you couldn't comprehend what it was, this man...Aizen...seemed to know.

"Hm. How interesting...tell me, do you think Ichigo Kurosaki would be devastated by your death?"

Blood running cold, you couldn't formulate a thought as Aizen ghosted his fingertips down the side of your neck and to your sternum, dancing his fingertips against the chilled skin.

"Do you think he would be so overcome with despair that he would become reckless...desperate...to try and kill me?"

He was digging his fingers into your skin; almost as if he was trying to bury his hand within your chest, and you replied shakily.

"I...Ichigo cares about....all of his friends. I...I wouldn't be any different to Orihime...or Chad...Uryuu...or Rukia."

Aizen's eyes were empty, you observed as you looked at him. Not empty in terms of stupidity or boredom for your words...they were empty of light and compassion...or anything that could be considered good. Evil and danger oozed off of this man just like the crushing spiritual pressure he continued to let off so that you, a measly human with a weak amount of spiritual pressure, knew your place.

He could absolutely kill you with no second-thought, and that was what scared you.

"So, you're saying that...you're useless to me?"

There was intention and purpose now within his fingers, his eyes becoming uncaring as he leaned back just the slightest, and you panicked.

"No! No, I...I'm not! Please...please don't hurt me...or...or kill me...I...I can...I can be of use, I swear!"

Aizen's lips smirked slightly as someone within the room laughed.

"Listen to that whining and begging! I say we just kill her and leave her out front for Kurosaki to find!"

Grimmjow hummed, saying as he leaned forward, making you glance at him from the corner of your eye as you began to spiral.

"Nah, I say we rip her into pieces and leave a trail. That'll get Kurosaki pissed!"

His hand was heating up again, and you were about to scream from the terror until a voice cut through, making everyone quiet.

"That's not necessary. While they are trash, keeping Orihime Inoue and (Y/n) (L/n) alive is beneficial to Lord Aizen's cause. Until Lord Aizen gives the order, we are not to touch them."

The largest man in the room who had his chin in his hand scoffed.

"You're no fun, Ulquiorra. When are you gonna ever stop having such a stick up your ass?"

The man with the green eyes and tears did not respond, and Aizen hummed gently.

"How does it make you feel...hearing the different ways you could be killed? It's okay, you can be honest."

You were trembling again, and you couldn't help but to sniffle and whisper.

"I...I'm scared."

Aizen chuckled before his hand came up to your neck, gently grasping though you knew it was to give you a false sense of security.

"Such a poor, pathetic girl...I think I know what I want to do with you. I can take it from here, Grimmjow. Thank you."

Grimmjow was hesitant to unhand your shoulder, but shoved himself off and walked somewhere to sit; his steps echoing all around the room and deep into your mind; each step making you flinch. Aizen began to walk around you, and he murmured.

"Make no mistake: I know you are the most important person in Ichigo's life at this moment. I know that he is coming to save you and Orihime Inoue...and that is going to be his downfall."

You were holding your breath, unable to speak as Aizen continued.

"He will come here, and he will be annihilated...along with the rest of your friends. It's quite unfortunate that he didn't tell you about your impending doom...but to be honest, it makes it more fun for me."

He seemed to be observing you, looking at you from head-to-toe and dissecting you as if you were a specimen; picking you apart from the very last sinew.

A monster on the prowl.

Oh, god, what was he going to do to you?

You jolted at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your hair, tucking behind your ear and subtly caressing the skin with his fingertips; sending shivers down your spine.

"Does he know?"

His question caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but to look over at him in confusion; unknowing of what the man was implying.

"What...what do you mean?"

Aizen chuckled before leaning in slightly; just enough that your noses were almost touching.

"Does he know that you love him?"

Heat ran up your neck from the embarrassment, and you couldn't help but to exclaim.

"What? I don't have feelings for Ichigo! Sure, he's my friend...but I...I don't like him like that!"

Aizen chuckled and your shoulders caved in again, attempting to make yourself smaller.

"Oh? You seem so embarrassed."

He was taking the detail to heart, mulling over it, and you weren't sure if you were supposed to speak or to stay quiet. Aizen walked behind you, and you froze when both of his hands came to rest upon your shoulders.

"Quite frankly, it doesn't matter. You won't be leaving this room alive unless I say so...and I haven't been given a good reason to keep you alive...except for one."

There was a slight bit of hope that ran through you; a glimmer of safety that was squashed instantly by the way his hands gripped your shirt and tore it open.

You gasped and yelped, reaching your arms across your chest, and you could feel everyone's anticipatory gaze upon you. Fear and humiliation ran through you, and you were horrified when Aizen sighed.

"Grimmjow, would you like to assist me?"

Grimmjow's eyes opened wide, a huge sneer upon his cruel lips as he walked towards you.

"Oh, absolutely."

Your body began to tremble; frozen with shock the closer the man got until he was standing before you, and his hands shot out and wrenched your arms from your chest, making you screech. You tried to back away from Grimmjow, but instead, you were blocked by Aizen's own chest; his chuckle reverbing into your ear.

"How would Kurosaki react if he knew that the one he loved the most was made impure, hm? I think he'd be devasted....angry, even. I think he might even become reckless."

"Doesn't fucking matter. We'll still crush that bastard either way!"

Grimmjow responded, and you began to struggle slightly as Aizen began to peel away the remnants of your shirt, threads and buttons coming undone until you were shirtless and only in your bra. You were breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating and becoming lightheaded. However, there was another part of you that was afraid to even pass out.

You froze when you felt a blade against your back, Aizen resting his chin against your

shoulder as his voice whispered into your ear dangerously.

"I could run my blade right through you...and kill you without any second thought...but that would be such a waste, wouldn't it?"

You could feel the panic clenching your throat, your voice unable to come out as the tip of his blade glided up your back before slocing your bra into pieces. You began to struggle then, feeling humiliated and terrified as you tried to pull yourself from Grimmjow's grasp. Tears began to fall down your face as Aizen said, his tone of voice demanding and nothing short of an order.

"Beg for your life...give my Espada a reason why I should spare you...why you deserve to live. What can you offer to me that will be of value?"

Your voice refused to come out; throat clenched shut, and Aizen clicked his tongue.

"Perhaps, you need more encouragement. Grimmjow, restrain her from behind, would you?"

Grimmjow looked annoyed that he couldn't ogle at your naked chest and huffed, yanking your arms behind you and forcing you to push your chest out slightly as he held you with no remorse.

"Go on. Beg."

Despite his gaze becoming cruel and taunting you, his voice continued to sound suave and uncaring. Almost as if your suffering was a game to him.

You could feel all of their scrutinizing and hungry gazes on you; all the ones that cared, anyway. You weren't sure if these people, these...things...wanted to be a part of Aizen's game or straight-up eat you.

Both thoughts scared you.

"P-please...please stop...this is wrong!"

Grimmjow scoffed before switching from holding both of your arms with each hand to clamping down on both of your wrists with one hand so he could reach and brutally manhandle your breast. You screamed, Grimmjow's touch unforgiving as he sneered.

"You call that begging? What a pathetic fucking bitch. I've heard weaker beings beg better than that! Don't hold out on us!"

He was squeezing hard, painful and making you squirm and fight within his grasp. Grimmjow was already irritated, but he paused when Aizen held up a hand.

"Now, now, Grimmjow. Let's not resort to violence so soon. She's never been touched like this before...poor girl has no idea how to beg properly. So, why don't we show her how...in good faith that if she tries her best, maybe I'll let her see Kurosaki one last time."

Lies. You knew it was lies. This man had no ounce of compassion in him. Evil oozed from every part of his being, and there was no guarantee that you were going to get out of this alive.

He was toying with your life as if it was a game.

You froze when Aizen placed his hand upon your cheek gently, leaning down slightly until his nose was brushing against yours.

"If you bite...if you try to fight back in any way...I will string you up in front of Las Noches in pieces...after I have torn apart your friends. Now, on your knees."

You wondered if it would be the best route. You wondered briefly if death would be better than this...than whatever Aizen, and possibly Grimmjow, were going to do to you. An image of Ichigo popped into your mind, and you clenched your jaw slightly as you tried to keep from sobbing.

I have to stay strong for Ichigo and believe that he will save me!

"On your knees!"

Grimmjow kicked the back of your knees, making you yell out from pain and surprise as you fell; smacking into the ground hard in front of Aizen. Aizen moved back to sit upon his throne, and he beckoned you with a finger.

"Come here. Undo them."

You didn't have to be a genius to understand what Aizen was referring to.

But how were you supposed to undo his pants without the use of your hands?

How fucking humiliating and perverse.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bit your lip and leaned down. Maybe, if you imagined that it was Ichigo, it would make things easier. Maybe, if you imagined it was Ichigo's hakamas that you were undoing with your teeth, you wouldn't be so scared.

It's not Grimmjow behind you, but perhaps Renji...keeping a firm grip and pressing his hard cock against your asscheeks as you got Ichigo's cock free.

Aizen's voice broke the daydream once his hard cock was sprung free from his hakamas, and you felt your stomach drop when Aizen teased his fingers beneath your chin.

"Now...beg."

Suddenly, there were fingers digging into your scalp, making you gasp in pain, Grimmjow's overwhelming and terrifying presence pushing against you as he hissed in macabre delight.

"What are you waiting for, little girl? If you don't get to suckin, maybe I'll have to really ruin you for Kurosaki."

Aizen's grip became harsh, digging in enough to the point that you couldn't close your mouth on your own, and Grimmjow pushed your head down, forcing you to swallow Aizen down.

You had never done anything like this to anybody. Hell, while you had a general idea of what a penis looked like thanks to your perverted friend, Chizuru Honsho, you had never actually seen one. You were a virgin through-and-through. Hadn't even had your first kiss yet, and here you were...being forced to suck the cock of the most evilest man in the whole world.

He was salty, bitter, and the size and way you were being forced all the way down until he was stretching your throat and making you gag had tears running down your face. Aizen made no expression nor gave any indication of what he was feeling. In fact, he looked completely nonchalant when you glanced up at him in a moment of panic, and he sighed for a second when you began to gag vigorously.

"Grimmjow, if you hold her down any longer, you're going to make her vomit. I really don't want that."

There was an underlying threat within his voice that had Grimmjow freeze in place before pulling you back up wordlessly. You coughed, saliva running down your chin, and Aizen hummed.

"I can take it from here. Why don't you get her prepared for me? I think it'd be a nice reward for you."

Grimmjow laughed, and you weren't sure if you liked what Aizen was implying. Suddenly, you felt Grimmjow grab a tight hold of your skirt and yank as hard as he could, tearing your skirt straight off. You screamed out, and Grimmjow exclaimed, smacking you in the back of your head as he tightened his grip on your wrists.

"Oi, quit your whining, woman! I think you'll like this next part."

Your attention was commanded back to Aizen, his fingers sliding against the back of your head and guiding you back.

"Now, now. Don't take your focus off of me...it might mean your death. When I said to beg, I wasn't asking."

With no hesitation, he shoved you back down, forcing his cock down your throat again, and you whimpered slightly, gagging and feeling your abdomen tighten as you did so. You pulled back up, and Aizen pushed you back down.

"Just like that, but with suction. Poor girl, you've truly never been touched. A pure and innocent soul...destroyed and conquered like the rest."

There were fingers touching your legs and hips, running all along the globe of your ass before smacking harshly. Your jaw clenched slightly, teeth grazing Aizen's shaft, and the man hummed in distaste.

"Have some self-control. I would rather not kill you while my cock is in your mouth."

You were beginning to shake, almost too weak to hold yourself up, and you almost kicked your foot back when you felt Grimmjow's nose dig into your panties, sniffing deeply.

"Gods, you ain't ever had no man here before, huh. I can smell how sweet your fucking cunt is."

Aizen chuckled then, saying with an air of haughtiness.

"And that belongs to me now, Grimmjow. Don't get too ahead of yourself. I just want you to get her ready for me."

Grimmjow made a noise of displeasure before hissing quietly to himself.

"Whatever."

Your panties were torn apart, and when you went to scream, Aizen shoved your head all the way down until your nose was pressed against his skin, gagging and panicking from how deep in your throat his cock was.

"None of that. It's quite distracting."

Suddenly, there was something wet and warm against your skin, tingles and terror running down your spine as Grimmjow's big hands anchored on either side of your hips and forced you down onto his face. He was lapping at you and groaning, tonguing at your clit and making your body try to squirm.

The sensations he was forcing upon you were strange, foreign, and slightly tickled. You weren't exactly sure how to describe it other than spine-tingling. He was lapping at you desperately, suckling and groaning noisily, and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

It was a torturous rhythm. Up and down, in and out; breathing and not breathing. You were a cauldron of emotions and sensations that were overwhelming you to the point that you were beginning to feel light-headed and nauseous. Your eyes fluttered slightly, and it seemed that Aizen knew what was happening.

He was ever-present and ever-observant; taking in every little detail down to the way you blinked. Pulling your head up off of him, he hummed.

"Grimmjow, that's enough."

Grimmjow was hesitant at first, his licking and suckling becoming slower for a moment, and Aizen sighed.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Grimmjow was slow to get out from beneath you, wiping his mouth, and he snarled out to Aizen; seeming to be running on pure instinct as he glared at Aizen with dilated eyes.

"Selfish prick..."

Aizen just hummed before he pulled you off of his cock, his brown eyes gleaming with nefarious and fiendish ideas.

"Let's get you prepared for your reunion with Kurosaki."

part two soon

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[hispg]

Baby boy

Pairings: Re2! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your coworker Leon always goes after you for advice, even on the most basic things, even if he doesn't need to.

However, you decided to make him understand your advice in a more... Incisive way.

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, cockwarming, masturbation (M receiving), oral sex (M receiving), Sub! Leon, Dom! Reader, orgasm control/ denial,slightly praise/ degradation, a bit of dirty talk.

Leon was your coworker, sweet and kind. A lovely person to be around. It didn't take long for the two of you to bond, becoming almost inseparable.

He follows you around like a puppy, always on your tail, no matter where, he's always stuck with you. And the kind who always asks you before doing things.

Sometimes he doesn't even need to, but he likes to have your permission to do things, just as he always talked to you and asked for all kinds of advice, even asking for help with his studies.

You never really understood why, but you never complained either, his presence was always very welcome.

And that evening he was once again in your office, sitting in a chair in front of the computer while you explained a subject you had in common. It had become routine for him to sneak into your room late at night, just to have a chat with you whenever he could.

He was still in his uniform, staring intently at the slides on your computer. Even though you had already explained this subject to him last week, he came to ask you for a further explanation. You understood that he might be nervous about the police academy exams, but that much?

While you were explaining, it wasn't long before he was sitting comfortably in the chair you were using, with his legs wide open, on purpose. If he was being frank, the sound of your voice was enough to make him lose focus, it's not as if he was paying attention to anything you were saying. Blue eyes staring at you, watching the way your lips opened and closed, the way you looked so beautiful while you were focused on explaining things to him.

Of course it was a lie that he had come here to have you teach him this subject, he could have tried to study on his own. However, what fun would it be if it wasn't for you explaining it?

"Leon, my eyes are up here." You mutter, leaning on the table and crossing your arms, raising an eyebrow.

He coughed awkwardly, looking at you in confusion, "Eh, pardon me. Go on, I'm listening."

You scoffed, knowing full well that he hadn't paid attention to a word you'd said. The way his cock began to harden under his pants was a sign as clear as day.

You now perfectly confirmed why he was here. He needed some incisive teaching, something strict to learn from. A punishment, if you were bad enough to do it.

And you were.

"I know you're not paying attention." You whispered, running your fingers along his knee, stopping at his thigh.

It was enough for his breathing to fail and him to swallow. The poor thing got even harder with that simple touch. How pathetic could that sound?

"Uhm.. I'm sorry. I promise I will-," You didn't even let him finish speaking, you simply hovered your hand over his erection. Staring at him with a certain impudence in your eyes.

"Apologies are no use if you're not going to get better, Leon." Words that made him shudder, biting his lower lip to hold back any whimper that might escape his lips.

With your index finger you traced the size of his cock through his pants, making a point of maintaining eye contact during the process. His puppy eyes followed your every move, looking up at you with a sly expression.

"Take it out." You demanded flatly, crossing your arms and waiting for him to take off his pants.

And to your surprise he did, without any reluctance at all. He just undid his belt, lifted his hips and pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift movement. His fat cock sprang out at the same moment, the pink, swollen tip begging for your touch.

Poor guy, you'd be so mean.

"That's what you came here for, isn't it?" you asked, gripping the base of his cock tightly, and he whimpered like a little bitch at the same moment.

The way you felt his veins pulsing in your hands made you smile with a certain pity. How much did he want it? How depraved of touch was he to get hard just looking at you? What a silly little thing he was.

His hands rested on his thighs, as he tried to keep his breathing steady, "I wanted to see you." He says, looking at the work your hand was starting to do.

A sneer leaves your lips, and you rub your thumb over the tip of it, pressing your face against his. So close that his breath was hitting you.

"Missing me? What an ugly excuse, Leon." You purred, giving his jaw wet kisses. Slowly jerking him off.

The poor guy wasn't even in a state to protest, biting his lip to hold back the sly noises he was still trying to disguise. But he never could.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, moving up and down, making a point of suddenly increasing the pace, only to see him moan softly, roll his eyes back and look at you.

"I-I can?" He asked shyly, looking down at your breasts, his gaze undoubtedly hungry. He couldn't keep his hands off you, but today you wouldn't let him touch an inch of you without permission.

"No." You murmured with a shrug, kneeling in front of him. At the same moment, his eyes went wide, his breathing quickened. His focus was only on you, nothing else.

He was so obedient that you didn't even have to ask, he automatically spread his legs wider to accommodate you. Wide open for you to do whatever you wanted with him.

"Such a cute thing." You murmured with a mischievous smile, digging your nails gently into his thighs, watching him squirm and whimper with every touch.

He was so desperate, jerking his hips at you, wanting you to do something with his hard-on. Any touch would do.

You couldn't help yourself and let out a giggle, putting your hands on his hips to keep him in place, kissing and nibbling his thighs, licking and leaving a few marks here and there.

"Nhm, please..." He pleaded in a grunt, looking down at his lap. Poor thing was already leaking, pre cum dripping down his pink tip.

"How pathetic, are you going to cum with just those touches?" You murmured, licking the sticky liquid dripping from him, giving the head of his cock a light lick.

He moaned, loudly. Letting his head fall back, holding on tightly to the edges of the chair. He wanted you so much, so much he couldn't describe it.

His cock throbbing and twitching, he knew it wouldn't last long, not with you in front of him.

You could already see your own arousal rising, your panties starting to get soaked, and you found yourself humping nothing in search of some friction.

Without giving him any warning, you pressed your plump lips to his tip, making a point of wrapping your tongue around the sensitive part, trying to contain the naughty smile that appeared on your face.

Your fingers trailed down his inner thigh, down and down until you found his balls, massaging lightly, only to hear the dirty sounds he could no longer control.

"Ah-ah, holy shit!" He cries out, biting his lower lip hard, looking at you with piteous eyes. He wanted you so much. But wanting wasn't being able to.

And he started moaning even more when you put him all in your mouth, sucking his cock down to the base, your lips wrapped around his entire length, moving up and down, tongue curling and teasing him in every sensitive spot you could find.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head every time, hips moving upwards in desperation for your touch. His cheeks were so red that he couldn't hide the blush even if he tried very hard.

"Hmh.. I think I'm close." He groaned, opening his eyes to see you, biting his lip at the sight in front of him.

You were choking on his cock, saliva and cum running down the length of it. You couldn't deny it, for someone as baby-faced as him, he certainly had an impressive size.

You continued, even though you knew he was close to cumming, but then you stopped. As soon as you felt his hips jerking upwards in a deep thrust into your mouth, that's when you withdrew your hot lips from his cock. Seeing his sly, crying face, God, why did you have to be like that?

"Oh- Please, please!" He begged, looking at you with tear-streaked eyelids, tears that threatened to fall. He was so excited that he felt like the world around him had stopped.

You smiled at his pleas, looking him up and down. A devilish grin plastered across your face.

"What? Don't tell me you're going to cry." You teased him, sliding your hand under his uniform, squeezing and lightly scratching his chest.

"Fuck. Hell, let me cum..." another plea, and of course he could do it on his own. It wasn't as if you had tied his hands and prevented him from moving.

But he liked taking orders. He liked being treated like a little boy who obeyed every order he was given, he loved it.

Just as you saw his hands coming towards you, trying to grab you by the hips and pull you towards him.

"Hands off." You say, standing up once again.

He whimpers, looking at you slyly, asking for something. You wouldn't be mean to leave him in this state, would you?

"Well, since you weren't paying attention. Looks like I'm going to have to explain everything again." You said nonchalantly, taking no time to take off your clothes, standing naked in front of him.

He gasped, his lips parted as he looked you up and down, his imagination running wild.

And then you mounted him, rubbing your wetness against his tip, giving his lips a little kiss. And there went his hands again, gripping the seat of the chair tightly, so tightly that he could tear the padding if he wanted to.

