#Boot Camp Graduation

[spinebuster]

brother is saying rosita from twd’s story starts from being angela in twilight and honestly i can believe it

[seefasters]

one of many benefits art school gave me even if i was kinda shit at art while attending, is the ability to do certain stuff on autopilot. it's like i do some things without really thinking about it, figuring its intuition - and then it turns out it really isn't, i just painted this particular thing so many times my hands do it by themselves

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 7- For The First Time

Summary: Eight days ago, you kissed Frankie Morales for the first time. Eight days later, you want to do more than just kiss him.

Word count: 8.6K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) protected p in v sex, loss of virginity/first sexual experience for Frankie and Reader (some brief mentions of momentary discomfort bc of it) oral (f receiving- building the lore for Pussy Eating King Francisco Morales brick by brick), vaginal fingering, Frankie's got a big dick (it's also part of the lore, don't @ me) sweet and awkward teenage love, Frankie being everything and more, lots and lots and lots of consent, a four letter word that starts with an L, please don't yell at me, they're both 18 at this point in the story!!!

A/N: Soooooo all of a sudden I blinked a this was 8K plus words WHOOPS 🤠 I ain't gonna lie with y'all, this may be one of my favorite things I've ever written and have cried the whole way through it 😭 My plan was to have Frankie picking up MacKenzie from work in this chapter too, but obviously things got away from me very quickly, so that will be next chapter's problem!! Your kind words about this story mean so much to me, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!! 🥺💕

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Summer of 2007, Age 18 

123 days. 

That night Frankie told you he had made up his mind to join the Army after he finished with high school, you counted out every square on your calendar from April 15th to August 16th. You had 123 days left together before you left for college and Frankie left for boot camp. 

But April 15th was 2 months ago. 67 days ago, to be exact. Each day you crossed off your calendar filled you with a little more dread than the last. You tried not to think about the dwindling number, or the impending doom of August hanging behind July and June on the wall above your desk, but it was hard to not let the thought constantly nag in the back of your mind that the carefree summer days of spending practically every waking minute with Frankie were coming to an end. 

The only thing that seemed to put you at ease was just that- after the hurt and sadness of Frankie’s departure had subsided enough, you had promised each other that the last bit of time you had together, you’d do everything in your power to make the most of it. 

If there was anything you knew the other was good for, it was keeping a promise. 

There was no denying that the past 67 days spent with Frankie had been nothing short of magical. It seemed like for once in your life, everything was falling into place exactly how you wanted it to. 

Your soccer team had won the state championship, Frankie being the first to rush onto the field to congratulate you on your victory after cheering for you at the top of his lungs the whole game. The stress of school seemed to become irrelevant, your teachers easing up as you came to the close of your Senior year, you and Frankie’s after school hangouts now focused less on homework and more on goofing around. Graduation had come and gone, you and Frankie both walking across the stage of your high school gym, diplomas in hand, teasing the other relentlessly about how awful the other looked in the stupid, tasseled caps they had forced you to wear. 

Then, there was prom.

It had been no question that you and Frankie were going to prom together- it was an unspoken, standing agreement that the both of you had since the start of your senior year. For as much as homecomings or school dances had never been your (or Frankie’s) preferred way to spend a Saturday night, there was an undeniable excitement you had about it you couldn’t really quite describe. You kept chalking it up to the fact it was the biggest night of your senior year, or that all your best friends were gathering together to have an incredible party filled with dancing and fun. 

But neither of those things could account for the butterflies in your stomach when Frankie showed up at your front door, tuxedo on and flowers in hand, watching his jaw drop and heart stop when he laid eyes on you. 

“You look beautiful, MacKenzie.” 

From that moment on, those 4 words hadn’t stopped ringing in your ears. 

They rang in your ears as he held your hand the entire night, refusing to unlock his fingers from yours. 

They rang in your ears as you felt him grab your waist while you danced. 

They rang in your ears as he lovinging teased you about your drunken hiccups off sips of stolen beer cans in Santi’s basement where the party had traveled to long after prom had finished. 

They rang in your ears in the middle of your moonlit street as Frankie walked you home, making it no less than ten steps past Santi’s porch before he froze, staring at you like a trembling deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, weirdo?” 

“There’s something I wanna do. I’m terrified you’ll hate me forever if I do it, but I’ve wanted to for so long and I don’t think I can wait anymore.” 

“Frankie, what are you-” 

“Can I kiss you, MacKenzie? Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.” 

“F-Frankie, I-” 

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget that I-” 

“I was scared you would never ask.” 

It wasn’t until then you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss Frankie Morales. 

Now, you’re absolutely sure that you never want to stop kissing him. 

There’s something about the warmed, welcomed June air that makes you want to throw every caution you’ve ever had to the wind, finally understanding what all of those books and movies had meant about falling victim to a summer fling.

Ever since that night at prom, Frankie Morales was the only thing in the world that mattered. It had only been eight days since his lips had met yours under the midnight moon, but every day since, neither of you had passed up a chance to sneak away for stolen kisses and bodies tangled in messy dances of limbs, finding any excuse to spend a moment alone together. 

Maybe your pink cheeks and goofy grins were enough to let the world know how hard you had fallen for your best friend- even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t care. Right now, consequences don't exist. 

Right now, the only thing that does is you, Frankie, and a four letter word that lingers in the back of your mind. 

They especially don’t exist when you’re wide awake at one in the morning for the third night in a row, unable to sleep as butterflies rumble in your stomach and fly up to your chest after another day spent with the boy four doors down. 

You toss and turn under your sheets, unable to stand staring hopelessly at your ceiling another minute. You reach across your bed, plucking your phone off your nightstand, finding Frankie’s name in your messages. 

You: 

Hey, are you still up? I can’t sleep 

It’s barely ten seconds before his contact is lighting up your screen, making your heartbeat just a little faster.

Frankie :) <3

Im up 2. I cant sleep either 

Cant stop thinking about u 

You: 

Me either, even though we literally spent all day together haha 

You smile at your screen as you wait for Frankie’s response, fingers anxiously tapping on your keyboard until your phone lights up again. 

Frankie :) <3

Do u wanna come over? 

I wanna see u 

Your face scrunches in confusion, sitting up in your bed to peer out your window, like Frankie would be able to see your puzzled expression from down the street as you type back. 

You: 

I mean, yeah, but it’s 1 AM Frankie??? What about your mom? 

Frankie :) <3 

Shes working overnight at the hospital 

She wont be back until like 9 tomorrow 

Its just me 

You’re unsure of how to describe the feeling that’s beginning to brew in your stomach as you read his last three texts. A strange mix of excitement and anticipation washes through you at the idea of letting yourself indulge in the teenage rebellion of sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night. An even stranger mix of nerves and something else you can’t quite explain floods your veins at the idea of sneaking out of your house to find Frankie, alone in his bedroom. 

