#'it's just the two of us in the house now and the truth is...i'm afraid of betty. sometimes the way she looks at me...i think she's going t

[charliemwrites]

Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3

Content: Jealousy, Acts of Devotion, Declarations of Love, Kissing

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[newobsessionweekly]

Fire and fight

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Crossover 911 x The Rookie

Tim Bradford x Buckley!firefighter!reader

Evan "Buck" Buckley x sister!reader

Summary: Tim finds out about the illegal fights and the complicity of your brother and Eddie.

Angst to fluff

Warnings: violence, injuries, illegal activities, not proofread yet

A/N: A little crossover, but it's absolutely safe to read it if you didn't watch 911. Had a little time to spear due to my excruciating back pain that forced me to stay in bed for 2 days (I didn't stay in bed, was just an excuse to not study, yesterday I deep cleaned my whole house + cooked)

Requested: no

Words: 3.5k

You sit at the worn wooden table in the firehouse, the sounds of laughter and friendly banter filling the air around you. Tim's presence beside you is both comforting and electrifying, his rugged charm and unwavering support a constant in your chaotic world.

You steal a glance at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way his hand brushes against yours in a subtle yet intimate gesture. You can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man who's become such an integral part of your life.

Despite the lively atmosphere, your mind drifts to the weight of the recent calls you've faced, the images of destruction and loss still fresh in your memory.

You've been together for months now, and though he knows you well, there are parts of yourself you've kept hidden, afraid to expose the darkness that sometimes consumes you.

As the team shares stories and jokes over lunch, Tim's eyes linger on you, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and concern.

"You seem distant today," he remarks softly, his hand finding yours under the table. "Everything okay?"

You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with the weight of your troubles.

"Just tired," you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "It's been a rough week."

Tim nods understandingly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Well, if you need anything, you know I'm here for you, right?"

You nod gratefully, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Despite your best efforts to keep him at arm's length, Tim has a way of breaking down your defenses and seeing straight through to the heart of you. It both terrifies and exhilarates you, this vulnerability you share with him.

Tim leans in closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Hey, I was thinking," he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Why don't you sleep over tonight? Just the two of us."

Panic grips you, and you cast a desperate glance at Eddie, your close friend and confidant, silently pleading for help. Eddie meets your gaze with a knowing look, nodding subtly as if to say, 'Go ahead, I've got your back.'

Summoning a smile, you turn back to Tim. "I'd love to, but I promised Eddie I'd help him with Christopher tonight," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Eddie, who was sitting across from you, shook his head subtly before joining your lie.

"And I really appreciate it, Y/N. Thank you."

Tim's disappointment is palpable, and you feel a pang of guilt knowing you're the cause. Lately, it feels like you haven't had much time for each other, your duties pulling you in different directions. But you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth, to let him see the vulnerability lurking beneath your facade.

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his eyes filled with understanding.

"It's okay," he says softly, "We'll figure this out."

As the lunch break nears its end, Tim's gaze meets yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring you in the present moment. There's a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance.

"Be safe, okay?" he whispers, his voice a soft caress against your skin.

And then, in a moment of unspoken longing, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that steals your breath away. Time seems to stand still as the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a bubble of warmth and intimacy.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. It's a silent exchange of love and reassurance, a promise to weather whatever storms may come your way. In that fleeting moment, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, as if all the pieces of your fractured soul have finally found their home.

As Tim pulls away, his eyes meet yours with a mixture of tenderness and longing. It's a bittersweet moment, filled with the promise of what could be and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. But in that moment, all that matters is the warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips.

His forehead rests against yours, and you can see the love and concern in his eyes.

"You be safe too," you whisper.

As Tim leaves for patrol again, you watch him go with a heavy heart. The minute he’s out of sight, Eddie and Buck approach you with serious expressions. Eddie's arm is a solid, reassuring presence at your back as they guide you to the lockers, closing the glass door behind them. Their grave looks make your stomach churn.

Eddie is the first to speak, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I don't like this, Y/N. Lying for you, especially to Tim. He deserves to know what's going on."

Buck crosses his arms, his brows furrowed with concern.

"Seriously, you need to stop this. All of it. Think about what will happen when he finds out. I'm not sure which one he'll kill first."

You shake your head, trying to brush off their worries.

"If he finds out. And he will not, trust me."

Eddie steps closer, his eyes searching yours with a mix of anger and concern.

"How long do you think it'll take before he sees the bruises, huh? Dammit, Y/N, I see them."

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"You see them because you know where to look."

Buck's voice softens, though his frustration is still evident.

"Tim's a cop, sis. A very good one if you didn't notice. He will find out and when he does—"

Before he can finish, the fire alarm blares through the station, cutting off the conversation. The familiar rush of adrenaline surges through you as the call to action drowns out everything else. You all move quickly, your argument momentarily forgotten as you slip into firefighter mode.

Eddie gives you a lingering look, his eyes filled with unspoken words, before he turns to head to the engine. Buck places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"We'll talk about this later," he says, his tone softer but still firm.

The end of the shift arrives like a welcome reprieve, but for you, it's just the beginning of another battle. Driving to the location of the illegal fights, your mind races with a mixture of determination and apprehension. The sight of Eddie's and Buck's cars parked nearby only fuels the fire burning within you as you approach them, your steps heavy with pent-up frustration.

"What are you doing here?" you demand, your voice tight with simmering anger as you confront them.

"Making sure you're okay," Eddie meets your gaze and furrows his brows as he speaks. "I don't want to see Bradford angry. He scares the shit out of me when he's happy..."

Your jaw clenches at the mention of Tim, your thoughts momentarily drifting to the repercussions of him discovering your secret. Pushing those thoughts aside, you shake your head stubbornly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

Grabbing a beer from a nearby cooler, you plop down on the trunk of a car, Eddie and Buck flanking you on either side. You crack open the beer and take a long sip, the cool liquid doing little to quell the fire burning inside you.

Buck leans in close, his voice a hushed whisper. "You need to quit these fights, Y/N. It's not worth it."

Eddie nods in agreement, "We're worried about you."

You take a long swig of your beer, the liquid burning a path down your throat.

"I can take care of myself," you mutter.

But Buck's frustration is palpable as he reaches out to grasp your hand.

"We know you can, but this isn't the way to prove it. You're risking your life for what?"

You pull away from his touch, your gaze hardening.

"It's none of your business," you retort, your tone sharp with irritation. "I don't need you to babysit me."

As your name echoes on their lips, the crowd erupts into cheers, their voices blending into a deafening roar as you step into the center of the makeshift ring. Surrounded by eager spectators, you feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on you, fueling the fire that burns within.

Your brother and Eddie watch you from the sidelines, their expressions etched with concern as you face off against your opponent, a behemoth of a man twice your size and weight.

Within the perimeter, surrounded by the thunderous cheers of the crowd, you allow your thoughts to drift away, consumed by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. With each stretch of your limbs, the tension in your muscles tightens, fueling your determination to win.

The fight begins, and you move with a fluidity and grace that belies your size. You dodge and weave, your movements swift and precise as you deliver blows with calculated precision. But the man before you is relentless, his attacks coming fast and furious, each strike leaving a mark.

Blood trickles down your face, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as you fight back with renewed strength. Your fists fly, each punch landing with a satisfying thud as you refuse to back down. The intensity of the battle is palpable, the air crackling with electricity as you and your opponent trade blows.

In the midst of the chaos, a sense of euphoria washes over you, a rush of exhilaration that eclipses the pain. For a fleeting moment, you feel alive, untethered from the burdens that weigh you down. In that moment, there is only the fight, and the sheer joy of testing your limits.

Your brother's concern etches lines of worry across his forehead as he watches the fight unfold, his eyes darting between you and the towering opponent.

"We should stop her," he insists.

But Eddie shakes his head "It's too late now," he replies, "They have to finish the fight."

Buck hesitates, his hand hovering over his phone as he weighs the consequences of calling your boyfriend. "I'll call Tim," he decides finally.

"Wait, Buck. Think about this." Eddie reaches out, his hand closing around Buck's wrist. "She'll hate us."

Buck hesitates for a moment, weighing his options, before relenting. "Tim's the only one who can talk her out of this," he says, determination in his voice as he dials the number. "She'll thank me later."

Tim arrives shortly after Buck's call, his expression a mask of concern and frustration as he rushes to your side. He had been about to clock out and change when Buck's urgent call came through, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios as he drove the streets to reach the location.

When he sees you, battered and bruised, a pang of heartache grips him. He's torn between wanting to hold you close and shake some sense into you. The sight of your pain is unbearable, and he struggles to contain his emotions as he approaches.

You're taking a break, sipping from a beer while Eddie inspects your wounds, his brow furrowed in concern. Though nothing serious, the bruises will leave their marks.

Despite the pain, you're all smiles and pride, reveling in the thrill of the fight. But when you catch sight of Tim, the smile fades from your face, replaced by a look of guilt.

"Tim?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you search his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Tim's heart clenches at the sight of you, the blood and bruises marring your once flawless skin a stark reminder of the danger you willingly put yourself in.

"No, what are you doing here, Y/N?" he retorts,"What are you thinking? How can you be so reckless?"

"I'm not reckless," you protest, "I like it."

"Look at yourself, Y/N," he implores, his gaze softening. "Do you like what you see? Is this really what you want?"

Before you can respond, the break is over, and the announcer calls your names, signaling the start of the fight once more.

"Gotta go."

Tim watches helplessly as you disappear into the crowd, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Despite his love for you, he knows he can't force you to change, can't protect you from the dangers you willingly face. And as he watches you disappear from view, his heart breaks a little more with each step you take away from him.

As you return to the center of the 'ring', determination burns bright in your eyes, fueled by a desperate need to prove to Tim that you're not in over your head. You know what you're doing, and you're determined to show him that you can handle yourself.

The crowd roars with anticipation as the fight resumes, but this time, you're ready. Every movement is calculated, every strike precise as you weave and dodge with a grace that belies your size. You're quicker, sharper, and more focused than ever before, fueled by a burning desire to prove your worth.

Buck's voice breaks through the chaos, his concern evident as he turns to Tim. "Why don't you stop her, man?" he asks, his eyes pleading for action.

But Tim shakes his head, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of pride and worry. "She hates you for calling me," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation. "No need to have her hate me too."

Eddie chuckles at their exchange, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Told you," he remarks, watching Buck with amusement.

As the fight reaches its climax, you find yourself on top, your opponent unable to keep up with your skill and determination. With one final, decisive blow, you send him sprawling to the ground, the crowd erupting into cheers as you emerge victorious.

As you collect your winnings from the bet, you make your way back to the three men, their concern palpable as they guide you to their cars.

Eddie pulls out the first aid kit, his hands gentle as he cleans up your wounds, his gaze soft with sympathy.

But it's Tim who captures your attention, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, searching for some sign of understanding, of acceptance, but all you find is disappointment.

In that moment, as you stand before him battered and bruised yet still standing tall, Tim's heart aches with a fierce love for you. He knows he can't protect you from every danger, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. And as he watches you, his resolve only strengthens, determined to be there for you no matter what.

As Tim pulls out his phone and dials Lucy's number, you can't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over you.

"What are you doing?"

Tim ignores you, his focus on the phone call as he speaks in hushed tones. When he finally hangs up, his expression is grave as he turns to Buck and Eddie, who have finished cleaning up your face.

"Chen's taking a night shift. Can you stay here and make sure no one leaves before the cops arrive?" he asks.

Buck nods solemnly. "Yeah, man. Sure."

You feel defeated as you watch the exchange, knowing that Tim's disappointment is palpable. "Tim..." you start, your voice trailing off as you search for some way to reach him.

But Tim turns away from you, his heart breaking at the sight of your face. "I'm not talking to you now," he says quietly.

Turning back to Buck and Eddie, he issues his final instructions. "Chen will call you when they're close. You leave this place immediately. Understood?"

Buck and Eddie nod in agreement, their expressions somber as they prepare to carry out Tim's orders. As they make their way back, you remain seated on the trunk, swinging your feet like a child who knows they're in trouble.

Tim closes the distance between you, kneeling before you with a tenderness that breaks your heart all over again. Cupping your cheek with one hand, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, his voice soft with tenderness. "You're coming home with me."

You nod silently, too defeated to argue. Climbing into your car, you follow Tim back to his place.

Tim closes the door behind you, his expression unreadable as he watches you from across the room. Sitting in the middle of the room, you feel like a child who knows she's in trouble, awaiting her punishment with bated breath.

Tim's hand rests gently at your lower back as he guides you to the couch, his touch both comforting and protective. As you settle onto the cushions, a sense of unease settles over you, your heart heavy with guilt and apprehension.

"Are you mad at me?" you finally muster the courage to ask.

Tim's expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his love for you shining through the worry and frustration.

"No, baby," he replies, his voice gentle. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried about you. I don't want to lose you."

He takes a deep breath, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he struggles to put his feelings into words.

"I don't want to lose you," he admits, "I fear enough when you're out on calls, taking unnecessary risks with Buck to save lives. I don't need to worry about your safety off-duty, too, especially when you're doing something as dangerous as that."

You listen quietly, absorbing his words as he speaks.

"But why?" he asks, his voice pleading. "Why do you do this?"

You hesitate for a moment, grappling with the weight of his question before finally finding the words to respond.

"It's extra money," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation. "And it helps me. When I'm out there, I don't have to think about anything. No more problems, no more pain. And when I win, it's the best feeling in the world."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the pain of knowing that you're seeking solace in something so dangerous. He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"But, baby," he murmurs, his voice filled with love and concern. "Those fights are not good or fun. And you shouldn't have to risk your life to find peace. I'm here for you. Always."

His words wash over you like a wave of warmth, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and protection. In that moment, you realize just how lucky you are to have him by your side, a constant source of strength and support in a world filled with uncertainty.

Tim's expression softens as he looks at you, his eyes filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

"If you really want to fight, you can do it with me," he offers, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and determination. "I know a thing or two about that. I might even let you win, but only if it means keeping you safe."

His words, though tinged with playful jest, carry a weight of sincerity that fills your heart with warmth. You feel the depth of his love for you in every word, in every touch, and you're overwhelmed by a rush of emotion.

"But seriously, Y/N," he continues, his voice soft but resolute. "You need to stop doing this. I love you, and I can't bear to see you getting hurt again. It kills me to see you like this."

"Wait," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "You love me?"

Tim's smile widens as he reaches out to cup your cheeks, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I do, baby," he murmurs, "I love you. Even though you drive me insane and make me worry about you every second."

A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, a warmth spreading through you at the realization of his feelings. "I love you, Tim," you confess.

"But was it really necessary to call Lucy?"

Tim chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I am a cop, after all," he replies, his tone playful. "I couldn't just walk away from that. And besides," he adds with a teasing smile, "I didn't have enough cuffs for everyone. Just for you."

You play along, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Oh, you gonna arrest me, Officer Bradford?" you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

Tim leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I have something else in mind," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "And cuffs might just help."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and as you lean in to kiss him, you're filled with a sense of warmth and belonging that only he can provide.

[universefcb]

Can you do a lamine story where his gf is hesitant about him buying her stuff because she doesn’t want people to think she likes him for his money but he reassures her that he actually likes buying her things and will defend her if anybody says anything to her?🫠🫠🫠🫠

All for you

Pairing: Lamine Yamal X gf!reader

Summary: You're dating, and he loves giving you expensive gifts. But lately you've been feeling bad about helping people think you're with him for the money.

Warning: Mention of y/n, fluff

Author's note: I got tired of just black, now I'm using colors similar to the photos, because the black coloring is irritating me because it looks too dark in the photos.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

Ever since Lamine Yamal started dating her, his life had taken on a new glow. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before—with her, everything felt lighter. More real. But with that came the inevitable complications of having a public relationship, even if they tried to keep it discreet.