"You're going to be quiet and listen to me, and I don't want you to cum. Understood?" You say seriously, staring at him as you sink onto his cock, warm, gummy walls nestling him.

"Yes... Yes ma'am." He says in a moan, holding his trembling thighs, taking deep breaths to contain himself. The way you welcomed him so well, how could he hold back like that?

He was a crying mess, staring at your naked figure on his lap, biting his lip and trying to keep his attention on your eyes. But he couldn't, all he did was look down. Seeing the way his cock was buried in you, so deep.

Your breasts swaying slightly as you gestured, your wetness making a mess of his thighs. God, he was fucked.

"I can't hold it." He murmured, moaning loudly and clenching the seat of the chair, holding his hips and avoiding thrusting into you.

You scoffed, holding him by the chin, "Mh? The pretty boy can't hold it? Mh? Dick throbbing so much he needs to empty into me?" You knew that dirty talk was his weak point, and you used it to your advantage.

He cries out, letting his head fall back a little. Unconsciously pushing against you. At least he was trying.

How long had you been explaining? It had been a good few minutes, but maybe he could hold out just a little longer.

You started grinding against him, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, letting your hands roam free over his abdomen, squeezing every bit you could find.

He was finished, not even muffling his sounds with your mouth helped. Your living room was echoing every dirty noise he made, so exciting.

"I want you to sing to me." You purred during the kiss, starting to ride him.

You had no pity, you started doing it fast and deep, listening to his flesh hit yours. Skin against skin, making that unholy noise.

"Ah- fuck- shit- slowly!" He managed to babble, your name slipping from his lips with each bounce.

You felt his body arch up, squirming even more underneath you, he couldn't hold back the minute your walls began to clench against him, it was too much, enough for him to paint your insides white.

He was so high that you had to cover his mouth with yours, while you were still riding him until you came.

"Be quiet, or I'll be doing this all night." A threat or a gift? He couldn't tell, he wasn't even in his right mind to say anything.

And then you came, your fluids mixing with his as you both moaned against each other's lips.

You could still feel his hot cum oozing out, it was such a load. Just for you.

And there he was, drained, panting, not even able to open his eyes from how excited he was, still recovering from the high. And you didn't look much different.

Maybe, just maybe, after tonight he'll need another one of those... Your lessons.

[pearlzier]

⊹ 🩰 ࣪ ✶ ˖

✶ . ࣪ ׅ now playing / pink matter by frank ocean ࣪ ✶ ˖

๋࣭ ⭑ from the inbox . . . | reader thinking that matt doesn't really care about her and his priorities are always elsewhere, and he decided to worship her to make it up to her — @lovesickgrlsrh0t

๋࣭ ⭑ warnings . . . | kinda subby matt, also kinda subby reader, oral (f!receiving), barely angst but sure, riding schlong, unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap that willy LMFAOO), p in v

๋࣭ ⭑ author's note . . . | take me shopping i dont care you can take me anywhere see the wind fly through my hair make the people stop n stare 😇 i hope this is. good BYE

you know matt loves you more than anything. it was so obvious in everything he did, how he behaved around you. you love him more than anything, you're sure to make it obnoxiously clear too. he makes your heart flutter, your demeanour happier and just everything better.

so why was that quiet but insistent part of your mind trying to convince you otherwise?

it started when matt was getting consistently more busy with youtube and other influencer-y things that he and his brothers do. you were used to it, yeah, but lately it felt more intrusive and an inconvience to you more than anything. but you never mentioned it, because you never wanted to seem needy, or like that annoying girlfriend who always wants his attention on her. you do, of course, who wouldn't, but not like that.

"m'busy, baby, i can't," he'd tell you, glancing at you for a faint moment before he looked back at his computer or resumed talking with nick and chris. it shouldn't have made you as upset as it did, since it wasn't anywhere near rude or a rejection, but it did make you upset. even a—"maybe later, babe,"—was almost catastrophic, making you feel even worse.

it may seem irrational or an overreaction however you just felt.. ignored. or underappreciated, or whatever you'd call it. like, does he even care about you? insane, you know, but.. you couldn't help but feel like that. what was making you so highstrung?

and matt. oh, matt. as perceptive as ever, knew there was something wrong almost immediately. he stayed quiet about it, trying to test the waters to see whether he was wrong about it however when your reluctance to even be around him became evident, he knew something had happened. he just.. didn't know what. so, he asked chris, first. "i dunno, man, she's just—she's like, avoiding me," chris laughs, almost instantly.

"what the fuck did you do?" he's not really paying attention, considering he knows exactly why you're avoiding matt. you'd talked to him and nick about it. and he vividly remembers you saying you wanted matt to figure out why you were so upset himself; without help.

matt retorts immediately, "i don't know, if i did, i think i'd be fixing it, dumbass." he swallows thickly, feeling uncomfortable with the thought of you not wanting to be around him. he pushes up from the counter, sighing, "thanks for the help." his tone is sarcastic, snarky, as he runs a hand through his hair before heading to the living room where you were with nick.

yeah, you'd resorted to hanging out with nick, when matt was in the house—it wasn't unusual, just.. weird considering how worried he was. it was petty of you, you knew it, but..

"hey," the tension is unsettling, and he hates it. you hate it too. you both hate it. nick's in the middle of it, fiddling with the beads of the bracelet he'd been making with you with a sideways glance at matt as if to tell him that he fucked up, big time. matt knew that, of course he did. you glance up at him, a tiny bit guilty. "nick, you mind if i steal her away for a bit?" he jokes, glancing at you with soft, almost sad puppy dog eyes.

"go ahead," nick mumbles, not exactly wanting to be stuck between couple drama and kind of just wanting to make cute bracelets.

you reluctantly get up, handing the beads back to nick. a dramatic sigh slips past your lips, and you make your way over to matt, looking at him expectantly. he swallows hard, gently grasping at your arm and leading you to his room, closing the door behind him. looking back at you, he finds you standing there with your arms folded over your chest defensively. his heart melts. "baby," he starts.

you glance away, frowning. you weren't mad at him, could never be mad at him, but.. uncertain and worried and all those bad feelings that made your head hurt and stomach ache. "matt," not even a matty? now he's frowning, unsure of how to approach this without making an absolute fool of himself. you had him wrapped so tight around your pretty finger, it was unbelievable.

"you're upset with me," matt mumbles, sounding dejected and upset with himself that he'd done something to upset you. "c'mon, look at me," you won't even look at him, give him the time of day.

kind of like how he made you feel, right? he doesn't know where the thought came from, and maybe it's from how you refuse to look at him, but.. he starts to piece things together. especially when you accidentally look at him despite the whole ignoring thing you have going on. "oh, baby," he says softly, ashamed. he hadn't been looking after you the way he should, right? that's what he's thinking, and he knows he's right.

"mmph," you glance away, focusing your gaze on the ceiling. it's how a child, a particularly petulant one, would react to being neglected in the way matt had done to you. his frown only deepens, hands moving to clasp at your thighs. you flinch at the cold metal of his rings against your warm skin, however you relax moments after. "i'm sorry," he starts, knowing a simple apology won't get you to forgive him. he knows you well, after all. "c'mon, let me.." he says softly, pulling you gently towards the bed. he's careful, not too forceful in case you don't want him to touch you or anything. he's too on edge. you let out a quiet sound as the back of your knees hit the bed, and you plonk down, eyes flickering up to his.

it would seem pathetic to some, desperate to many, the way he drops to his knees infront of you. it even surprises you, and you finally look at him properly. a giggle bubbles from your throat, despite yourself, "what are you doing?" your tone is soft, upset but oozing curiosity. his baby blues meet your eyes, and he swallows hard. "makin' it up to you, ma." he runs his hands over your thighs, chest rising and falling in gentle breaths as he takes you in. all his, right? all his.

matt lets his hand gently slide over your thighs, the exhale he lets out shaky and almost whimpery in nature. "wasn't bein' nice to my girl, was i?" he shakes his head, watching the way you nod slowly, "you weren't," you say matter-of-factly, because he wasn't. matt agrees, a soft hum of acknowledgement slipping past his lips. he feels so bad for ignoring you like that, having his priorities else where even when he was busy with work.

his head dips down to suckle gently at your soft skin, tentatively kissing at it. his blue eyes lift to yours for a moment, as if asking for permission. you nod, swallowing hard. "let me make it up to you," he asks, before he continues, murmuring against your skin, "let me make it up to you. please, baby, wanna make it all better."

how could you say no to that? the sound of him begging?

"okay," you say gently, "if you'll let me rant," he moans softly against your thigh, and he nods gently, mumbling something in affirmation but you can't hear it, nor do you really care, since his touch is a little bit mind fogging. his hands grasp at your thighs, tugging you impossibly closer.

"go on," he says quietly, bringing your legs over his shoulders so he can take care of your soft skin the way he wants to, needs to. but also to hear you take your frustrations out on him, it's the least he can do, isn't it? he sounds so apologetic, it's heart melting. "i dunno, kinda feels like you don't really care about me," you say quietly, a little ashamed for even thinking it. matt lets out a whimpery sound, like it pains him to even hear that.

"no, no, no, baby," matt leaves soft marks on your skin, nibbling gently. he's only careful with you, nothing less than delicate with your body. the open mouthed kisses he leaves make a shiver run down your spine, and you continue, "it's dumb.. but, just.. i feel ignored," oh, not right now. you feel very much attended to. "and like.. i'm not really.. you don't think about me? more about your work?"

matt's hands grasp tightly at your thighs instinctively as he swallows hard, shaking his head, "ma.." it's like he doesn't even think twice as he reaches for your leggings, tugging them down quickly but gently. "lift up f'me," he mumbles quietly, pulling down the leggings with relative ease. they're discarded soon enough, and you flinch a little at the cold air on your legs. "i'm so sorry, god.." he tugs your clothed cunt closer to him with another tug to your legs, leaning in and nuzzling himself against you.

a sharp gasp slips past your lips at the friction and your fingers instantly thread through his dark hair, his groan vibrating against your core at the sensation of you tugging. "ah.." your lips part, a pretty sound escaping you. he relishes in those sounds, adores them, and he starts to coax more when he starts mouthing over your clit through the fabric. the sensation is new to you, but not at all unwarranted. his pretty groans make it even better.

"m'so sorry.." his fingers, as he wets the fabric of your underwear even more, skim over the waistband of the fabric between the two of you. he tugs, once or twice, as if asking for permission. "go on," you say softly, a giggle bubbling from you again when he pulls down your underwear with relative ease and definite eagerness. an awed groan slips past his lips at the sight of your pretty pussy, one of his favourite things in the world. "there she is.." he says softly under his breath. eyes lifting to yours.

"been neglectin' you," he addresses you directly, tone soft, then he looks to your cunt, head tilting gently, "and neglecting her, huh? how bad of me.." matt tuts, shaking his head once more. he brings you close once more, giving a gentle pat to your puffy pussy and watching as you squirm almost instantly. "should make it better for my girls, shouldn't i?" another pat, and he's diving in, letting out a groan against your folds as he kisses and slips his tongue across them.

"she tastes so good, huh? she missed me," matt's words make you cry out softly, taken off guard by how desperate he is to please you. you tighten your grip on his hair a little and even squeeze your thighs around his head a bit more, causing him to groan into your soft, wet skin. "matt, oh, shit," you whimper, and he swirls his tongue around you, shifting lower so his nose bumps against your clit with every movement of his head.

his tongue circles your entrance for a moment before he flicks his tongue into your wet hole, loving the way you practically grind down onto his face. "take what you want, that's it," his words are muffled by your heat, and how you're almost sat on his face, but you get them nonetheless, eyes fluttering down to his own meeting yours. matt's hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and kneading in his hands.

matt's not even focused on himself, no, not at all, his hips grinding into the bed slowly to gain some kind of friction at all. he might end up cumming in his pants, he doesn't care, as long as you feel good and wanted. he never wants you to feel ignored or neglected again. you're his girl, his. "holy fucking shit," he's good with his mouth, like, good. and he knows it, lord does he know it.

the moment your hips start to stutter from his mouth sucking and licking at your pretty pussy, he doesn't let up, only making his movements more intense and pleasurable for you.

"that's it, fuck," he grunts, your thighs squeezing around his head once more. he doesn't even mind it, not at all. in fact, it gets him going, nose bumping against your clit enough to have you whining and squirming against his face, that familiar tight knot of arousal squeezing in your abdomen. matt can feel it too, as he eats you out like his life depends on it, which to him, it really does. "yeah, baby, there we go, that's it, come all over my face, make a mess on me, shit.."

you in fact, do, without any shame in the world. why feel shame when your man was making you feel so fucking amazing? your thighs tremble around his head and he helps you ride out your orgasm, licking slowly to bring you back down to earth without overstimulating you. soon, he pulls back, not even minding the state of well, his face. "did so good for me," he mumbles breathlessly, and you swallow hard. "that.. felt.. oh my god, matthew." a chuckle escapes him at the use of matthew and not just matt, and he gently pushes up off his knees to lay down on the bed on his back. his hands find your hips, slowly bringing you over on top of him.

"matthew, huh?" matt smiles, a gentle, loving smile that tells you exactly how much he cares for and adores you. a little grunt slips past his lips as he tugs his boxers down enough to free his cock, pre cum leaking from it due to how he was basically humping the bed earlier. your eyes flutter over him as you look down at him, swallowing hard, and he murmurs, "so pretty, ma," he gives his cock a few quick strokes, before he lines himself up with your tight hole. "i got you.."

you let out a pitiful little whine when he pulls you down onto him, the stretch making your lips part with soft noises, and matt tilts his head, taking in your form as you squirm. "relax for me.. i've got you.." his eyes flutter over your body, adoringly. his heart swells with warmth, just.. he can't believe he's so lucky. "i'm gonna fuckin'.. explode," you mumble breathlessly.

"i'll pick up the pieces, baby," he leans back against the headboard, hands squeezing at your hips. matt swallows hard, just in awe for a moment. "gorgeous, gorgeous girl. how'd i get so damn lucky?" he lets you adjust to him for a moment, waiting for the greenlight. "you'd be even luckier if you started movin'," ever the graceful, you are, he thinks to himself, and a laugh escapes him again.

"right, right, sorry," a giggle escapes you too, but it soon melts into a moan when he lifts you up, only to drop you back down. his eyes flutter to yours, baby blues dark with sheer want, and he grunts under his breath at how tight you are. "wish i could stay buried in your pussy forever, honey," he guides your movements a few more times till you find a rhythm, however his hands remain on your thighs to hold you up if you get tired.

"mmh, shit, shit, shit," your love for profanity only fuels his adoration for you, his hands squeezing at your thighs as you bounced on his cock, the sounds of skin slapping against skin hitting your ears. he didn't think about how loud the two of you were being and the fact his door was open, no, he wanted to make you feel as loved and wanted as you should. "feels so good, matt, mmh!"

he's doing a very good job at it too.

"that's it, fuck, look so pretty ridin' my dick like that, you like that, mama? yeah.." his eyes follow the way your tits bounce beneath your top, and he pushes up the fabric so he can get a good view of them. no one's ever looked at you with such adoration like that, it's intoxicating. matt greedily gropes at you, squeezing and flicking your nipples just because. and because it makes you clench around him so good. "these pretty titties, fuck."

matt swallows hard, getting lost in you as you get lost in him too, holding onto his hoodie tight as you lift your hips up and down. "never wanna make you feel bad again, never wanna do that. m'so sorry baby, fuck, you forgive me? forgive me, please, ma?" he's practically begging, hands squeezing your body all over, showing how much he loves you. "always got time for my baby, for my girl. even if i don't, gonna make it, promise, fuckin'.. promise," he mumbles, words borderline incoherent.

it makes you smile, it makes you beam, and you're not mad at him. you'd stopped being upset with him since he made you come all over his face, to be totally honest. "it's okay, it's okay," you murmur softly, "i forgive you, okay? i forgive you." matt squeezes your hips once more, bucking his own into you to drive himself deeper inside of you. the way you squeeze around him is intoxicating.

"gonna come, ma, shit," matt whimpers, and you coo softly at his whiny tone, "yeah? go on, come for me," he whines shakily, gripping your thighs tighter and thrusting up into you harder. his chest rises and falls in quick breaths, dark hair falling over his eyes as he lets out soft sounds as pretty as yours. "where d'you want it?" he asks breathlessly, eyes searching yours.

"want it inside," just the sound of your voice saying shit like that has him groaning, hips stuttering as he feels himself reach that peak, ropes of cum painting your walls as he lets go. you find yourself gushing around him around the same time too, a shaky series of moans and whines slipping past your lips. matt takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and press your body against his. his head soon nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "i love you so much," he breathes out.

"love you too," you murmur in response, relaxing into him. you're happy to stay there for a while.

or go again.

๋࣭ ⭑ taglist / @mattslolita , @st7rnioioss , @flairdean , @mattsluv , @bepositiveforachange , @poetatorturadaa , @onlynextdoor

๋࣭ ⭑ line dividers / @rookthornesartistry

[chrissv4mp]

౨ i've been dreamin' of you, dreamin' of you ৎ

matt masterlist / taglist — main masterlist

☆ matts hand gently runs through your hair, your head resting comfortably on his lap as you gaze up at the dark, starry night sky above you. his eyes are locked onto your peaceful, enthralled face, and he smiles sweetly. the brunette couldn't help but stare, you were the most beautiful girl he's ever met, and definitely the sweetest.

you hum a quiet tune, eyes darting all around the stars and spotting little constellations. a smile finds its way on your lips, and your hand slithers down to rub at matts lower leg through his jeans in a comforting manner. you loved moments with him like these, where it was just you two alone and nobody else. it brought you a sense of happiness and security that you couldn't quite explain.

matt picked up on the tune, and he began to hum it along with you. a gentle giggle left your pink lips, and you looked up at him with a wide grin, only to see him already staring right back at you, "why are you staring at me like that?"

he just shrugs, blush finding its way onto his cheeks as his lips part to speak, "you're just... you make me feel so happy, and you're just so beautiful and—god, you're just so perfect, baby." he rants, his head racing with so many thoughts. you watch him with adoration and love, moving from lying your head on his lap to sitting on it.

the boy begins to speak again, and that's when you grab his face softly and pull him into a loving, affectionate kiss. he's surprised, but he rests his hands on your waist and kisses you back with the same, and maybe even more, passion. as you both pull away, matt can't keep his eyes off your own e/c ones. he's in a trance, he always is when he's around you.

all the emotions in the air linger, and you run your thumb along his cheek softly, feeling his stubble underneath the pad of your finger. his eyes have a certain spark as he continues to stare at you, and when you finally speak, he gasps quietly, "i love you, matt."

he thought that was dreaming in that moment, eyes widening as he stared at you in disbelief. this was the first time you had said it, and you were the one to say it before him. his lips are parted, and you giggle at his dumbfounded expression.

"y/n—fuck, i don't even—i love you, too." he finally speaks, going in for another kiss and pulling you closer by your waist. he smiles into the kiss, the happiness he feels almost overwhelming him, "god, i love you so much, baby."

456 words — 12 am

authors note: im not quite done with the billie fic yet, so here's a short little matt fic :)

@livialifesblog @bitchydragonparadise

[cosmicdahlias]

“There’s A First Time For Everything”

a ford x reader fic

minors dni

Ford and you have your first time.

warnings: S M U T, oral

this is my first ever full length fic so go easy on me please 😩

Ford had pulled you into a passionate kiss. One hand cupping your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist. You had just come back from a date at the planetarium, Ford’s suggestion. It had been nearly a month since you two started dating and you couldn’t have been happier.

He pulled away, studying your face. He could tell something was on your mind, he could always tell.

“What’s wrong stardust?”

Ah… stardust, you melted when he called you that. Something had indeed been consuming your thoughts all night. You blushed under his gaze, swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Well… we’ve been together for almost a month now and we still haven’t… you know…”

You let your words trail off, too nervous to complete the thought aloud. Ford stared down at you for a second before what you had shared registered and his eyes widened. Now it was his turn to blush.

“I- oh. I see.”

He paused. Then he chuckled. Taking your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“If I can be frank with you, it’s been on my mind for a while now too. If this is what you want, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“Ford, I-“

Before you could get the words out he grabbed your waist and pressed his lips against yours. It was different than the last one, more aggressive and filled with desire. It took great willpower for him to break away. He scooped you up bridal style and carried you to his room.

He laid you down on his bed. As he stood over you he took in the sight of you, there and wanting him. He felt his cock twitch in anticipation. He lowered himself to press kisses into your neck, dragging his tongue across your smooth skin. God, he had wanted this for so long.

You moved to take off your dress but he grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“No darling, allow me.”

His rough hands began bunching up your dress as he slowly pulled it over your head. As the dress fell to the floor all he could do was just stare at the beauty that lay before him. You, in his bed, in nothing but a bra and panties. Slowly he regained his composure and began to run his rough, calloused hands over your body.

“God y/n, you look so fucking beautiful.”

You kissed him hungrily, biting his lip and eliciting a groan. Your fingers gripped the bottom of his sweater. As you lifted it off of him you admired his salt and pepper chest hair and scarred torso.