The feeling you quite can’t explain churns faster in your gut and travels down your lower half when you realize if you’re alone with Frankie in his bedroom, you want to do more than just kiss him. 

You: 

Are you sure?? 

Frankie :) <3

Promise 

I really wanna see u Kenz 

At this point, the strange feeling that’s seeped through every inch of your body must have made it to your brain, because you’re convinced it’s the reason you don’t know how to breathe anymore. 

You: 

Okay 

I’ll be over in 10 :) 

Frankie :) <3 

Ok :) 

Come in thru the back door  

Txt me when ur there and ill let u in 

You’ve never been up and out of your bed so quickly, fumbling with your comforter and pillows just enough to resemble something close to a body under your sheets if god forbid either one of your parents wakes up and decides to check on you for the first time since you were a toddler. 

Your breath trembles, inhaling and exhaling in long and deep rises of your chest, carefully tiptoeing across your bedroom floor. You’d give anything to be in something cuter than your pajamas, but opening your closet seems like too risky of a move in your plot to escape. 

You grab Frankie’s sweatshirt hanging over your desk chair, quietly shuffling it over your head before attempting to use the moonlight spilling in through your window as enough illumination to comb your fingers through your messy hair and wrangle it into a quick braid. It’s hard to tell from the half lit reflection staring back at you in the mirror, but you pray the once over you give yourself is enough to keep you from looking like a complete mess when you show up at Frankie’s door. 

The adrenaline of it all seems to kick your nerves to the curb as you stuff your phone in Frankie’s sweatshirt pocket before your fingers gently wrap around the curve of your doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re well aware of the ramifications that could await you on the other side. 

You’re also well aware that consequences are temporary, and no amount of fear of future punishment is keeping you from making it to Frankie’s bedroom tonight. 

It’s a James Bond worthy performance, the way you sneak down your staircase, avoiding every crack and creak with expertise, stealthily sliding past your parents bedroom and across the family room until you’ve crept through your kitchen to find your back patio.

You flinch with every squeal of the sliding glass door as you nudge it open, just enough to squeeze your body through. You grimace your face in fear as you pause, back to the bricks of your house, waiting for someone to catch you in the act. 

A few moments pass and the silence of your home stays stagnant, giving you the all clear to bolt across your backyard, dashing through your neighbors lawns until you find yourself at Frankie’s, hands shaking as your fingers punch at your keyboard. 

You: 

I’m here! Let me in!  

As your thumb presses send, your adrenaline has waived just enough to let the anxious tension take hold of your body, palms sweating and heart racing so fast it just may beat out of your chest. Your teeth gnaw at your fingernails, waiting for his response to text you that he’ll be right there, or he’s about to let you in, but this is Frankie- It should be no surprise when he opens the back door immediately. There’s not a chance in hell he hasn’t been waiting for you down here since the moment you texted him you were coming. 

“Hi.” You whisper, biting down your lip to contain the smile that’s spread across your face as he’s opened the door. 

“Hi.” He whispers back, tongue darting between his lips as his eyes wander up and down your frame before locking with yours. 

His palm grazes your cheek, cradling your jaw as he steps into you, chest to chest while your lips lock in a gentle, electric kiss, the kind that makes you want the taste of him to linger on your tongue forever. 

“You wanna go up to my room?” He asks, the hot breath of his words dancing across your skin as his mouth still hovers over yours. 

Before, you would have quipped him with some sort of witty, sarcastic response, teasing him that you’d rather stay out in the pitch black and get eaten by mosquitos until he dragged you inside, eyes rolling at your sass. Now, the best you can manage are shaky breaths while you nod your head in agreement, praying your brain will let you form some sort of coherent thought before you speak. 

Frankie grabs your hand as he pulls you into his house, taking the familiar path through his kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, the pounding in both your chests filling the silence for the words you seem to lack. 

He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him as you make it to his room, your bodies tangling and intertwining in a frantic dance, stumbling across the floor until the backs of Frankie’s knees collide with the bed, the two of you toppling over in soft giggles onto the mattress. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” Frankie sighs, one arm wrapped around your hip and the other resting on your face as he leans back in for another kiss, your smiles pressed against each other. 

“It’s only been like, three hours since I saw you last, dummy,” You quietly snicker, letting your hands wander up his chest, “You really missed me that much?” 

“Yeah, really.” He replies in between kisses, fingers digging just a little bit deeper into your side, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kenzie. You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever wanna think about.” 

You try to swallow the lump that’s lingering in your throat, but with each second that passes, it seems to grow, trapping the words your brain is fighting to get out. The simple bliss you’ve found in pressing your mouth to Frankie’s has become overshadowed by the looming tension spreading through you as you imagine the soft plush of his lips across your skin, or the way you want his hands to creep down the waistband of your shorts and ease the ache that’s been building between your legs. 

Your body freezes at the realization that you want to tell him that you can’t stop thinking about him either, that you can’t stop thinking about the fact you want more than just his lips pressed against yours, how you want him to be the first one you feel inside you, that he’s the only one you ever want. 

That there’s nothing more than you want to be his. 

It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize he’s making out with a half open mouth, pulling away with concern as he studies the pained expression across your face. 

“Kenz, a-are, are you okay? D-did I do something wrong?” Frankie stammers, gulping as he shifts himself to follow your lead and sit up on the bed. 

“N-no, no, it’s just that- fuck- I just- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” You stutter, face growing hotter and hotter as you furrow your brow, eyes peeled to Frankie’s blue and green plaid sheets as you try to find the words you want so desperately for him to hear.

Frankie reaches out his hand, gently resting it on the bare skin of your thigh, just below the hem of your pajama shorts. You glance down at the way his fingers carefully rub back and forth, trying to calm your nerves enough to look at him. 

“It’s okay, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I’m- I’m here to listen.” He responds, trying his best to be the anchor in your storm, despite his own nearly shot nerves. 

“I- I- I really like you, Frankie.” 

“I really like you too, Kenz.” He smiles softly, just enough teasing inflection in his tone to get you to giggle, just a little. 

“I just- I- um, do you- Frankie, do you- do you ever think about doing more than just kissing me?” 

A stark silence fills the room, quiet enough that each breath through your nose and thump in your chest amplifies and echoes in the space between you. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek watching Frankie’s face go blank, eyes widening with every second he lets your question process. His Adam’s Apple bobs in sync with the trembling exhale he takes before he looks back at you, praying that your word vomit hasn’t led to a detrimental mistake. 