That afternoon, he showed up at her house with a mischievous smile and a designer bag in his hand. It was a gift, yet another one, that he had bought with enthusiasm when thinking about her. A delicate necklace, with a small heart-shaped pendant. Something that, in his mind, would have been just a loving gesture. But when she saw it, she hesitated.

"Lamine…" she began, biting her lower lip, without even opening the box yet. "You didn't have to."

He chuckled, coming closer and placing the bag on the coffee table.

"I know I didn't have to. But I wanted to."

She looked away, uncomfortable.

"I just… I'm afraid of what people will think. They'll say I'm with you because of interest… because of your money." Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "I don't want people to think that about me. You know that's not why."

Lamine frowned, moving even closer until he held her face gently between his hands.

"I know," he said firmly, looking into her eyes. "And that's why I'm comfortable giving you the things I do. Because I know you're not with me because of that. I know who you are."

She took a deep breath, moved by the direct way he spoke. But Lamine didn't stop there.

"And if anyone says any shit about you, I'll be there. To defend them. To make it clear that it's my choice to spoil you. Because you deserve it."

She tried to contain her smile, but she couldn't. Lamine was like that—intense in his words, sincere in his feelings. He never did anything halfway.

"I just don't want to be the target of comments," she confessed, calmer now. "Sometimes I'm afraid of what people on the internet say."

"I do too," he said with a shrug. "But I'm more afraid of seeing you deprive yourself of things because of it. So let them talk. We know the truth."

She was silent for a few seconds, then reached for the bag.

"Can I open it?"

"Please, right? Otherwise I'll return it and buy something else tomorrow," he joked, making her laugh.

She opened the box carefully, and her eyes lit up when she saw the necklace. It was beautiful. Simple, but full of meaning. Just like the two of them.

She hugged him tightly, hiding her face in his neck.

"Thank you, Lamine."

"I love you," he murmured.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @merinottt @htpssgavi @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[allthingsfangirl101]

Handy Ranch Man – Tyler Owens

Tyler Owens, the "professional" Tornado Wrangler, and I grew up together. We have been best friends since we were 5 years old. Our moms met at a grocery store and planned a playdate. We've been joined at the hip ever since. 

Until he decided to spend his life chasing tornadoes all around Oklahoma. 

He didn't talk to me about it before he started. I didn't know what he was doing until after he'd already posted three videos chasing different storms. While he was risking his life every day, I was training horses at my parents' farm.

I haven't talked to him since he came home after his first "storm-chasing season". He stopped by my parents' farm to talk about it, but I couldn't. I couldn't sit back and listen to his crazy close-to-death experiences. After hearing how their truck flipped, I snapped.

~ ~ ~

"Stop!" I yelled, cutting him off. 

"What?" He asked. My heart sank when I saw that he was genuinely confused. 

"I don't want to hear about this," I said. I stood up, grabbed his empty glass, and put it in the kitchen sink. I forced the butterflies to calm down as he followed me. He gently grabbed my elbow and turned me around.

"What are you talking about, Y/N?"

"You just told me at least 4 stories about how you 'escaped death', Ty. Your words. You expect me to be okay with that?"

Tyler's face dropped when I pulled my arm out of his hold. "I thought you'd at least be excited about it," he scoffed as I started to walk out of the kitchen. 

"Excited?" I challenged as I slowly turned back toward him. "What on earth would I be excited about, Tyler?! Excited for you to get hurt so bad, I lose you? Excited to watch a video where you get sucked up and thrown across the county by a damn twister? Excited for someone to tell me the news tha you were never coming home to me?!"

Silence fell between us as he realized the truth behind my questions. I watched, tears in my eyes, as he opened and closed his mouth.

"I'm not putting myself through that, Tyler," I whispered. "If you decide to go off and do this, you do it without my support. I'm sorry."

~ ~ ~

It's been two years since that fight. Two years of me trying and failing to ignore any videos the Tornado Wranglers posted on their channel. Two years of me tightening my hands into fists whenever someone mentioned Tyler and his group – which happened all the time. 

Eclipse and I trotted back to my family's ranch, heading toward the barn. I have been training Eclipse for several years now and he was finally ready for his and his owner's show next week. I jumped off of him and put him back in his stall. I hung up his saddle and started walking back to the house. I froze when I saw him waiting a few steps from the house.

"Hey, Trainer," he teased as I slowly walked toward him. "Been a long time."

"Taking time off from trying to get killed by a natural disaster?" I asked, not stopping by him. I didn't stop until my hand was on the doorknob and Tyler spoke up.

"I'm always safe, Y/N," he said. "For you."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" I asked without turning toward him. I didn't move as I heard him walk up the porch and stop behind me. 

"I think about you every time we're about to chase a tornado, darling."

"Was that meant to make me feel flattered?" I scoffed, looking over my shoulder at him. His eyes made my resolve weaken. Just a little bit.

"No," he said, dropping his voice. "It was the start of an apology. Every time we were getting ready to chase a storm, your words two years ago popped into my head. And I had a moment of doubt, a moment of fear."

"But," I stuttered as I slowly turned around, "you're not afraid of anything."

"That's not true," he whispered, taking a step toward me. "I'm afraid of disappointing you. I'm afraid of causing you pain. I'm afraid of leaving you all alone, gorgeous." 

"And yet," I said, my voice breaking, "you run into the storm anyway."

* * * * *

After I left Tyler dumbfounded on the front porch, he eventually left. I didn't see or hear from him for several days. Until I was headed outside to await the arrival of a new horse, Archer. I was hired to break and train him. Apparently, he can be kind of violent.

When I walked outside, I was expecting to see a horse trailer. Not my ex-best friend fixing my dad's fence. I shook off the weird feeling I felt as I forced myself to forget about Tyler Owens and focus on my daily chores.

I was walking past Tyler with my arms full of feed when I heard him gasp in pain. I turned around and saw him with his foot lifted and a large piece of wood on the ground. I dropped the feed and jogged over to him.

"Are you okay?" I panicked, scanning him.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Guess I didn't drill that hole deep enough."

When he looked up at me, there was something different in his eyes. "Thanks for running to save me, darling."

"You didn't need. . . I wasn't trying. . ." I cleared my throat and looked away.

"You mind giving me a hand, gorgeous?" He asked.

I didn't say anything as I helped him. I couldn't help but look him over as he worked. I struggled to ignore how he looked in his tank top as he nailed the piece of wood into place.

Once he was done, I let go of the log and wiped my hands. "Thanks for the help, Trainer. You didn't get a sliver or anything in your perfect hands, did you, darling?" 

"I'm fine," I said, not looking at him. My heart jumped into my throat when he tore off his gloves and grabbed my hands. I watched him as he studied my hands closely. 

I sucked in a breath when Tyler looked up and smiled at me. "Still just as perfect," he teased. We stared at each other for too long, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. It took his eyes glancing down at my lips to make me finally pull my hands out of his. He started to object, but I ignored him.

"Listen, gorgeous. . ."

"Why do you do that?" I asked, cutting him off a little too harshly.

"Do what?" Tyler asked, his playful facade fading.

I finally turned back to him as I clarified, "Call me things like 'gorgeous' and 'darling'."

"You don't like my pet names for you?" He asked, trying to sound like it didn't bother him, but I could tell that it did. "I've always called you pet names like that."

"No," I elongated. "When we were little, you called me variations of my name. Never. . . Romantic pet names."

We both stared at each other when I said that. To be honest, I've spent too much time analyzing why he calls me those pet names. He started back in high school after he found out some cheerleaders were picking on me. Tyler didn't let it go too far. After he stood up to them for me, he changed. He walked me to class, picked me up after, stayed by me all through lunch, and started calling me cute pet names. 

"Do they bother you?" He finally asked, bringing me back to the present.

"No," I stuttered. "I just noticed that something. . . Changed." Just then, a horse trailer pulled in. "Perfect timing," I mumbled as I walked away. 

I glanced back over at Tyler as I waited for Archer's owner to lead him out of the trailer. He was still watching me as he slowly cleaned up his supplies. I wasn't sure what he did as I started trying to train Archer.

Archer has rejected three of the best trainers this side of the Rocky Mountains. He hasn't felt settled since they bought him. I didn't know much about where they got him. Rumor was they saved him from a stud farm that wasn't taking good care of him. 

I don't usually struggle taming horses - that's why so many people brought their horses to me. But Archer. . . He was different.

"Come on," I gasped, tightening my grip on his reins. I took a step back when he started to buck. "Calm down, Archer. Take it easy. I'm just. . ."

I gasped in pain when he backed up on his rear legs and kicked me in the shoulder with his front.

"Y/N!" I heard Tyler yell. I clenched my shoulder in pain and rolled so I was lying on my other side. I opened my eyes, just in time to watch Tyler jump over the fence and sprint toward me.

He knelt next to me and gently helped me sit up. "Are you alright?" He asked. "I saw him kick you. What do you need? I can get your dad. I can take you to the hospital. Just tell me what you need."

"It's not that bad," I cringed.

"Liar," Tyler chuckled. I held my shoulder as Tyler wrapped his arms around my waist and helped me stand up. With his arms still wrapped around me, he led me to his truck.

"Just take me inside," I objected. "My dad can. . ."

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Y/N," he cut me off. It was then that I saw how worried and freaked out he looked.

I don't think I've ever seen him look like this.

That's why I let him put me in his truck. We didn't talk as he drove. Every once in a while, he'd look over his shoulder at me.

"I'm fine," I whispered.

"It looks bad," he mumbled.

"I've been kicked by a horse before," I shrugged, instantly gasping in pain when I did. My gasp made Tyler's head snap toward me. 

"When?" He demanded.

"When I was little," I stuttered. "I broke my arm and collarbone."

"And you still train horses?!"

"You run into storms. . ." I said but didn't finish.

"Well," he scoffed, "I'd stop if. . ."

He didn't finish. He's never talked about stopping chasing twisters before.

"What?" I gently asked. "What would make you stop chasing?"

"If someone I loved got hurt." He said, slowly looking at me. My heart jumped into my throat when his eyes glanced down at my shoulder. We drove the rest of the way in silence. 

As soon as we walked into the hospital, nurses ran toward me and ushered me away from Tyler. I looked over my shoulder and saw him nervously run his fingers through his hair.

About an hour later, I was patched up and was able to go home. I walked into the waiting room to see Tyler sitting down, focused on his hands, which never seemed to stop moving. He looked up, instantly jumping when his eyes landed on me.

"Y/N," he gasped, running to me. He gently grabbed my arms, rubbing them as he scanned me. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I tried to reassure him. 

"What can I do?" He asked, his eyes soft.

"You can take me home," I said softly. 

"I can do that," he said, visibly relaxing. Tyler grabbed my uninjured arm, instantly intertwining our fingers.

Without another word, Tyler led us to his truck. As he drove me home, my adrenaline finally wore off and I ended up falling asleep. I woke up a few minutes later to Tyler gently tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Hi," he whispered when my eyes fluttered open. "We're home."

He helped me out of the car but didn't stop there. He led me into my house and all the way up to my room. I smiled as he helped me into my bed and pulled the blanket up to my waist.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked.

"I'm okay," I smiled. I laughed when he fixed the pillow behind me. 

"I can get you some pain medication. Or some food. Or another blanket," he listed off.

"I'm fine, Ty."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" He asked, studying me as he gently sat on the edge of my bed.

"You could stop chasing those damn tornados," I mumbled. His eyes sank.

"Y/N. . ."

"You could stop risking the life of the man I. . ."

"The man you. . ." 

"My best friend," I corrected. "The life of my best friend."

I dropped my sentence when he scooted toward me.

"Just the life of your best friend?" He asked, his voice light as he started to lean in. 

"Who else. . ."

His face was inches from mine. "Could it be that you want me to stop risking the life of the man you love?" He asked, his breath hitting my face.

"I'm not. . ." I stuttered.

"It would be okay," he smiled, "because I'd hate to hurt the woman I love."

"The woman you love?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The woman I love," he nodded. I gasped when he delicately pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my good arm around his neck, pulling him closer as I kissed him back. We both smiled into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I didn't think about the repercussions of making this jump with him. All I could think about was how right this felt. I let out a small moan as he slowly laid us down, him hovering over me. We broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"Tyler," I whispered, "I know you love chasing storms but. . . I can't lose the man I love."

"You won't," he said, getting serious. "I promise, Y/N. You will not lose me."

"Can't you just stay here and continue helping my dad on the farm?" I offered teasingly. 

"As much as I would love that," he chuckled as he gently got off me. He didn't continue until he pulled me into his arms and leaned us against my headboard. "I mean it, darling. I would love to stay here, work for your dad, and start a life with you. But. . ."

"But I can't ask you to walk away from your dream," I finished for him. "I understand, Ty."

"Thank you," he said, letting out a sigh of relief.

"That doesn't mean that I'm suddenly okay with you chasing storms and putting yourself in danger."

"I know," he chuckled. "I meant it earlier, baby. I am careful. My team and I are really good at what we do. We have all these emergency systems and back-up plans. We are as careful as we can possibly be."

I slowly sat up and looked at him. "You promise?" I asked, my voice soft. Tyler gently grabbed my chin and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss with a smile instantly on his face.

"I promise, gorgeous," he whispered, still holding my face. "I will always come home to you."

Masterlist

[lanaroff]

House of Broken Hearts- Chapter 4

Paring: Wanda Maximoff and Reader

Warnings: Angst

Prologue. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

a/n: I posted two chapters in a row because chapter 3 felt a little bit empty of content. Comments are more than welcome! <3

The cold glow of the night's light barely illuminated the common area as you sat at the table, surrounded by piles of mission reports, data, and a stack of unfinished tasks. Your mind was miles away from the paperwork, consumed by a storm of emotions you could barely keep contained. You were used to working through the pain, but today, everything felt different.

It was a low hum of mechanical steps that drew your attention to the doorway. You didn't need to turn to know it was Vision—his presence was always a quiet storm in itself. He didn't speak at first. He just stood there, observing her as you continued to write, your fingers shaking just slightly.

"Y/N," Vision finally said, his tone cold, unyielding.

You didn't respond. You couldn't bring herself to look at him, especially not now. Not after everything that had happened. After all the things you had been running from, Vision was the last person you wanted to deal with.

"You're still here," Vision's voice was sharp, his words biting through the silence. "After everything, you're still here."

You clenched her jaw, refusing to meet his eyes. You could feel the anger rising in her chest, the burning need to defend herself—but you knew this conversation would go nowhere good. It had never been good with Vision. Not since he and Wanda became close again.

"I don't need this," you muttered, not looking up, your hand still hovering over the tablet, though your thoughts were miles away.

"Wanda doesn't need you here, either," Vision said, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. "Not anymore."

Your heart skipped a beat. You finally looked up, meeting his cold, unfeeling gaze. "What did you say?" you asked, your voice dangerously low.

Vision's expression hardened. "I mean you've done enough. You've hurt her enough. She doesn't need to be dragged back into this." His words were deliberate, each one hitting harder than the last.

Yor heart pounded in your chest, your breath quickening. "You think I've hurt her?" you shot back, standing up abruptly, your hands curling into fists. "You think I hurt her? You think I'm the one who did that?"

"Yes," Vision's voice was sharp, each word punctuated with cold certainty. "You've broken her. She's suffered for years, waiting for you to come back. And now, all you've done is leave her questioning whether or not she should have ever believed in you. It's time you face the truth, Y/N. Wanda's moving on, and you need to leave her be. She deserves someone who can give her the future she's always wanted."