He sat you up and undid your bra, pulling it off you to reveal your breasts. Laying you back down he hooked his fingers on the hem on your panties and slid them down your thighs and ankles.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking as if he was unsure about saying something.

“What is it?” You pried

He chuckled again.

“Ahhh haha, you see it’s just that I’ve never actually been with another person before. I’ve had my experiences in my time through the portal, but never with a human. The anatomy is… different. I know enough from what I’ve read about sex, but I’ve never had the real thing.”

You smiled.

“I’m sure I can help you out. There’s a first time for everything.”

You laced your fingers in his silver locks and began to push him down to your aching pussy. As he descended he kissed his way down your body, his tongue dancing against the soft flesh. He paused at your clit and massaged it with his thumb before taking it in his mouth. His warm tongue flicked at it, making you shudder.

The sensation of his mouth on you elicited a soft moan from your parted lips. He lapped at your dripping pussy greedily. As he did so he growled against your clit, the vibrations felt incredible.

Your grip on his hair tightened and he gave another growl of approval. Between kisses and licks to your clit he whispered out

“Stars, I could spend forever between your thighs.” He groans into your pussy.

“Fuck, please do.”

All he can focus on in this moment is making you feel good, your pleasure is his. You bucked your hips against his mouth and he took this as a signal to slide two fingers inside of you. A loud moan involuntarily escaped you and you wondered for a second if you’d just woken Stan.

“Ah, hnn, Ford it feels so good.”

His fingers began to fuck you at a punishing speed, his tongue swirling rapidly around your swollen clit. You started to feel yourself getting closer to the edge as if a coil was being tightly wound, close to snapping. Any increased amount of sensation would break you, and he knew that.

He quickened the pace of both his tongue and fingers and that was enough to make the coil snap. You threw your head back and another unwilling moan drew from your lips. If Stan wasn’t awake before he definitely was now. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as Ford refused to let up, coaxing a second orgasm from you before you even had a chance to process the first one.

Slowly he withdrew his tongue and fingers and watched as the shaking mess before him came back down to Earth. He looked at you in awe, dear god you looked incredible. He wanted to savor the image of you, so full of want and lust for him.

When you’re finally half cognizant again you slowly sit up, looking him in the eyes you manage out a simple

“Pants, off.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, he stands up and begins fumbling with his belt buckle. He starts to slide his black pants off and jesus fucking christ you did not expect him to be THAT huge. You always thought he had big dick energy but by god you don’t know how you’re going to fit him inside of you. The thought of it excites you greatly. He catches you obviously staring and lets out a laugh.

“Like what you see?”

You nod vigorously. Yes, god yes you do. You stand up and tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him into a deep kiss, his hands cupping your ass. You break away and begin to slide down on your knees. Now this is a sight Ford could get used to.

You start with the tip, taking it in your mouth and flicking your tongue. He moans your name softly and juts his hips towards you. Slowly you begin to work your way down its length and you feel your jaw protest, but elect to ignore it. He runs his fingers through your hair and lets out a shuddered breath.

“Hahhhh, fuuuuck that feels incredible.”

You bob your head up and down his shaft, the tip scraping your throat, you feel the urge to choke but breathe deeply out of your nose to ease the feeling. Ford cocks his head back in ecstasy, he might as well be on another plane of existence with how you’re making him feel. You slowly remove your mouth and he lets out a small whimper of protest as you take his cock in your hand and thumb his glistening tip before aggressively taking the full length back in your mouth and stroking his shaft.

“Hhhhh, oh my god baby who even taught you how to do that?”

His hips begin to involuntarily buck towards you, he’s moaning and cursing like a sailor. It’s taking everything to not just let himself cum in your mouth, but he wants to fuck you, he needs to feel you around his cock.

He grips your hair and pulls you off of him, you look up at him and the sight of your doe eyes looking straight into his makes him almost cum right then and there. He picks you up again and throws you down on the bed.

He climbs on top of you and once again savors the moment of you underneath him, he kisses you passionately and then whispers in your ear

“I need to be inside of you baby, and I want you to promise that you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you. Do you understand, stardust?”

That petname makes you fold instantly, fuck he could do anything he wanted to you and you’d say thank you.

He lines his tip with your entrance and slowly guides his way into you, you suck in a sharp breath as you adjust to his massive girth. My god does it feel good. He slides himself all the way in, down to the hilt. He rests there for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

He starts to move with a slow rhythm and you feel yourself tighten around him. Your hips buck against him in time with his, a perfect dance of ecstasy. He begins to moan filthy things into your ear.

“Oh god you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment, how badly I needed you. Every day since I asked you to be my assistant working with you has driven me crazy, just looking at you made me want to bend you over the lab bench and fuck the daylights out of you. I would have to steal myself away just to stroke my cock to the thought of you so I could focus, why else did you think I would disappear for half an hour?”

You knew he wanted you, you had been wearing shorter skirts with the hopes of getting his attention, but you had no idea it had this much of an effect on him.

He began to increase his pace, panting and breathing heavily. You gripped his biceps and as you started to moan he kissed you, muffling the sound before it could reverberate throughout the room.

He had never been a religious man for even a second of his life, but in that moment began to wonder to himself if this is what heaven felt like. He never wanted this to end, to spend forever like this buried in you would be everything.

His glasses began to fog as he felt himself getting closer. He slipped a hand underneath him to your clit, if he was going to cum he wanted to make sure you did too. You tightened around him from the mere sensation of the pads of his fingers on your clit.

He pumped faster, his fingers toying with the soft nub. He was trying to hold back for as long as he could so you could cum together. It wouldn’t take you long after cumming twice already, you could feel yourself getting there.

Ford let out a loud groan, nothing in his life had ever felt so good, he wanted to do this every day.

“Dear god you’re so warm and tight, stardust” he gasped.

Stardust, that did it. You felt yourself come undone around him. The spasms of your pussy squeezing his cock was enough to make him cum instantly. Waves of pleasure hitting both of you like a freight train. It was like the greatest high. He continued pumping his cock in you, refusing to let it end.

He kissed your neck, breathing heavily against your skin. You could feel him still throbbing inside of you. Slowly he began to pull out and you shuddered at the sensation.

He laid down next to you and pulled you up to lay on his chest, his hand stroking your back. He kissed your forehead and then the words spilled out before he had a chance to even think

“I love you, y/n”

He felt his heart skip a beat as you looked up at him, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“I mean I-“ he stammered

“I love you too, Ford”

You had both been too nervous to say it to each other and it took a passion driven spur of the moment confession to coax it out.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply before returning your head to his chest. He held you in his arms as the exhaustion of lovemaking slowly overtook the both of you.

[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor-The Present

Chapter Five

Warnings: Gun, violence, physical assault. Smut. Degradation, fingering, slight anal play, spanking, cum play, oral (male receiving), choking.

Summary: Just when y/n starts to think that Harry isn't the old mafia gang's leader, she discovers some secrets about him that makes her wonder whom she really fell in love with.

Word Count: 8.3k

Catch up on the story here: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three*, Chapter Four* ______________________________________

There couldn’t be a better place to be, y/n thought, as she sat beside Harry on the beach side, gritty sand in between her toes and the cool breeze making her feel refreshed. Harry’s arm around her shoulders kept her close to him, close enough that his fresh, masculine scent blanketed her. 

“I want to stay here forever. It’s so beautiful.”, y/n tells him. “The sea looks so calm.”

“It may be calm now, but I feel like it’s getting ready for war. Quiet, and calculating.”, Harry spoke softly, and y/n looked at him, raising her eyebrows. Harry chuckles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It is beautiful though."

“Well, when you put it like that..”, y/n mumbles. She wonders what goes inside Harry’s mind half the time. 

“I’m hungry.”, Harry says, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Me too, let’s go grab some food. What do you think is good here?”

y/n and Harry talk as they walk to a shack It was located on the beachside, with a live band and people dancing.

"Do you think where we live is unsafe? It's not the first time you've mentioned about me moving someplace else and settling down.", Harry asks y/n, referring to their previous conversation, just before they told each other how they feel.

"Um, I-I'm just worried, the crime reports from our place increases every day.", she quickly comes up with something, and Harry cocks his head to the side, not believing her. "Uh huh. And it’s not because you want me to go away?”

y/n laughs, and nudges his ribs. “Now why would I want that?”

They walk into the shack, and she leads him to a table at the back. She notices two men eyeing her as she walks in. They were swinging beer from their bottles. One of them winks at her, and she turns away, ignoring them.

y/n and Harry look at the menu and decide on what they want to get.

"You don't have to worry about my safety, y/n. I can take care of myself.", Harry tells her. "And I'll take care of you."

She smiles, leaning into his side as she feels cold. Harry was warm. They have their food, and y/n gets up to use the restroom. On her way back, she feels a squeeze on her ass, and shivers climb up her spine. That was not Harry.

She looks back to see the man who winked at her earlier.

"Hi beautiful, want to take it somewhere private?", he grins, showing her his teeth as he runs one of his hands through his messy black curls. A cigarette stuck out between his lips.

"No. Touch me again and I'll report you.", she warns, and the man laughs, looking over at his friend. "Feisty one, this."

"Told you she'd be a good one. You can tell from the rack.", the other guy walks towards them, eyes on her breasts.

"Shut the fuck up and stop staring at me. I'm going to-" One of them grabs her wrists. "Don't tell us what to do, little girl. We will-"

"-Finish that sentence, and you won't have a tongue to say anything again."

y/n struggles to get her wrists free as she sees Harry glaring at them both. "Let her go, now."

"Ah hah, this is getting interesting. Got your boyfriend out to play huh? Show us what you got, man."

Harry didn’t hesitate. He smirked, before he punched his fist straight into the man's nose. He groans and holds his nose.

"Your turn now. Let. Her. Go."

Before Harry could reach him, the guy pushes y/n away with force, and her hip hits the drinks counter making her yelp, her head smashing on a glass.

“You fucking bastard!”, Harry charged at him.

"Oh my god. I told you to keep those douchebags out, Frank!" A lady helps y/n onto a chair, probably the owner of the shack. "Are you okay darling? Oh god, I'm so sorry. They're such creeps, always getting into trouble."

y/n was too shocked to reply. Shocked because of what she was watching. Harry had the man who grabbed her on the ground. He was kicking him, growling. "I warned you. Nobody fucking touches my girl!"

Everyone in the shack watches as Harry beats the crap out of him.

"Harry!", y/n shouts as the other man prepares to swing a bottle against Harry's head from behind. Harry's arm shot up to grab his arm, without even turning back, and with one grunt, he flipped him over, making him fall at his feet with a big groan of pain.

"Harry that's enough-", y/n tried to say, but Harry wasn't listening to her. He was burning with rage. y/n noticed that every kick and every punch he threw was while he stood in perfect form. His biceps flexed while he reached behind him and the veins in his neck popped. What he did to the guys was rough, but his movements were sharp and defined. 

“Who do you think you are Mr. Show Off?” Suddenly, a few other men joined the fight, and they were armed. One of them held a pocket knife, and the other held a baseball bat. Two others screamed as they ran to Harry.

y/n brought her hand to her mouth in shock as she realized something. All these four men who joined now were the ones that were following them, back at home. They were the ones who kept watching them.

y/n wanted to pull Harry into safety, but she didn't have to. Two arms projected out and grabbed one of their necks, while he punched the other one's head, throwing them both onto the wall. He kicked the knife out of the third's hand, and y/n thought he looked like he was flying in the air after the kick made the man slam onto the floor with a big thud.

The last man standing raised his baseball bat, and Harry slams on to him, leaving them both on the ground.

Harry was unscathed. Six men were down, and he continued to beat them up, making sure no one could get up again. A normal man couldn't fight like this.

This was the job of an experienced fighter. He had been in fights way worse than this before. Even if Harry couldn't remember how he could do it, his body was moving out of muscle memory.

This was what y/n was searching for. Some glimpse of him from the past life. The man that everyone was afraid of. y/n now saw why.

Harry groans, looking down at the injured men. "Don’t you dare lay a fucking finger on my girl again.”

All his anger vanishes when he looks at y/n. Her small frame was shaking. He rushes to her, and grabs her wrists. "Are you okay, y/n?"

She nods, looking at the blood on his knuckles. "H-Harry.."

"It's not mine.", he assures. He put his arm around her. "Come on, let's go."

She feels everyone's eyes behind their backs as Harry walks them out of the shack. y/n's head hurt. She wasn't sure if it was because of the injury, or because of everything she saw. What was she thinking? They had warned her that Harry could get dangerous. She was scared.

Harry held her hand tight in his as he led them to their room, and then to the bathroom.

"Harry..", y/n opens her mouth, taking a breath as he looks through his bag for something. "Y-You-"

"There are glass shards on your head baby, let me take care of it for you.", Harry cuts her off, coming back with a bag, it probably had some first aid stuff. It was bigger than a normal first aid kit, but he was a doctor by profession, so it made sense. He washes his hands, and she searches his eyes for the look she saw a few minutes ago. How his eyes were darker, and there was no hint of kindness on his face.

Harry grabs her waist, and places her on the slab next to the sink, before going through his first aid supplies. 

"Any dizziness? Headache?", Harry asks softly, gently taking her face. One of his hands held her chin, tilting it up while his other hand examined the wound carefully.

"H-Head hurts a bit..", she mumbles, and Harry nods. He picks up a pen flashlight and turns it on. "Just gonna check your eyes, yeah?"

She holds in her breath as Harry flashes the light in her eyes, the thumb over his other hand on her eyebrow. She stared into his beautiful eyes, but they remained focus. He kept the pen flashlight away, and put up numbers on his fingers, asking her to follow his finger.

"You're okay, no signs of concussion.", he sighs in relief. "And your wound doesn't need stitches, I can fix it up in two minutes."

"Harry we should talk about-"

"-You're hurt.", Harry tells her firmly. "We'll talk after I make sure you're gonna be okay."

She didn't protest. She flinched when he dabbed the cotton dipped in antiseptic on her broken skin, making it sting. "I know, I'm sorry..", Harry murmurs, gently holding her face. These were the same hands that roughed up the men, but now they were so gentle. He picked out little glass shards with tweezers, and she pulled her face away when it hurt.

"Shh..almost done, baby. Stay still for me.."

y/n sat there, caged between his legs, and watched his face as he treated her wound. She couldn't believe it. He was a completely different man when he fought them.

"That's it, you're all done. Nothing to worry about, that'll heal very soon." Harry gives her a small smile as he finishes applying an ointment and then bandages it.

"Thank you.", she nods.

"Of course. If they had hurt you any worse I would've-"

"-You would've what, Harry?", y/n finds her voice finally. "Y-You beat them to a pulp, they'll need to be hospitalized. T-There was blood."

Harry looks at her while he dries his hands after washing them. "What did you want me to do, y/n? They were hurting you!"

"S-Some of them..I-I knew some of them. I've seen them follow us around. W-Who are they?"

"I don't know.", Harry grumbles, while placing her back on the ground, and she grabs his hands, moving them away from her waist.

"Where did you learn to fight like that? H-How did you disarm them like that? Tell me Harry, please, who are they and why were they targeting you?"

"I said I don't know!", he snaps loudly, and y/n takes a step back, afraid of him. Harry curses, looking down at her feet. "Fuck, I'm sorry y/n, I-"

She steps further away when he tries to hold her hand. "Please tell me what you know, Harry.", she begs, tears running down her cheeks.

"I-I've seen them too.", Harry finally says. "I know they follow me around. There are more of them. But I don't know why. I honestly don't know, baby. I don't know why they don't let me go on with my life! I don't know why they tell me to remember stuff that I don't! I don't know how I can fight like that and I don't know why they're after me."

Harry looks into her eyes, desperate. "But I do know that I'll never hurt you. I felt so angry when I saw them touching you. I couldn't control myself. You mean a lot to me, and I'll never hurt you or stand back and watch as you get hurt, y/n. I would never put you in danger. I-I..I love you."

y/n crashes into his chest and he wraps his arms around her tight, pulling her as humanly close as possible. His warm big hands rub down her back, comforting her "I-I'm sorry for scaring you. E-Everything just burst out of me at that moment."

"T-They deserved it.", y/n admits, and Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, kissing the top of her head. "I will always protect you, sunshine."

y/n trusted him. His words were filled with emotion and she had seen how much he cares about her.

"We'll figure it out together, okay? All the missing pieces, we'll figure it out.", y/n tells him, holding his face and he nods. "I love you too, Harry." She kisses him before going back to hugging him. They would figure it all out.

____________________________________________________

"Just because I let you sleep yesterday doesn't mean you can sleep today!", y/n pokes Harry's ribs making him groan from his curled position in the passenger's seat.

"Talk to me unless you want me to crash us both into a tree.", y/n says, and he opens his eyes, squinting at her. "Aw, is my passenger princess angry?", she teases.

"Shut up.", Harry pouts at her, and she giggles. "I'll give you something to do. I need some rest too."

y/n pulls over, and Harry gives her a look. "Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?"

"For a switch. Your turn to drive.", she says, turning the engine off.

"No!"Harry's eyes widened. "I can't drive y/n! I won't sleep, but don't make me drive!"

"You do know how to drive! You have a license. Come on Harry, you can't be that bad. The road's empty, it's all yours.", y/n says, already getting out, and pulling Harry out of the other side. She opens the door for him and pushes him in despite his protests.

When y/n was settled, Harry looked over at everything, adjusting his seat. "Okay. You brought this upon yourself, sunshine. Seat belt on."

She pulls it over herself, and grins. "Let's go."

Harry changes the gear, and starts the car. "Okay, good start-"

y/n's voice cuts off as he changes the gear again, and stamps on the accelerator, speeding down the empty road.

"Oh my god. Harry!", her heart skips a beat as the air slaps against her face.

"I warned you.", Harry smiles, and then laughs. "I missed this!" "I wouldn't mind if you slowed down a bit-"

He only goes faster, and she squeaks, gripping onto the sides. "Don't worry, I got this.", Harry assures her, and she looks at him with wide eyes. "What else do you have hiding? Were you an F1 driver in the past?"

"That would be cool but I don't think so!", he laughs.

Hearing him laugh, and seeing his happiness, she broke into a laugh too. "You're a different breed altogether!"

"This car is amazing! Do we have to give it to that guy?!"

y/n laughs as she reaches to keep a hand on his knee. "I love you."

They sang at the top of their voices, enjoying the drive. "Do you know these routes?", y/n asks him, as he takes a left turn without cross checking with the map.

"Um, no, I just thought this is the better road.", he says.

"Huh. These roads were used for gold smuggling, illegal drug transport and things like that, apparently. They were used regularly a few years back, did you know?"

"Why would I know that random fact?"Harry raises an eyebrow.

"Just asking.", y/n shrugs, and changes the topic. They were planning on staying in Las Vegas for the night. They had found a hotel in the heart of the city, and they planned to spend some time there exploring before hitting the road a little later tomorrow.

Harry goes to take a shower once they get to their room, and y/n calls Uncle Luke. She was happy to know that he was doing perfectly fine. 

The room they got was beautiful, they had a big bed, and a beautiful view overlooking the city. Las Vegas was a party capital. They had to check out some of it.

y/n couldn't find her hair brush, and she thinks she might have kept it in Harry's bag, so she quickly goes through it. Sure enough, she had.

Just as she was about to pull out her hand, it landed on something cold, and heavy. y/n frowns and moves her fingers over it, and it was shaped like a..no way.

She pulls it out, and gasps in horror. Harry comes out of the bathroom at the same time. He looks at her as she stares in disbelief at the weapon she was holding.

"y/n, put that down.", Harry says calmly. "It's loaded."

A loaded gun.

"W-Why do y-you have a gun?", she asks shakily, dropping it. Harry quickly picks it up and puts it back in his bag. "Why were you looking through my bag?", he grumbles.

"Harry! That's not an answer.", y/n held his arms and looked into his eyes. "Tell me why you have a gun. Is that even yours?"

"Let it go baby-"

y/n pushes at his chest. "T-Tell me the truth please, Harry. Stop playing your games with me. Who are you?"

"I-I don't know.", Harry whispers, grabbing her hands and squeezing them when she tries to pull them out of his grip. "The gun is for safety. I told you that those men have been following me, and it's been going on for a long time. Before I even met you. I live alone y/n, what if all of them sneak up on me when I'm not expecting them to? That's why I have a gun. Yes, I shouldn't have brought it along and I should have told you. I'm sorry."

y/n wanted to believe him. "I-Is that the truth?"

"Yes, I promise.", Harry kisses her hand. "I'm not playing any game with you, y/n. It drives me crazy that I can't remember things. I wish I knew why all of this happens to me. You're the only normal thing in my life and you're the only person I have. I would never lie to you. You know who I am, you've seen who I am. I trust you sunshine, I've let you into my life because I trust you, and I love you. I wouldn't keep anything from you."

He pulls her into a hug, and she closes her eyes, holding on to him. She knew he was telling the truth. She was the one lying to him. She was breaking his trust. She was a monster.

"I-I need some air.", she whispers, pulling away from him.