“Do um, holy shit- you mean like, l-like what? Like, like, h-having sex? W-w-with you?” 

He’s panting like he’s just finished a marathon, his eyes darting wildly between you and his sheets, terrified to answer your question with anything else but his own question to make sure he’s really just heard what you said. 

The tops of your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you nod your head just enough, the subtle shake just enough to let him confirm his suspicions that you’re asking as a way of letting him  know how often it’s crossed your mind. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think about it.” He stammers, feeling his fingers tremble against your skin, hand still resting on your thigh, “D-do- do you? Um, think about it?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper, voice shaking as you reach down to lay your hand over his, letting your fingers slide between the gaps between his knuckles until they intertwine, gripping each other tightly, there was no chance the other could float away. 

The silence shifts to a different type of tension, a thickness in the air so palpable, it makes it just as hard to move as it does to breathe. The two of you stare at the interlocked hand resting on your thigh, stuck in a game of chicken of who dares to make the first move into the uncharted territory you’ve entered. 

“I- I’ve never-” 

“Me either.” Frankie interjects, cutting off the end of your statement.

It’s almost humorous to admit it out loud, like the both of you didn’t already share every detail of your lives with one another, and had somehow managed to let this fact fall between the cracks.

The two of you let out quiet laughs to yourselves, finding comfort in the comradery to work up enough courage to let your gazes meet again, wondering if Frankie can see the same yearning in your eyes as you see reflected in the soft brown his. 

“MacKenzie, I- I-” he mutters, scrunching his face with his swallow, trying to compose himself, “I only wanna do what you wanna do. I don’t- um, I don’t want you to think that if- if you don’t want to, o-or whatever, that I would be mad. I promise I would never, ever be mad at you because of that. Y-you know that, right?” 

“I know.” 

There’s not a part of you that doubts it. Not for a second. You know that there’s no one else on the face of this earth you trust more than him. 

There could be no one else but him. 

“You know I would never be mad at you either, right?” You ask, relieved as you watch Frankie gently nod his head. 

You’re not sure if it’s instinct or the weight of the tension that makes you lean into him, foreheads pressing together so that the messy curls of his sleepy hair are tickling your skin. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, waiting on your every breath as he leans back into you. 

“I want to. I want you, Frankie.” 

“F-fuck- Are you sure?” He asks, his free hand creeping across the sheets, carefully sliding up your thigh and under his sweatshirt you’re wearing, letting his fingers toy at the softness of your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. 

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, your own hand traveling up his leg and towards the tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. 

“I-if it’s too much, t-tell me to stop, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you, MacKenzie.” 

“I know you will. I trust you, Frankie.” 

“O-okay.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s then your mouths crash together in a messy dance of tounges and teeth, an instant electricity igniting in your core with anticipation and want. It’s frantic yet sensual, the way there’s nothing more you want than him, but can’t bear to miss a moment to take it all in, savoring every second you melt into him.

As your hands wander across each other’s bodies, Frankie shifts you to lay on your back so he can cage his frame over yours, the ends of his fingers barely daring to roam any farther than just below your hips or too far above your stomach. 

“C-can I take off your shirt?” He asks, already breathless at just the sight of you underneath him. 

“Technically your shirt, Morales.” You smirk, making his cheeks turn even more pink at the way you giggle when you say his name. 

“It’s yours now, looks way better on you than it does on me. Drives me fucking crazy seeing you in my clothes, Kenz.” He grins, carefully tugging your sweatshirt and the shirt underneath it above your head as you lift up your arms, helping him wriggle it free. 

As you pop out from under the fabric, the first thing you notice is the way Frankie’s jaw is hanging open, eyes wide as can be as they stay glued to your bare chest. 

“Holy shit.”  Frankie whispers to himself, tongue darting between his lips, staring at the way your nipples have hardened from being exposed and aroused. “Um, w-wow.” 

Seeing you topless sparks something in him to do the same, reaching over his shoulder to tug his t-shirt off his back and over his head, leaving nowhere for the heave of each heavy rise and fall of your chests to hide. 

Slowly, Frankie lets his hands slide up your stomach until he’s palming your breasts, grouping each one in his hands, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against your sensitive buds. 

He leans down to kiss you, starting at your lips before trailing down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your chest, carefully kissing each handful he has in his grasp. 

You’ve never felt your core ache the way it does now, throbbing with want and need for more, just from the way Frankie’s groping you. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling- you’ve touched yourself before with this exact scenario playing in your mind, but never has it made you feel like this. 

“Y-you can take off my shorts, i-if you want.” 

“O-kay.” 

The gentleness of Frankie’s gaze makes your heart skip a beat, the chocolate brown of his eyes locked on yours as he scoots himself down the bed until he finds himself settled between your legs, now parted open for him. 

It’s then you’re overtly aware that Frankie is about to see you completely naked, a new wave of anxiety crashing through you as heat rises in your cheeks and makes you fidget the fabric of his sheets between your fingers. 

“I- I- I’m not wearing cute underwear. S-sorry.” You stammer, wincing as Frankie’s thumbs begin to dip below your waistband. 

“Seriously, Kenz?” He chuckles, pausing in his tracks to shake his head in disbelief, “Do you really think I care what underwear you have on right now?” 

“Well, n-no, but-” 

“You really think I’m about to turn down having sex with you because you’re not in the right underwear? That you won’t even have on in like, three seconds?” Frankie snickers, trying to help ease your clearly visible nerves. 

“Shut up.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you playfully swat at him, forgetting about the fact you were topless and immediately clamming up again as you felt your breasts sway against your chest. “S-sorry, I- I’m just kinda nervous.” 

“Why are you nervous?” Frankie questions gently, wrapping his hand around your calf, thumb softly circling your skin. 

“Well you’re about to see me naked for the first time, Frankie. I think that’s a pretty fair reason to be nervous.” You force the stifled laugh stuck in your throat, attempting to uphold any confidence you have left in your facade. 

“You’re about to see me naked too, Kenz. Would it make you feel better if you saw me pantless first?” 

He says it like he’s teasing, but you know there’s a part of him that’s serious- that he’d do anything to make you feel better, even something as simple as being the first to forgo any clothes on his bottom half. 

“No, I know, Frankie, it’s just-” 

“Do you know how beautiful I think you are?” 

It catches you off guard, how quick he is to stifle your protest, the warmth of his words flushing your cheeks, now shifting to fit the delicate grin that’s growing between them. 

“You’re so beautiful, MacKenzie. Everything about you, I swear.” 

He must feel the butterflies churning in your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to grab your sides, leaning over to press soft kisses just above your waistband. He stares up at you once more, giving each other subtle nods of reassurance as his fingers play with the elastic, carefully helping you to lift your hips just enough to shuffle your bottoms down your legs until they’re a crumpled pile on the floor. 