You felt the weight of his words like a stone sinking deep in your stomach. "You think she deserves you?" you snapped, your powers beginning to crackle in the air, the electricity around you flaring slightly as you fought to keep control. "You think you're better for her than I am?"

"I don't think," Vision said coldly, his voice now laced with disgust. "I know. Wanda chose me. You didn't give her the chance to choose you. You left, Y/N. You left her to pick up the pieces of herself."

Your chest tightened, the anger and hurt threatening to overwhelm you. "I never told her to wait. I never promised her I'd come back. I couldn't," you said through gritted teeth.

Vision took another step forward, his eyes narrowing with determination. "But she doesn't need you now."

The words felt like daggers, twisting in your heart. You wanted to scream at him, to lash out. But the voice in the back of your head—the one that was slowly swallowing your whole—was whispering that he was right. Maybe he was right.

"I'm not backing off, Vision," You spat, your fists trembling. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't get to decide who she needs. You're just afraid of me, afraid that I can still reach her, that she still wants me—"

Vision's voice sliced through you like a knife. "You're the one who's afraid. Afraid that she'll realize she's better off without you. I'm not the one who's been running. She doesn't love you anymore. She can't love you after everything you've done."

You recoiled at his words, your stomach twisting. It felt like a punch to the gut. Every word he said cut deeper than the last.

"She chose me the day she said Yes when I asked her to marry me." Vision continued, his voice steady, cold, final. 

"You don't get to tell me that Wanda's better off with you." Your voice was steady, but the energy around you crackled with rage. "You don't get to tell me that I'm the one who's broken her. That's not your decision to make."

Vision's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion, but then, without warning, he stepped toward you, his face inches from yours. "Then what will you do, Y/N? Will you continue to drag her down with you? Will you keep telling yourself that you're still what she needs, when all you've ever done is hurt her?" His voice was dangerously soft, and each word landed like a blow.

That was it.

With a guttural roar, You unleashed her powers, sending a surge of electrical energy at Vision. The blast hit him square in the chest, sending him skidding back, his synthetic body absorbing most of the force, but the sheer power of the strike left him momentarily stunned.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" You yelled, your eyes burning with a fire you hadn't felt in so long. "You think I don't know what I did to her? You think I don't live with that every day? But you don't get to decide what's best for her, Vision."

Vision, recovering quickly, glared at you with a quiet intensity."You let her wait for you, let her believe in you. And all you've done is destroy her. Now it's my turn to protect her from you."

With that, Vision reached out, his hands glowing with a soft energy that pulsed in the air around him. He shot forward, creating a field of energy that pushed you back, but you weren't going to back down.

"You can't stop me," You growled through gritted teeth, your powers flaring once more as you reached out with both hands. A bolt of pure energy shot forward, crashing into Vision's energy field, causing an explosion of sparks that lit up the room.

The walls began to tremble from the force of their clash, and the sound of cracking metal filled the air as the two powers collided, each fighting for dominance. Your chest was heaving with every breath, your mind spinning with confusion, anger, and heartbreak. You knew you couldn't let him win this fight. You couldn't let him make you feel like you weren't worth fighting for, not again.

But Vision was relentless.

He shot a wave of force straight at you, sending you flying backward into a wall, the impact rattling your bones. The breath was knocked out of you, but before you could recover, Vision was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with a force you couldn't fight against. His eyes were filled with a cold, unfeeling determination.

"This is the reality, Y/N," Vision's voice was quiet, but each word was like a dagger. "She's chosen me. She doesn't need you. You've hurt her enough, and now it's time for you to leave her. She deserves a life without you dragging her down."

Your, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, gritted your teeth, feeling the weight of his words like a crushing blow. But you weren't going to let him break you. Not now, not when you still believed in what you once had.

With a final, furious scream, you gathered every ounce of strength left in you and forced your power out in a desperate push, knocking Vision back with a blast so intense that it shattered the nearby glass. Vision staggered, visibly shaken, but he regained his composure almost immediately, his eyes now glowing brighter, his body rigid.

"I'm not leaving, Vision," You said, your voice shaking with fury, but there was a deep pain underneath it. "And you can't make me."

That's when the team began to stir. The noise from the fight had roused the others. Tony, Steve, Sam—they all arrived in the hallway, having heard the commotion.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Tony yelled, his eyes widening at the sight of the destruction in the common area. "Y/N! Vision! Stop this, now!"

Steve stepped forward, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Y/N, stop! This isn't you!"

Your breathing was erratic, your body still trembling with the intensity of the fight. Your eyes locked onto Vision's one last time before you spoke through gritted teeth.

"You don't get to tell me what I'm worth. And you don't get to decide what Wanda deserves."

But before Vision could respond, Wanda appeared in the doorway, her face pale, eyes wide with confusion and hurt. She didn't understand what was happening—she didn't know where the girl she loved had gone, or why the man she was about to marry was fighting for her like this.

"Vision! What are you doing?!" Wanda's voice trembled, a mixture of fear and heartbreak cutting through the air. "Stop! Stop this now!"

And that's when everything froze.

You and Vision were held by the team. Tony and Sam had managed to restrain you, while Steve was doing his best to keep Vision from moving forward. But it was Wanda, standing there in the doorway, who shattered the silence.

Your eyes were wild with emotion. "What?! Are you jealous that I used to fuck your soon-to-be wife?!" you screamed at Vision, your words cutting through the room like a blade. It wasn't rational. It wasn't fair. But in that moment, the anger and the pain were overwhelming, and you didn't know how else to lash out.

Natasha, with quick reflexes, moved toward you, grabbing you and pulling you away from the chaos. She was furious, but there was something broken in her gaze as she guided you out of the room.

"What the hell, Y/N?!" Natasha hissed, her grip tightening on your arm. "You can't just say things like that. You think that's gonna fix this?"

You looked at her, your face a mask of anger and despair. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Natasha. I just—I don't know what's real."

As Natasha led you out of the room, leaving the team to deal with the aftermath of the destruction, Wanda stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes darting between the mess and Vision. Her heart ached with every word, every action, every scream.

She wanted to fix everything. She wanted to reach for you, to tell her that she still loved you. But the brokenness, the weight of everything you two had been through, felt too heavy to overcome.

And so, as the door clicked shut behind them, Wanda was left standing alone in the doorway, lost in a sea of confusion, pain, and unanswered questions.

The night dragged on, but you didn't feel it. It was as if the very passage of time had slowed, your world reduced to an aching blur of regret and loss. The bottle of whiskey in your hand had long since emptied, but the numbness it promised was elusive, leaving only raw emptiness in its wake. The thoughts spiraled, faster, deeper—tugging at you until you could barely breathe beneath their weight. The fight with Vision was still fresh, his cruel words haunting you, echoing in your mind like a broken record.

"I don’t deserve to be loved," you whispered to yourself, your voice hoarse, barely audible over the storm raging in your heart. "Wanda doesn’t deserve this... she deserves someone whole, someone strong. Not... this."

But the ache in your chest wouldn't cease. You wanted to forget. To forget everything—the missions, the lies, the pain. And most of all, you wanted to forget the woman you once loved. But that was impossible. Wanda was always there, always in the back of your mind, her image haunting every corner of your fractured soul.

Just as your thoughts began to drown you again, a soft voice cut through the darkness. "Y/N?"

Wanda's voice was gentle, barely a whisper, but it was enough to make your heart seize. Your body stiffened at the sound of it, but you didn't move, not even to look at her. You couldn't face her. Not now. Not like this.

Wanda's footsteps echoed in the stillness of the room as she approached. You could hear her breathing, could feel the concern and tenderness in the way she moved toward you. You couldn't understand it. After everything, after how you'd left, after how you'd hurt Wanda, how could she still care?

You felt Wanda’s hand on your shoulder, and despite yourself, you flinched. The touch was so familiar, so warm, but it hurt too much. Every inch of your body screamed to pull away, to hide, but Wanda was there, her voice soft, breaking through the haze that clouded your mind.

"Look at me, Y/N," Wanda said quietly, her words filled with a desperation you’d never heard from her before.

Slowly, almost painfully, you lifted your eyes, bloodshot and glazed with tears. You had never felt more broken in your life, and seeing Wanda like this only made it worse. The pain in your heart intensified as you saw the concern on Wanda’s face, the love that still lingered there despite everything.

"Wanda..." your voice cracked as you spoke, barely more than a whisper. "I’ve ruined everything. I ruined us. I’m broken. You’re better off without me."

Wanda shook her head, her face soft with the kind of sorrow that made your heart shatter. "No, Y/N. You're not broken. You’re just lost. And I know you don’t believe it, but you can find your way back."

You let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "I’m beyond saving, Wanda. I’ve hurt too many people. I’ve hurt you. Just let me go."

But Wanda wasn’t listening to the words you were saying. She couldn't. Because even through the pain, through all the broken pieces of your past, there was still a part of Wanda that needed to be near you, that still loved you.

With a careful hand, Wanda helped you to your feet, steadying you when your legs nearly buckled under your weight. You barely noticed as she guided you down the hall, the only sound filling the air was the soft rhythm of her steps beside you.

She helped you into your room, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated as you fought to keep your head up. You felt the cool air of the room as she eased you onto the bed, her gentle hands stripping away your boots and slipping you into the comfortable sweatpants you'd once loved to wear after a hard day—just like when things were easier, before everything fell apart.

Her touch was gentle, soothing, as if she was still trying to protect you from the wreckage of your own mind. You could barely keep your eyes open as she tucked you into bed, the familiar scent of her lingering in the air.

As you lay there, exhausted, on the edge of consciousness, you heard Wanda’s voice again, softer this time, like a prayer.

"I missed you," she whispered, brushing a tear away from your cheek, her fingers trembling as she wiped away the traces of your pain. She leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I missed you so much..."

The words were whispered in a broken, aching tone, like a confession of everything left unsaid, everything left undone. And as you slipped into the dark embrace of sleep, Wanda stood there, watching you, her heart torn in two. She still loved you. But the road to fixing you, fixing what you had been, was so much harder than she ever thought.

And for a moment, as she stood there, her heart aching, Wanda wondered if she could ever let go of the love she had for you. Could she watch you destroy yourself and do nothing? Or would she always be tied to you, bound by the weight of everything that had come before?

With one last, lingering look, Wanda turned and left the room, her steps slow, hesitant. She wasn’t sure where to go from here. She wasn’t sure what was left for either of you anymore.

But one thing was clear. The woman she had once loved was breaking, and she couldn't stand to watch it any longer.

Tag list: @seventeen-x @womenarehotsstuff @redhoodte @ayrtonwilbury @justyourwritter69 @casquinhaa @womenarehotsstuff

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | M.R [4]

It had been almost two years since Y/N and Mattheo had been best friends. Y/N had decided that it was time to face her past and deal with whatever consequences would follow.

This chapter will probably contain a lot of Soft! Mattheo, which is ooc but i hope you enjoy.

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby, Ex! Theodore Nott x Y/N Nettlby.

Warning(s): order of the phoenix spoilers (a bit), mentions of sexual activities, degrading/slight abuse by parents,

iv. “this is why we can’t have nice things, darling”

Chapter Four

*Gif not mine* *not edited or proofread*

It had been approximately four days since the Slytherin party and Y/N had tried her best to avoid Mattheo and his friends. It was easier to avoid the Slytherin friend group compared to Mattheo, as it seemed that he looked for her in every class, between every class, and at every meal. She had shaken him off every time and ignored him as much as possible, but that did little to stop him.

"Y/N!" The voice of Hermione had torn through the silence of the library. The Granger girl hurriedly making her way over to her housemate. "Lorenzo told me to come find you, Riddle is fighting Nott." she spoke fast.

Y/N shot up from her chair quickly, leaving her items and headed to where Hermione was taking her. It wasn't long before the two Gryffindor girls were stopping where their friend group was trying to break them up and other houses just watching. "Hey!" Y/N yelled as she walked towards the fight.

"Y/N." Sean warned as his sister shrugged him off and went towards the fight again since he had stopped her.

"Mattheo Riddle!" Y/N yelled breaking the boys apart as she carefully pushed them away from each other, her hand staying on the one she had called. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled again. The Slytherin friend group cleared the hallways since the fight was under control and they didn't have to worry about their friends killing each other. "What in merlin's name happened?" she asked, looking at each one of the boys.

Mattheo stood their breathing heavy and glaring at Theo, who didn't dare look at anyone. Veronica wore a proud smile on her face, unknowingly being caught by the rest of the group. "Theo was insulting you." Enzo stated simply, not wanting to go into detail in such a public place.

"If she would put out-" Veronica started before Theodore shook his head indicating her to stop when he noticed Mattheo go to step forward, but Y/N held him back. The Nettleby girl was afraid that he would not be afraid of punching a girl right now.

"Let's go." She muttered pulling Mattheo along with her and not giving any of the Slytherin's her attention. She quietly led the boy to her dormitory and straight to the shared bathroom.

She didn't say anything as she sat him down on the toilet and started using some healing spells that she knew to heal him the best she could. Some of his wounds and marks were still there, but truth be told Theo looked worse.

"This was a bad idea." Y/N stated as she avoided Mattheo's gaze and walked out of the bathroom, him following her, once she had finished the healing spells. "This plan was rubbish, especially when it makes you and Theo fight. Merlin, you two were best friends before me." she muttered.

"He won't disrespect you s'long as i'm around." Mattheo mumbled as he took a seat on the girl's bed not knowing what to expect from her next.

Y/N shook her head as she stopped pacing and turned to face the boy that she had known very well since first year. "What was the fight even about?" she asked, knowing that it had to do with the issue between her and Theo.

"that bitch seems to have an influence on Theodore." Mattheo spoke as he eyed the girl in front of him. "Veronica started first, saying how our relationship must be draining because lack of activities, your ex then going on to say that there's better lays."

Y/N nodding, even though she didn't quite understand why her not having sex with him would be this big of an issue. Maybe it was an insecurity problem, or maybe it was the only thing he truly wanted from their relationship. Whatever the case, she knew that they were not worth her breath. Yet something had to give, because she was not finishing the next two years at school and dealing with the two wizards fighting.

"Come on," Y/N spoke as she grabbed Mattheo's hand and led him out of her dorm and made her way towards the Slytherin common room. She was going to settle this once and for all, whether it made people mad or not. "Pureblood." she spoke the the door and entered the common room as the door opened, Mattheo trailing behind her.

Just as she had suspected, the friend group had skipped class after the fight had broken out. The couple joined the group, as they caught everyone's attention. Veronica looked pissed and unhappy that they had decided to show up, when they were probably getting scolded by the friend group.

"I'll leave after I say this because I am done with how immature you two are acting," She started as she pointed to her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. "also the fact that the fights between you two," pointing at Mattheo and Theodore. "are absurd." she finished causing everyone to agree with those statements that had been made.

The girl turned to Theo before giving him a look, "You honestly want the truth? Because I have a feeling you won't want it once I started confessing." She asked the man that she used to have feelings for. When no one said anything, she looked at Mattheo to see if he had any feelings about people finding out about them. "It's true that I didn't sleep with you" She admitted to the group but kept her gaze locked on Theo's so he would know she was telling the truth. "I was going to the night you broke up with me," She admitted making Mattheo rolled his eyes and her brother look away not wanting to hear that.

"I didn't have sex with Theodore, but I wasn't a prude." Y/N looked straight in the eyes of Veronica as she spoke those words knowing that it showed who she truly was. "I lost my virginity to Mattheo the day before my birthday, 5 months before Theodore and I started dating." She told the group honestly. Sean looked sick because he didn’t want to hear that about his best friend and sister, Theo was angry and Veronica was surprised. The others not saying anything and just absorbing the information. “Besides there was other things done besides…” she trailed off before shaking her head and deciding against saying it.