"y/n please-"

"I have some things to think about Harry, please." She looks into his hurt eyes, before grabbing her phone and stepping out to the balcony. Harry didn’t want to let her go, but he understood that she needed some time alone.

y/n called Romania.

"Hello y/n, I was waiting for your call. How is-"

"-Romania, I'm done. I'm done with your memory game and I don't want your money. I can't do this for you."

"y/n what happened?"

"He's dangerous!", y/n whisper shouts. "He took down six big thugs all by himself yesterday and now, I found a gun in his bag."

"What?", Romania laughs. "He fought?"

"What the hell is so funny about that?", y/n snaps, so mad at her.

"Harry has not fought anyone since that incident, y/n! That means he's still in there. He was one of our best. He can take down anyone. Tell me what caused the fight."

y/n explained last night's event to her. "That is fantastic news y/n, that means he cares about you so much that he risked his mask coming off. Everyone who saw him there now knows that he's still someone to be feared. He must care deeply about you."

"A-And I care about him.", y/n whispers. "I know I'm in too deep now, but I can't keep hurting him by keeping this from him. I have to tell him."

"No! y/n you have two more days. I need you to get him to the location and then you're free to go, or tell him, or whatever you want to do. We will pay you double the amount. Please y/n, no one's got this close to him, you can get him to remember. Please. Reagen would want him to remember the memories they had together. He has to remember what happened that night."

y/n sighs, running her hand through her hair and she felt like pulling it out. She thought like Reagen. What would she do? She heard that she was extremely brave. However scared she must have felt deep down, Reagen wouldn't have given up. She probably died to save Harry. y/n couldn't let that sacrifice of love go to waste.

Harry had to remember.

"F-Fine..two more days.", y/n whispers.

"Harry won't hurt you y/n, trust me.", Romania said. "But if you feel unsafe, I can send my men to make sure you're safe."

"No it's okay, h-he, he won't hurt me.", y/n nods. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah. You got this, y/n, I'm-"

She hung up before hearing any more of her crap. How had she got herself into this fucking mess? y/n wasn't ready to face Harry yet, so she went down to the hotel's bar. She had to drink. She needed the alcohol to burn her emotions. She sat there by herself and tipped drink by drink down her throat.

Two days. Romania told her she'd be free to leave after that, but she was sure she couldn't just walk away without a scar. She had a feeling her life was going to turn upside down in those two days.

__________________________________________________________

Harry was jittery. He was sitting on the bed, knee bouncing with stress as he thought about everything. The last thing he wanted was to make y/n feel unsafe. He didn't know what to do. He wanted her to trust him. 

It had been too long since she walked away. Three hours. Harry worried about someone getting to her, someone hurting her. He was scared. He knew the world was full of bad people.

Harry takes his phone out and tries calling her. She doesn't answer.

"Fuck it.", he gets up, and he's tempted to stuff the gun into his pocket in case someone's got her, but he decided against it. That was only for emergencies.

Harry looked in the most obvious places first. He searched the restaurant, the rooftop DJ Party going on, and the bar.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her sitting on a bar stool, sipping her drink and blabbering to the bartender.

"y/n.", Harry says as he approaches them.

"Oh hey Berty, meet my boyfriend! Harry, say hi to Berty!", y/n gives him a big grin, turning around on her stool to pat Harry's arm.

Harry looks at Berty, who gives him a small smile and a nod. "I was just going to ask her if there's someone to take her to her room, or back home if she's not staying here tonight."

"We're staying, and I'll take her. Thanks." Harry looks at y/n. Her eyes were dazed with the amount of alcohol she must have drowned, but she still looked gorgeous to Harry.

"Wait, Harry, have a drink with me, I haven't had one with you since that first week. Berty, get him a whiskey! The fiery kind!", y/n giggles, and pats the chair next to her. "Come sit, Harry."

Berty looks at Harry who shakes his head, and Berty nods, going away. "I don't want to have a drink now, love. Come on, it's late, you're sleepy."

"You don’t wanna have a drink with me?", y/n pouts at him, and his heart melts, so he sits down, but he doesn't ask for a drink. He knows that she is not a big drinker and he caused this now. He felt horrible about himself.

"I would love to have a drink with you sweetheart, but not now, okay? You've had a lot too, let me take you back to our room, okay?"

She nods, looking into his eyes. "Harry?"

Harry strokes her hair back, away from her face, nodding. "Tell me, babe."

"D-Do you..do you really love me?"

A small tear rolls down her cheek, and Harry's heart breaks. He cups her cheek, thumbing that tear away. Harry knew he had done horrible things, but if there was anything in his life that was steady, it was y/n. y/n showed him love, again. She was healing him.

"I do, I love you with all my heart, sunshine. I always have and I always will.", Harry whispers, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I'm so sorry for everything, I wish-", he stops talking, and words himself again. "I would never hurt you on purpose."

"I know, that's what I keep saying.", she says, nodding to herself.

"Saying to who?", he asks, confused.

"Romania. You smell good.", she says, smiling at him like he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

"We should go, y/n.", Harry motions to Berty. "Add her tabs to our room please, 401."

"Yes sir, have a good night y/n.", Berty waves at y/n and she laughs, waving back as Harry helps her off the chair and puts his arm around her waist.

"Good night Berty, live your life while you can. Don't be greedy for money, just be happy."

Harry wondered where that came from, while he walked with her out of the bar. He holds her hand tight in his, and keeps his eyes out for anyone following them or spying on them. She leans on him in the elevator, and he holds her close as she mumbles incoherently.

"What happened that night, Harry?", y/n asks, looking up at him.

"Which night, love?"

"On the night you were smuggling the gold? The night you had your accident and lost your memory? Do you remember?"

Harry freezes, and his nostrils flare angrily. He hates anyone asking him that. He was sick and tired of all the accusations he had heard about him.

"I-I don't remember.", he answers coldly. The elevator door opens, and he ushers her out and to their room.

"That's too bad.", y/n says. "I know you don't, but those thick heads don't understand! Woops!" y/n goes off her balance, and Harry grabs her before she can fall. "Careful. There’s another step, there you go." He leads her inside their room, and decides to just pick her up. He easily picks her up bridal style, and she grins, putting her arms around his neck.

"You are so strong, babe.", y/n pats his shoulder.

"You're not at all heavy.", Harry kisses her nose, taking them to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, and she pulls him down with her, yanking him by the shirt. "Let's have some fun.", she wiggles her eyebrows, like she was telling him a secret, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Not now, darling. Tomorrow, okay?"

"You don't think I'm sexy?", she asks, and he kisses her sweetly. "I think you're very sexy, sunshine. You're drunk now, so we can mess around later. Let's just sleep now, we drove four hours."

Harry gets her some water and makes her drink it. "Do you know Oliver?", y/n asks him, as he takes the glass back.

"Oliver? No.", Harry says, while taking her shoes off.

"Oliver Khan.", y/n says. "Or so he says. I heard mafia people have different names, so I don't know."

"Mafia? What are you talking about y/n? One of your mystery movies?", Harry asks, taking her shirt off for her. She giggles. "I wish! It is kind of like that."

"Gonna slip your jeans off, yeah?"

"Uh huh.."

Harry's fingers brush her skin as he unbuttons her jeans, and pulls it down her smooth legs. "He was your best friend. Don't remember, do you?"

"No."

"What about Hans? Strike a bell?"

"No."

Harry unbuckles her bra, knowing she wouldn't want to sleep with it on. He slips one of his shirts over her body while listening to her.

"You were a mafia leader, Harry, you were good at everything. You were smuggling gold that day you had the accident. And your name isn't Harry Turner like you call yourself, it's Harry Styles."

Styles. A mafia leader. Harry wonders how she knows that. She does seem to be sure about that.

"What are you talking about y/n?", he leans closer, cupping her cheek. She smiles sleepily, rolling over on the bed. "I don't know either. I'm drunk as hell!"

"y/n. What mafia? What do you know?" Harry pats her cheek, but her eyes are already closed, and she is out like a light.

He would ask her when she's sober. She knew things about his past life. And he wanted to know what she knew, and why she was hiding them from him. She said they'd figure it out together, didn't she? Now, she was the one keeping secrets.

__________________________________________________

y/n wakes up with a massive hangover headache, and groans, turning over and burying her face into the pillow. What had happened? y/n tries to remember what got her into this hangover misery and then she wishes all of it never happened. How was she in bed now? Did Harry come and get her?

She looks beside her and sees an empty bed. The sheets were rumpled, so Harry had slept here, but he wasn't here now. Or was it even their room? Where was she? She sits up and looks around. Yes, she saw her bag, it was their room.

"Harry?", she calls, hoping he would answer. She had made peace with the fact that he had a gun. And like Romania said, it was good. He is showing parts of his old self and it's only a matter of time before he remembers everything.

Harry appears, holding a cup. She thought it's her coffee, and smiled but it quickly disappeared. "Water?", she looks up at him when he hands it to her.

"You're dehydrated.", he murmurs, without looking at her. "Ibuprofen's there if you have a headache."

She found the pill beside her on the bedside table, and took it, washing it down with the water. "Thank you. Did you um get me to bed?"

"Don’t remember?", he asks, and she scoffs, it's usually her asking him that question.

"No, I don't. Last thing I remember is talking to Berty about his date...um, I thought about it Harry. I understand why you have a gun, I just needed some time."

Harry nods, sitting down on the bed, looking away from her. "What’s the matter? Are you okay?", she asks, frowning, noticing how he didn't spare her a glance yet.

"I'm hungry, breakfast closes in an hour.", he grumbles.

"Oh. Give me just one second to look a little presentable and we'll go." y/n gets off the bed, and kisses Harry's cheek before going into the bathroom.

They go to breakfast, and eat in silence. y/n was used to Harry being quiet, but he would hold her hand or keep his hand on her thigh, brush his shoulder with hers, he would do something. He did none of those today, and he seemed to be in deep thought as he ate. y/n worried whether she had said something to him last night. She doesn't remember one bit of her drunk rambling. Or was he mad that she ruined the one night they had in Vegas?

Probably everything. She kept quiet too. She deserved it.

Back in their room, Harry got some work calls and y/n laid in bed, watching him. She couldn't let him give her the silent treatment for any longer, she had a task to do and it won't work if both of them remain quiet. y/n loves talking and hates silence.

"Harry, talk to me. I'm sorry for running away like that.", y/n pipes up when he was done with the call.

"It was not  safe.", he murmured.

"I was around people, it was safe. I didn't go out of the hotel either. Why do you think it wasn't safe? Did you see those guys again?"

Harry walks over to plug his phone for charging. "No. I don't know, they could've been there."

y/n slowly nods. "I didn't think about that. We still have some time before hitting the road, wanna go check out the streets?"

Harry sighs, finally looking at her. "I don't wanna travel anymore. I want to go back."

"Why?", y/n asks, reaching for his hand. "Harry-"

"-Harry Styles.", he says, making her freeze. Did he remember his real last name?

"You said I'm Harry Styles, yesterday.", he completes. "Something about the mafia, and Oliver Khan. How do you know those things about me?"

His green eyes bore into hers, and she was speechless. Shit. Had she drunk blabbered all that? Had she told him everything? About the money and the deal with Romania?

"Tell me, y/n. Are those true?"

She couldn't tell him the full truth just yet, but she could tell him some of it. She nods.

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "How do you know? And tell me everything you know, right now."

"I um one of my friends recognized you, and they told me all this information about you."

"What friend?"

"Um, T-Tony?"

"What does Tony do?"

"He um...he's in the media.", she stumbles out another lie. There was no Tony.

"I need his number, I want to ask him myself.", Harry tells her, making her sweat.

"I'm not sure if I have his number-"

"Isn't he your friend?" Harry looked angry now, and that's the last thing y/n wanted.

"Was, not anymore. I'll find out his number, okay? I'll uh tell you what I know in the meantime."

Harry nods, not even blinking as he listens to her. y/n told him everything she knew. "R-Reagen died that day..but you lived. T-That's the story.", she completes.

She studies Harry's face which appeared expressionless, then he buries his face in his hands. "I don't remember any of that, y/n."

"I-It might not be true, Harry, that's the story I know.", y/n rubs his back gently. "I-I'm a doctor, I don't do all that stuff..", he whispers. y/n scoots closer to him and hugs him tight. She knew that. She knew Harry in front of her wouldn't do all that.

"That's why those men were following you and they're all scared of you Harry. Even if you get back a small piece of who you were, they don't stand a chance against you.", she speaks softly. He looks up at her, eyes watery. "A-Are you scared of me too? Is that why you kept all this from me?"

"No, I just didn't want to upset you.", y/n cups his face. "I'm not scared of you Harry, I never was and I never will be. You saved me. I know you'll never hurt me. I feel safe in your arms, I feel loved. I know who you are. You're a brave and kind man. No matter what I hear, that's what I'll believe, okay?"

Harry buries his head into her neck, and she wraps her arms around him, cupping the back of his head. "I love you and my feelings are real. That will never change."

"I-I love you too.", Harry whispers. She held him while he processed everything. She made sure to tell him that it might just be a stupid story with zero truth in it. y/n still hadn't told him everything, but she would, in time.

"You trust me?", Harry asks her, and she nods, kissing him. "I trust you."

Harry pulls her onto his lap as they kiss, y/n's hands moving to his hair. His lips attacked hers roughly and desperately. She feels him getting hard, and starts moving, straddling his lap, making him groan. 

"Let me make you feel good, Harry.", she whispers as she tugs his shirt off. She had to distract him from thinking more into Tony or anything else, she didn't want him to get worked up. Harry's hand grabs the back of her neck, pulling her lips away from his. "Get on your knees."

y/n bites her lip, getting off of his lap. She loves when he gets dominant in bed. Maybe it's because she's so busy and in charge of her life, she likes to be manhandled and thrown around a bit in bed. It's like a stress buster. And sex with Harry always feels so good.

y/n gets on her knees on the floor as Harry takes off his pants and sits back down on the bed. y/n palms him through his boxers, and he sucks in a breath. "Go on, take me out."

y/n obeys, her fingers slipping inside the waist band of his boxers, and slowly pulling them down his legs. "You're so big.", she murmurs, admiring his thick, long, dick. She wonders how that fits inside her.

Harry smirks, looking at her as she takes his dick in her hand, stroking it from it's base to the top, dangerously slow. Her other hand played with his balls, squeezing them ever so gently. 

"You're such a tease.", he says, looking down at her. "Wait. Take off everything except your panties."

"Whatever you say.", she pulls away to take her top off, leaving her upper half bare. She hadn't worn a bra. She slipped of her shorts as well, leaving just her panties as he asked. Her nipples were hard, and Harry groaned at the sight of her on his knees for him, ready to pleasure him. He leans down to cup one of her breasts and squeezes. "Are you gonna be a good girl and take this big cock down your throat?"

Harry's eyes were dark with lust, and y/n moans, "Y-Yes, Harry."

"Get to work.", he says, sitting back up. She keeps her eyes on him as she spits on his dick, and rubs it all over. He groans, hands going to hold her hair up for her.

y/n teases him at first, slowly running her tongue along his length, while her hands palm his balls. She leaves little kisses on his dick. Harry was getting painfully hard and frustrated.

"Okay that's enough, put me inside your mouth or I'm going to do it myself.", Harry mutters, not able to handle the teasing anymore. She takes him in her mouth and he lets her adjust, trying hard not to just push it down her throat.

"That's a good girl.", he coos, and curses as she bobs her head up and down his length. "Fuck."

She was driving him crazy. Her pretty lips wrapped around his cock, her gorgeous eyes looking up at him like she only wanted to please him, that was enough to drive Harry over the edge. She moves her head further down, gagging around him, her eyes watering but she loves it. 

"Oh bloody hell, that feels so good. Are you gagging around me, baby?", Harry moans. She knew how badly he wanted to just have his way with her. She pulls out. "Fuck my mouth.", she tells him. 

"Beg for it.", he says, continuing to stroke his dick as she stops. He pinches one of her nipples, and she clenches her thighs together. She was getting so wet. "P-Please Harry, fuck my mouth."

"That's not good enough, try harder baby.", Harry rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Please make me gag. Make me choke on your big dick, Harry. Use my mouth as you please."

Harry moves both of his hands back to her hair. "You're so fucking hot. Tap my thigh if it gets too much, alright?"

"Yes.", y/n smiles, opening her mouth wide for him, making her jaw go slack. "Your throat's gonna to be sore by the time I'm done with you, darling. You asked for it.", he says before thrusting his dick into his mouth.

y/n chokes as his dick touches the back of her throat, and she feels the sting on her scalp as he moves her head up and down by her hair. He pulls her away to give her a second to breathe, before pushing it back in her mouth, keeping her head still as he moves his hips. Saliva drips down her chin. 

"So f-fucking good for me.", he moans, legs starting to shake as he feels him getting close. He pushed her head down, and tears run down her cheeks as she gags around him, her nose buried into his hound. 

"Just like that, baby, your mouth feels s-so good. I-I'm going to cum."

He pulls her head up. "F-Fuck..."

"G-Give it to me Harry, cum for me.", she whispers, her voice coming out hoarse. Harry strokes his dick, and she opens her mouth to catch his cum as it shoots out. She hums, tasting him on her tongue. 

"Keep your mouth open.", he groans and moves his dick to paint some of his cum over  her chest. y/n sits like a perfect girl, tears running down her cheeks, mouth open holding his cum, and her beautiful breasts covered in his cum as well.

"You look so pretty like this.", Harry strokes her hair. "Swallow."

She does, and shows him her empty mouth. He grabs her jaw to see. "Good girl."

She smiles, pleased with his praise. Her fingers scoop up the rest of his cum on her body and brings it back to her lips, cleaning it off, all while looking at him. "Tastes so good.", she tells him.

"Yeah? Stand up, baby." 

She raises on her legs, and he pulls her in between his knees. He taps her thigh and she separates them. Harry's fingers touch her wet core through her thin panties. "Did you get so wet from gagging on my cock, y/n?"

"Uh huh..", she's tempted to close her legs. "All for you."

Harry hums, tugging on her wrist. "Bend over my lap, let me take a good look at that beautiful pussy."

She listens, bending over his thighs and Harry adjusts her so her ass is propped up and her feet are dangling. 

Harry's hands go to her panties, and he rips them apart. "Oh god.", y/n moans. Everything he did was so hot. "I liked that.", she pouts, her poor panties.

"Sorry baby, I'll buy a new one.", Harry grins, throwing the cloth pieces away after ripping it in half. He spreads her cheeks apart, looking at her glistening pussy. "You're dripping, sweetheart. Oh, look at all that sweetness."

"Please Harry.", she whines as his fingers stroke over her folds, feeling the moisture. 

"You want my fingers? My mouth?", he asks, enjoying her being a mess for him. 

"A-Anything, please." She starts to use his thigh, moving down on it to cause some friction and yelps as his hand comes down on her bottom. "Did I tell you to move?"

"No, sorry.", she moans. "More, please."

"More? You like it when I slap your ass, baby?", he asks, giving her another slap. He groans, watching her ass jiggle from the hit. 

"Fuck, yes.." She gasps as he spanks her again. She loved the pain, and as the sting faded away, she was only left with pleasure. Harry's hand smoothed over the sting, before he thrust his fingers inside her pussy without warning, making her let out a scream and hold on to his legs for support. "P-please, please..", she begs, as he spreads her legs with his knee.

He pulled his fingers away to give her ass another swat, making her whimper. She was getting dizzy from all the pleasure. "Feels good, doesn't it? You gonna cum, baby?"

"Y-Yes, yes..oh.." His fingers curl around her g-spot and she's a mess on his lap as she tries to lay still. It felt so good. "Come on, cum for me.."

y/n's sure she's seen stars, as Harry helps her through her orgasm. All the blood was rushing to her face as she was dangling on his lap. Harry notices and places a pillow beside him, before bringing her up so her head's laying on the pillow. He also lifts her legs and lays them on the bed. 

Harry brings his fingers to his lips, tasting her. "So sweet, baby."

He takes some of it dripping out of her, bringing it to her lips. "Here, clean my fingers, darling."

y/n's lips wrap around his fingers as she sucks on them. He pulls his fingers out of her mouth and brings it back to her pussy, making her whimper.

"What? Is your little pussy sensitive already?", Harry chuckles. "Okay, I'll give you a few minutes. How bout I play with your other hole?"

She gasps as he spreads her cheeks with one hand, and circles his finger over her asshole. She grips onto the sheets, letting out a small whine. "I will fuck you in this little hole one day. I bet it'll be tight like your pussy."

He pushes his finger into her asshole, and she moans at the new feeling. "Harry.."

"So tight, and pretty." He spits on her hole, and pushes his finger back in. "Would you like that baby? I'll fill all your holes up, and you'll take it, won't you?"

"Yes, yes I will. Please." She whines when he pulls his finger out, and he laughs. "Not today, you're very tight and we don't have lube. I don't want it to hurt. Some other time, huh, baby?"

He sits her up on his lap. "I want you to ride me. Your tits look so pretty and perky today, I want them bouncing on my face."