It eases the tension that’s built throughout your body as you watch in real time how Frankie’s brain short circuits, mesmerized by the view that’s revealed itself between your legs. You timidly squirm your lower half against the sheets, just enough to feel the sticky warmth of your arousal that’s been pooling since the minute you stepped foot in Frankie’s bedroom. 

“H-holy- holy fuck. O-oh my god.” Frankie murmurs to himself, eyes locked on the puffy, wet mess of your pussy, “MacKenzie, I- wow. C-can, um, can I touch you?” 

“Mmhmm. Y-you can touch me, Frankie. F-fuck, I want you to. Please.” You whisper, letting your legs part for him more, clit pulsing with anticipation to feel Frankie’s fingers. 

“I-if it doesn’t feel good o-or, you know, you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” 

“Okay, Frankie.” 

You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this wound up, every throb of your core pulsing through your body with so much intensity you’re convinced you may explode if Frankie doesn’t touch you this second. 

The pads his fingers gently slide over your swollen lips, collecting the slick that clings to them before he brings them to your clit, his precise and delicate touch still making you gasp the moment he starts to circle around your sensitive nub. He swirls his fingers with the lightest touch like you’re made of glass, scared he’ll break you if he dares to push too hard. 

“You can, fuck- you can press more if you want.” 

“Okay. I just- I didn’t wanna hurt you, or anything.” 

The corner of your lips curl with a soft smile, the stiffness in your muscles relaxing with how warm and safe he makes you feel. 

“I-in the same place, though? Same circles, just like, more pressure?” He asks, quietly calculating his next move as you shake your head in response. 

Frankie begins to circle again, slowly increasing the weight of his fingers against your clit, brushing against it in just the right way to make you whimper in delight. 

“Oh my god-” You sigh, breath hitching in the back of your throat. 

“Good oh my god, or bad oh my god?” Frankie questions, terrified he’s done something to upset you. 

“No- no, good oh my god. K-keep doing that.” You stammer, pulse quickening as a familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build in your stomach. 

Your reassurance gives Frankie the boost of confidence he needs, drawing tight circles around your nub with the pads of his fingers for a few moments, until his thumb takes over, leaving his middle two fingers free, ghosting over your entrance. 

There’s a louder moan as Frankie barely slips his middle finger inside of you, lightly prodding in and out of your hole, welcoming the new fullness in the warmth and wet of your walls. 

He pumps a few more times, letting his finger sink deeper with each stroke until he’s knuckle deep, reaching further than any spot you’ve been able to feel yourself. It’s when a second digit joins his first that you feel nearly breathless, the stretch and sting making you wince for a moment as you adjust, realising how much thicker and stronger his fingers are than your own when you touch yourself. 

Frankie immediately notices your tense expression, quickly pulling back, raising his hands like he’s been caught in the act, guilt ridden look painted across his face. 

“Fuck, Kenzie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s okay, Frankie! It feels good, I promise, your fingers are just a lot bigger than mine.” 

He tilts his head in confusion for a second until the lightbulb clicks with him that he’s not the only one in the room who's ever been horny and taken care of themself to help solve their problem. 

“Wh-what do you think about? Wh-when, when you touch yourself?” He asks with a quiet caution. 

“I- I think about you, Frankie.”

You answer without hesitation. Not to appease him, not to convince yourself, but because it’s the truth. You’ve thought about him more times than you can count. 

Your answer ignites another spark of self-assurance in him, carefully letting his thumb swirl against your clit as his middle finger gently slides back into your entrance, working up to the same tempo he was at a few moments ago. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” He confesses, a willing admittance now that you’re laying your cards out on the table for him. 

“Well, there was one time, a long time ago, I thought about Orlando Bloom after I watched Pirates of the Caribbean.” 

You’re not sure what spurs on your unnecessary addition to your comment, but it makes you and Frankie both snort, needing a moment to compose yourself from your fit of giggles. 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re really into pirates?” Frankie laughs, biting down on his lip. 

“No, you dork! That’s not- Jesus, you know what, forget I ever said anything, okay?” You sigh, rolling your eyes at Frankie, trying to will away the reds and pinks that plague your cheeks. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Kenz, don’t worry.” He teases, his smile slowly shifting to a stoic sort of concentration as he stares down at his fingers pressed against your pussy. “I- I wanna try something.” 

“What?” 

“Can I um, can I go down on you?” 

“Wait, really?” 

Despite your own inexperience, you weren’t naive enough to ignore the rumblings from friends of friends, or stories of girls on your soccer team, constantly complaining about how all their boyfriends wanted them to suck their dicks with nothing in return. They’d claim it was gross, or weird, or that it would taste disgusting, so you’d be hard pressed to not believe that every boy under the sun mostly likely found themselves in the same school of thought. 

“Do you not want me to?” Frankie questions, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment you’re sure he feels in his chest at your puzzled reaction. 

“N-no, it’s just that- I didn’t think that- I thought guys thought that was gross.” 

“What? Who said that?” Frankie scoffs. 

“I don’t know, like, Sarah and Morgan from the soccer team always complained about how their boyfriends never wanted to because they said it was gross or whatever.” 

“Well Sarah and Morgan’s boyfriends have a single brain cell left between them after all the hits they’ve taken during football this season.” 

The two of you laugh again, finding relief in the way your friendship prevails through the discomfort. 

“You really don’t think it’s gross?” 

“No. I- I think it’s kinda hot.” 

It’s now Frankie’s cheeks that are flushed with crimson, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. You can tell he has more he wants to say from the way his eyes dart between yours and the bed, forcing you to tilt your head with that little nod he knows means that you’ll keep pestering him until he breaks. Lucky for you, it won’t take much. 

“Santi stole this DVD from his cousin's house, and honestly most of it was so stupid because obviously it's all fake. Like, no one’s that excited to get fucked at a doctor’s office. But anyways, there was this one part at the beginning where uh- where the guy goes down on the girl and I- um, I don’t know. I- I wanted to try it, I guess.” 

“Really didn’t think I was gonna have to worry about not picturing Santi in my head tonight.” 

You and Frankie giggle as you pretend to gag at the thought of Santi becoming a part of you losing your virginity, praying there never comes a day he finds out he’s in part to thank for Frankie’s peaked curiosity. 

“I- I want you to. If you want to.” 

“I want to. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” 

The pace of your pulse begins to quicken again, watching the way Frankie’s face lights up as he races to position himself between your legs, laying flat against the mattress with his face hovering above your heat, his hot, trembling breath tickling your folds. 