Theo’s angry eyes burned right into Mattheo’s as he stood up and rushed towards the boy. Enzo pulling Y/N out of the way knowing what was coming. The Nott boys wand pressing against the neck of Mattheo. Of course, everyone thought that he wouldn’t do anything but it’s the fact that he would go that far.

“I should hex you.” Theo spoke dangerously low to his housemate and best friend.

“Now, why would you do that Nott?” Mattheo spoke calmly. Knowing nothing was going to happen and if it did that he could control the situation.

Y/N spoke up, knowing that it may make things worse but she hoped it made it better. “There’s no reason for that Theodore.” She spoke calmly, but her nerves were going wild for Mattheo. She knew he could handle his own, knowing where he came from. Still didn’t make her worry any less.

“This is rubbish, Theo.” Veronica started as she stood up and went over to rub his arm. “She isn’t worth it.”

Theodore shook her off and continued his hard glare at his best friend. “you took that from me.” He muttered causing the Riddle boy to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “I was suppose to get that experience.”

Mattheo’s gaze darkened at what his housemate was meaning, “I didn’t take anything away from you. What experience were you wanting exactly? What claim did you think that you’d have on her?” He asked dangerously low, the patience in his voice wearing thin.

Y/N had enough of all this, she had left the common room without being noticed by Mattheo or Theodore. Who did Theo think he was, being entitled to her and what she had to give. It didn’t make any sense to the girl as to why he was acting like that. Pushing that behind her, she went back to the Gryffindor common room to hopefully have some normal time with her friends.

"Hey guys." Y/N greeted sitting her bag down beside of her and sitting down beside Hermione. Her friends greeted her back before they gave each other knowing looks. They weren't sure if their friend was aware of everything that was going on. "Are you all okay? You're acting strange..."

Hermione glanced around the group before turning her attention to the Nettleby girl, "Have you heard anything about Riddle? or has he told you anything?" she asked cautiously to not make the girl uncomfortable.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head, "No, why?"

"You know about everyone shunning Harry because of... his father and how his mother has escaped from Azkaban, and they haven't found her." Ginny explained to the girl trying to get her to understand their concern and everything about the situation.

Ron looked at Harry before turning his attention to the girls, "Harry said that they think his followers are planning something."

realization dawned on Y/N as her friends continued talking about the situation at hand. It was true about Bellatrix had escaped from Azkaban and she had completely forgotten to ask Mattheo how he felt about it, seeing as it made headlines. Y/N knew that his father was also back, or at least trying to make a comeback. Not only because she trusted her friends but because she could feel it. Coming from a family of death eaters allowed for this stuff to make sense.

"My parents are hosting a dinner that my brother and I have to attend." Y/N spoke making the golden trio and Ginny turn towards her. "I bet it has something to do with him." she added as she looked around her friend group.

"Please tell me you're not going." Harry begged in his own way to his friend. They all knew that Y/N's family was pureblood Slytherin's and death eaters, the Weasley's were even a bit unsure when Ron invited her over for the holidays when he found out that she refused to go home. Now it was clear that she was nothing like her family and wanted a different life, fighting for the good side of things.

Y/N shrugged, "I have to, or they will literally track me down." she mumbled as she noticed the tension in the room.

🪄

It was the time that she had dreaded for the past two weeks. The dinner that her mother had excitedly written to both of her kids about. To make matters worse for the Gryffindor girl, she knew it would be a death eaters meeting, seeing as almost everyone in Sean and Mattheo's group would be there.

"They're going to murder me." Y/N whispered to Sean as the youngest twin sat on her brother's bed as he laid out his suit. "I am a bloody Gryffindor, and everyone that's going to be here is Slytherin death eaters." The twins were still not close, but they were closer than previously due to her connection with Mattheo and after how Theo had treated her.

"I'll go down with you if they try anything." Sean promised as he noticed how distraught his sister looked. "Mattheo won't let anything happen to you either."

Y/N scoffed slightly at what her older brother had said, It was true that Mattheo was far from his parents when no one was around. But how would he act when multiple of his family's allies was in the same room? He had always acted a big stuck up or cold towards the girl whenever the Netteby's hosted Christmas parties and everything. "Our parents like you more, they'll make sure you live. They'll place the unforgivable spell on me."

"You'll survive." Sean promised before shoving his sister out of his room so he could get ready.

Y/N rolled her eyes before going to her room and getting ready. To blend in with everyone that was going to be at Nettleby manor, she had decided on another green dress. Something that would make her look mature but attractive at the same time. She quickly straightened up her hair and makeup before taking a couple deep breaths and heading downstairs to meet whatever fate was waiting for her.

"Y/N, you're late." Mrs. Nettleby scolded her eyes glaring at the girl in front of her. "You don't need to be a bigger disappointment than you already are." she muttered. A few of the other death eaters laughed at the mother's comment.

Y/N held her head high and stood up straighter, "Sorry mother." she muttered before stepping around her mother and going into the kitchen in her house.

"You don't walk away until I say I am done with you!" Mrs. Nettlby spoke harshly as her heels click-clack every time she stormed towards her daughter. "You should be grateful for the life that you have with us, we would have kicked you out if we didn't have a plan for you." she spoke in her normal harsh tone.

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly as she starred at her mother, "Plan for me?" she asked wanting to know what the group of death eaters planned to do with her.

Mrs. Nettleby gave her daughter a wicked smile before she grabbed her daughter by the shoulder and pushed her out to where the group was waiting for her. "Our daughter wants to know what her main purpose is, I think it's time we elaborate."

Sean's expression changed as he noticed the harsh grip that his mother had on his sister. He knew that his family treated her different since she was sorted into Gryffindor, but he did not understand why. He went to speak up before Lucius Malfoy stepped in front of the group of Slytherin boys. "I think it's time for you to let the adults talk." He spoke monotoned to the group of boys.

"What are you going to do to my sister?" Sean asked the father of his friend. His glare was hard as he tried to figure out what the death eaters wanted with his sister.

Lucius gave him a dark look, "that is between us and her, Mr. Nettleby." He spoke before ushering the boys out of the room.

After the boys had left everyone gathered around the table, the grip Mrs. Nettleby had on her daughter tightened as discussion started around the group of his army. "Here is what you must do."

“They wouldn’t hurt her, would they?” Sean asked nervously as he waited for the adults to break the spell on the door.

Draco scoffed, “they would.” He spoke monotonously.

Theodore had been ignored by Mattheo and Sean, but he was even look nervous now. He may have a grudge held against his best friend, but he would admit that Y/N didn’t deserve to be tortured by the groupies in the den.

Before anyone could speak up the doors opened and Mr. Nettleby threw his daughter out before closing the doors again. The girl’s shoulders were already turned slightly purple from the grip and fingernails of her mother. Her once neat hair was how messy and her makeup was smudged. A red mark shaped like a handprint laid across her right cheek.

Y/N didn’t dare say anything, all she did was take her heels off and raced to her room. Sean went to follow her but was held back by Draco who knew that Mattheo would want to follow the girl. After all, it was the boy’s father’s followers that did whatever damage to the girl.

Y/N rushed to her room and quickly got her duffle, whatever she had left at home was going back with her to Hogwarts. There was no one she could risk coming home again.

“Y/N,” Mattheo’s voice spoke softly from the doorway of the girl’s bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving.” She whispered hoping that they couldn’t curse him to get it out of him. She knew her parents would find her at hogwarts, which made her worried. “I can’t stay here, not with what they’re expecting me to do.”

Mattheo cautiously stepped into the bedroom that he was slightly familiar with. He didn’t want to startle the girl seeing as she was in a vulnerable state. “What did they do?” He asked carefully, he noticed the way her eyes squeezed shut and a tear fell down. “Let me help you.”

Y/N turned to him fully, so he got the full view of her. Her cheek now a slightly different color due to the impact of whoever slapped her across the face. “You can’t help me, Teo.” She whispered on the verge of breaking.

“Let me try,” he pleaded, hating seeing the girl the way that she was currently. “I’ll try to fix it.”

“I have to get out of here,” she told him. “I have to go into hiding or something.” She mumbled as her eyes finally fully met his.

Mattheo stepped forward again and carefully reached out and grabbed her hand in a comforting way. “Tell me what they want you to do.”

“They want me to spy on Harry,” she whispered. His hand gave hers a big squeeze. Knowing that she was best friends with him, sure he hated Harry. Most of it being because of his father and everything that happened. “They want me to spy on the the Weasley’s as well.” She added her heart breaking as she spoke.

“Maybe we can figure something out,” Mattheo tried to reason but they both knew better. Death Eaters showed no remorse for anyone, not even their own kids. At least, the Nettleby’s didn’t. “We can find a way for you to make them happy but keep your friends safe.”

Y/N shook her head as more tears fell down, “that’s not the worse part.” She muttered as his hand went to rest on her cheek.

“I’m sure we can get through it.” Mattheo reassured, his thumb wiping away the tears as they fell.

“They’re going to force me to become like them.” She told the guy that she cared deeply for in front of her. Mattheo paled, knowing exactly what she meant. It was exactly what his father and mother had been planning for him since the plan to get his father back. “They’re forcing me to join your fathers army.”

That sentence was enough for Mattheo to fear for the girl in front of him. It was enough to feel his own heart break. Because someone so sweet, caring, and willing to help others did not deserve to have that life that he was destined to live.

Little note: hi! It’s been longer than I hoped and I’m sorry many things got in the way but here’s an update. I hope you enjoyed and we’re getting to the juicy stuff. I did change the plot a bit since this went from a George Weasley x reader (rough draft) and I did a full switch to Mattheo Riddle x reader. I think I’m going to start adding a word count at the beginning of my chapters just so I can keep track of how many words I usually write per chapter. Next update should be out soon! I’ve started writing requests but I’ll catch up with blogmas first! 🥰

Tag list: @yoichiislovie @justhavingsomefun1 @lafrone @julesandro @prongprincessworld @bruher @mattiesgirl @itsamusical4lifee @frogtape @blueeweeb @harrysnovia @kiwi475 @wildlyobserving @devotedlycrookeddonut @oi-itse @dear-fifi @grandtheoristpeach @dory-98 @lovesanimals0000 @supernatural-lover @joekbff @ivy-34 @jasmine2105 @cmervns @jetblackpayne @b4b3tte @xmadigurlx @thecraziestcrayon @whoknowsbut

I think I added everyone! If i missed someone or I tagged the wrong account and you wanna be untagged just let me know. 🫶

[joelsgoldrush]

come back same time and place the next night

prologue / 3k words

pairing: dad's coworker!joel miller x f!reader

raiting: 18+ (minors dni)

series summary: your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker are low, but never zero. turns out the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought, especially when you find out he’s going to be staying at your house for a while. you know what they say: if you can’t beat them, fuck them.

series warnings: no outbreak AU, dad's coworker!joel (idk if that's a thing but yeah), lots of feelings (angst/fluff), age gap (reader is 23, joel is 50), no use of y/n, i'm not good at choosing names for side characters sorry for that, some chapters will include smut 18+ and i'll let you know at the beggining of each part

warnings for this chapter: soft!dom joel, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

A/N: HELLO AGAIN i'm back with a new series!!! first of all, i just wanted to say THANK YOU bc of all the love you gave my previous post. i'm so thankful for all the likes, reblogs and comments, you truly made me feel incredibly happy. tbh i used to have a hard time figuring out whether i should start posting my own creations or not, and the support you showed me made me realize that it was definitely the right call. so yeah tysm for that and i hope you also enjoy this new project of mine :) i juIt have one final left and then i'll have a couple of weeks to relax and work on this series! also english isn’t my first language so if you come across any mistake please tell me!

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

“Sneaking out of my house / I must be out of my mind / I’m running out of excuses / We’re running out of time / You say the love will come and go / We’ll learn how to ride the ebb and flow / You’ll always leave before the light / Come back same time and place the next night.”

You take another sip of your drink, alcohol making its way through your throat. It leaves a trail of burning kisses down the inside of your esophagus, and you make an effort not to swear as the sensation settles heavily on your chest.

Stacy looks around the bar for a while, her knee impacting rhythmically against yours ever so slightly. Next thing you know, she’s snorting, her blonde hair falling like cascades over her collarbones. “I'm afraid you, my dearest friend, have lost your good judgement. There isn’t a single hot guy in this bar.”

“That’s not true,” your fingers pinch the pink straw floating on your glass, a lipstick stain adorning it. You’re not exactly sure, though. The truth is you aren’t looking for somebody tonight, at least not right now. “Give me a second.”

Scanning your surroundings, you try to concentrate on your quest: finding a new hobby for Stacy. And by hobby, you mean a man she can simp over for the rest of the night. Once you’ve examined the room multiple times without success, you feel… slightly disappointed. 

Just when you’re about to agree with her, this pretty waiter comes on the scene, placing a martini under your friend’s nose. “Here it is. Hope you enjoy it.” 

Oh.

Stacy giggles at him. It’s that specific kind of giggle you know very well. “Thank you, but I didn’t order this.”

“Don’t worry. This one’s on me,” the hot-waiter answers, giving her a smile that’s all white teeth before disappearing between the mess of sweaty bodies on the dancing floor. 

You look at her, because you already know what she will do next. She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction and takes hold of her purse, not without previously drinking almost half of the cocktail she got for free. 

Her forehead furrows in a funny way. “It’s not very good. He’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tell her, ignoring her words. “I’m being serious.”

She leaves and you’re left alone, though you don’t mind the lack of company. The beating of your heart seems to sync with the pounding music from the pub. There’s this one girl doing karaoke, but nobody seems to be actually listening to her. You wonder if she’s aware of it, although she appears not to, because her tone gets even more high-pitched every time she gets to the chorus of the song.

After some minutes, you decide to give Stacy’s drink a try. She wasn’t wrong: the taste of it is absolutely awful. Some muscle in your jaw twitches as you cough a little.

“Is it that bad?” 

You turn to your side, looking for the owner of that unknown voice that startled you. A man stands beside you, pointing out the martini. Leaning in closer to him, you hand him the drink. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”

His cold fingers brush yours gently when he takes the glass into his hands. The straw vanishes between his lips momentarily, and then he proceeds to chuckle. “You’re right. It’s… definitely somethin’ else.”

This must be your lucky night. When was the last time a guy this good-looking approached you? He jerks his thumb toward the empty chair in front of you. “Are you waitin’ for someone?”

You can't help but smile. “Not anymore.” 

The attractive, charming stranger sits down, and you seize the opportunity to take a closer look at his face. You’re not sure of his age, but he’s older than you. He seems to be in his early 40s, the hair on his beard starting to get a bit gray. It’s subtle. If you weren’t such a perfectionist, perhaps you wouldn’t have seen it. But you did, and if possible, it just makes him come across as even more appealing to you.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, why did you order that drink?”

“Well, I didn’t. It was a gift for my friend,” you rest your chin on your palm, giving a half shrug. “She’s with the guy that gave it to her. The blonde girl over there, with the white tank top? That’s her.”

His eyes follow your gaze, finding Stacy just a couple of meters away from where the two of you were talking. She raises one of her hands in greeting, the boy from before attached to her hip like a lost puppy in the middle of the road.

“She seems nice,” he murmurs once he focuses his attention on you again. 

“Yeah, she is,” as you finish that sentence, you feel your phone vibrating in the pocket of your jacket. “Excuse me.”

It’s a text from Stacy. Said message reads: 

whose dad is that??? he’s hot af

You laugh at her occurrence, and he tugs at his shirt collar. “What happened?”

“She texted me: whose dad is that?” staring at him, you lift an eyebrow. “Do you have any children I should know of?”

The stranger seems to hesitate before replying. “No, I don’t,” you watch him lick his lips. “Why? You’re not into dads?”