She looks at his dick which was hard again, standing up straight. "That's what you do to me.", he says, and she grins, placing her hands on his shoulders as she gets comfortable. Harry holds her hips, and guides them over him as she sinks down on him slowly. 

y/n moans, feeling him deep inside of her. Harry moves one hand from her hip to her clit, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her sensitive bud of nerves, as she starts moving. 

"F-Fuck, Harry..", y/n's body over flows with pleasure. "Let me hear how much you like it, baby.", Harry says, watching her breasts bounce up and down as she rides him.

"G-God it feels so g-good, so good."

Her thighs were burning, and her body was tingling. His dick felt so good inside her, and if he kept up with her clit rubs, she was going to cum again within minutes. Harry takes one of y/n's nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. 

"H-Harry I'm gonna-"

"-Already? I think you can hold it for a bit.", he tells her, teeth grazing against her nipple as he looked up at her. y/n moans, trying to keep her pace, but she slowed down. Her thighs were burning and shaking with too much pleasure. 

"Be a good girl for me.", Harry murmurs. "You're my dirty little slut, aren't you?"

She yelps as his hand slaps her ass before squeezing the stinging flesh. "Y-Yes.." She tried to move, but she couldn't. "Harry.."

"What's wrong baby? My cock too much for you?", he teases.

"P-Please fuck me, please.", she begs. 

"Since you asked so nicely.", he grins, grabbing her hips again.

Her fingers curled around his shoulders and she screamed as he thrust his hips, hard and fast. She was almost falling off his lap. 

"You can cum, baby.", he tells her, and her eyes roll back in her head as she lets go. Harry fucks her through her orgasm and it hurts from over sensitivity before it feels good again, Harry doesn't stop. "W-Who's making you feel so good?"

y/n couldn't answer. Harry brings one hand to wrap around her throat. "I asked you a question."

"Y-You. You, Harry..", she moans, and her vision goes blurry as his fingers press against the sides of her throat. He was driving her crazy. "T-That's right."

y/n looked so divine, covered in sweat, cum, and tears as she bounced on his cock. Harry released inside her soon, and she cums again. She slumps on him, exhausted and he wraps his arms around her before falling back on the bed, letting her lay on top of him.

They breathe heavily, taking a moment to recover, before y/n looks up at him. Harry smiles at her, stroking her hair back gently, before taking her chin and bringing her close for a kiss. "T-That was crazy.", she whispers. "I can't feel my legs."

Harry laughs, running his hand down her back. "I'm sure it'll be fine after a nice warm shower and a small nap."

"I do need a shower, but you might have to carry me inside."

"With pleasure.", he nods, and kisses her nose. "I love you, sunshine."

"I love you too, H.", she squeezes her arms around his waist. "You're perfect."

After a few minutes of laying down and catching their breath, Harry carries y/n to the shower,  holding her under the warm water. He mumbles praises against her skin as he washes her, and she tangles her hands into his hair as she massages the shampoo into his locks. It was very relaxing. 

So relaxing, that Harry let his mind wander. y/n kisses his chin, looking at him fondly as she continues to wash his hair.

"What's on your mind?", she asks, after a few minutes.

Harry turns the water back on, running his hands through his hair as he washed the shampoo out. "I was thinking about everything you told me. She's not dead, y/n."

"W-Who's not dead?", y/n asks, although she feared the answer.

"Reagen. She didn't die."

y/n felt like throwing up.

"They were in love. Love like you've never seen before. Harry would do anything and everything for her.", Romania's words ring in her ear. Reagen wasn't afraid of anything. She didn't have anyone. Harry was her world."

Maybe Harry was starting to remember things, and his mind didn't want to believe that his love was dead.

"H-Harry, I'm sorry but, Reagen is dead.", y/n says slowly, rubbing his arm. "Only you survived after that night-"

"-No.", Harry cuts her off, staring right into her eyes. "Reagen's alive, y/n. I don't know where she is, but I know that she's not dead. Things..they're coming back to me."

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXVIII)

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Saoirse and Sean are back and… it’s an emotional one, so be prepared!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4226

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Postscript

And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you’ll park and capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

Seamus Heaney, The Spirit Level

“Y/N! Come on!”

“Andy, it’s fucking freezing!”

“It’s not! It’s almost spring, come one!”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He gave you a cheeky, toothy grin, the kind you couldn’t resist, that made your heart melt into a puddle.

Damn Andrew and his cuteness…

You heaved a sigh, started taking your clothes off. It was a bad idea anyway, that morning swim. Andrew claimed that he came to this spot often, that the sea was so nice there, that he had seen seals a few times, that the water wasn’t that cold, that it was good for you anyway to swim in cold water. You still wanted to go back to bed, it was barely eight in the morning, you were cold and wanted a coffee…

Why had you let him drag you into this anyway?

Oh, yes, of course, because you had a very silly crush on him, of course.

A crush you denied, by the way. You still intended to get Frank back, to get your life back. Andrew was amazing, but everything in your life was complicated enough, being with him would be insanity. And anyway, he probably didn’t see you this way at all… He was falling for someone else, remember?

You didn’t notice though, how Andrew stared at your legs as you took off your jeans, standing now in your bathing suit. You didn’t notice the way he gulped at the sight of so much skin revealed to his eyes, the way he looked at the circle of skin revealed on your back, the way he blushed at your cleavage.

Instead, you were gathering your clothes in a pile, getting your towel ready for when you would run out of the freezing water.

Andrew had turned around when you looked up again, and you couldn’t help the way your heart sped up as you stared at his naked back, took in the white of his skin gleaming in the sunlight, studied the dip of his lower back and the long line of his spine…

He took off his jeans and turned around, you blinked at the sight of his chest, of the hair that coloured his torso, the happy trail that disappeared under the fabric of his swimsuit…

You averted your eyes, busied yourself with making an ordered pile out of your clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you had been staring…

“Come on! In the water!”

He took your hand to drag you towards the sea. An infinite of deep blue against the paler hue of the sky with accents of gold. Waves crossed the quiet surface, tainted it with the white lines made by foam. Elwood was already swimming in the sea, barking happily every now and then. The rough sand tickled your feet, made your toes ache a little as you tried to avoid sharp seashells, seaweeds and pebbles stranded across the beach.

You shuddered as your feet were covered by the cold water brought by a wave.

“Holy shite! Andy! It’s too cold!”

He merely laughed at you, not hiding his bliss at seeing you so riled up.

“Come on! It’s not that cold. We don’t even need shoes or gloves…”

“Only you can think that not risking to lose my toes and fingers to hypothermia is reason enough for me not to think the water is fucking freezing!”

“It’s gonna be fun!”

You mumbled some curses as you moved further in the water, but Andrew wasn’t dragging you onwards now. Instead, he was still holding your hand, standing by your side and waiting for you to move further in the water at your own pace.

You shuddered again as water splashed across your chest, but then decided to simply dive fully under the water. It felt like being stung by needles, but the feeling was electrifying too.

You emerged gasping for air, while Andrew was chuckling next to you. And then he disappeared under the surface as well.

Once you had begun swimming, the cold was bearable, the effort to fight the waves and the current enough to keep your muscles warm. You had to admit that you had a bit of fun, until the wind started to get stronger and your teeth began chattering.

Andrew noticed, frowned at the sight.

“Alright, I think we’ve had enough,” he said, and you didn’t need him to say it twice before hurrying to the shore.

You couldn’t deny that it felt good, that you had fun in the water with Andy, swimming and playing together, and splashing him with water. You were so cold now though, you hurried back to your towel and clothes, and tried to get dry as fast as you could.

“You’re alright?” Andrew asked, his tone worried now.

You nodded, although your chattering teeth didn’t allow you to speak.

“Christ, you’re freezing…”

You were too busy rubbing the towel against your legs to reply.

Even after you had changed back into your clothes, Andrew holding up towels to hide you as you changed and looking away with a soft blush on his cheeks, you were still cold. You were surprised when Andrew started vigorously rubbing your arms to warm you up.

“You’re okay?” he asked once more.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just cold.”

“Didn’t know you easily turned into an ice cube!”

You didn’t think as you hurried into his arms. He simply seemed so warm now, wearing a green woollen jumper and a warm brown coat. He wrapped his coat around you, engulfing you into his warmth, holding you close.

You rested your ear against his chest, listened to the steady beating of his heart, although its pace was a little fast.

“You’re okay?” he asked once more, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if you didn’t have fun…”

“I had fun. It was nice. Although, I don’t think you’ll turn me into a winter swimmer.”

“Apparently not.”

“I don’t trust you for anything else now, just so you know. You have lost my trust. When you say ‘fun activity’, I know now that you mean ‘trying to kill you with hypothermia’.”

He laughed at that.

“So… you won’t come to my place tonight, then? A shame… I’ve bought everything to make you a pizza.”

“You mean… you actually making a pizza from scratch?”

“Yep.”

“I will reevaluate my trusting issues because that sounds bloody delicious…”

He laughed, the sound bright and merry in the cold wind of morning. You didn’t know how he did it so often, coming here before work to swim several times a week.

You felt him resting his lips on the top of your head, but didn’t acknowledge the gesture, didn’t think about it too much. You closed your eyes, feeling much better already…

Until Elwood finally joined you, and decided to dry his fur right next to you, sending droplets of water everywhere.

“Elwood!” Andrew complained, but you merely laughed, hiding into Andrew’s coat for protection. ‘Christ… you have no manners!”

He started laughing as well, being careful to keep you close.

“What about we grab some coffee before heading to work?” he asked into your hair, the warmth of his breath contrasting with the cold wind.

“Oh yes! And I’ll buy a muffin!”

He chuckled at that.

“I’ll buy you one. My treat, for thanking you for coming with me today.”

“I hate you a little for how cold that was. But it was fun, and invigorating. I get why you like doing it. I will… let the swimming in the cold sea to you though. Next time you want company, I’ll simply wait for you on the beach and play with Elwood.”

“Giving up so easily,” he teased.

“Say that to my fingers, they’re still numb!”

He took your hands in his, you were surprised by his gesture. He made sure to fully enclose them in his hold to warm them up.

“Better?” he asked in a soft, tender voice.

When you looked up at him, his curls were still wet from the sea, droplets falling from them and catching the light of the young sun. His cheeks were flushed with the cold, or maybe with something else too, you weren’t sure. What was certain was that he looked so handsome like this, his lips reddened by the cold tempting you, while you wondered if you would taste the ocean on his mouth if you kissed him…

His eyes were fully green this morning, leaves caught in a midsummer sun. And his gaze was so tender when he looked down at you, you wondered if Frank had ever looked at you this way…

Slowly, you nodded, not trusting your own voice. But Elwood started barking, bringing you both back to earth.

You took a step back, freed your hands from his gentle hold.

And you tried very hard, but it was difficult to slow down the beating of your heart.

Saoirse was struggling.

H-B had proposed his students an exercise today. They had to analyse a text, and could use their laptop to make some research about it if necessary. They could work in small groups as well. At the end of the lecture, they would combine their ideas, and get their professor’s feedback.

And everything was going well at the beginning, so much so that their teacher had stopped wandering through the classroom and was now sitting behind his desk, clearly working on something else given how absorbed he was by his screen. Only, Saoirse’s group was now stuck and running out of ideas. Flann O’Brien really was kicking her arse. Even Sean was struggling, and he did better than her in this class.

Sean… Mary, that piece of shite… she was hitting on him so hard, it was indecent at this point. It made Saoirse nauseous. And Sean didn’t tell her to stop, that he wasn’t interested, which had to mean that he was, indeed, interested. In Mary? Really? She was stupid. The only conversation she could hold for more than two minutes were about like… two subjects. Besides, they had nothing in common. Seamus loved rugby and hurling, she liked basketball. He loved cinema, she hadn’t watched a movie in months. She loved fashion, and Sean didn’t care about clothes. She was a rich, privileged young woman when Sean didn’t have enough money to pay for a new pair of shoes. Last week, she had spent half an hour complaining about the temperature of the private pool in her house, because it was ‘too hot to stay in for longer than forty-five minutes tops’. She didn’t care about classes, didn’t study much and didn’t care whether or not she would pass this year, when Sean was studying all the time…

What could Sean find interesting in her?

She sent him another of her disgustingly sweet smiles, and Saoirse was this close from throwing up… or punching her in the teeth, both options seemed plausible reactions.

“I think we should ask H-B… I really don’t know what else we can get out of this section,” Phoebe sighed.

Saoirse looked up, but their professor was still absorbed by whatever task he was completing on his laptop, and had stopped paying attention to his students.

“I’ll go ask him,” Saoirse offered, happy to escape Mary for a moment.

What could Sean see in her? She was dumb, and pretty, and rich, and carefree, and funny, and…

Christ, would he go out with her? Would he have a girlfriend? Why did she hate that thought anyway? They were just friends, he could date whoever he wanted!

And yet her heart sank at the thought…

She stood in front of her teacher’s desk, but he seemed too busy to notice her. She couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at his screen…

… and she was surprised to find that he wasn’t working at all, but browsing in search of a projector. Why would he want to buy a projector?

“Erm… professor?”

Andrew jumped, looking up at his student.

“Yes, Saoirse? Is everything alright?”

He hurried to close his laptop, clearly embarrassed.

“We’re kind of stuck… can we have a little bit of help?”

“Of course… of course…”

He cleared his throat, getting up to walk towards the small group. He was blushing hard, and Saoirse couldn’t help but find the sight adorable.

With their professor nearby, Mary’s flirting subsided, at long last. But once the class was over, that Sean and Saoirse were about to leave to grab a quick lunch before going to the library, Mary was back at it again.

“Sean! We’re going to a restaurant nearby with a couple of friends. Want to join us?”

He looked at Saoirse, who merely kept on packing her stuff in silence. After all, Mary was not addressing the invitation to her. She clearly only wanted Sean to come.

“Erm… we have classes this afternoon…”

“Oh, come on! You can miss a couple of lectures! It’ll be fun! Besides, I’m sure Saoirse will give you her notes, won’t she?”

He frowned hard at that remark, and Saoirse thought that it was because of Mary’s offer to skip classes. But she was taken aback by his answer.

“Wait… you weren’t inviting us?” he asked, making Mary laugh.

“I was inviting you, obviously.”

He blinked, then gathered his things again.

“Sorry, but I want to attend our classes this afternoon,” he declined, and Mary’s face fell.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Hope you enjoy your lunch.”

He turned to Saoirse, who was slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he told her, and she nodded, following him outside the room without a single look back towards Mary.

“Sorry about that,” Sean mumbled under his breath while they started to walk down a flight of stairs.

“Why are you apologising? You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“She was so impolite towards you… Christ, I knew she was hitting on me, but I thought she meant to invite everyone.”

“You could have accepted if you wanted to go out with her, I would have understood.”

“What makes you think I would want to date her? Have you ever listened to her? We have nothing in common.”

In her chest, Saoirse’s heart grew warm with contentment.

“Besides,” he added in a quieter voice, “I’d rather spend time with you, anyway.”

Her heart fluttered happily this time, and she pretended that their fingers grazing was just an accident as they both walked down the hall.

Dinner with Andrew was delicious.

The appointment with the tailor for Frank’s suit was approaching, and you were growing nervous, wanted to talk about it with him. Even if Andrew wasn’t so eager to get Sam back anymore, he still wanted to help you. You spent a long while talking about the upcoming wedding, about Frank, about Sam. By the time you had finished eating Andrew’s pizza and were slowly but surely emptying a bottle of red wine, your conversation had drifted towards other personal subjects. Your childhoods, your families…

You weren’t sure how you had found yourselves listening to one of Andrew’s jazz records, but you were now. You were the one convincing him to lie down on the ground to listen to it though. It heightened the experience, or at least, you claimed that it did. Elwood was unbothered by your antics, too busy playing with a plastic frog.

“I can’t believe you had to go through that.”

Andrew’s voice was quiet, barely audible above the saxophone of the vinyl playing. His ceiling had two long cracks running across its white, smooth surface. You studied their direction as you answered.

“Academic jobs are unforgiving for women.”

“They really asked you if you were planning on being pregnant in the coming months to accept you as a PhD student?”

You nodded, shuddering at the memory, at the humiliation that came with it.

“They didn’t ‘want to waste months’ if I got into the project and got pregnant. Also they considered that ‘if I wanted to have a baby, it meant I wasn’t prioritising work enough’. Of course, none of the male candidates had to answer any personal questions. I asked all of them. They were only interviewed about their knowledge in the field and their research project.”

“Fucking hell…”

“Yeah…”

You felt your throat tightening at the memory, at the sheer humiliation that came with being singled out because you were a woman, with being judged differently compared to men, with being reduced to a mother…

“What did you do?”

“I was too taken aback on the moment. I didn’t really know what to say, so I simply answered the question. I was chosen to get in. The same day, I had an interview with another team, one in Belfast. They were much nicer with me, didn’t ask me anything about me wanting to be a mother. So, I chose Belfast, left for Northern Ireland.”

“You were right to do so. Fucking pricks…”

He heaved a sigh.

“Did you report them?”

“They were the heads of department. They were the ones I should address the report to. What was the point? Besides, I was younger then, I didn’t know any better. I was worried about my career. I was scared.”

“The progress is too slow.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m really happy you didn’t give up, though. I’m really happy and proud to work with you.”

“Me too, Andy.”

You felt so vulnerable talking about this. And yet, you weren’t scared with Andrew lying next to you. The gentle music helped soothe you, open up pieces of your heart and soul that you longed to let out but had never dared to. Frank didn’t know about this story. You had cried so hard that night, on your own, and had never told him. You didn’t know why. Or rather, you did know why, but didn’t want to acknowledge that you shouldn’t have felt that way towards your partner.

You were worried he would not have cared…

“This is my favourite part of the song,” Andrew whispered, and you paid more attention to the music then.

There was such longing engraved in the notes, such nostalgia… you wanted to cry, or rather, tear your lungs apart, rip your heart out of your ribcage to make it stop yearning for a love you couldn’t have, one that you would likely never know…

On the cool tiles of the floor, you felt Andrew’s pinky finger brush against yours. You moved your finger to hold his.

There was a long silence, while you listened to the song. When Andrew spoke again his voice was shaking with emotion.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still love him?”

“What?”

“Frank. Do you still love him?”

You blinked, struggling to withhold your tears.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I just… I just want to understand.”

“Understand?”

“Why he’s better than me.”

You frowned hard, turning to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Sam left me for him. You…”

He seemed to hesitate, change his choice of words.

“You still have feelings for him, don’t you? Despite everything that happened? I don’t really understand why.”

You set your gaze on the ceiling again, tore the words from your throat.

“You still have feelings for Sam.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Because you’re falling for someone else?”

“Yeah…”

“Who is she? The woman you’re falling for?”

He looked at you then, you felt his gaze on you. You kept your own eyes on the ceiling, though.

He didn’t answer. You heard him drawing a sharp breath, but then he closed his mouth again and said nothing.

“I don’t know if I still love Frank,” you answered truthfully. “But I still want the life I had with him.”

“You could have that with someone else.”

“I want Frank… I want my life back.”

Andrew’s stare disappeared, you felt it as he looked at the ceiling again.

“As you wish.”

“Andy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think he could love me again?”

He didn’t answer, his silence spoke volume. You thought you would cry, but you didn’t.

“Someone else will love you, the way you truly deserve,” he spoke softly, his voice a little hoarse with emotions.

“The way I deserve…” you repeated the words to turn them in your mouth, taste their meaning and feel their weight, but he took it as a question.

“Deeply. Unconditionally,” he answered. “Religiously. Completely.”

“Do you really think someone could love me like that?”

He moved his hand to fully hold yours, intertwining your fingers together, and you let him.

“Y/N… I… I…”

He heaved a sigh. You heard him take in a shaky breath, but didn’t have the courage to look at anything but that crack running through the ceiling.

“Of course, I do, Y/N. Of course, I do. I know you are loved like that.”

Are…

You squeezed his hand, shuddered.

“I can’t wait to hear your poetry,” you decided to change the subject, feeling too vulnerable now.

“I’m so fucking nervous.”

“Don’t be! You’ll be brilliant. You were amazing that night, when you sang. You’ll be amazing at the reading too.”

“I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“I’m excited.”

“I hope I won’t disappoint.”

“You rarely disappoint, Andy.”

“That’s because you haven’t read my poetry yet.”

You laughed at that, feeling the atmosphere become lighter.

“I should go home, it’s late,” you reasoned yourself out loud.

“Hmm… or you could stay a little longer. We haven’t finished the album yet.”

You smiled, rubbed tender circles into the back of his hand.

“Besides… we might have a problem?”

“What problem?”

“I don’t think I can stand.”

You looked at him, at long last, frowning hard.

“There was a fight. My back vs the floor. The floor has clearly won.”

You started chuckling, but Andrew shook his head, although he was chuckling too.

“I’m not joking. I think I’ve thrown my back out.”

“Really?” you grew more serious.

“Yeah… really… I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

“Oh God! Christ! I’m so sorry, Andy.”

He chuckled.

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault. But… let’s not do that again alright?”

You got up, holding your painful back too.

“Oh God… are we really too old for this?” you joked.

“Imagine if you were my height?”

“I can’t, Treebeard.”