You swear he licks his lips before his mouth meets you, but the slow, long drag of his tongue across your clit already has your head thrown back against his pillow, the warmth and wetness lighting you up from the inside out with jolts of electric pleasure. 

He repeats it a few more times, languidly lapping in smooth and steady strokes, each with just a little more pressure than the last. It’s instinctual, how you buck your hips towards his face, like your body knows it wants more before your brain can process it, signaling to Frankie you’ve given him the okay to keep going, to give you more. 

Little gasps escape your parted lips as his tongue moves faster, circling your clit the same way he had with his thumb, making your body melt into the mattress. It’s almost unearthly, how good it feels, little fires igniting in your stomach with every flick of his tongue. 

You don’t mean to startle him with how loudly you whimper as he intensifies the pressure, mouth still latched around your clit while his brown eyes peek up at you, breathlessly nodding to him that he shouldn’t dare to stop now. 

He takes it as a sign to test the waters even further, letting his middle finger be sucked into the warmth of your velvety walls before ever so carefully sliding in another. The stretch is still there but the sting has faded, his fingers a welcomed addition to ease the way you realize you’ve been clenching around nothing, subconsciously desperate to fill the empty ache in your core. 

Inch by inch, he sinks them deeper until you feel him bump against a soft spot inside you that makes you scream in a way you’ve never felt before, fireworks exploding everywhere in your body as his tongue and fingers work in tandem. 

A familiar tingle rapidly begins to build at the base of your spine, except the same type of tingle you’ve experienced alone has never multiplied and compounded in the same way this one does. 

Desperate for something to grab on to, one hand fists at Frankie’s sheets, the other, shooting down to the messy curls of his hair, burying your fingers until they disappear under his unkempt locks. 

You’re not sure if you’re so pleasure drunk you can’t think straight, but you swear you can feel that stupid, smug smirk pressed against your pussy as you hold onto him for dear life. 

He keeps the same pace with his tongue, fingers prodding in just the right spot to make you feel like you’re losing control, limbs numb and shaking like jello as you feel the tingle creep down your legs and up through your chest. 

“F-Frankie, I- oh fuck- fuck, oh my god, fuck, I- I- oh my go-ahhhhhhhhhh-”  

It’s all consuming, the way the pleasure washes over you, like waves crashing into the shoreline- relentless and never ending. There’s a moment you’re convinced your body’s left this planet, floating off in space in a cloud of endless ecstasy. 

You’re not sure how long you’re lost in the electricity of it all- Minutes? Hours? Years? You’d believe any and all of the above. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you come to, greeted with the image of Frankie still settled between your legs, wild haired and goofy grinned. 

“Frankie…. Holy fuck.” 

A beaming, boyish smile lights up across his face at the way you’re panting, wiping the shiny slick stained around his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah? D-did it feel good? Did you um- did you-” 

“Yeah. Holy shit. Remind me to thank Santi’s cousin if I ever meet him.” 

“Jesus Christ…” Frankie sighs, rolling his eyes at your giggles, heart melting at the way he can’t hide his rosy cheeks and curled lips every time he looks at you, “It felt good though? Like, Actually?” 

“Yeah, it felt really good, Frankie.” You coo, watching Frankie prop himself up to sit back on his haunches, letting your gaze wander down his bare chest until you reach the clearly tented fabric of his pajama pants, lingering just long enough for him to notice where you’re staring. 

Silent tension fills the room again, the both of you realizing that you’ve only conquered one part of the journey you’ve embarked on together, and that the second half of your travels pose many more risks than the first. Frankie is the only one you want by your side as you brave your adventure together. 

With a little push, your back parts with his mattress, sitting up to close the gap between you. You’re close enough now that your hands can roam up his thighs, softly palming at the stiff bulge straining under his pants. 

“Oh f-fuck-” Frankie stutters, jaw going slack with ever pass your hand makes over his erection. 

“Can I take off your pants, Frankie?” You whisper, burying your head in the crook of his neck, craning your head just enough so that the hot words of your breath dance in his ear. 

You can barely finish your sentence before Frankie’s scrambling off the edge of the bed, standing up straight to give you the easiest access to shuffle his pajamas down while you kneel on the mattress. 

You pray Frankie can’t feel the way your fingers shake as they sink under his waistband and brush against his stomach, pulling his bottoms down just slow enough to memorize the subtle V that sinks between his hips, or the soft trail of barely there brown hair under his belly button that thickens with every tug. 

With one final breath, you slide them down enough to finally free what’s been hiding underneath, his length fully hard, bobbing as it springs free. This must have been what it felt like for Frankie, understanding the way his eyes went wide and brain went blank after he saw you for the first time.

It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, the concept of what he’s had tucked away in his pants.

What does, is how the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of you. 

“F-Frankie… Holy shit.” 

“What? I-is something wrong?” He winces, immediately bracing himself for the worst. 

“No, it’s just- just like, Holy shit, Frankie.” You reiterate, making it very clear you’re more than impressed as you gesture at what’s hanging in front of you. 

“O-oh, t-thanks.” He stutters, a sweet shyness overtaking him as a result of your admiration. 

You scoot yourself closer, a boldness overcoming you as you delicately wrap your hand around his length, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. You pray that whatever you’re doing feels okay, but from the way Frankie’s whimpers and moans escape from his parted lips, you take it as a sign you’re safe to take another step further.

“Since you went down on me, do you want me to go down on-” 

“N-no!” He pauses, drowning his face in his palm for the way he’s panicking, making you drop him from your grasp, “No, I- uh- shit- sorry, sorry, no it’s just- No, not because I don’t want you to- b-believe me, I really want you to. Like, really want you to.” 

“O-okay, so?” 

He must feel awful for the puzzled and pained expression on your face, reaching with both hands to cradle your jaw, making sure your gaze is fixated on him. 

“I’m sorry, I promise nothing’s wrong, I just- fuck- I don’t wanna cum yet and I know if you go down on me, I will in like two seconds, and I wanna cum when we’re having sex. I-if you still wanna, ya know, have sex. Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I think I’m- I’m nervous, too. ” 

The top of your teeth graze your lower lip, batting your lashes in heavy, long blinks, your lips curling in a sympathetic smile that you’re not alone in your uneasiness. Finding comfort in the uncomfortability, together. Knowing how easy it would be for him to play it all off like no big deal, or pretend to mask the confidence he lacks, and yet, he doesn’t, makes you want him even more. 

“Do you still want to? I- I’m nervous too, but I want to. It makes me feel less nervous that it’s with you.” 

The tender kiss he plants on your lips as your bodies move in sync down the bed is the only answer you need, shuffling backwards towards the pillows while Frankie hovers his body over you, mouths only parting to let you settle into the mattress. 