He's cocky. Good thing you like cocky.

Time flies. You learn some things about him: he’s from Texas (the southern accent gives him away) and works as a contractor (just like your dad, you think, which is funny.) When he reveals how old he is, he seems to look for any sign of discomfort on your features. “I’m forty-five.”

“Twenty-three,” you retort with your own age. He glances up to the ceiling, and you give a bitter laugh. “Is it a problem for you?’”

“Shouldn’t I be the one askin’ that to you?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him. “I don’t mind.” If anything, you like him more. However, there’s one mystery left to bring to light. “What I do mind is that we’ve been here for almost an hour and you still haven’t told me your name.”

He leans back in his chair. “Let's play a game.”

“Be careful. I’m really competitive.”

“You have three chances to guess my name. I’ll just give you my initial. You gotta do the rest, deal?”

What were the odds of guessing it? I should take the risk, you think as you find yourself already nodding your head. “Deal.”

“It starts with the letter J.”

“Jack,” it’s the first name that comes to your mind. For an instant, you believe you’ve won, but then you catch him smirking. “It’s not Jack, isn´t it?"

The corner of his mouth turns up. “Keep tryin’.”

“Josh?”

“Ice cold.”

“Joe?”

Something you're unable to even distinguish glows in his eyes. “I’m givin’ you one more chance.”

“So I’m close?” you ask him, probably too enthusiastic. He doesn’t say anything else, so you go on. “Is it Joel?”

He places a hand on top of his shirt where his heart is, pretending to act relieved. “Fuckin’ finally.”

You punch your fists into the air. “Yes! I knew I was gonna get it.” A sincere smile takes place on your face. “What’s my prize?”

“Well,” he inches forward, his pinky nudging your wrist, that mere touch giving you goosebumps. “You could give me your number and go on a proper date with me.”

God knows you want it. Rising from your seat, you tuck a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “I was thinking of something else.”

That’s how you end up in the ladies restroom, your back flushed against the wooden door as Joel presses his clothed knee between your legs. You moan into his mouth without thinking if there are any other people outside waiting to use the bathroom. Joel draws in a long breath, grinning as he takes in the sight of you. “You wanna put on a show for the others? I'm not one to judge."

“I want to suck you off,” your hand is dangerously close to his crotch, your nails ghosting over his zipper. He seems to be having an internal fight with the last brain cell he has left, but then he detaches himself from you, unzipping his jeans. The sound of his belt hitting the floor with a thud is what finally leads you to fall to your knees.

He’s big. You can tell his size from your position, a wet patch forming into the fabric of his boxers. Playing with the waistband of his boxers for a mere second, your self-control attempts to falter. You grab him by the base, stroking it experimentally. Joel fights back a groan, urging you to take him. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t like t’beg.”

But you do, that’s the thing. “Please,” you whisper, hoping he’ll hear you. His eyes find yours and suddenly it clicks. A lightbulb goes on in his head. He curses under his breath, directing his dick towards your open parted lips, and your eyelids get heavy as the taste of his precum invades your tastebuds.

It’s not your fault he has an amazing dick.

You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of his length with every one of your short movements. Slick must be already staining your own panties, but you can’t get yourself to care about that insignificant detail. Not now, when Joel’s hips thrust deeper into your mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat and making you gag. It's dirty, and you should probably be ashamed of getting caught by a bystander. All your worries are swept away from your mind the moment he decides not to keep quiet. “Fuck, baby. Knew you would put that gorgeous mouth to good use. Attagirl, takin’ me so well.”

A stupid whine gets lost somewhere in your vocal tract. Intertwining your fingers with his, you locate his wandering hands on your hair, wishing he'll take the hint. He does, and grabs a handful of it, pulling you off his cock. 

“You really like this, don’t ya’?” Joel smears your lower lip with your spit. “Were you thinkin’ about this while we were talkin’ back there?”

“Y-yes,” you try to take him in your mouth again, but he doesn’t allow you to, his iron grip on your nape getting tighter the more you fight against it.

Then he lets you have it. “Bet you get off on this too,” his voice drops an octave, and it sounds so nasty and intimate you’re on the verge of crying. With teary eyes, you swallow around his length. 

You lose track of time. His bare thighs tremble and the only noise you can hear is his heavy breathing. “F—fuck. I’m close, where do you want it?” Mumbling something you can’t even comprehend with his cock still in your mouth, his thrusts begin to lose finesse, thick fingers holding you where he needs you the most. “So good, baby. Lettin’ me have you like this. Fuckin’—“

He’s about to come.

“—good girl.”

It all happens so fast you have to remind yourself to gulp down his cum, hot and sticky and just Joel’s. You patiently wait for him to come down from his high, nuzzling his happy trail. He helps you stand up, kissing you and tasting himself on your tongue. As soon as he tries to sneak a hand into your panties, getting closer to your aching cunt, you recognize your phone ringing in the distance.

Groaning, you stretch your arm, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Well, hi. This is awkward.”

You frown. Joel mimics you. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”

“I’m calling you from Stacy’s phone. We were making out and then she told me she was feeling sick, so I took her outside… and now she’s throwing up,” the boy on the other side of the line explains to you and you detect a hint of agitation in his voice. “She asked me to contact you.”

“Oh, God. Hot-waiter?”

“Yeah, she also said you were probably going to call me that,” he seems to move his phone away from his ear, and then talks to you again. “She’s not passed out, but she shouldn’t stay here.”

Does he actually think you’re going to leave her alone? “Can you tell me where you are?” you suggest him while Joel tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Next to the parking lot.”

You hang up after telling him you’ll be there in five minutes, and you feel Joel’s lips on your neck, a sigh spilling from you. His teeth nip at your sensitive skin. “You gotta go?”

Humming, you smooth down your skirt, facing the mirror and observing your reflection, some leftover mascara sticking your eyelashes together. He appears right behind you, his broad frame becoming more visible this way. “Stacy’s throwing up. I have to take her home.”

“Do you have a car?” 

“No, but I’ll call an uber. It’s no big deal.”

Joel puts his hands on his hips. “I brought my truck. Let me help you.”

Of course he has a truck. 

“Joel, you don’t have to,” you massage the back of your neck, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. 

“It’s the least I can do,” tilting his head, his lips catch yours once again. “Consider it my way of thankin’ you, since I cannot return the favor.”

It shouldn’t feel like this. You weren’t used to doing this kind of thing on a regular basis, but you’re more than sure that men don’t treat you this way after sucking them off. Still, you accept his offer since it means you’ll get to spend more time with him.

He walks you out and helps you get Stacy on her feet. As she sees Joel, she spreads her arms wide, hugging him. “Oh my God! It’s the hot dad!”

“Sweetie, you have like— puke all over your clothes,” you tell her, so Stacy chooses to hug you instead. “She gets pretty sensitive when she’s drunk.”

“I can tell,” Joel opens the back door of his truck, jerking his head in the direction of it. “Get her inside while I start the car.”

It all goes pretty well from then on. He asks you for Stacy’s address and you give it to him, the palm of his hand resting on top of your left thigh. Stacy gets comfortable in the back seat, yawning. “You two look like my parents before they got divorced.”

“That’s a really nice compliment,” you mutter with irony as Joel laughs by your side, rubbing his chin.

Soon after that, she falls asleep. Joel parks his car right in front of Stacy’s porsche. He glances over his shoulder, making sure she’s still sleeping before his seatbelt’s off and he’s grabbing you by the jaw, leaning in for a kiss. The fucker’s a very good kisser, you notice throughout the night.

“Are you gonna give me your number?” he murmurs against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours. 

“It depends. Will you call me?”

He tells you he will, and you prefer to trust him as you watch him save your number, a smiley face next to your name.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Joel doesn’t call you.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s starting to get to you. He did sound honest. Why the hell did he treat you like that if he wasn’t planning on calling you? Why did he insist so much on getting your number?

Men suck. Joel sucks, you decide after a whole afternoon of staring at your phone, waiting to receive a text from him. Given the situation, anything would make you feel better.

Hey! It’s Joel, from the bar. I’m so sorry for not calling you. I forgot to tell you I’m married and have three children, two cute little puppies and a cat. Anyways, what a great night we had! Take care!

Okay. Perhaps not anything.

You’re home, sitting on the couch while you watch a meaningless TV programme. It consists of answering random questions, and if you get them wrong, you fall down some dark tunnel that only God knows where it takes you.

Normally, during a night like this, you’d be studying or perhaps at Stacy’s. But tonight, your father had asked you to actually stay. He didn’t tell you why he specifically needed you there, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Out of the blue, you hear the doorbell ring. None of your parents seem to be on the first floor, so you walk to the door, opening it. 

You choke on your own saliva.

Joel’s here. Joel, who didn’t call you. Joel, who looks absolutely good with his hair slicked back. 

“Did I ever tell you where I lived?” the tone of your voice falters, your legs suddenly feeling wobbly.

He can’t believe it either. “No. I must have the wrong address,” keeping his eyes fixated on the box of chocolates dangling from his hand, he straightens his back. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you hiss, your pupils flared with anger. “Why the fuck are you at my house, with a freaking box of chocolates, when you couldn’t bring yourself to call me?”

Then, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s your dad. He contemplates the scene with a smile. “I see you’ve met my daughter. Trust me, my wife and I taught her better manners than this. Don’t know why she didn’t invite you in. Food’s almost ready!”

You’re about to short-circuit. Definitely not a joke.

“Sweetheart, this is Joel Miller. Remember I told you last week that someone from the company was coming over for a while? Well, this is him,” your father chuckles, expecting you to come up any kind of answer.

Joel’s faster than you, intending to shake your hand, those same calloused fingers that he had used to touch you in that dirty bathroom now playing dumb. “Nice to meet you.”

If he wants to pretend you don’t know each other, then so be it.

You squeeze his hand without measuring your strength. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

Turns out that your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker were low, but never zero. 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

tags: @spurz :)

[calicoheartz]

Embracing Truth ; Paige Bueckers ┈﹒

꣑୧ — summary | paige helps her gf come out of the closet 💐💌❤️

wc ; 870

— warnings | smalll hints of homophobia , anxiety related topics , mainly fluff + established relationship

my master list ㇀♡

1) i am sooo sorry for not responding to ur request anon! I accidentally deleted it from my drafts :(

a/n : this was so sweet and cute to write 🥰 this definitely healed something in me. Enjoy ◡̈

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, watching as her girlfriend, y/n, paced nervously back and forth between the blondes dorm. She could tell something was weighing heavily on your mind, and her instincts told her it was something serious. 

You and Paige had been dating since your second year of college, meeting during one of your shared classes. You knew you had always been into girls, often experimenting with them in highschool. But there was one problem, your parents didn't know.

They weren't necessarily homophobic per say, but to be fair the conversation of you being gay never was a topic of conversation. But the idea of one day having to tell them terrified you, especially since you knew the relationship with your girlfriend was becoming serious.

“Y/n, what's wrong?” Paige asks, snapping you out of your thoughts as she stood up and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing.

You took a deep breath, looking up at your girlfriend with tears welled in your eyes managing to croak out , “I don't know Paige, I really need to tell my parents… I need to tell them about us. But I'm just afraid that they won't accept me, accept us. What if they kick me out? Disown me??”

Paige’s heart ached at the sudden fear that lingered in your voice,  as she pulled you into a warm, comforting hug, holding you tightly. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right by your side every step of the way. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that Paige would be there for you, and be by your side. “Okay,” you whispered, “Okay, let’s do this.”

A few days had passed since you had the conversation with your girlfriend, part of you wanted to procrastinate for as long as possible, because they would eventually find out regardless of when they were told. But your subconscious knew that now was the time, especially since you were serious about the blonde. You had to embrace the truth, your truth.

You and Paige drove over to your parents house one Friday evening, in the hopes of possibly sharing this important news over dinner. You were a bundle of nerves, but the blonde held your hand reassuringly as the two of you began to walk towards the front door. You took a pause, hesitating to ring the doorbell , after gathering your thoughts, you gently pressed on the round button in front of you, revealing a small chime in reply. You were soon greeted by your parents, who were surprised but happy to see them. 

“y/n, Paige, what brings you here?” your mother chirps. Hugging the both of you before inviting you two inside.

As you walked through your house, skimming past the dining room and making your way towards the living room, you plopped down on the couch before breaking the silence, “We have something we need to talk to you both about” your voice trembling slightly.

Once the rest of them had joined you on the couch and surrounding seats, you took a deep breath and began to speak again. “Mom, Dad, you know how I’ve known Paige since freshman year of highschool? And how we’ve spent a lot of time with each other since then..” the two of them nodded in response before you continued, “well.. I realized that I like her  more than a friend way. What I’m trying to say- I’m saying is that I’m with Paige. Like we’re dating..” your voice trailing off before facing them both in the eye, as your eyes had been previously wandering and focusing on different objects in the area. “Im gay.”

There was a brief moment of silence as your parents processed the information. You feared the absolute worst as the seconds of silence passed by, but then you mom spoke up, her voice filled with love and acceptance. “Sweetheart, we love you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”

You couldn't hold back your tears as you hugged them both, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. Paige wrapped her arms around them all, feeling grateful to be a part of such a loving and accepting family.

After the initial shock wore off, your parents welcomed Paige with open arms, eager to get to know her now officially as their daughter's girlfriend. You all spent the evening talking and laughing, and you couldn't have felt more loved and accepted. 

As the night came to a close, and as the both of you drove back to the blondes dorm, you couldn't stop smiling. Your heart was full of love for Paige and your family, as you squeezed her hand as a way to silently say I love you.

“I love you, P,” you whispered quietly, your voice filled with emotion. “I love you too, y/n” Paige replied, squeezing your hand back gently. “I'm so proud of you.”

And in that moment, that's when you knew that no matter what challenges you both faced in the future, as long as you had your girlfriend by your side, you could handle anything.

as always, thank you guys so much for reading!! don't forget to leave reqs :)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Being best friends with jennifer check and one day she suggests you practice kissing on each other "just for fun" until you slowly realize you're falling in love 💓💓

this is the kind of Jen content we need more of honestly 💖

Practice Makes Perfect (Jennifer Check x reader)

Warnings: (almost) friends to lovers, kissing (duh), swearing/salty language, slightly suggestive, could be seen as coersion as reader isn't entirely sure to kissing at first

Jennifer had invited you over to her house for what was supposed to be a study session, but it ended up being more of a hang out than anything else. The two of you were lounging on her bed, Ayesha Erotica playing faintly on her MP3 player in the background.

You were just about to ask if she could change the music to something less vulgar when she dropped a major bomb on you.

"We should kiss," she suggested in a way that was much too casual for your liking as she filed her pristine nails, not even bothering to look up. "You know, for practice. In case either of us meets someone and we need to know how."

You choked on the soda you were drinking, which led to a good two or three minute coughing fit before you were finally able to respond. "What?" You asked incredulously, a look of shock evident on your face.

"I said," she began with an eye roll, speaking slow and condescendingly. "We. Should. Kiss. What's the matter, scared you might like it?" She taunted with a smirk.

You scoffed at her question as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Truth be told, you were a little afraid of liking it, but more than that you were worried about her making fun of you for being inexperienced.

"No, that's not it. I just- I wouldn't want to ruin your lipgloss, is all." A lame excuse, even by your standards, and one that she could surely see through, but it was better than nothing.

It was now her turn to scoff at you. "Oh, please. Don't be such a pussy." She moved over to where you were sitting on the bed, reaching her arms out to wrap around your neck before you could stop her.

"Wha- you-" You tried to speak, but your words got caught in your throat. It didn't help that the close proximity was making it damn near impossible for you to think straight.