He chuckled, held out his hand.

“Please?”

You held his hand, carefully helped him up. He winced hard as he got to his feet, couldn’t stand straight.

“Alright, you should go to bed…”

“I’m okay…”

“Andy, you’re literally standing at a forty-degree angle!”

“I’m walking!”

“Go. To. Bed.”

“I was about to make a very dirty joke on that…”

“Thanks for sparing me.”

“You’re lucky I’m too much in pain to think of a proper comeback.”

He pointed at the kitchen.

“Third cupboard on the left. Painkillers… please…”

“Sure.”

You helped him to his bed, then went to seek his muscle relaxant and some painkillers along with a glass of water.

He was lying down again when you walked back into his bedroom.

“Stop feeling bad,” he admonished, reading right through you. “It’s not your fault. And it really isn’t too bad. I’ll be okay tomorrow morning. I just need my muscles to relax.”

“Alright…”

“Stop worrying. It happens all the time.”

“You’re in pain, of course, I’m worried!”

“You look cute when you’re like this.”

You looked away at his words, you noticed how he blushed before swallowing the pills.

“Do you need anything?” you asked him, but he shook his head.

“No… do you want to watch something with me?”

“It’s late, I should go home.”

“Oh… okay.”

He seemed disappointed, your heart grew warm at the sight, at the thought that he wanted you to stay.

“I don’t want to risk falling asleep behind the wheel.”

“You could stay. I have a spare bedroom.”

You pondered on the offer for a moment, but you yielded easily.

“Alright, I’ll grab your laptop. What are we watching?”

“Anything you want.”

“Something terrible then…”

“Why do you want to make me suffer? You’ve already broken my back…”

You laughed wickedly at him, but chose a nice movie instead.

An hour later, Andrew was less in pain, and you were fast asleep, lying by his side, in his bed.

He stopped the movie, grabbed his laptop, opened a word document. His back was still too painful for him to join you in Morpheus’s arms. Instead, he watched you as you slept, knowing that you would soon wake up again, apologise and be adorable in your embarrassment, and then you would get up and go to bed in the other bedroom; and he would regret feeling the bend of the mattress under your weight by his side, your warmth that spread through the sheets, the quiet rhythm of your breathing. But for now you were still there, asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful…

He could have said it. Tonight, he could have said it. Confessed it all. He hadn’t. He was about to let it slip between his fingers, but he was afraid to try to hold you and make you fly away instead. Just like a bird one would try to trap in a cage.

He stared at you for a moment longer, then set his gaze on the blank page before him.

He started typing.

I couldn’t utter my love when it counted…

[gallaghersgal]

Smoke & Mirrors || Lip Gallagher

chapter one of BORDERLINE.

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader (nickname: MK)

warnings & tags: the start of a SLOWburn. idiots with tension. mature for mentions of violence, smoking, swearing, canon typical dialogue and whatnot. y'all've seen the show!

chapter summary: lip gallagher has been your best friend since before you could remember. he's the smartest person you know, so it astounds you how someone like him can be oh so stupid. you're committed to investing in his future, even if he isn't. you won't let your best friend end up stuck on the southside.

a/n: ummmm hi!! wrote basically this whole thing in the last 24hrs. it's unedited and tbh if i look at it for one more second im gonna explode!! enjoy <33

wc: 2.9k

The crisp October air sends a chill down your spine as you usher your younger sister Caroline out the door for school. She groans and rolls her eyes when you grab her by the handle of her backpack, pulling her back to adjust her scarf. At a mere thirteen years old she already carries the same attitude you did at sixteen. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t wanna hear it. You were just sick, dad’ll have my head on a platter if I don’t make you bundle up.”

She stomps her foot, a stupid, childish action that has you mentally swearing to never have kids of your own. Helping raise this one was enough as it is. “It’s not even-” she starts, but you cut her off.

“I said I don’t wanna hear it. Wear your fucking scarf or I’m telling mom you make that tutor kid do your math homework.” You shove her head gently after securing the scarf around her neck and let her stomp down the stairs. “Don’t be a brat.”

She doesn’t answer, instead starting down the street towards the bus stop. Cigarette smoke wafts over the morning air from the Gallagher house. You turn to see Lip on the front stoop, blood shining on his brow as he smokes. You feel a twist in your gut. What did he get himself into this time, you think. The repetitive motion of locking the door comes like second nature and you spend the thirty odd seconds it takes worrying about the boy across the street.

When you turn towards the Gallagher house Caroline is already ahead of you, not waiting until she passes the chain-link fence to call out, “what happened to your face?”

You catch up in time to hear him scoff, “good morning to you too, Kit-Kat,” pulling out her childhood nickname, the one she still hates, that he gave to her when she was barely four. “‘S nothing. Battle scars an’ shit.”

“What the fuck kinda battle did’ya get yourself into?” you ask, leaning down to take his chin between your thumb and forefinger. The cut isn’t too bad, a lot of blood for a relatively small abrasion, but the skin around his eye is already blossoming a dark bruise. Lip stares at you as if to say ‘not in front of the kid,’ and you nod, fishing a five dollar bill out of your pocket. You were saving it for work, but Caroline’s silence is worth more. She raises an eyebrow, to which you snap, “just don’t tell mom, ‘kay? And don’t skip just ‘cause I'm skipping.”

Caroline turns to leave and you extend a hand to Lip, pulling him to stand. Eager fingers reach for his burnt-down cig when he goes to drop it, taking the final hit for yourself before stubbing it out on the sidewalk. “Greedy. Gotta buy y’own pack,” he remarks with a smirk. All it takes is a second to get back across the stress, and once you’re inside he unwraps the scarf from his neck. 

Your eyes catch on his bruised knuckles and you tilt your head to the side with a silent question, you gonna tell me what happened? He sighs, hearing you loud and clear despite not speaking a single word. “Got into it with Frank. He was givin’ Ian shit for no fuckin’ reason.”

“Mm,” you nod, and catch his hand after he runs it nervously through his curls. The bruises there aren’t as bad as the one on his eye, Frank must’ve only gotten one good, drunken swing in. No cuts either, which was good. For all his tough guy exterior, Lip Gallagher couldn’t stand the sting of peroxide. The less you need the better, you think, and a grin plays at your lips when you glance up at him, holding his injured hand up. “Think y’can roll a joint with these?”

His laugh is like music to your ears, revelling in the first grin you’ve seen from him this morning. “Yeah, yeah I can do that, y’wanna jus’ skip the whole day? We could catch a movie ‘r somethin’,” he suggests, following you upstairs to your room.

You shake your head, opening the door to your room for him. “Can't. Calc test in third period. Sit down, ‘m gonna get the first aid kit.” While you get the kit from the shelf in your closet you hear him open your desk drawer, pulling out the grinder and weed jar you keep hidden at the back.

“You got a shirt or somethin’ I could change into? This one smells like Frank’s fuckin’ booze,” Lip scoffs. He shrugs the tee over his head and lights another cigarette, his eyes following your every move with that same boyish twinkle you’d grown fond of over the years. It was always good to remember things weren’t getting to him, not too bad. 

You cast a glare in his direction, silently scolding him, ‘you know better, let me open the window,’ but he only grins in response. Pale morning light illuminates the room when you pull back your blackout curtains and crack the window. The city is still quiet–or, as quiet as it gets in Chicago–and the sounds of gentle wind and birdsong fall softly on your ears.

You settle at his side, first aid kit in one hand and a gray and black sweater of his in the other. Curious fingers reach for a small cut on his shoulder. “What’s this one from?” You trace the gash. It isn’t deep either, but it’ll need to be cleaned so it doesn’t get infected.

“It’s, uh, ’s nothin,” he brushes you off, to which you shoot him a glare. That sets him straight. In a low mumble he simply states, “beer bottle.”

Rage seethes inside you, your jaw tensing as you wet a cotton ball with peroxide. You keep any comments to yourself, not sure how LIp will react. You’re aware of his more than complicated familial relationships–you’d grown up with thim, seeing Frank’s drinking get worse, and the aftermath of Monica leaving–but if there was one constant with the Gallagher kids, it was family first, above everything. You had your opinions of Frank, and you knew Lip shared your distaste more than anything, but that didn’t take away the sensitive nature of the topic. So, you stay quiet, dabbing at the wound with a gentle hand. The sting draws a sharp hiss from him, and it’s then that you realize how flushed he is, his cheeks, neck and chest are a soft pink color. Graciously, you pretend not to notice, so as not to embarrass him further.

When the cut is cleaned and covered with a bandage Lip takes his sweater, pulling it over his head. It leaves his hair mussed and he smoothes a hand through his curls while you tilt his chin up, inspecting the cut on his brow. Blue eyes stare up at you with a vulnerability you’re not used to seeing from the boy you grew up with. At least you know he’s comfortable with you. That’s all.

Comfortable. Friendly. Nothing more. The same as it’s always been.

The way it’s meant to be.

“Quit starin’, get me fixed up so we can smoke this,” Lip grumbles, gesturing towards the rolling tray in his lap. You laugh at that, heart quickening in your chest. Tensions between the two of you had been thick as of late, but underneath it all things remained the same.

“Glad to know you’ve got your priorities straight,” you snort, cleaning up the second wound with peroxide. He takes it better this time, more prepared for the sting, but you still catch the way a few pained tears brim in his bright eyes. 

Soft, parted lips rest under your fingers as you clean the final abrasion. The bruising is the worst here, deep purple hues present across his mouth and down to his chin. He finishes rolling as you’re wiping at the blood that pooled below his lip, a deep red trail spilling down his chin. Your delicate motions are interrupted by Lip bringing the joint up to seal it, licking along the edge of the rolling paper. 

“‘M almost finished, be patient,” you murmur, focused on keeping the disinfectant out of his mouth. A moment later you pull back, swiping vaseline over the split before wiping the excess on his jeans. Payback for interrupting your tending to his wounds. “There. All patched up. Say ‘thank you nurse,’” you tease with a grin.

He’s already flicking the lighter on, holding the flame against the end of the joint to take the first hit for himself. You busy yourself with cleaning up the first aid supplies until he passes it off to you. Thick, earthy smelling smoke flows from his parted mouth, which lifts into a mischievous grin as he hands you the joint. “My lip’s busted up pretty fuckin’ bad. Think y’could kiss it better?”

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at his blunt proposal. “Shut up,” you retort with a sharp laugh, before you can even consider it.

Lip throws on an exaggerated frown, “oh, c’mon MK. You know it’d be so fucking hot- ow!” He flinches, chest shaking with laughter as you throw your remote at him. “Okay! Okay, I know I know. You’re not one of my g-”

“Little ghetto girlfriends,” you tease, repeating the drunken dig an alibi patron had once thrown at Lip. 

“Exactly.”

You shake your head, laughing at him for a moment. “You’re never getting in my pants Gallagher. I’ve known you since we were three. It’s wrong,” you lie. Lip is your best friend, the same role he’s filled your entire life, side by side since the two of you were in diapers. But your rejection stems from something deeper than that.

Lip Gallagher is inconsistent. You can’t exactly call him unfaithful if he never truly commits to one girl, but he’s not one for relationships. He’s flighty. He runs from affection. More often than not he buries his true feelings under snark and insults, weed, booze, and–when all else fails–aggression. That doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, it doesn’t mean you had no feelings for him, it just gives you reason to brush off his advances. For now, it can remain a little game between the two of you.

Months ago, when these unwanted feelings began to blossom in your chest, you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t be just another girl he messed around with. You aren’t willing to let him mess this thing up for the both of you.

Eager to change the subject you move to your desk, pulling out an informational packet from MIT. Before you can get a word out Lip is shaking his head, casting a skeptical glare in your direction. “Hey, come on. I just want you to apply.” You lean to hand the packet over but he reaches for the joint instead, which you pull away quickly.

“No you come on, why would I apply to MIT, seriously,” he shoots back, refusing to take the folder from your hand. He settles more comfortably in your bed, laying back against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting your eyes. “Bunch ‘f ivy league reject pricks ridin’ on daddy’s money. You’re lucky I’m even applying to schools in town.” Greedy hands reach forward for the joint again and you yield with a sigh, passing it over. As an afterthought, you toss the packet to him as well.

“Just consider it, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it,” he says. You don’t need anything but the way he avoids your eyes to know it’s a lie. 

You purse your lips, throwing an icy stare his way. Lip Gallagher may be your best friend, but you’re not going to take any of his shit. “Have you even got any applications in?”

The question seems to take him by surprise, tendrils of smoke curling from the corner of his parted lips. “I’ve got a few,” another lie.

“Really? What schools,” you question, head tilted to the side with a knowing look. “Don’t lie to me, I know you better than anyone. I can tell.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine, you got me. I haven’t applied anywhere yet.” The end of the joint has a good stretch of ash, which he’s trying to keep precariously attached while he takes another hit. 

“Scoot,” you mumble, grabbing your own binder of college information packets. He stretches one arm back towards your desk to snag your heart shaped ashtray and knocks the ash off, then lays the tray in the space between your bodies. You settle in beside him, your knees propped comfortably over the throw pillow that always ended up in the middle of your bed. One hand takes the joint and the other opens your binder. 

Pages upon pages of information, campus maps, scholarship pamphlets, and your hand written tuition calculations make Lip go a little cross eyed as you flip towards a page with a yellow tab. “Okay. Here, look,” you point at the information you’d circled, reading Engineering B.S., training the Innovators of Tomorrow. “UI Urbana-Champaign. Great engineering program–” you flip the page over “–and scholarships for kids from underserved communities.”

You settle the joint between your lips, flipping through a few more pages. After a deep inhale you use it to gesture towards the page. “Or UChicago, that way you’d be close to home. They’ve got this thing called inner city promise. Smart kids, like you, from certain high schools with certain academic records and test scores can get full rides.” You run a finger down the short list, stopping at a familiar name and tapping it. “See? Lincoln Grove High School. You’d qualify, Lip.”

“‘M not some fuckin’ charity case,” he grumbles, snatching the burnt-down joint from your hand. “You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Oh I’m a pain?” you snap, turning on your side to glare at him. “For what, believing in you? For not taking any of your self-deprecating, avoidant bullshit?”

He shrugs then, and the action is almost shy. He’s embarrassed. You have this innate ability to see him, the way no one else does. You scare yourself with it sometimes. “Just don’t know why you care so much,” he mumbles.

The sigh that leaves you is a deep, tired one. Convincing him of these things has always been difficult. For as smart as he is, Lip can be so infuriatingly stupid. “You’re smart, Lip. You’ve always been smart. I dunno what I would do if I went off to college and you stayed here. In this shithole.”

He doesn’t laugh the way you expect him to. He doesn’t brush it off. He just stares.

“We made a pact, did you forget?” you continue. He shakes his head silently, the far off look in his eyes letting you know he’s remembering that day. 

The day the two of you spent drinking by the pool. Making promises to each other. You’d said you would make it out, and you would do it together. You’d made Lip promise you that he’d give it a try, and stupidly you believed him. Or was it stupid? You’re not ready to give up yet. 

“I don’t want to do it without you,” you admit to him.

Lip looks at you, his blue eyes softening. “Do what without me?” You shake your head, scooting closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He stubs out the joint and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Friendly, comfortable affection. The kind you were used to. “C’mon MK, spit it out.”

“Any of it,” you return. “Don’t think I could get through another four years of school if you’re not doing it with me.”

“Yeah? What if we’re at different schools, dumbass,” he retorts, but his palm soothes across your arm, a contrast to his words. “You gonna follow me to MIT, since y’want me to go so bad?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, turning to look up at him with a grin playing at your lips. He got what he wanted. He made you laugh. “I’ll call you every night.”

“Every night huh?” he says with a smirk. “Cockblocking me from a thousand miles away is just like you, isn’t it.”

You shove him playfully, sitting up to move the ashtray off your bed. The MIT packet lays somewhere at the foot of the bed and you search through the pillows to find it. Instead of handing it to Lip, you just tuck it into his backpack, handing the bag to him after. “Well yeah, can’t have you getting distracted by the chess team girls,” you joke back. 

He lays there in your bed, looking up at you with that stupid grin of his. All bared teeth and mischief, the same one you’d seen all those years ago. You stay silent for a moment longer before you stand, holding out a hand to pull him up. 

“You sure we can’t just skip?”

“No, ‘ve got a test, remember? Gotta keep my grades up if ‘m gonna follow you all the way to MIT,” you say, and shakes his head with a laugh. Maybe he’s coming around to the idea. “Come on, I’ll drive us.”

thanks so much for reading!! series masterlist here.

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[warping-realities]

A Night in the Devil's Den - Part III

Fred was just stepping out of the bathroom next to the main stage when he witnessed Mark's transformation firsthand.

He was still dumbfounded, trying to come up with excuses for what he saw—it must have been some kind of light trick, but Mark wasn’t the type to pull a stunt like that. That was more Jamie's style; maybe he convinced Mark to get into this. Yeah, it had to be something like that, he thought, coming up with justifications as he decided to head back to the bar to look for his friends and get an explanation for all this. Just as he was about to take his first step, someone spoke to him.

“It could have been you! But now another kind of life awaits you.” Turning around quickly, Fred found himself face to face with the club’s bouncer, who was smiling enigmatically at him.

Not wanting to get into trouble and fighting the curiosity to ask the man what the hell he meant, Fred continued on his way. Halfway to the bar, weaving through the crowd, he spotted the performer Marco, all sweaty, strutting on stage toward the VIP area where the club manager was grinning at him. Finally stopping, he flexed his muscles.

“What a freak show,” Fred thought, but he couldn’t look away. “Why and how did Mark get into this? And how the hell did that transformation happen?” he pondered, diverting his gaze when the two men began kissing passionately, but not before sneaking one last peek and seeing them both looking right at him, smirking as if they knew something he didn’t. Which was probably true. He needed to find those two jerks and get the hell out of there.

As he approached the bar, he got shoved by one of the muscular drunks dominating the place. “Where had all the women gone?” He was sure there had been a ton of them when they arrived. Picking himself up, he realized he somehow ended up behind the bar. A young Latino man in his twenties looked at him, grinning like he knew him.

“There you are, Papi! I’ve been waiting for you all night!”

“What the hell was this?” He didn’t know who this guy was, but there was something in his eyes…

“Jamie?”

“It’s Javi, you’re hurting my feelings, Papi, after you took my ass so hard, you forget my name like that…” The younger guy said, stepping closer while his smile fading.

He needed to get out of there; something was seriously wrong, and he had to leave—now! Without thinking twice, he stood up and bolted.

When he reached the entrance, he once again bumped into the mysterious Mr. Shay, who was caressing and kissing Marco—or was it actually Mark?

Seizing the chance to escape that madhouse, he slipped out the door, breathing a sigh of relief for a moment before running smack into the massive black bouncer, who stared him down as if daring him to leave.

With no way out, he turned back only to find himself facing an even scarier sight. Mr. Shay, this time alone but with those massive horns on display, and Fred was sure the guy didn’t have time to put on any kind of prosthetics. To make matters worse, he heard the man’s voice inside his head.

“Fred, Fred, Freddie, always the weakest, always humiliated, needing to learn to fight with words because no one ever taught you how to use your fists. But does it have to be this way? Let me show you another option, Freddie; if you refuse to accept it, you can walk out that door, and no one will stop you, not even Hank out there, though I think he’ll be disappointed; he seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“That offends me, Freddie; I always give my clients a choice. You should know that from all the stories going around about me, most of them lies, but this one’s true. Plus, you don’t have choice.” The demon said as Fred fell into a dark abyss.

The first image he saw was of a blond kid like him talking to a strong, muscular older man.

“… Frank, you have to be strong; our land is surrounded by enemies, the Soviet Union has fallen, and independence will come, but we will always be surrounded by foes.”

… you have to be strong… be strong…

He was strong; by seventeen, he was a prodigy in various forms of combat, including Brazilian jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Krav Maga. He honored his father's request, becoming a man of few words but decisive actions.

… decisive actions… actions….

“Action will unfold at the border, and anyone who dares think it shouldn’t be taken seriously will have to deal with me.”

Lieutenant František Andel of the Czech Republic Army was known for his ruthlessness, always ready for war.

… ready for war… war…

The Russian invasion of Ukraine put all the states previously belonging to the Soviet Union on high alert, and the Czech Republic was one of the first to provide all possible humanitarian and military aid to the country. Frank was sent to ensure the delivery of projectile shipments, although under strict orders not to get involved in the conflict. What he didn’t expect was to meet Bohdan, a young man 15 years his junior, forced by circumstances to serve his country. Bohdan wasn’t like him; he was a sensitive, affectionate kid with a fantastic ass. Against everything he should have done, Frank let himself get involved, only to see the kid taken from him, which made all of Frank’s rage surface, causing him to lose his head and attack the Russians mercilessly in the midst of his despair.

… despair… despair… no mercy…

Frank looked mercilessly at the desperate face of his opponent, more than a year after Bohdan’s death, and he felt nothing—no pleasure, no anger, just a huge void that even the violent underground fights or the booze he downed every night couldn’t fill.

… booze… fill….