Each kiss becomes more frantic and desperate than the last, mouths melting together as your tongues wrestle. The way he kisses you is all consuming, enough to make you feel like the only people in the world that exist in this moment are you and him. 

“You sure you want to?” He gasps, fighting for his words to escape his parted lips. 

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, barely soft enough for him to hear. 

The two of you nod, Frankie shifting his weight to reach across you, shuffling through the drawer of his nightstand until he fishes out the box of condoms he has hidden away. He sits back on his knees, carefully ripping a square from the line of packages, tossing the rest over the side of the bed. He’s even more delicate as he tears the edge of the foil he’s holding in his hands, removing the rubber and methodically rolling it down over his shaft. 

“It’s on right... Right?” 

“Yeah. I practiced putting them on earlier this week so I didn’t look like a complete idiot when I tried to do it the first time. Although I think telling you that probably makes me look like an even bigger idiot.” 

“No it doesn’t,” You softly reassure him, “I’d rather have you do that than put it on wrong. I don’t want any of your babies yet, Morales.” 

Yet. 

You’re not sure what makes your brain decide to add those three letters into your sentence. You’re also not sure why you don’t hate that it did. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s a chance that maybe Frankie didn't hear it, but you know that boy would die before he stopped hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. 

There’s a part of you that also swears he’s trying with everything in him to keep from smiling. 

Your attention shifts with Frankie’s body, hovering back over yours with his fist wrapped around the base of his shaft, sinking his hips to line himself up with your entrance. His tip brushes against your clit, a familiar jolt of pleasure swirling in your stomach at how you clench around nothing, anxious and aching to feel him inside you. 

“I-if it’s too much, or it doesn’t feel good, or you wanna stop, just-” 

“I know, Frankie. I’ll tell you, I promise.” 

Your low exhale syncs with Frankie’s gulp, each of you bracing yourselves as you finally feel his tip breach inside you. You try your best to relax, squirming your bottom half with each inch Frankie sinks himself deeper. You’re sure there’s a wince as he pushes past the halfway point- not painful, but a sting and stretch in a way you’ve never felt. Frankie freezes, gently grabbing your hip. 

“You good, Kenzie? You want me to stop?” 

“No, I’m okay, just kind of stings a little, but it still feels good. Maybe if you didn’t have such a big dick, it wouldn’t be a problem.” You tease, letting out a little huff of laughter. 

It’s now Frankie’s turn to scrunch the muscles of his face, cocking your head at the grit of his teeth. 

“Frankie, are you okay?” 

“Yup. Yup, I’m good. When you laughed it squeezed my dick and it felt really good and I’m trying not to make a fucking fool of myself right now.” 

“Sorry, no more laughing, got it.” You grimace, desperately trying not to giggle at Frankie’s pained concentration as he shakes his head at you. “Y- you can keep going, though.” 

“F-fuck, o-okay.” 

There’s another deep breath before he’s pushing his hips towards you, taking his time as you feel the pain start to shift to indescribable pleasure, the feeling of how full he is inside of you making every wire in your brain short circuit. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Frankie whispers under his breath, “Fuck, you feel so good, MacKenzie.” 

You wish you had the words to tell him how you feel the same, but the best you can muster is a muffled moan that escapes from your unhinged jaw, brain empty at the sweet stretch of his fullness, stagnant inside you. 

F-fuck Frankie. Oh my god.” You murmur, letting the muscles of your face untense so the weight of your eyelids can flutter open, soaking in the image of Frankie above you. The rest of your body follows, slowly beginning to relax as you adjust, yearning for more than just his hips flushed against yours. “Y-you can move, Frankie.” 

He lets his arms sink from the plank he’s holding, letting your chests flush together so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin with the first thrust of his hips, steadily sliding in and out of your heat, savoring every second of the sensation. 

“You still okay, baby?” Frankie coos into your ear, the new nickname only adding to the way you want to clench down around his length as he keeps his languid pace, dragging his cock along the warmth and wetness of your walls. 

“Mhmmm. You can go faster, i-if you want. F-fuck, it feels so good, Frankie.” 

The way you whimper and whine his name sets off a low rumble deep in his chest, lips locking with yours as you feel him pump just a little harder, his length nudging the same, savory spot he had found before with his fingers. Your hand shoots up to wrap around his bicep, nails marking crescent moons in his skin. 

Every move he makes is solely based on your reaction, reading the way your body responds to him before daring to take a step further. Your iron grip and sweet moans are enough to spur him on further, a steady rhythm now working through each thrust of his hips. 

There’s a new knot in your stomach that starts to tighten, building in your gut and slowly creeping its way to spread throughout your body. The coarse hairs curling at the base of his shaft brush against your clit just enough to spark a jolt of electricity to your core, bucking your hips into his with each thrust. You’re desperate to reach the same high he had given you before, eager to ease the ache of your sensitive bud. 

Frankie picks up on the way you rut back into him, snaking his hand down your front, making just enough space between your bodies to let the pads of his fingers find your clit. The pressure he adds with the circles and swirls makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat, overwhelmed with arousal by how all encompassing Frankie is. 

It’s hard to believe how quickly you find yourself becoming addicted to him, your body yearning to become one with his and never separate. You want your heart, your soul, for all of it to be his, and only his, to be unable to find where you end and he begins. 

The only thing you want is to be his. 

With each stroke, your pussy flutters faster around his length, the tingle that had formed at the base of your spine now seeping through your veins, teetering on the brink of collapse. 

“F-fuck- fuck, Frankie, don’t stop. Fuck, I- I think I’m- I’m close.” 

If it was anyone else, there would be no words to describe the embarrassment from the pathetic whimper you let out at the way Frankie groans while he punches into you. A look of pained concentration splays across his face, focusing with every brain cell he has left to make sure you finish first. 

“Shit- I- I- fuck, I’m close, too.” He stutters, chest heaving in between each word. 

He presses his forehead into yours, meeting you with the tacky sheet of sweat that now clings to his skin and dampens his curls. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body laid across yours- you almost dare to wish that this moment, this feeling, would never end. 

But the way he whispers your name, each letter warm and tickling your skin, a sweet symphony only he can sing is what sends you over the edge, pushing you past the point of no return. 

“M-MacKenzie… f-fuck, MacKenzie-”  

Each syllable is an explosion inside you, lighting you up to send sparks through every last limb until you’re sobbing his name, singing his own sweet song back to him. 

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankiefrankiefrankie-ahhhhh-” 

The dam inside you finally breaks, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you as you squeeze around him, swallowed whole by the electricity of it all. 