"Are you telling me that you don't want to kiss me at all? Not even in the slightest?" She asked in a tone full of false offense and hurt, sticking her bottom lip out as she pouted at you.

"N- No, that's not- that's not what I'm saying, Jen..." your voice trailed off as she leaned in close, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils.

"Then kiss me." She said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, doing her best to look as innocent as possible. "Please?"

Your resolve weakened and you finally nodded your head before closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to hers. She tasted like her strawberry lipgloss and felt like a dream come true.

She pulled you down on top of her on the bed as you kissed, but you barely noticed. Until you heard her let out a soft moan, that is.

You quickly shot back up, feeling your face grow warm as you realized what just happened. Jennifer merely giggled as she looked up at you from where she was still laying down, her legs spread slightly.

"Oh, come on. Don't leave me hanging," she teased as you shuffled away from her, going to sit on the opposite end of the bed. She sat up and slowly crawled over to you, smirking before giving you another kiss.

"We should do this more often," she murmured suggestively, her lips still close to yours. "After all, practice makes perfect."

You didn't say anything in response, instead choosing just to kiss her again. After all, what do you say to your best friend when you realize you might be falling in love with her after one stupid kiss?

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P8)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Joel makes his decision to leave Ellie. But what will he decide about the reader?

Warnings: crying, cursing, fighting, yelling, blood, guns

Author's note: I'm crying- this hurts my soul.

Masterlist

Part 1 and 9

..................................................................

Joel walked up the staircase of the little house that was now theirs.

Tommy agreed to take Ellie to the fireflies in the morning, and he was relieved. 

He carefully climbed up the stairs, opening the master bedroom door.

Y/N was sound asleep on the bed. Joel could tell from the way she slept on top of the covers with a tissue in her hand that she had fallen asleep crying. It broke what was left of his heart knowing that he was the cause of it.

He shut the door quietly and moved to Ellie's room.

Ellie was quite awake. And angry.

"Is this really all they had to worry about?" She asked while staring at a diary from before the breakout. "It's bizarre."

Joel nodded, "Listen-"

"-Why are you here? If you're gonna ditch me, us, then ditch me."

"What exactly did you hear?"

"'I have to leave her. You have to take her.'"

"I made this decision for your own good. You're better off with Tommy. He knows the area better than I do."

"Do you give a shit about me?"

"Of course, I do."

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF?" Ellie sat in the silence, "I'm not her, you know. Maria… she told me about Sarah-" "-Don't." Joel growled. "Don't say another word."

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel. But, I've lost people too."

"You don't know what loss is."

"Everyone I have ever cared for has either left me or died. Except for you and Mom. So, don't tell me I'd be better off with someone else, because the truth is.. I would just be more scared." Ellie froze, realizing she had just called Y/N Mom.

Joel sat on his thoughts. "You're right. You're not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain't your dad. And I'm goddamn sure Y/N isn't your fucking Mom. Now, come dawn, we're going our separate ways."

He turned to leave, but Ellie spoke up just barely, "What about Y/N? Are you just abandoning her, too?" 

He stopped, turning around to face the girl again. "Y/N has enough in life that she won't miss us."

And he slammed the door behind him.

Y/N peered out from the doorway of her room with puffy eyes and messy hair. Her voice was soft and concerning, "…Joel?"

He left out a breath at the sound of her voice. "…what."

"Is everything okay? Is Ellie alright?"

"Ellie is just fine. She's leaving in the morning."

She tilted her head, taking another step out into the hall.

But Joel stopped her before she could go too far. "Don't. Just go back to bed."

He wished he wouldn't have seen the tears that filled her eyes as she closed the door once more.

…

The next morning, Y/N sat with Ellie on her bed, helping her pack her things. 

"You know," Ellie sighed, "Joel said something about you yesterday… while we were fighting."

Y/N shook her head, "Let's not talk about that. Let's just enjoy what we have left with each other, yeah?"

Ellie nodded, "Alright. I like that."

They continued packing the girl up, trying to make small talk about the trip ahead of her.

"Why are you staying? Why can't you come with me?"

Y/N stood straight, "I'll be extra weight. And… as much as I want to go with you, I can't leave Joel. He needs someone just as much as you do. And you'll have Tommy."

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

Y/N held her breath to see Joel. 

But it was Tommy.

Y/N sighed and helped Ellie carry one of the bags, "Mind if I walk with you guys, Tommy?"

He shook his head, "I'd never mind that."

…

The walk was quiet and awkward. 

But what made it worse was the sight at the stables.

Joel was strapping a saddle onto a horse.

Ellie grumbled, "Come to say goodbye or something?"

"No," Joel immediately replied, "I came here to steal one of these horses and go."

Y/N felt her heart drop. He was going to leave her behind like that with no remorse?

"I woulda gave you one." Tommy replied.

"I know." Joel nodded. His gaze finally moved to Y/N and his shoulders slumped just barely, not thinking that she would be there. His gaze quickly shifted from her from the guilt he felt. "Anyway, that was 30 minutes ago and I guess…" 

He sighed as he approached Ellie. "You deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Tommy-"

"-Let's go." Ellie replied, throwing her bag at him.

"O…Okay." Joel nodded. He sighed and turned to get the horse.

Y/N grabbed at his sleeve. Her voice was weaker than she would've liked, "What are you doing?"

He did everything he could to avoid her eye contact, "I'm taking Ellie, I guess."

"Bullshit." She reasoned, "You're gonna take me, too. You were gonna wake me up, weren't you? Before we left?"

"We?" Joel asked.

Y/N's mouth fell open and she took a step away from him. "You were… gonna leave me here?"

No one in the stable dared to say a word.

"Listen, I left you a note."

"Fuck your note, Joel Miller."

His jaw clenched. "You don't mean that."

"I fucking do. And fuck you."

"Calm down."

She scoffed and took a few steps back to give herself a moment to breathe. When her breathing went back to normal, so did her tone. "I don't understand."

"You have everything you need, here."

"But, you're not here."

Fuck, he thought. This was gonna be harder than he anticipated. 

"No," he reasoned, "But you can have a life here. A good one."

"How many times do I have to say it, Joel?" She pleaded. "I don't want any run-of-the-mill life. I want a life with you. I don't give two shits what we do. You… and Ellie… that's the only family I'll ever need."

If only she knew what she was saying.

Joel fought in his head how to tell her. What to say. 

If only he would've left earlier, and she would've woken up to the note.

The note that told her everything.

The one that was sitting on the coffee table in the living room, written in his scribbled handwriting- that note.

The one that said he loved her too much to make her choose. So, he was making the decision for her.

He knew she wouldn't be saying all this if she knew the truth.

But his heart was too damn selfish to tell her.

"Alright." He sighed, "Go pack your shit up. We leave in 30 minutes."

The small shred of happiness that broke through her face only tormented Joel more.

She placed a hand on his chest, "Thank you. Really. Thank you."

But Joel's eyes were looking at Tommy, whose was nodding his head slowly, taking in Joel's decision to hide the truth.

…

Y/N had never ridden a horse until here in Jackson, and she was nowhere near comfortable on one. 

Hence, why she was on the back of Joel's.

It was nice to be this close to him. Her arms were wrapped around his waist. She could smell that overwhelming scent of sweat and pine that he could never seem to wash off.

And she knew she made the right choice in pleading.

And Joel knew he made the wrong one.

He knew the second he said okay that he was being self-centered and foolish.

But he could never deny her.

He knew that he would have to hold this secret until they returned to Jackson.

Then she could scream and cry and curse him all she wanted. And turn to her own family.

But he couldn't help but be relieved that he could share just a little more time with her.

…

"Wide right. You're flinchin'." Joel smiled.

"The target's too small," Ellie tried to reason.

"That target is fucking huge," Y/N smiled.

"And I'm not flinching," Ellie continued, "rifles just suck."

"Just give it." Joel muttered.

"Okay, but it doesn't aim right."

Joel smiled with a low hum. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it. Gentle, steady, nice and slow-"

"-You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" Ellie yelled.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, trying to mask her amusement. Ellie caught it and decided to keep pushing, "Is that how he fucking does it?"

It was Joel's turn to laugh as he watched Y/N's entire face turn a bright shade of red.

"Leave her alone," he finally said, still laughing.

"Alright." Ellie sighed, "But this isn't gonna work. It doesn't aim right."

Gunshot.

Perfect shot.

"You. Dick."

Y/N smiled again despite her red cheeks, happy to be with her little family.

She placed her hands on Joel's shoulders and leaned over him, giving him the lightest peck on the cheek. 

And he couldn't help but smile, too.

…

"So, I've been thinking," Joel mentioned as they rode through the university, "I don't want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean… if the deal is that I can do anything?"

"Yeah," Ellie said, "That's the deal."

"Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer."

Ellie began to laugh.

He turned to her on his horse, "Why is that funny?"

She straightened up on her own, "Well, you gotta sing something now."

"No."

"Oh, Ellie," Y/N smiled, "I've heard him. It's actually pretty decent."

"Really?"

Joel looked over his shoulder at the woman, "Respectfully, sweet girl, shut the hell up. Quit telling the kid stuff."

She laughed loudly, almost falling off of the horse.

…

As they rode through the university in search for the fireflies, they found it to be abandoned. 

Each guard station left deserted.

Finally, they tied their horses to trees and decided to take a bit on foot.

He helped Y/N down carefully, "You got your gun?"

She nodded in a worried manner.

They wandered through one of the buildings before hearing a noise.

Joel barely peaked out of the window to see four men wandering outside in search for something.

"Out the back."

The ran as quickly and as quietly as they could towards their horses. But due to their place out in the open, Joel knew they'd have to make a run for it.

"Ready?"

The girls nodded.

He led them out to the horses and began to throw their bags onto the them. But he was distracted. 

"JOEL!"

He ducked in time to miss the swing of a baseball bat from one of the men. The bat broke as it hit the tree behind him.

Joel grabbed the man and head butted him harshly before putting him into a chokehold.

The sound of his neck snapping was unmistakable.

Joel dropped the body and turned to the girls to check on them.

Y/N let out a soft breath and put her hands on his chest, "You alright?"

He nodded, letting his fingers go to her hair, "Yeah… yeah?"

"Y/N…" Ellie said quietly.

She turned to look at Ellie and saw the girl's concerned gaze at Joel.

Y/N turned back to Joel and followed his gaze too.

The broken bat handle was protruding from Joel's stomach.

"Oh, fuck…"

Y/N was frozen as she looked back up to his face.

He grunted and took a hold of the handle, pulling it out with a yelp.

"Joel.. get on the horse," Ellie reprimanded. 

Y/N saw the other three men approaching at a run, and it spurred her into action. 

"Get him on the horse, Ellie!" She yelled.

One they got him on, Y/N pushed Ellie onto her own before getting on Joel's and riding off in the nick of time.

…

While Joel steered the horse, Y/N was holding her hands to the wound from behind. 

She was grateful that his body was blocking the sight of his blood on her hands.

"I think we're good," Ellie finally sighed. "Joel.."

Y/N gently pushed against the man, wishing she could see his face, "Joel…?"

His pale body fell from the horse.

Y/N jumped down, as did Ellie.

They kneeled on either side of him.

Only then did Y/N see the bright red on her hands. 

The way it colored the white snow around them.

"I can't…" she cried, "I can't do this, Ellie…"

"Fuck!" Ellie yelled as she tried to wake Joel. "Y/N, c'mon. You gotta help."

"I can't, Ellie. I'm not strong enough…."

"Please," Ellie pleaded, "I need you."

Her words immediately struck something in Y/N because she began to move back to Joel with determination. 

She couldn't let her only family fall like this.

.........................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance. I would appreciate it if those who enjoy the fanfic could leave a comment and like (kudos). Engagement helps me know that there are still people reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

FIVE SEVEN

SIX

Edward insisted that you go to his house after you had sex in the car. As you said you would stay by his side in the heat of the romantic moment. It seems stupid now, but it's what you can do now. So at this moment, you are finishing your shower in the bathroom of Edward's almost-suite-like bedroom. He is currently informing his family that you are at their house. Your mind tells you that they will hate your presence, especially after his recent breakup with Bella. That's why, after finishing your shower, your plan is to look for a place to rent.

"You were wrong, they reacted better than you imagined. But they want you to come down for breakfast with them," Edward says, entering the bedroom and then opening the bathroom door, holding a towel for you to dry off. Sometimes you forget that he reads minds. You step out of the bathtub and wrap yourself in the towel. Edward kisses you gently while holding your face with both hands.

"Now try to tell me the truth. Your family doesn't have to force themselves to accept me here just because I'm homeless. I'll rent a place before Rosalie tries to throw me out the window. And I need to talk to Sam. But I can have breakfast with your family as long as none of them pretend to eat food." You say while putting on some clothes, and Edward turns around to give you privacy. When you finish dressing, you kiss Edward on the cheek, and he turns to look at you. Honestly, as he stares at you, a warm feeling of affection fills your heart.

"Don't you want me to go with you? Since you plan to reveal our relationship..." Edward says, holding your waist, and you hug him. Then you lightly slap his head, showing your annoyance at him reading your mind.

"Our agreement about you staying out of my mind still stands. I admit I'm scared of his reaction, but we're all grown-ups. And even though I can't read your mind, I can assure you that I won't run away or be afraid to admit that I feel something for you. Even if it could lead to a significant war between vampires and wolves. And you're definitely not coming with me," you say, laughing a little at Edward's reaction to hearing that he isn't going with you. Holding his hand, you head downstairs to have breakfast with the Cullens. The table is set, and it's clear they went to great lengths to make you feel welcome.

"We didn't know what you like to eat, but Bella used to have pancakes and bacon. Sometimes waffles and scrambled eggs. You're not exactly human, but you probably enjoy the same food she did. I know you two have similar tastes in many things," Rosalie says as you finish coming down the stairs. You look at her, knowing she isn't happy about your presence in her house, but you can't blame her.

"Rosalie, take it easy," Edward says, placing his hand on your shoulder, as if to show he's on your side. You breathe in and out, trying not to get upset. After all, do you really have the right to be upset?

"Edward is right, Rose. We have a guest, and we will treat her well. Y/N, I know you'll forgive Rose for her tone. We're just adjusting to this new situation," Carlisle says with some grace. He’s a good father. It makes you miss your own.

"I'd like to thank all of you for your efforts. But you don’t need to pretend. I know it’s sudden for me to be here; I promise I’ll leave. It’s too soon for us to be in this situation. Too soon for Edward and me to be together, but to be honest, Edward and I have had a relationship. We were secret lovers before he met Bella. That doesn’t justify anything, but perhaps Edward and I feel like we waited too long to be together." You look at all the Cullens in front of you, feeling like you’re making a confession. They seem to understand you, at least a little.

"Dear, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that it’s none of our business. As long as you and Edward are happy, we will support you," Alice says kindly. But you know it’s hard for them to support you both.

"I think it’s too early to talk about support. Not to be rude, Y/N, but just a few weeks ago Edward was ready to marry Bella. You can’t expect…" Jasper says, and you feel guilt washing over you. You’ve spoiled someone’s happy ending. You can't even respond. As the Cullens look at you with a mix of fear and concern, you see Edward wanting to comfort you. But right now, you need to leave this house. You should never have come. You run outside without saying anything more, hearing Alice cursing Jasper while Rosalie takes pride in not being the one to reveal that Edward was going to propose to Bella.

“Y/N, stop. Just listen to me for a moment. Don’t push us away. Don’t use this as an excuse to run from me,” Edward says, trying to stop you from getting into your car. You’re trying not to cry, trying to stay composed. But it feels like you’re back at square one.

“You were going to propose to her. Do you know what that means for us?” you say louder than you intended. Your emotions are overflowing.