“What do you want?” he asked with a serious face while waiting for the owner of the dive fill hiss glass, maybe the seventh or eighth of the night, although deep down he knew that not all the booze in the world would be able to satisfy him.

“I have a job offer for you, a new beginning, new possibilities, maybe new… lover.” The man said with a smile.

The flood of information was so overwhelming that Fred could barely move. Still, with all the effort in the world, he turned and bolted for the door. Only to hear the demon’s voice whisper in his ear. “Unfortunately for you, Fred, my deal was made with Jamie; you were never my client.” Then with a single step, that torrent of information flooded his mind once more, with many more scenes and memories, as his body expanded, muscles piling on, covered by the black security uniform, and his young face aged a decade and a half until it became a tribute to rugged masculinity, and František found himself in front of his boss back inside the club.

“Called for me, boss?”

“Yes, Frank, Poncho came to talk to me about your relationship with his nephew. As antiquated as it may be, he wants to know what your intentions are with the kid. And since the man has been with me for centuries, I can’t ignore his concerns.”

“He doesn’t need to worry, boss; I have the best intentions for his nephew.”

“As the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe in hell. Hell is in our heads, and I’ve already lived mine, and I won’t miss the chance to find happiness before another hell comes.”

“How can you say you don’t believe in hell while working here, working for me?”

“Honestly, sir, if this is hell and you really are the devil, which I don’t think you are, I wouldn’t mind spending eternity here!”

“You flatter me, Frank! Now go find Poncho and calm his heart before you replace Hank; he’s itching for some fun.”

Frank walked through the club with all the confidence of someone who knew a single word from him could end any trouble, although deep down he longed for the chance for a good fight.

When he arrived at the bar, he didn’t find Poncho, but standing at the door leading to a secret room was Javier, looking at him with a seductive gaze.

“Did I do something wrong, Papi, for you to ignore me like this?”

“I’m not ignoring you, kid; I just had to sort out an urgent issue, and besides, your uncle was around. He was complaining to the boss, so I need to find him to talk about my intentions with you.”

“And what intentions are those, Papi?”

“The most serious ones possible, Javi.”

“How boring, Papi, because right now all I wanna do is have some fun.” The younger guy said, turning and swaying his hips seductively into the room, and Frank couldn’t resist following him inside with a smile on his face.

The two were wrapped up after some wild sex in the mirrored room overlooking the dance floor and stage of the club that the boss liked to use sometimes to feel like everyone was watching him while he pulled off the most unimaginable acts of depravity, although those on the other side couldn’t actually see anything through the glass.

“We need to go; our break is almost over, and I still haven’t talked to your uncle.” Frank said, getting up and pulling the smaller man close.

“Just one more kiss, Papi!” Javier said, attacking the bigger man with a passionate kiss until they were interrupted.

“I thought you were going to talk to Poncho, Frank. Instead, you came to deflower his nephew.” The boss commented, smiling, accompanied by the Italian porn star who was one of his regular partners.

“Sorry, boss, I didn’t find Poncho, so…”

“… so you decided to use my room to satisfy your carnal needs.”

“Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”

“Certainly not, because next time I’ll be joining you.” The man said, grinning. “Now go; Hank is gonna lose the little hair he has left if you don’t replace him soon. But Javi stays; Marco and I are gonna play a little. I hope there’s no problem with that.”

“No, sir, Javi can play with whoever he wants, as long as he knows the serious stuff is only with me. But I gotta say, after the speech you made about me needing to talk to Poncho…”

“Ahhh, hypocrisy is one of the perks of being the devil, my dear.” The boss replied with a mischievous smile.

….

“I see you didn’t waste any time.” Frank commented as he saw Hank approaching, wearing shorts and loafers instead of the uniform pants and boots.

“I gotta be quick before all the good ones are taken. You already put your paws on Poncho’s nephew, and I’m not crazy enough to try anything with the boss’s Italian. Though maybe I shouldn’t worry too much.”

“Why not?”

“Take a look at who’s coming over there.” Hank said, nodding toward a group of three young guys who were smiling as they walked toward them at the front of the line.

“Jerome’s group?” Frank asked.

“Jerome’s group.” Hank replied, grinning. “Hope you manage to catch at least some of the fun.”

“Oh, I’ll find a way. I’ll see you inside.” He replied before strutting confidently toward the boys.

“Hey, fellas, what do you want here?” he asked, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

“Good night, sir! Jerome told us to go straight to the bouncer at the main door and said that he hopes… that he hopes you… you have a… a hell of a night.” One of the braver kids said, or maybe just the most daring.

“Jerome, huh? IDs?”

“Here you go, sir.” One of them said, handing over the IDs he knew were fake, though he still made a point to scrutinize them with a serious look, just to intimidate the boys a little.

“Any problem, sir?”

“Nope, on the contrary, looks like you guys got VIP passes. Jerome must’ve liked you a lot.” He said while fiddling with a walkie-talkie before speaking again. “Jerome’s group is on the way.” He radioed before handing the IDs back to the kids and cracking a smile.

“Boys, looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night!”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

How about: showing Frank Castle your new lingerie? It can be fluff, it can be smut, do with it what you please! <3

Spin For Me.

frank castle x female reader

warnings - allusions to sex. cursing.

valentines masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

“Keep your eyes closed, Frank. I’m serious.”

He’s grinning, both hands pressed to his face as proof. He’s sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for you to come out of the bathroom.

“Come on, baby. Don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Good things come to those who wait!” you yell through the wood. Frank laughs, shaking his head.

You finally swing open the door, leaning against the frame with a hand on your hip. You take him in for a moment - the smile on his face, his relaxed stance, the way his sweatpants hug his thighs just right. Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat.

“Open ‘em, Frankie.”

Frank blinks in the lamplight, adjusting to the brightness. When his eyes land on you, his breath hitches in his throat. He rakes his gaze all the way down your body and back up again, slow and sticky sweet. His irises darken, lust blooming across his skin.

“Shit, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Goddamn.”

You push yourself off the doorframe, standing up straight.

“Spin f’me.”

“Hmm?”

“Spin for me, baby. Let me see you.”

You twirl around gently, like a ballerina in a music box. When you stop in your place, Frank gestures with his finger for you to spin the other way.

It’s almost voyeuristic, the way he’s devouring you with his stare. You feel like predator and prey, in the moonlight of your bedroom.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

The lace hugs your body exactly, every dip and curve accentuated. The colour compliments your skin perfectly, and your mind is running a mile a minute wondering what Frank is going to do to you first.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Frankie.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he chuckles. “Yes it is.”

He stands up finally, making his way over to you. You’re waiting for him to twist his fingers into the material and rip, like he usually does. Instead, he runs his fingertips over the lace trim on your chest, gentle and featherlight. He dances his touch down your sides and onto the top of your underwear, playing with the band softly.

“Want you to keep it on,” he murmurs. “Wanna see this lace against your skin when I eat you out.”

You exhale shakily, nodding your head.

“Plus,” he whispers, leaning down to mouth at your ear. “This pretty thing gives me something to hold onto. Better grip when I fuck you into the mattress.”

You drop your head forward onto his chest, bare skin warm against your forehead. You can feel the way his lungs are heaving, just as buzzed on the anticipation as you are.

“You’ve given me a gift, honey. Now let me give you one.”

He drops to his knees in front of you. You’ve never seen anything prettier.

[imagine-darksiders]

Transformers Prime: Optimus X Reader. Chapter 2.

The Letdown.

Part 1

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, Optimus is a big, overprotective worry-wort with a soft spot for humans, Reader has more issues than Vogue.

Let me know if you'd be interested in a part 3 :]

------------------

Optimus has always been an honest mech. Even before he was bestowed with the Matrix of Leadership, Orion-wet-behind-the-audials-Pax was about as good at carrying a lie as Miko is at keeping herself out of trouble.

Not much changed after Orion became a Prime.

Deception never came easily to him. Frank and truthful in all he does, there are times when even the principled leader of the Autobots has to concede that sometimes, deceit is a regrettable, but unavoidable necessity.

That doesn’t mean he’s grown better at it though.

Lying, in any capacity, makes the stoic and unflinching mech feel as if his glossa has been dipped in a coat of lead. To his own audial receptors, the insubstantial white-lie he’d coaxed you with sounded clumsy, even stilted – just two more things unbefitting of a Prime.

The Matrix had bucked inside his chassis when he fabricated the story that convinced you to accept his assistance. It had, however, quickly settled down after Optimus reminded himself that this was a lie borne from the best of intentions.

He may be the most fastidious in following his own self-set rule to remain incognito on Earth, but even a stickler like him could hardly ignore a human in need.

And you were in need, he reflects as he tentatively adjusts his rear-view mirror, angling it towards your face as surreptitiously as he can.

The memory of your desolate, beaten expression is bruised right into the forefront of his processor, where it’s sure to remain for some time to come. Bathed in the dim glow of his headlights, you’d stared up at his grill with the same frightened trepidity of a doe peering down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. You’d approached his open door with such caution, your tiny yet vital pulse rabbiting inside the veins and vessels that pump precious blood through your fragile, little body.

You were afraid of him, and it would be remiss of the great Prime to deny that the realisation had plucked at a tender node running through his spark-chamber.

It felt like a rejection.

‘Really, Optimus?’ He can almost hear Arcee’s cool, bemused ribbing now. ‘One human doesn’t like you, and suddenly your self-esteem takes a hit?’

She’d be right to tease him, of course. A Prime ought to be above such concerns.

Yet still…

A human had needed help, and Optimus’s very presence – once described as a comfort by Jack when the boy thought he couldn’t hear – was enough to almost instil a fear in you so profound, you’d have sooner braved the cold emptiness of a desert and your own exhaustion than accept his aid.

Optimus eases his engine to a constant, steady hum as he drives down Highway 49, his weary passenger secured inside his alt mode. Distantly, he notes how some of his custodial protocols have settled back to lay dormant amongst his codes once again, the same protocols that rear their heads like spitting cobras whenever he sees one of the children in danger.

But for now, there is no danger, and so, contented, the Prime allows himself to cruise at a lax pace towards the distant, twinkling lights appearing on the dark horizon.

Jasper.

You mentioned that your journey ends at the dairy pastures out towards the East of town, where well-watered fields of grass are nestled beneath the shadows cast by enormous, twisting rock spires.

But why are you heading there in the first place?

The silence inside his cab starts to grow stifling. And although the quiet doesn’t bother him in the least, Optimus is conscious of your bouncing leg, and the small, quivering fingers kneading anxiously around the straps of the bag you’ve yet to remove.

It doesn’t look heavy… The note you left on the window of your truck claimed that the vehicle is all you have, and he has no doubt that what little else you might call yours is tucked safely within the leather rucksack that’s currently pinned between your spine and Optimus’s seat.

It may not look heavy, but neither does it look particularly comfortable.

Beneath the shell of armour and metal parts concealing his face, Optimus feels his brow plates twitch in their attempt to furrow gently towards one another.

“Perhaps you’d-“ he starts, only to hurriedly cut the feedback to his voice box when you promptly go rigid against his seat, your drooping, crimson-tinted eyes flying open to roll around his cabin like a spooked equine mammal. “My apologies,” he amends contritely, letting his voice drop to such an unobtrusive pitch, it almost mingles with the purr of his engine, “I only meant to tell you, there is ample room in the footwell for your belongings…”

Leaving an indicative silence in his wake, Optimus regards you curiously as you tighten your grip on the tattered, leather straps slung over your shoulders, though your gaze does flick down to survey the space around your shoes.

You may have traded your name for his, but it’s clear you’re still wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

“Oh,” you eventually murmur, and he’s pleased to see your white-knuckle grasp go slack.

As you begin to slowly slide the bag from your shoulders, every movement stiff and uncertain, Optimus nonetheless lets out an approving hum and returns his senses to the road ahead, though his focus remains almost entirely on the soft speck of warmth shifting around in his passenger seat.

Not for the first time, Optimus is struck by how much larger cybertronians are than humans. Even when you lean forwards and lower your rucksack down towards his footwell, his sensors barely register your presence.

At least your weight is more substantial than Rafael’s, he muses.

Once, during a rare but pleasant occurrence in which he was the only bot available to shuttle their tiniest member from school to the Base, Optimus had tried – and failed – to refrain from checking that the boy was still safely strapped in his passenger seat every ten nanoclicks.

Giving his engine a rev to shake himself from the memory, Optimus speaks again, mindful to keep his volume low this time. “May I ask you something, Y/n?”

He watches as you finally relinquish your hold on the bag, letting it drop with the utmost care into the space by your feet. “Of course,” you say genially, turning less and less guarded as the warmth of his cab envelopes you, beckoning you towards a much-needed rest.

“What brings you to Jasper?”

Small talk is hardly Optimus’s forte, but the nature of your unfortunate circumstances had shifted something deep within his spark and left it murmuring unhappily behind his colossal chassis.

Oblivious to the Prime’s concern, you cast another doleful glance towards the driver’s side, leaning back until your shoulders just barely ghost the fabric of your seat. “Only business, I’m afraid,” you offer, vaguely, “Nothing exciting. What about you? Are you based out here?”

“I am,” your mysterious driver responds just as concisely before he swings the topic back around to you, much to your dismay, “But this… Terry-“ He says the name as if it’s entirely foreign to him, like a word in another language that he isn’t sure how to pronounce. “-Is he a friend of yours?”

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand, pivoting it lazily from side to side. “Not exactly…” you eke out. After a moment mulling it over further, you let your hand flop down into your lap again with a sigh. “Actually, no, not at all. He’s barely an acquaintance. I’ve only spoken to him once over the phone when he called to offer me a job.”

Optimus is too slow to mute the heavy hum that rolls through him, reverberating across his cabin and up through your seat.

You must pick up on his apprehension because you quirk one corner of your lips and exhale through a humourless chuckle. “I know… Ironic, isn’t it? I didn’t want to hop in a stranger’s truck, but I’ll travel all the way to Nevada to work for a guy I’ve spoken to once.”

Inwardly, Optimus fights back a frown. Soon enough, his cab is once again filled by his rich, mellow tone, just a few iotas shy of admonishing. “I assume you must have had a good reason for coming here.”

At that, you bark out a slightly louder harrumph. “I have a reason,” you admit before dropping your voice and tugging your brows together until they pucker at the middle of your forehead, gazing solemnly out through the windscreen, “Still haven’t figured out if it’s a good one or not…”

Frowning at the distant lights of Jasper, you miss the way the semi’s rearview mirror twitches microscopically to bring you into centre-frame.

The Prime casts his hidden optics discreetly over your strained expression.

Jaw cinched tight… Hands curled rigidly over your knees. Your whole frame is hunched in on itself, shoulders lifting towards your ears as if you mean to hide between them…

He doesn’t need to scan your vitals to know that your amygdala has just kicked itself up a gear.

You’re scared. And this time, something tells him that he isn’t the cause.

“Perhaps,” he starts slowly, waiting for you to unclench your jaw in response to his voice, “I could offer a third-party perspective.”

Snorting quietly, you reply, “To help me work out if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“It may ease your troubles to share them,” he offers considerately, having to override the urge to send a soothing stroke through your EM field – or lack thereof.

Sometimes, Optimus finds himself stumped for how to connect with humans on the same level as he can Cybertronians. It’s through no fault of their own, nor his. It simply comes down to a difference in biology.

With the latter, he can so clearly convey a feeling or notion through the electrical impulses cast out by his matrix, and the spark housing it.

Oftentimes, he’ll have to brush his field against Ratchet’s when the agitated medic starts kicking out frustration and, so often, despair. He more frequently does the same to Bumblebee if ever the youngling grows despondent from Rafael’s absence. Arcee’s bouts of fury at the Decpticons, and Bulkhead’s ferocious protectiveness over Miko… Prime has felt it all, brought them into his field, and countered with a presence intended to calm and reassure without having to offer a single word.

But humans… They’re more difficult to soothe.

He has to go by tone and expression alone. The children are easier to read, but adults are a different story; masters at hiding their truest and most vulnerable thoughts behind facades they’ve had years to perfect.

How often has he caught himself trying to wrap Jack, Miko and Raf up inside his solicitous EM field before he remembers they’re human children, not sparklings? They can’t feel his energies like a Cybertronian would.

But regardless, he hopes they know that despite maintaining a poised and collected exterior, Optimus has a spark that’s familiarised itself well with their own, precious heartbeats.

He’s pulled from his musings by your soft, sardonic laugh. “What’re you gonna charge me the going rate of a therapist?” you joke, giving the empty driver’s seat a wry smile.

“I would never dream of charging you for anything,” he insists at once, so sincere that you think he either missed the joke entirely or he’s trying to bulldoze through your defences simply by being nice.

“Good,” you hum, “Because I couldn’t afford a minute of time with a therapist, let alone a whole session. Spent the last of what I had on fuel just to get here.”

“If you require financial aid,” Optimus tells you resolutely, “I would be happy to provide it.”

There are responses you’d expect to hear, and then there are those that make you choke on your own spit.

Lurching upright in your seat, your brows shoot up towards your hairline and you whip your torso around to gawk at the invisible driver. “What!?” you all but blurt, throwing an arm out to steady yourself against the dashboard. “What the- What!?”

The vehicle around you seems to churr apologetically.

“Ah… forgive me,” Optimus hedges, sounding uncharacteristically contrite, “Have I offended you?”

Blinking in rapid succession, you flap your mouth open and closed wordlessly for a few seconds, reeling your heat back up from the bottom of your shoes. “Wh-I… No,” you stammer at last, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m not offended, I’m just..”

Cutting yourself off to huff out an incredulous laugh, you press a few fingers to your temple, rubbing at it tenderly. “Christ, you’re a hoot, Optimus.”

A quick search on the internet only serves to baffle Optimus further. And as he attempts to make the connection between himself and a nocturnal bird of prey, you drag a hand down your face and let out another disbelieving little chuckle.

“Scooping me up in the dead of night, and now you’re offering me money… People will talk.”

Flicking the information on Strigiformes from his HUD, Optimus politely returns his attention to you and asks, “Is it unusual to offer money to those in need?”

“Not if that they’re a charity,” you clarify, the smile on your face turning limp as you shoot his seat a glare that lacks any kind of heat, “I’m not a charity, Optimus. I’m just an idiot who can’t keep a job.”

The truck’s engine suddenly kicks out a guttural growl just as it’s driver firmly states, “You are far from an idiot, Y/n. And… my offer still stands.”

“An offer I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline,” you counter, though the frown on your face is slowly being replaced by a tentative smile, “Look, I appreciate the offer. I do. But you’re already going above and beyond to help someone you don’t know. If you keep being so nice to me, I’ll start thinking you came from the sky!”

All of a sudden, the semi’s brakes dip, only a little, barely enough to jostle you from your seat, but enough that you hastily glance out the windscreen to see if he had to slow for an obstruction in the road.

In the background, Optimus’s speakers give a burst of static before he forces out, “I don’t… The sky?”

“Yeah,” you answer blithely, “You know, like an angel.”

A hush falls over the cab as Optimus processes your words. After a time, the only think of any substance he can come up with is a soft, considering, “Oh…”

The same quiet settles itself over your shoulders, weighing them down, and you start to wonder if you’ve inadvertently insulted your mysterious driver by rejecting his offer too harshly. Before you can open your mouth to try and salvage your standing with him however, he clears his throat and utters, “You flatter me.”

“Do I?” you ask, sinking back into the seat and turning to peer out of the window, glad he doesn’t sound affronted, “Sorry if I seem out of practice, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… in a while.”

Optimus goes silent again, leaving you to listen to the rumble of his semi’s tyres travelling over the tarmac for several, lonely moments until he speaks again.

“You’re lonely,” he deduces, so gently and so condolingly that something in your chest gives a squeeze. Then, once again, just as you take a breath to protest his assumption, he asks, “Y/n? Why did you leave your home to come here?”

“… Ah…” Sucking a breath through your teeth, you sit up, lifting your back off the comfortable seat, much to Optimus’s private dismay, “Well, that’s… that’s a long and boring story,” you try to laugh.

As if in response, the truck slows down a few notches until the needle hovers over the forty mark. “I’ll wager it isn’t boring at all,” he prompts, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in your brows starts to cause an ache, and you stuff your teeth into your bottom lip to distract yourself. “It really is a classic,” you chuckle, wholly intent on brushing his concern aside, “You’ve probably heard it a hundred times before. Straight from the runaway’s handbook.”

Softly, the strange but kind man chides you. “Y/n…”

A lump starts to form in your throat but you force another laugh through it, pulling your chin from your knuckles to aim a look over your shoulder, hoping that his cameras don’t pick up your quivering lip. “Wait… Are you actually a therapist?” you joke, “Is that your day job?”

“Please?”

With a single word, your mouth snaps shut.

Swallowing, you try to bristle defensively, wishing you weren’t so hatefully tired and vulnerable that a simple ‘please’ could knock down a wall of indifference. “Come on, Optimus,” you scoff weakly, “I’m not about to offload my baggage onto a stranger. And we both know you’re not really interested.”

Unheard by you, a strong puff of hot air blasts from the semi’s smokestacks.