There’s not much your mind can process after you snap, but there’s enough strength left to keep your gaze locked on Frankie and the way he gasps as his jaw drops after you’ve finished. He’s just as lost as you, relishing in your afterglow as he chases his own high, each thrust more sloppy and erratic than the last. 

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit MacKenzie, fuck, I’m gonna cum so ha-aaaaahhh-” 

There’s only one last shift of his hips before he’s spilling into the condom, a final moan that follows his release as he collapses into you. Your chests rise and fall in sync, breaths heavy as you pant in the soft silence that fills the room.

The quiet brings a gentle comfort, basking in the bliss that radiates off each of you as you let yourselves drift back to earth, praying it gives you enough time to remember how to speak. 

It’s Frankie who arrives back first, too consumed with your own journey back to hear the way his voice breaks as he carefully whispers your name. 

“MacKenzie?” 

“Yeah, Frankie?” 

“C-can I tell you something?” 

“Anything.” 

His sweet call brings you back, thumb brushing against the warmth of his cheek, waiting on every word he's working himself up to say.

“MacKenzie, I- MacKenzie, I- I think I love you.” 

It's then you're sure your heart stops- four little letters forcing a smile so wide across your face, your positive your cheeks may hurt for days after.

Maybe, if you're lucky, they'll keep hurting like this for the rest of your life.

“Can I tell you something, Morales? I think I might just love you, too.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland @guelyury

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[lilcawdy]

König who early in his career on a mission finds a cargo container full of Russian girls in a human trafficking ring. You were the only one who spoke German so you had to translate and keep the girls calm since they had to keep you all in the container until it was clear.

König who you wrote to months later to thank him and sent him a red wooden bead bracelet. He wears it everywhere and it reminds him of the good he does even if he couldn’t be a sniper like he dreamed of.

König who showed up to your boot camp graduation and while excited you were inspired to join, he’s terrified of something happening to you and just wants to keep you safe.

König who eventually gets you on his team and while maintaining professionalism, you two become best friends and are inseparable making it impossible for either of you to keep a relationship with anyone.

König who when a body was brought in with a crushed in face was in denial that it could be you since he had memorized every freckle and scar on your body even though you two weren’t together or intimate (��yet)

König who found out it was a setup and pulled a force together to get you back and find the traitor and when he found you in a room with two dead guards at your feet, dropped to his knees and waited for you to approach. And when you did he held you with his head against your heart and kept you upright vowing to never let anyone take you ever again

[alaskan-wallflower]

doing research on vietnam and the draft to make actual historically accurate takes so here’s what i got

darry would’ve been drafted, however i believe he would’ve been able to opt out of it as the sole provider of money in the family (though im not sure—in 1970 president nixon set a law for fathers (ik darry isn’t a father but a legal guardian hence why idk if this would work) to prove why their absence would have been dangerous within the family-ill have to find out what year(s) jan 5 was called tho)

edit: also darry would’ve been called to fight in 1969 before the law nixon set in place…BUT if you think about it, the chronic back pain he suffers could’ve been a possible way for him to be exempt (i think he’d play up whatever cards he could to make sure he didn’t have to go-idk i feel like that’s more in character than him just leaving. i think he’d make every effort to stay and i think he could’ve made it work)

edit 2: darry would have been exempt due to his chronic back pain—“any injury that would impair someone’s full efficiency as a soldier will be exempt” (he also wouldn’t have made it through any boot camp activities either with the pain)

soda wouldn’t have been drafted

ponyboy would’ve been but he actually would’ve been exempt because he would be in college at that time-a full time college student was exempt (though i suppose it also depends on whether you think the events happened in ‘64 or ‘67 but regardless the draft ended in 1973 so idk if it would matter either way since pony would’ve graduated in either ‘72 or ‘75 anyway—i don’t think july 22 was called in ‘72 or ‘73)

edit: the draft for july 22nd was called in 1969, when pony would’ve been a full time college student (or in the case of choosing the musical timeline he would’ve been a junior or senior in high school, so regardless pony would have been exempt from the war because he would’ve been a full time college student in ‘69 or he would still be in high school)

johnny would’ve been drafted if he lived , however he would’ve been physically handicapped (unable to walk) and unable to fight anyway so he would’ve been exempt

dally would’ve been drafted with no way out (unless you wish to count if he had gotten shot and lived, in which case the area he would’ve been shot in would probably be the determining factor in if he was drafted or not)

edit: due to dallas’ criminal record i don’t think he’d have been eligible (though it’s hard to tell since his crimes (as far as i know) are all mild misdemeanors (petty theft, driving w/out a license, stuff like that) so idk if that would leave him exempt or not—there’s nothing online saying either way so idk—all that i’ve read is that you can sign a plea waiver but there were felons who fought in vietnam, so im not sure if he would’ve been exempt—but regardless thanks @curlyshepardconfirmed!

two bit would not have been drafted

steve would not have been drafted

tim would not have been drafted either

so realistically the only one who would’ve been drafted if he lived would be dally , depending on the route you wish to go on with him

hope this helps 👍

[mydarlingclaudia]

every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

[hairyjocktf]

New Recruit

Luke was at a low point in his life. He’d graduated high school but wasn’t smart enough to get into college. He had tried working some retail jobs around but he never had the work ethic to last long in those. He had similar problems in other gigs. It had been months of him bumming around and his parents had finally had enough, he was officially out of their house. With few options left, he was desperate. While walking down the street one day he saw an ad for the military, boasting stable careers and plenty of benefits. He’d played a couple seasons of sports in school and felt like he might be able to at least pass the initial evaluation, and out of near desperation he decided to try and enlist.

He made his way to the army office nearby that had been listed in the ad, and to his surprise there was no trouble. They did a quick physical evaluation and he was good to go, ready to sign up for boot camp. Luke was nervous; there was no coming back from this point. He thought about it for a couple minutes while being stared down by the recruiter, realizing he really couldn’t think of a better option. And so he signed the contract, unsure of what was to come. 

Two weeks later he was on a bus out to the base to start his boot camp. Luke didn’t know what to expect; he’d heard numerous stories about how brutal this training would be to weed out people. The bus was filled with the strangest mix of people he’d ever seen. Some guys looked like they’d been using steroids since they were 12, some looked like they belonged in an accounting department, and some he just couldn't pin down. Regardless of who surrounded him, Luke felt out of place, and he was only growing more nervous as the bus sped through the dense woods. After what felt like hours they finally cleared the trees and he saw the huge fences that would enclose the next few months of his life.

The buses pulled into a large dirt clearing at the center of the base where they forced everybody out. A huge and built man addressed the new recruits with his booming voice.

“Privates! Welcome to Fort Eagleton!” he shouted above the noise of disembarking men. “I am Drill Sergeant Thornton, and I’ll be in charge of whipping you lot into shape!”