“It was before you came back. Before we realized that what we felt before still exists. My decision not to propose was also a way to protect her,” Edward explains. You somewhat understand him, but right now, the anger towards Jacob feels justified. You feel like a terrible person.

“I’m not going to leave you. I’m tired of running, but I need some time. We both need to start over, slowly. I’m going to talk to Sam about us, and in the meantime, try to have a conversation with your family and your ex. But don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, letting the tears roll down your face before going to Edward and giving him a soft, comforting kiss on the lips. Maybe, just maybe, you and he are meant to find a way through this together. After the kiss, you say goodbye to Edward and head towards Uley's house. You know he'll find out your big secret eventually. It’s better that you tell him. As you approach the house, you see Sam and Emily. Immediately, Uley seems to harden his expression when he sees you.

"I never supported your relationship with Jacob, but you’ve definitely managed to get yourself into a worse relationship. You and a monster whose heart doesn’t beat. A damned bloodsucker, a vampire. Do you have any idea what that is? An abominable union. Your father would die if he were here to witness this." Sam is too enraged, but Emily touches his hand lightly as if calming him down.

"We talked about this, Sam. Don’t be rude to her. I’ll make some tea for us," Emily says gently, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek. You watch as Emily leaves you and Sam alone.

"My father died knowing this. Knowing that his daughter fell in love with a cold monster that survives on blood. He found out just before he made me leave Forks. Before he died. He reacted like you, and I was too young to defend myself back then, but I’m not now. I’m not going to lower my head and let you walk all over me. If you want to resolve this, face me. You may have your pack, but you’re still a weak man. You can’t see beyond your own nose. That’s why you’re an imperfect leader." You don’t mince words as you let your anger take over. Sam looks at you almost with disgust now.

"I’m giving you the chance to leave and forget this ridiculous romance of yours. If you continue, I won’t hesitate to end this fairy tale of yours, even if it means hurting you." Sam threatens. You laugh at him, as if his attempt to intimidate you has only amused you, but the truth is, it’s frightening. And in reality, apart from Edward, you don’t think anyone else is on your side right now.

"So it’s pertinent for you to know that she will have the support of my pack. Hurting her means hurting me, Uley," Jacob says, appearing out of nowhere and surprising both you and Sam. He stands beside you, staring down Sam. You wonder how he knew you were talking to Sam or how he arrived so quickly, but it's good to see him there, even if you and he are currently at odds.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[the-californicationist]

s-soap with a dommy mommy? (it wont let me ask as anon so pls dont judge me)

most people have been really nice but i had an anon get a little aggro so I switched it off for now - sorry! I'll turn it back on after i feel brave again. tumblr is so scary to me cause im pretty new to it, and sometimes its hard for me to deal with it. lol

But! It is not hard for you, Soap's dominatrix girlfriend, to deal with him. He thought he'd leave his pretty black leather collar at home when he went into the field last month. When he walked into the door tonight, he saw his collar and leash hanging in the window, dangling like a shining medal, and he knew he was in for a true punishment.

NSFW below the cut. TW: dom/sub, whips, sounding, anal play, femdom, explicit consent, some aftercare

In truth, he'd been looking forward to it. Soap had left the collar behind on purpose - not out of shame; it blended in with his tactical gear seamlessly, and no one asked about it - but because he knew you'd be waiting to reprimand him... deliciously. Even just leaving it on its tiny hook before shipping off had made his cock leak with anticipation, and driving back home had given him the exact same feeling.

Soap heard you before he saw you. Your whip and its tell-tale snapping as it thudded languidly against the hardwood floor filled the quiet house with threatening little echoes.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

And then, silence. You saw him step into the doorway, peeling himself apart, garment by garment, happy to receive his punishment from you, his judge and juror. You were his Master, and he was your faithful dog, ready and eager to heel.

Naked, he padded toward you, sinking to the floor on his knees, waiting for your edict.

"You thought you could go across the world without me, my darling."

"No, mistress. I didnae mean --"

Slap!

The whip carved a rut into the floor, right between his thighs, expertly placed, missing him by just a breath, and another scar was added to the landscape of his playroom. Silence filled the space again. You could see his skin twitching across his cheek, and there were goosebumps running up his arms and neck, making his hair stand on end. You brought the body of the whip around to his arm, and you dragged it up, over his elbow, around his shoulders and down the opposite arm in a slow, soft caress.

"That wasn't a question, pretty boy," you purred, using your whip to point to the collar in his hands, "Put it on. Now."

He did so, holding the leash in his two open palms, offering it to you like a meal.

"Remind me," you asked in a quizzical voice, "What did I promise you if you disobeyed me again?"

You watched him swallow hard, both out of concern and excitement. He waited for a moment before answering you, his breathing deep and ragged,

"You promised you would... fuck me, mistress."

You gave him a few quiet tsks with your tongue before leaning down to him, taking his leash in your hand, and yanking him fully down on the floor,

"Tell the truth, Johnny. What. Was. My. Promise?"

You walked around behind him where he lay, face down, and kicked his legs apart, forcing him to spread himself for you. Then, you used the pointed toe of your extremely tall boot heel to press into his asshole, watching as the patent leather of the shoe pried his thick cheeks apart.

He writhed, but he didn't get up.

"You... promised... ahh!"

You knelt down behind him and used the blunt end of the whip to push into his hole, fucking him with the rounded ball of the weapon as slowly as you could.

"I'm waiting..." you threatened, pushing the plastic handle a little further than what he was expecting.

You watched as his body responded to you, twisting muscles and strong bones knotting together,

"You promised you would fuck my cock!"

His voice came out in a low whine, like a wounded animal, afraid and feral. You removed the whip and allowed him to relax before you bent down and licked his gaping hole, shoving your tongue just deep enough for him to feel you.

"Nngh, ahh. Mistress, please... mmf. Fuck..."

"Turn over."

He obeyed you immediately, and you gave his leash enough slack for him to get comfortable. Soap was sweating, panting, and his pupils were like two black, shining diamonds.

"Hands," you reminded him, and Soap immediately tucked his hands behind his back, palms down, trapping them under his ass.

"Yes, mistress."

"Mmm," you chuckled a bit, turning sinister, "You're not fooling anyone. You went, without your collar, on your fucking mission, and what did you think? That you would crawl back here to me and I would reward you after such a betrayal?"

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The heavy tails of the whip made moderate contact with his wide chest, causing him to grunt from the dull pain.

"No! No, mistress."

"You've been a bad boy, Johnny. A very bad boy."

You let the flexible tails of the whip run down the length of his torso, dragging across his skin, all the way down to his rosy, shining cock. He was as hard as you'd ever seen him, and he was leaking all over the place. You loved how wet Johnny got for you. It made everything it touched glitter with silky precome in the low light.

"Yes, mistress. I have," he confessed, finally submitting to you, "I deserve no mercy."

It was beautiful to watch. All of the high-strung, spooled-up excitement he had come in with was instantly washed away. It was like he had found a dark sort of peace, his facial features and his enormous body melting like ice to a flame.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Mmngh! Ah, fuck. Mistress, please. More. Please."

Snap. Snap. Snap.

"Yes. Mmfffuck! Fuck. Fuck. Nnnahhgh."

Thud. Snap. Thud. Snap.

"Ahh! Ahh. Ahh. Yes. Mistress. Yes. Yes!"

Red lashes painted your lover's hirsute form like powdered blush. You never hit him hard enough to do damage. You'd had plenty of other lovers in the past who had needed a much firmer hand. Soap was so pliant. So needy. So easy. And his quiet whimpers were your favorite song.

You knelt beside him, petting his sweaty cheek with the back of your hand, tracing your fingers over his open lips, plucking gently at his soft nipples.

"Are you ready for your punishment, Johnny?" Your voice was little more than a whisper.

"Yes, mistress."

"Good boy."

That praise earned you a trembling shudder. It rattled through his body, and you watched as his belly hollowed with each gasp of air.

He'd never tried to using a sounding rod before. You had helped him play with the tip of his cock, just pressing gently into it, letting him understand the sensations you could craft within him. But, you'd promised him you would save it for a special occasion, a truly intense punishment, for when he needed you to bring him back under your wing. It was a difficult tour, you knew, and the closer he got to defeating Makarov and his band of terrorists, the more he lashed out, seeking your protective retribution.

You were more than happy to provide.

Bending over him, you sucked his head into your mouth. Feeling how swollen he was, you knew he wouldn't last long. So, you found the metal rod you had prepared for him, sterilized and ready to be coated in lube and shoved into your lover's cock hole.

You brought it up to his face to let him see it. It was long, but you would only be teasing him with it this first time. If he took it well, you were fully equipped to take him much further. His eyes followed the implement like a moth to a lamp.

"Say your safe word, now."

"Tango."

"Good boy."

You rubbed the rod against his cock, and his whole body convulsed at the feeling of its cold length. He was shaking, his eyes wild with excitement. He looked to you for guidance in the face of this unknown.

"I've got you, pretty boy. Be good for me."

"Yes, mistress," he could barely speak the words.

You continued to rub the rod all around the outside of his cock, circling it, crossing over his slit, and then, finally, you let the tip dip - just barely - into the head of his dick.

"Mmmm, fuck...." He moaned so low that you felt the vibration resonating in his body.

You pulled it out, just a centimeter of insertion, and pushed it back in, over and over. In and out, fucking him with the cool, shining tool. As it entered him, it made soft, wet popping noises from the obscene amount of lube you had used to make it as easy on him as possible.

As you worked the rod, you began to rub his shaft. He was as hard as steel himself, and it was impossible to fit your hand around him. Soap was thick, and your body was hungry to have him inside of you again. But, tonight was for him, not you. You were here to serve him when he needed you most. You controlled him when he was out of control. You created peace in the midst of all of his chaos.

You worked him, up and down, in and out, slicking your palm across his skin, watching as he came undone.

"It's... too much, mistress. I cannae take much more. Please... have mercy."

"Are you asking for mercy," you snarled, "Or leniency?"

"Forgive... me... mistress..." Soap was slowly becoming more pliant and slipping deeper into his subspace.

"You've been so good for me," you pressed the sounding rod just a little deeper into him, and he moaned loudly, "Are you ready to come for me?"

"Fuck, yes, mistress. I cannae last any longer. Please let me come."

"Come, Johnny. Come for me."

You watched all of that strength that he kept trapped behind his skin come alive. His belly sank in with a deep breath, and when you pulled out the rod, he started to erupt with sticky, milky come all over himself and you.

"Ahhh! Ah! Oh, fuck. Fuck! Fuck!"

"Good boy. That's my good boy."

You dropped the rod and released him. All at once, he pulled his hands out from under him and wrapped you up, clumsily tackling you to the floor with him, releasing himself from your care, hugging you tightly to his chest, desperate for your touch. You held him back, running your hands through his grown out mohawk, petting his neck and back, shushing him. He was thanking you, kissing you, pulling you into him to show you his gratitude and his love.

"I promise I'll be good," Soap mumbled into your neck, "I'll be your good boy."

"You already are," you kissed his cheek and smiled down at him, letting him relax into you.

AO3 Link

[tfyoulookingatgiuxs]

Hello! I’ve read a bit of your stuff and really like it. Could you do a cute secret relationship story with Billy Hargrove x fem reader pls.

Thank you!

• Hmm...why not? It would be interesting. Worth a try! (I'm not a big fan of Billy but I'm happy to be able to satisfy your requests).

Together Forever

Billy Hargrove x Female!Reader

(PART ONE) FOR PART TWO -> HERE

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You and Billy have been engaged for more than two years in secret, without the knowledge of the citizens of Hawkins but also without the knowledge of the boy's father. You both want only one thing, to live together. And staying in Hawkins is not part of your plans.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Fluff, fem!reader, bad language, use of Y/N, you're surname is Williams, daddy issues, abuse, sigarettes, secret relationship.

𝐀/𝐍: Here it is! This is the first request, I really hope I exceeded @unamused-boss expectations Sorry for my English, this is not my native language. Please support new writers and reblog. Hope you enjoy! (DIVIDER NOT MINE) word count: 2.4K

In Hawkins the air was cold and this week the forecast said it would bring down the flood. You savored the air which made you smile. You never hated rain or gloomy weather, in fact you found them relaxing and perfect for drinking a nice cup of milk or hot chocolate, as if you were back in winter close to the Christmas period.

You moved some leaves as you crept further towards the house, a classic house and welcoming and tidy on the outside. You were in the garden, but hey, let's calm down, you're not going to rob! But you are looking for the window to the room of Billy Hargrove, your boyfriend. Yes exactly. You Y/N Williams, an ordinary student at Hawkins High, engaged to the big and strong Billy Hargrove! You didn't believe it either, to tell the truth. You were not popular, much less well-regarded by most of your classmates, you were silent and perhaps even mysterious, you were good at school, sure, but you had a temper that perhaps half the students at school envied, and that is precisely what triggered a connection in you and Billy the day you met.

In his eyes you were normal, nothing that Billy cared about, you were just like all the other girls, but he changed his mind as soon as you won a verbal battle with him, leaving him breathless. No one dared to challenge him and especially with such confidence, but you, you were the first girl to do so, and it left the students shocked for at least two weeks. You seemed like sworn enemies, after that spat neither of you tried to annoy the other so as not to start a war, but in reality you realized that in the end you weren't that far apart, in fact you could even say they were quite similar.

You remembered when you and Billy attended Mrs. Davis's classes, which were really boring. The boy wouldn't stop giving you glances and giggling every now and then, only to both get scolded and sent to the principal. The students were tired of this, you were seriously cat and dog! Unbearable! But what people didn't know was that both of you weren't teasing each other to cause anger or annoyance to the other, but it was totally the opposite, they were pure and true digs. At first you didn't notice, you thought it was normal, something for friends. But apparently this was not the case. From secret friends you have become secret lovers.

Wow...

You seriously didn't expect this...you had to be honest about this. After you both got together you saw a side of Billy you never thought you'd seen. From the obnoxious, arrogant, vulgar and popular boy he was, he had finally revealed himself: kind, loving, difficult and sweet.

In short, never judge a book by its cover, right? The same thing apparently goes for people.

But now you're wondering... why in secret? Why were you two secret friends and now secretly engaged?

This was because Billy had a great reputation at school and was afraid of being criticized by others. You felt very sorry for him and you understood it. In Hawkins High, gossip is the fruit of its existence and if there wasn't anyone to criticize or make fun of, what would the students of this fucking school do? Exact. Just nothing. This is why you understood that your school was perhaps the shittiest of all. They would torment not only Billy but you too. You showed such confidence and superiority towards Billy that day and now you are friends? In short, something that cannot be heard!

You have therefore decided to keep the matter in secret so as to be left alone.

As for the relationship, well, both of you were actually ready to no longer hide and face those dick faces, but you immediately backed out when you found out that Billy's father strictly forbade going out with you and doing anything. something more productive in his life. The boy had never told you about his family until that point and when he told you about his father you were horrified by it. His father was a violent and aggressive man, he hurt him while demanding respect from his son who he threatened or even beat if he disobeyed, a father that no one would like to have...

The night you and Billy got ready to go out on a date, he called you and canceled without telling you why. Then when you met and talked about it you became calm again and consoled him. Billy vented and it hurt, you couldn't know what it meant to live in that hell. For your boyfriend, however, it was fine, especially when he met you, for him you were an angel, one of the most beautiful and sweetest girls he had ever seen, for him, you were a divine salvation from his torment, and if he had to suffer all this to stay with you then he would have tolerated it.

Seriously, this guy turned out to be more amazing than you thought.

For his father you were just an adventure, a simple whore with whom Billy would be satisfied and therefore he ordered him to leave you alone and look for something to earn, since Billy recently left school.