“I am loathe to contradict you, youngling,” he retorts, briefly throwing you off with the unusual word, “But I am interested. If you are in some sort of trouble-?“

At once, your spine turns stiff and you cut him off with a scowl, snapping waspishly, “-Who says I’m in trouble?”

Somehow, when he falls silent this time, he manages to exude an air of mild objurgation, and you can’t help but feel like a teenager again, slinking home well after midnight to find your parents still up and waiting for your return.

The comparison humbles you, takes some of the wind out of your ruffled sails.

Optimus’s pointed silence sinks over the cab like a thick, cumbersome blanket, too itchy. You want to throw it off.

Sullen, you swivel yourself back to face the window and lean your forehead against the cool glass, frowning out at the silver-soaked desert drifting by. Your mysterious stranger’s semi drives so smoothly, you can’t even feel the bumps.

But you can feel Optimus’s eyes upon you… somehow, as though he’s just waiting for you to make the next move.

Shifting in your seat, you stubbornly ignore the awkward silence, but it isn’t long before that awkwardness evolves into a kernel of guilt that embeds itself under your ribcage.

Here’s a man who so far, has been nothing but cordial and helpful to you. Hell, even downright generous. All he’s asked of you in return is to hear your reason for being here.

And what did you do?

You threw his – likely genuine – interest back in his proverbial face.

But to tell him…-

‘-Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ you scold yourself, ‘You’re not that exciting. You could have been through far worse, after all.’

Resisting the impulse to groan aloud, you knock your forehead gently against the window, considering.

For his part, Optimus doesn’t press you, he doesn’t clear his throat or try to change the subject, he just… waits.

And finally, alongside a great heave of your chest and a woebegone sigh, his patience is rewarded.

“You ever feel… like…” Squinting, you work the sentence over in your mouth before pushing it past reluctant teeth, “Like you’re not living up to everyone’s expectations?”

If you had any idea who you’d just asked that question of, you might have realised what the sudden lurch of his engine means.

Chalking it up to the truck changing gears, you peel yourself away from the window and stare down at your lap, fingers absently fiddling with one another. “It’s like… Okay, so, you know how people around you always say, ‘just try your best, that’s all you can do?”

When it becomes clear that you’re actually poised, expecting an answer, Optimus ventures a careful, “I have heard that many a time, yes.”

“And you want to try your best for them, right? You want to be a better person?”

“Of course,” he says far more easily, only to hesitate when you go still and your face crumples.

“But… you don’t want it badly enough...” you eke out slowly.

“…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t want it badly enough to actually put any effort into being that person, you know?”

This time, Optimus doesn’t offer a response.

You almost want to smile. Of course he doesn’t know. Look at him. Picking up a random stranger in the night to drive you where you need to go, offering a sympathetic ear to listen to your troubles, offering money when you tell him you lost your job… If he put effort into being better, they’d have to make him a Saint.

“I wasn’t… giving my best,” you finally sigh at the centre console, “At my job, at home… I knew I wasn’t giving my best, and I didn’t try to. I had everyone fooled into thinking that what I was giving them was all I had…. But it wasn’t…”

Suddenly, your eyes blur over with stinging, salty tears, and you duck your head at once, frowning angrily at yourself, “Not even close.”

Optimus murmurs your name, but you can’t bear to let him try and say anything kind to you now, not when you’ve just plucked at such a tender wound, and kindness would only rip the scab off sooner than you’re ready to let it bleed.

“I was, um… I was late to work one morning at my old job,” you clear your throat, sweeping a finger roughly under your eyelid, “Overslept. That was grounds for firing me. Lost my apartment because I couldn’t make the rent anymore… When I eventually bit the bullet and went home to tell dad, he…”

Your voice fades out, clogged by the memory of that day so many weeks ago, another in a long line of disappointments you’d walked over your parents’ welcome mat.

But Optimus is still waiting, still reserving his judgement until you finish, so you take a breath, remind yourself that all of this is nobody’s fault but your own, and continue. “I think… it was slowly killing my father to see his kid wasting a perfectly good life instead of being the person he thought I’d become.”

You try so hard to remain aloof, but the late hour, the solitary journey, this stranger’s amicable nature… Something akin to a shard of glass wedges its point under the soft tissue of your heart.

And jabs.

Suppressing a wince, you plaster nonchalance into a shrug and sniff, “So, I figured if he couldn’t see me, like at all, he might… be happier.” It’s hard to admit, just as it was when you made the decision to leave your house that night and set out to find your own way in the great, wide world.

Finally, just as the semi drives past a large, green sign that reads ‘Jasper city limits,’ Optimus’s voice rumbles through the speakers.

“You left your home,” he begins slowly, “Because you thought you might disappoint your father?”

Close.

You left because you knew you already had.

Not just him either.

Partnerless, childless, you’ve been drifting through life by yourself on the path of least resistance, and every year, you grow older, and you watched your mother and father grow older too.

Leaning your head back against the seat, you nearly let your eyes slip shut before remembering you’re supposed to be staying awake, pinning them open to peer up at the blue light reflected off a dark ceiling.

“… Does he at least know where you are?”

You smile sadly, rolling your neck around to your other shoulder and giving the empty driver’s seat a heavy-lidded blink. “He knows I’ll be okay.”

Just then, the seatbelt seems to grow ever so slightly tauter around you, just enough that you can feel it press against your abdomen, but so briefly that you can’t be sure it isn’t your chest hitching.

“He must be worried about you,” Optimus prompts.

Shrugging, you turn back to face the window. “Like I said, he knows I’ll bounce back. I… usually do. I mean I have done so far.”

Another disquieted hum trickles out of the speakers.

“That’s why I had to get to the dairy tonight,” you sniffle, blinking hard as the truck passes beneath the first street-light, bringing you safely within the city outskirts, “I have to make sure Terry thinks I’m worth keeping on as a farm-hand. If I’m late on my first day and he decides I’m not worth it…”  Your hands ball into clenched fists in your lap and you grit your teeth, determined not to let your misty eyes spill all over Optimus’s seats.

“I need this job,” you croak, more to yourself now than your invisible listener, “Not sure how many bounces I’ve got left in me.”

This time, you’re certain the seatbelt tightens. You even spare it a glance when it doesn’t slacken again, and you force your fists apart to slide your fingers beneath the fabric, gently working it loose.

Optimus is barely aware of your touch. “You should try to contact your father,” he says at last, “I’m certain that if he hears of your circumstances, and learns why you left and where you are, he’ll be able to help you.”

He watches you blink, frowning suddenly and sitting up to give his side of the cab a baffled look. Slowly, your expression opens up as a realisation dawns on you, one not yet privy to the mech.

“Oh,” you say, mildly surprised, “You think it was only my decision to leave.”

-----------------------------------------

Optimus doesn’t know which is worse.

That you could feel like such a burden to your family, you thought leaving would make them happy.

Or the fact that your family had done nothing to stop you from walking out the door.

--------------------------------------

There aren’t a great many things that a Prime is permitted to regret.

That does not, however, make them incapable of regret. Only the admission of it.

By the time Optimus’s gargantuan tyres turn onto the long, sandy driveway of Terry’s Dairy, he realises he’s added one more contrition to his ever-growing list. He’s gone behind your back, turned a blind optic to your wishes and invaded your privacy in a way that made the matrix in his chassis squirm and howl.

But it’s all he could think to do for you at short notice, he laments, short of carting you back to the silo and ensuring you get some proper rest. Ratchet would probably take one look at your vitals and order a week of inactivity. Then he’d likely tear Optimus a new finial for bringing yet another human into their fold.

It would be counterproductive, he supposes. After all, the Decepticons aren’t aware of your existence, and affiliating yourself with the Autobots will only paint a target on your back.

No, leaving you here is for the best, he reasons, though he resolves to avoid going behind your back again in the future.

He also resolves to make the drive up to the pastures part of his weekly patrol… Not for any particular reason – it’s possible the Decepticons also prowl along these old roads… And if, on his way by, he happens to cast a glance over and see you, well… All the better.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright?” he asks for the umpteenth time as he trundles to a stop in front of a modest, wooden farmhouse, his headlights bathing the little white porch in their dazzling glow.

Giving a jovial roll of your eyes, you haul your rucksack out of the footwell and reach down to press the seatbelt release, having to jab at it with your thumb a few times before it eventually relents and lets go of the metal buckle.

“Don’t you worry about me,” you tell him stoutly as you reach for the door handle. That too, you struggle to open, tugging at it with no success until the lock promptly goes ‘click’ and the door swings open of its own accord.

Clicking your tongue at the temperamental tech, you arduously slide yourself from the seat and swing the rucksack over a shoulder, climbing backwards down the steps. “You just worry about getting this truck in tip-top shape. Sounded like the engine had a mind of its own.”

Dropping the last foot to the ground, your knees threaten to buckle, but you manage to remain upright, stepping back to smile up into the cab before the door tugs itself shut.

Right on cue, the semi’s idling engine lets out a noisy rev, instantly drawing a laugh out of you.

“Ha!” you grin, “Yeah, just like-”

You’re promptly interrupted by an unexpected commotion from the house.

Whipping your head towards the porch, you let out a yelp as the screen door suddenly bursts open, and from the darkness comes barrelling a short, stocky man wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts, a single shoe, and a ferocious snarl.

But most alarmingly of all, is the shiny, side-by-side shotgun held aloft in his arms, the stock braced against his shoulder and one, keen eye staring straight down the sights.

All the moisture in your mouth dries up when you realise those long, glinting barrels are aimed directly at you.

“What the-!?” is all you can bleat out.

Without a moment’s warning, the truck beside you roars to life and suddenly lurches forwards on its wheels, thrusting itself like a wall of metal into the space between you and the gun-toting farmer.

“Wh- Optimus!” you exclaim, trying to stand on your toes to fruitlessly see over the semi’s grill. “Terry!? Is that you!?”

“I told you sons of bitches,” the incensed man hollers, “F’I ever caught you tryn’a mess with my cows again, I’d-!”

“Terry!” Stepping sideways, you attempt to move around Optimus’s semi, only for the truck to roll forwards, keeping you hidden safely behind its bumper.

“Optimus, stop it,” you hiss, planting a palm on the warm, thundering hood and darting around the front of his truck, too quickly for him to move forwards again lest he squash you beneath his radiator.

Lifting your voice, you hurriedly call out, “Terry, i-it’s me! Y/n? We spoke on the phone! About the job!”

You’re met with a stunned silence as you manage to skirt around to the other side of the semi’s bumper, keeping your hand on the metal as if that alone could keep the ten-tonne machine at bay.

Finally, ‘Terry’ comes into view, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you meet his steely glare through the sights.

Then, just as swiftly, he blinks, and the gun drops almost at once, his face bursting open in surprise. “Y/n? That you, kid?” he calls.

The palpable relief almost brings you to your knees. Taking your hand off the truck’s grill, you step forwards, eyeing the gun warily as it dangles at the farmer’s side. “Yeah, it’s me… Sorry.”

“Goddammit, Kid! You about gave me a damn heart attack!”

“I gave you a heart attack!?” Expelling a shaky breath, you card your fingers through your messy hair and add, “Jesus, Terry. Was the gun really necessary?”  

There’s a line of sweat beading on the farmer’s wispy brow as he flicks his gaze between you and the revved-up truck lurking behind you. After a moment of squinting, he returns his eyes to you. “Can’t be too careful,” he grunts, “This old thing ain’t even loaded. Just use it to scare away some damn kids who’ve been comin’ round here and spookin’ up my herds.”

True to his word, Terry breaks the shotgun’s barrels, flipping the gun around in his hands to show you the empty chambers.

At that moment, as if he’d been waiting to determine that the danger had passed, Optimus puts his semi in reverse, rolling it backwards over the sand as you turn to watch him leave, absently raising a hand to wave farewell as he turns the truck around.

Just before he does, the semi’s headlights blink once, then twice, on and off, a farewell in his own right, before its wheels carry it around in the spacious yard and it begins to drive, leaving the way it had come, back up the lonely, sand-choked track.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Terry breathes, draping a wrist over his forehead and letting out an incredulous chuckle, “The Angel…” Tearing his eyes off the truck’s retreating taillights, he stares over at you, mouth crooked into a lopsided grin. “How the Hell’d you get a ride with the goddamn Angel?”

“I’m sorry,” you sputter, eyelashes flickering in disbelief, “Angel?”  

Terry’s expression morphs from giddy excitement to a wistful, faraway gaze. “The Angel of Highway Forty-Nine,” he says breathlessly, his eyes sharpening once again as he turns them back onto you, “He’s a legend. Just showed up one day in that big ol’ truck of his. Noone knows who he is or where he came from! A ghost, that’s what folks say, who drives his rig up and down the roads around Jasper. Never stoppin’ for gas. Never gettin’ to where he’s goin.”

Suddenly, his demeanour shifts again, and he closes the distance between you, lowering his voice conspiratorially and lifting his hand up to his mouth as if to shield the words from prying ears. Though the only ears you can see are those of the cows watching sleepily from their barn, no doubt awoken by the ruckus. “I know folks who swear, when they drive past him on the road, they look, but not one of ‘em has ever seen a person behind that windscreen!”

“Oh my,” you return, feigning intrigue with a tired expertise, “That’s spooky. But… maybe the glass is just tinted?”

Terry leans backwards out of your bubble, spreading his arms wide and pursing his lips. “Maybe,” he concedes, only to immediately drop his arms again, and you watch in mild concern as his face splits into a wide, borderline-manic grin, “Or maybe… He’s an alien, and that big rig there?” He points the barrel of his shotgun down the farm track at the spot where Optimus had disappeared. “That’s his craft.”

…. Ah.

Paying dutiful attention, you follow his line of sight, eyebrows high on your head and a carefully pensive gaze laid bare for Terry to see.

“His craft?” you echo, “You mean like a spaceship?”

The old farmer’s face lights up and his eyes zero in on you like a car salesman who’s just spotted a clueless customer stumbling into his showroom.

It took twenty minutes for Terry to show you to the little annex you’d be living in from now on. And only another five for you to thank him profusely for giving you this chance, bid him goodnight, shuck off your shoes and rucksack and finally, finally flop face-first onto the bed. A real bed. With pillows and sheets and a blanket. Not the bed of an old pickup truck and a coat tossed over your legs for warmth.

Rolling onto your back, you splay your arms out on either side of you, sending a tiny smile up at the ceiling.

“Alien… Ha,” you laugh softly. Terry’s a character. Decent enough, but the scent of stale beer and hops lingering on his breath when he leaned in close stole some of the credence from his theory.

Now, Angel… you can get behind. Optimus had shown up right when you needed him, after all, even if you couldn’t see it for yourself at the time.

Ah, but Optimus is the good sort. And good sorts tend to drift to where they’re needed, helping out wherever they can. You’re not the good sort. You just muddle on through and go wherever you can, helping out where your help is invited.

You resolve to bite the bullet and just check how much is in your current account. See if you’ve got enough in there to hire a tow, or a friendly farmer with a tractor and a rope…

The passcode screen flicks away, and you’re left blinking tiredly at the figure on top of the page.

You blink once.

Then again, harder.

Then you promptly drop the phone onto the bed with a soft ‘whump.’

Snatching it back up, you gape at the screen, drop it again, then throw your hands over your mouth in abject horror.

There must be some mistake. You’re dreaming, you fell asleep, and this is a dream, surely to god!?

A third check yields the same results, and once again, you toss the phone away from you to the foot of the bed, staring after it as if it might come alive at any moment.

No matter how hard you squeeze your fingernails into your scalp, you can’t wake up from whatever twisted fantasy you’ve stumbled into.

The numbers and words are burned into your retinas, flashing dimly every time you blink.

‘$10,000 has been added to your account.’

[zomtart]

Chapter 1: Morphine and Lavender (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

okay this is terrifying but hi I am going to share some of my writing! this is just a snippet I wrote cause Frank is always on the brain. thank you tuna team for the encouragement <3

content warnings: hospital, canon-typical violence/gore, mentions of needles, language

word count: 1.1k

Frank was beginning to think they had left him in there to die when he heard a knock. You opened the door with a huff, brushing your hair out of your face before giving Frank a curt nod.

“Alright, hi, sorry, I know I’m not your assigned nurse but everyone in my unit decided to take lunch at the same time, so you are stuck with me at the moment.” you mumbled, barely looking up at Frank as you wheeled your computer stand to his side. You stayed outside of the duct-taped line, but it didn’t seem to bother you much. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered at all. Frank’s eyebrows furrowed together as you pulled up his medical youet, searching for his name.

“Okay, you are Mr…Castle?” you asked, the sound of your mouse clicking echoing in the small hospital room.

He blinked, dumbfounded. “...yes ma’am.”

You nodded, your relaxed (but rather exhausted) expression staying constant even as you said the name that was headlining every newspaper in New York. 

“Mr. Castle, could you give me a pain rating on a scale of 1-10?”

He blinked again. He felt like he had fallen into some sort of alternate universe. His assigned nurse hadn’t talked to him in the few days he’d been here, much less give him treatment he’d give another patient. An innocent patient. 

“Mr. Castle?” you repeated. 

“Right--uh…five.” he said quietly.

At that, you raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down slowly. You eyed the numerous bruises, cuts, and scars he was no doubt covered in, and asked, “That your final answer?” 

Something like a smile itched at his lips, but he forced it down. “...yes.” 

You shrugged, typing something into your computer. “Alright, well at least the painkillers are doing something. I’ll make sure to get a refill for that--” you paused as you looked at the full IV bag of morphine, following the IV down to…the floor.

You grabbed at the IV, looking at the wire and then back to Frank. “Did you yank this out?”

“No, ma’am.”

“The fuck?” you murmured, before understanding seemed to dawn on you. The cuffs, the bright red line of tape, the bruises on his face. Frank waited for disgust, for you to become terrified, for you to spit in his face. Instead, you stubbornly set your jaw and walked back to your computer. 

“Who the hell is your nurse?” you sounded furious, but it didn’t seem aimed at him.

Frank, through his confusion, could only shrug.

You rapidly typed at the keyboard, eyes running up and down the screen. Then you stopped scrolling, eyes narrowing. “Did he have blonde hair? Eagle tattoo on his forearm?”

Frank vaguely remembered the eyes of an eagle staring back at him as he faded in and out consciousness from the pain, a man with blonde hair sneering down at him. He nodded. 

“...motherfucker.” you all but growled, and the sound turned into a jagged laugh. You threw your hands up. “Aaron. Of course it--god fucking…damnit--”

Frank felt he was obligated to ask, or maybe his curiosity got the best of him. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

You laughed humorlessly again, words tumbling out of your mouth. “Oh yeah. I’m just peachy. I haven’t slept in two days, haven’t been in my own bed in almost a week, and all because I need to take extra shifts. Why do I need to take extra shifts? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I decided to move to New York fucking City where an apartment room costs more than an arm and a leg! And just when I think--oh just when I think I’m gonna get that promotion? No. No, I lose it to Aaron, who won’t even do his goddamn job correctly!” you finished with a burst of gusto, before collapsing down into a chair.

You just sat there for a minute, face buried in your hands, and Frank wasn’t quite sure what to do besides give you the grace of silence. 

The absence of noise was quickly interrupted by your pager going off, and you reluctantly held it up to your vision before sighing and putting it back at your hip. It seemed to snap you back into reality, and you stood up and smoothed down your hair.

“I’m…very sorry about that Mr…” you glanced up at the computer again. “...Castle. I’m--that was unprofessional, it has just been a…very long week.”

Frank’s eyebrows furrowed. “...you really don’t know who I am?” 

You grabbed some gloves from the table and snapped them on. “Someone very humble, I see.”

That got him to laugh, a low rumble that made its way out of his throat. He…couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. It felt nice. Familiar, even after all this time. 

You shook your head with a small smile, grabbing the IV and sterilizing it. “No, I do not. I’m not even sure what day it is, to be honest.”

He nodded, stretching out his arm for you and making a fist. “But you…I mean they told you…somethin’, right? A warning?”

“I vaguely recall being told to stay behind the red line besides when absolutely necessary, yes.” you said, readying the needle. “Small pinch.” 

He stared, barely registering the sensation of the IV. “...so you…then why would you…?” He tried to find the answer in your face, but all he could see was concentration onyourtask. 

“Why would I…?” you repeated, waiting for him to continue. With the IV in his arm you took your gloves off, typing something on your computer.

“...I don’t know, you’re just being awfully kind.”

You pursed your lips, a hand going to your hip. “I’m not being kind, I’m doing my job. I took an oath to help people, no matter who they were, and that’s what I’m doing. Simple as that.” 

He grunted absentmindedly, his eyes flitting to the window. Ten stories down, New York raged on, lights flashing like fireworks. “Doesn’t seem simple.”

You shrugged. “It is to me.” you started wheeling out your computer. “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Hopefully that IV will help. If that dipshit comes in here again, you tell him about nurse malpractice. You have constitutional rights, even if you are off robbing banks or whatnot.”

With that, you were gone, the faint scent of lavender left in your wake.

Frank blinked. “...robbing banks,” he mumbled before closing his eyes, letting the numb feeling of morphine finally lull him into sleep.