In short...a beautiful but complicated relationship.

You arrived in front of his closed window and as soon as you saw his figure from behind while he was lifting some weights through the glass, you knocked and he turned around. He smiled at you showing his docile face and opened the door for you. Most of the time it was you who barged into his room to visit him, unlike him, other than part-time work, you had nothing to do.

“My bad girl barges into my room again, I should start worrying” He said teasingly as he helped you up. You smiled "Nah, you don't need it, I'm used to it by now" you both gave each other a kiss on the lips as a greeting. That afternoon, all members of Billy's family were out: Max was with his friends, Susan was shopping and his father was at work.

"How are you?" You asked as you eyed his weights. It was now a legitimate question to ask every time you saw him training. An outside observer might think he did it to maintain his beautiful physique, true. But he also does it to let off steam...Billy does nothing but lift weights to vent an enormous anger that he is holding back. He smiled sweetly at you "Good darling, don't worry. Training doesn't hurt me" with this the boy winked at you and moved a lock of hair from his face and then placed his palm on your cheek "And what about you? How is my girl?" He smiled one of his own and you couldn't help but giggle, he loved teasing you with these silly nicknames and you couldn't help but blush and flatter yourself.

"Very good, today I received my pay at work and I got an excellent grade in biology!" You said as you ran a hand down his chest. "But didn't you hate biology?" He said as he invited you to sit on his bed. His room was tidier than you remembered it from two years ago. Billy was messy, and let's say he put his things in plain sight, thank goodness that since he got engaged to you he started hiding inappropriate things to make you feel at ease.

You sat on his bed with your back against the beige wall of his room, he stood next to you.

"Yes, it's true, but I wanted to improve myself, I have to be good in all subjects to improve my future" You said taking his hand "Aren't you tired of all that studying?" Billy said taking a cigarette and placing it between his thin lips "To be honest yes, I really fucking can't stand the thought of opening another literature book or something" You laughed at the idea. Despite being a studious girl, you have never loved studying. So many things, so many poems, so many equations and bullshit like that, in short, enough! Too much! "But, you know, I'm doing it to do better in the future, so I'll have more job opportunities" Billy let out smoke from his mouth and you smelled the smell of tobacco in your nostrils "What would you like to do in the future? In short, it seems that you already know what you want to do with your life, sweet girl" he said looking at a fixed point "Actually, no, I don't know, there are many things and I couldn't decide" He seemed surprised by your answer but then it took him a while to answer you.

"Well there aren't many things you can find here in this shitty town, God, I wish I could get out of here" He finally said almost whispering as more smoke spread into the room. This statement of his made you think...

You never really thought about staying in Hawkins, the city, as welcoming as it was, was also a bad place that you really wanted to escape from, you don't like the people, much less the mayor who runs it. Thinking of wanting to move to have other opportunities and change your life seemed like an impossible dream. You looked at Billy and you looked at him "I share your thoughts, if it were up to me I would leave here too, maybe to New York, or I don't know, to Boston, there are many places outside of here where I would like to spend my life. Instead you Billy, where would you go?" He looked back at his fixed point in front of him. He remained silent for a while and then answered you with a smile "California...I would like to go back there" he said it with a note of sadness and your heart melted. You knew how much he wanted to return to California, after all it was one of the most beautiful places for him, because of his precious memories with his mother.

“Maybe then we would go together…” You said resting your head on his shoulder feeling his sweaty skin “Together?” He seemed paralyzed by your proposal and you nodded “That's impossible darling…” he gave a light chuckle but his tone didn't seem joking, it was as if he wished that proposal had come true. "Why do you think it's impossible?" He shook your hand as he placed his cigarette in the nearby ashtray "Because that's how it is. Look at us, I work as a lifeguard and earn little anyway, you on the other hand are still studying, moreover my father wouldn't allow me to go back to California, he says that he hates it and that neither Max nor I should go back, and also because he wouldn't approve of me going with you" True. He wasn't wrong and this made you stay silent for several minutes thinking about how to find a solution.

You knew it was absurd, in short, Billy was now an adult, if he wanted to leave and move somewhere else it wasn't his father's business, but by now the man seemed to have taken control of his life too and this had taken you by surprise. . The father wanted Billy, like Max, to stay close to them so as not to worry Susan, who unlike the man was worried about the two and certainly knowing that one of the two was too far away worried her, so much so that she asked her husband to order both him and Max to stay in Hawkins in the future. But that didn't mean you would have given up.

"You know, in California there are many chances of finding a job and someone like yours earns well there. Then if I managed to graduate here I could very well walk away with the money I earn from part-time work" He smiled "You planned the your life plan?" You looked at him with a grin "our life plan, you are part of my life, Billy" she immediately smiled so much that he blushed but shook his head "No. With me your future will only be turbulent and then as I said before, it's impossible"

"Nothing is impossible Billy. Together if we want we can do it, obviously if you want to do it" you raised your head and he took a deep breath and kissed you. You laughed in the sweet kiss "Of course I want" You smiled again "Only, my father worries me"

“Don't worry about him, I actually already have an idea for this” you smirked evilly as you stroked his golden locks. Billy looked at you for a while to then understand what was going on in your little head "My smart girl" He said as he approached hungry for another kiss, you laughed "Have I always been or am I wrong?" You both gave each other more kisses.

Exactly two more years passed. It was a rainy night. Midnight. The streets of Hawkins were deserted as the rain got heavier and heavier. A wonderful night, especially for the two of you. You had recently graduated and had saved money, and Billy had done the same thing with the little he earned.

You headed towards the boy's window only to see him land on the ground and take out his bags trying to make as little noise as possible. You on the other hand, had brought yours too and helped Billy by trying not to get him and his bags wet thanks to your umbrella. You gave each other a kiss while the adrenaline was rising. It was the big day and you were as anxious as you were excited. You both headed to the boy's car putting down your bags and stuff and got into the car.

“Are you sure Y/N?” He said holding the steering wheel tightly, you nodded "Yes, remember that together we can do it" you reassured him and he nodded happily. He seemed reborn, new and fresh, a different person. He was about to leave that old life full of suffering to start a new one with the love of his life, you and for you he would also trigger his father's wrath. In the meantime you took a cigarette and started lighting it with the lighter "Ok, together forever, darling" he told you and then put on his sunglasses, you laughed since the sun wasn't out, but he was ready to leave and to adjust to the place “California, we are coming” You said in a confident tone as smoke spread through the car.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The cold truth

Artful Dodger one shot. Jack Dawkins x fem reader

Before Fagin's return, before Belle, before it all there was y/n. The first woman to break Jack's heart. He kept her portrait in a silver locket, the chain hanging on his bed. One day, long after her operation Belle sits in the hospital going over medical text when Hetty comes into her. Seeing the locket in Belle's hand she tells her the story.

"She was a lovely girl, a nurse here. Odd though because she was married. So many of us live a solitary life but not y/n. She was such a wonderful spirit. I'm convinced she could make the dead dance with her joy. None of us could have known. Jack was the first to notice the changes, they were so small at first. Y/n had always had the most beautiful red hair, it was so thick she could hardly contain it and would have it tied several plates pinned about her head. I remember Jack coming to me one morning, the spirals were gone. It was all chopped off up to her shoulders. Y/n wouldn't tell us what happened.

Then it was the bruises. Poking out of her dress on her neck, her arms you know. She just kept saying she was clumsy, but we spent hours with her and none of us ever saw her even trip. Jack tries to ask her once but she brushed him off.

I don't know if it was her original joy or the subsequent lack of it, but the doctor seemed fixated on her. He needed to know what was happening.

One time he bumped into her, knocking her ribs and the touch sent y/n to the floor. Shocked by the reaction Jack took her aside and checked her over. Y/n had a bruise that covered her whole left side. Angry and red, purple, blue. Still she wouldn't tell us a thing. Jack took it upon himself to look after her. Noting that she would often work a whole day without a bite of food he began making extra lunch and sitting with her.

He would talk about her when she wasn't around. Retelling her jokes and talking of her beauty.

Of course we know now that it was her husband. He cut her hair off with an axe. Said she was too vain about her appearance and a nurse didn't need long hair. The beatings were worse. He would attack her for any little mistakes. Her ribs? That was because she had burnt dinner one night. He was an awful man. We only found out because Jack found her wandering the streets on his way home for the cat and bagpipes. He had kicked her out of their house. I don't remember what for, but Jack found her and he took care of her. By then the only time I saw her happy was when they were sat together. She told him everything and he promised to help her. Said she could have a bed in our nurses quarters. She even appeared happy for a while, the two of em did.

A week or so later she went home to collect her things, convinced her husband would be at work. He wasn't.

She managed to get back here. I'll never know how she made it. One broken leg, a fractured elbow and a knife in her gut. She did though, she came stumbling in. I think I screamed when I saw her. Jack rushed her into the theatre, but this was about a year before you came along. There was nothing he could do with the knife wound. That damn blade was wide enough to take down an elephant. Ripped her up so badly inside. She couldn't breathe and the blood was pouring into her lungs.

Jack tried and tried until she asked him to stop. Exhausted and covered in her blood, Jack was ready to collapse himself. She held tight to his hand and looked into his eyes.

"No, no y/n, you gotta fight this. You can't die." Jack begged her.

"Jack, I have to go. I'm sorry. You can't save me." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Jack held on to her. I had hoped his will alone might make God knit her back together. My faith took a knock that day and I'm not afraid to admit it. The look on that boys face when they insisted on taking her away. Tim had to hold him to keep Jack from following her body to the grave.

We all changed after that day. The first time one of our own bad died so brutally. Jack wasn't the same. He threw himself into his work, his competition with Sneed.

You know there are times when he still visits her grave. Maybe that's why he was so desperate to save you, Lady Belle. Jack's poor heart couldn't take another love being ripped away from him. It's a lovely portrait of her. " She finishes by glancing over Belle's shoulder at the lockett.

"he's in prison, so you think, do you think you could take me to her grave?" Belle asks.

It's a small wooden cross with her name carved into it.

"we couldn't afford a real headstone. " Hetty explains. Belle bent to touch the wood, running her fingers over the carved wood.

"What happened to the husband?"

"Got himself hanged for his troubles three weeks after. It took three hours for him to die. Come on now miss we should get you back before you're missed." Hetty reminded her.

"of course. I shall bring y/n flowers tomorrow."

"very good Milady "

[iwillnotdieamonster]

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

[strange-anni]

Swapping places: Mike and Will

Part 2: Mike Wheeler

Read Part 1: Will Byers here

We have never been given as much inside into Mikes mind as we have with Will so this part will be a lot shorter than the first on. There is still some ground to cover though, so let's get started.

If Vecna or Vecman as Robin mistakenly calls him here holds the core of Wills deeply buried memories, there has to be something similar for Mike as well. I'm not sure if Mike remembers at all what happened to him or if he only has a vague sense that something isn't right. Or if his memories are as deeply buried as Wills and only appear like vivid images from a dream he can't shake off but there is one thing Mike is very sure of.

There can only be one Venkman and that's Mike!

The concept of two people existing at the same time who might hold the same role even if it's just a costume or a fictional character is not a thing Mike agrees with. There can only be one Venkman because there is only one Venkman in real life. Venkman could never be anyone else but him. Not Lucas or anyone else.

It's also very interesting to me that it's Will who brings up the concept of the two Venkman who could co-exist together. Will seems to be the one who is okay with it but Mike isn't. This indicates that Mike is trying to hold on to his identity and is not yet ready to face the truth.

However there is also the fact that when Will really needed Mike in S2 he was ready to help to bring Will home into his own basement. Mike's home which is apparently also Wills home. We see this contrasted with Jonathan who in the same season also brings Nancy home but to her own home and not to the Byers house where he lives.

Mike does the opposite and gets Will home into his basement. This could indicate a number of things and I would not put it past Mike to have picked up on the fact that Will has more reasons to be at ease in the Wheelers house than in his own home at the Byers house even if he doesn't know the reason why. Will who at home constantly had to be on the lookout for Lonnie would not feel safe there and feel a lot safer at the Wheelers simply because there is no Lonnie.

Yet there could still be more to it. Like Mike feeling that this place and this home belong to Will just as much if not more (Mike is very insecure) than to him. For it has originally been Will that lived there and not Mike so Mike get's Will home to a place he belongs.

This speech from Mike in the van is not about El. It's about Will.

Like Will does just a few moments later in the same scene I think Mike is also using El as a shield to convey his own feelings to Will and it talks volumes of how he really feels.

He's contrasting himself with another person who was born special unlike him and assumes that he may be the first person to realize that. Mike though wasn't the first person to realize El was special. There were a multitude of people before him like Brenner and the lab people, Owens and the ones who El is currently with who realized it way before he did and Mike knows this. They are currently on their way to rescue her from these people, so why would he word it like that?

It's not about El but Will instead. It's Will who was born special and Mike was one of the first people to realize that back when they were still five years old. He's insecure because he's afraid that Will might one day no longer need him once he realizes who Mike thinks he really is. Just some random person. Just some random person who met Will by pure chance when he needed someone. I'll come back to that in a bit because we have already seen what this is about.

It's after that that Mike suddenly seems to change topics because now it is no longer about Will but him instead. It's Mike who after that moment got lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep and saved him.

Lucky. Being there by pure chance. Coincidence. Mike is completely discarding all the small and big choices both of them made along the way which really got them together and made them fall in love with each other. He's reducing it all to pure chance which it is not although it did play a role in how they first met.

These are two people who are said to be explorers. Holly wo is a Wheeler and then there is Henry who is also 001 and Wills persecutor alter. Both saw something they should not have seen. Holly saw the Demogorgon, the representation of Lonnie in the wall and Henry found out the secrets of the parents.

Maybe Superman came to Mikes doorstep, explored a little too much and then saw what what his father Lonnie was about to do and couldn't bear to see Mike get hurt like that so he swapped their places. He became the Will we know him to be and Mike became the Mike we know him to be. This also means that for the next few years it was Will who had to endure all the ab*se Lonnie inflicted on him. Ab*se Mike would have suffered if it wasn't for this one moment of chance that got them together.

So now he's afraid he'll lose Will when he realizes what happened and might come to the conclusion that Mike wasn't worth all of what Will did for him and to an extent he's right. Henry is full of hatred for them both and resents them for having to endure all of the pain he had to go through because they swapped places. If this hadn't happened, Will would still be Wheeler after all.

Yet Henry is not Will. He's only part of Will and part of the reason why he is so full of hatred is because he's been alone with all this pain he had to absorb for so long that it twisted his mind. Will will have to face Henry and come face to face with this truth as well and then he'll realize that in the end, he still loves Mike even if there was a part of him that resented Mike for what happened. That's what Will is all about. He doesn't want to let the bad guys win but for that he needs to face his darker side as well and then overcome it.

What happened wasn't Mikes fault and it wasn't Wills fault either. There is no one to blame but Lonnie.

Mike will have to realize this too. For him it's his fear of losing Will and his own insecurities he needs to face. He needs to realize that Will did what he did because he wanted to. It's a decision Will for the most part doesn't regret and would probably do all over again if he had too. Most of all though Mike needs to understand that to Will he was in fact worth it.

Then they'll be ready to deal with the past, face their trauma and the lives they've lived prior to 1976. They'll be able to set things right.

This is the moment when Mike - that random person - was there for Will when he needed him. On on random lucky day on his first day of kindergarten he met Will on a swing and then made the decision to ask if he wanted to be his friend because they were both alone. It was a decision he's never regretted. In fact he believes it to be the best thing he's ever done.

It's a real memory from way back before they swapped places I think. As to why Will was alone or why he needed someone in that moment I have no idea. But Mike was there and it changed both their lives forever.