Luke gulped, it looked like those rumors had been true. He was in for a world of hurt.

“You’ll be under my watch and command for the next ten weeks, learning what it takes to be a soldier. First, I want to see what I’m working with. Privates! See those chalk markings on the ground? Space yourselves on them for inspection!” 

His loud voice echoed across the clearing. The men all scrambled to stand in position, each on a chalk marking that were spaced four feet apart in a grid. Luke found an open one unfortunately near the front of the pack. He glanced nervously around at the others. Some were standing at the ready like they had been born for this, but the rest also looked around with worried looks on their faces. Their attention was brought back to the front by the thundering voice of the sergeant. 

“Listen up, privates! Here with me I have Corporal Evans, a prime example of what you should all strive to become in the next ten weeks!” The sergeant gestured to a tall and strong looking man next to him. Evans was at attention in full uniform, but Luke could tell the man was absolutely jacked underneath. He could see how the coat was straining against his huge, broad shoulders.

“He is the epitome of a soldier, and what all men should model themselves after,” the sergeant continued. “I will make a real man out of each of you! That is my promise as your Drill Sergeant. However, some of you may take to that easier than others.” He began walking through the rows of men in plainclothes, observing each of them with scrutiny. Luke’s eyes went wide as the sergeant stopped directly in front of him.

“You, boy. What’s your name?” The sergeant did not quiet his voice even when right next to him. 

“Luke,” he said shakily, “Luke Peterson.”

“Private Peterson, you may have passed the exam to get here, but I hold doubts that you are up to the challenge that is basic training,” the sergeant said while making intense eye contact. “Do you think you have what it takes to become a soldier?”

“Yes.. sir,”

“Well! Let’s put that to the test,” he boomed again. “Evans! Bring me this private’s new uniform.”

Within seconds, the man was at his side holding a folded army uniform. Thornton took it and handed it to Luke.

“Put this on, boy! Let’s see how you’ll fit in here,” he said with an almost sinister twinkle in his eyes. 

Luke had no choice but to then strip down to his underwear in the middle of the crowd. The eyes of the dozens of men he had entered with were burning holes in him as he changed into the fatigues. They immediately felt too large for him but he continued as the sergeant watched impatiently. He pulled up and belted the pants before buttoning the shirt closed. They were at least two or three sizes too big, Luke thought, and he looked ridiculous in the oversized fatigues. He laced up his boots which were also excessively large and stood back up to address the sergeant’s burning gaze.

Out of nowhere, Luke suddenly felt like he’d taken a punch straight in his stomach. He collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping for air as the pain in his stomach did not lessen, but began to spread. His torso felt like it was on fire, and he groaned in distress as his body was overwhelmed. Everyone else in the clearing was watching in awe as Luke’s body began to grow. His spine lengthened slowly, back widening and shoulders broadening. His legs began to stretch and grow longer, adding a good eight inches to his height. He began packing on muscle like he’d been working out for a decade, limbs inflating in seconds adding strength and size. His chest pushed out into two meaty pecs, which finally caught Luke’s attention from the incredible soreness he felt as his body exploded in size. His eyes widened as he watched his own body fill out the fatigues that had moments ago been far too large, arms swelling to fill the sleeves and chest pushing against the now tight shirt. His legs also bulked up, adding 20 pounds of muscle as quads and hamstrings grew in and thickened. His feet expanded, pushing against his large boots. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his jaw as it widened, giving him a square and masculine face. The pain began to subside and Luke managed to stand back up, this time matching the sergeant in height. 

The drill sergeant addressed him, “Good start soldier.” He had a hint of a grin on his stern face.

Luke was angry and confused, “What the hell was that? What did you do to me? What do you mean good start…” His sentence trailed off as he felt an intense tingling feeling arise on his chest. Underneath his tight uniform shirt, in the center of his massive pecs, tiny brown hairs began to poke out of his skin. The hairs started out thin and wispy but quickly thickened as they grew longer, spreading out across Luke’s mountainous chest muscles. The hairs erupted across the expanse, burying the skin under a dense layer of fur as they grew thicker, longer, and tangled together. Especially dark hairs sprouted around his sensitive nipples, causing Luke to let out a moan as he brought his hands up to massage them. The crowd watching Luke was stunned at his actions in front of the sergeant. Some of the men closest to him could see what looked like thick hairs beginning to poke out from above his shirt collar. The fur on his chest had spread up across his collarbone and had started peeking up onto his neck, where it was finally visible. The sergeant stood watching with a smirk as Luke was lost in a world of pleasure, rubbing his nipples as hair began taking over his body. The hair was not confined to just his chest, and shot down south across his stomach, coating his new abs and muscle in the same thick rug. The hair was growing in so densely that it started to push out through cracks and seams in his uniform. 

The other privates were speechless watching this erotic display in front of them, not knowing what to do. A few noticed Corporal Evans, who was standing behind the drill sergeant, subtly mimicking Luke’s actions, seemingly lost in his own bodily pleasures as his hands roamed his body. Luke’s breaths grew louder as the hairs continued climbing up his thick neck, creating a river of hair traveling up from his chest to his square jaw. He’d never had much stubble before, just some light peach fuzz, but that was changing. The soft hairs were overrun with thick, wiry, testosterone-fueled growth that coated his jaw in an incredibly dense beard. His upper lip was next, first darkening with the shadow of thick stubble before the hairs pushed out and completed the full beard on his face. Luke’s hands moved upwards, stroking his fingers through the long wiry hairs that now covered the lower half of his face. His eyes closed as the pleasurable sensation began to control his actions, wanting to experience every ounce of this growth. The beard growth was very noticeable to the crowd as well, as men further away began to break formation and inch closer to see what was happening to Luke. Evans was in the back, feeling the scratchy stubble on his own face as it pushed out a couple millimeters, just enough to leave a dark five o’clock shadow.

Unbeknownst to the crowd, Luke’s body was continuing to change under his uniform. Luke could feel every new hair sprout out of him as the hairs spread, conquering more of his newly buff body. His armpits tingled as the follicles there went into overdrive, pumping out hair after hair. What had previously been a sparse grouping of hairs quickly became a thick tuft of sweaty, musky hair. Dark and wiry hairs pushed out of bare skin, spreading out and covering his pits in a full manly bush, already dense enough to trap his body sweat and stench. Luke stuck one hand into his shirt to scratch the growing forest in his pit before pulling it out and smelling his fingers. He shivered from the euphoric smell of his own musk that was only growing more potent. The pit hairs continued to spread and even connected with his chest hair, creating a seamless rug across his whole upper body. 

The wave of hair growth continued advancing across his muscular body, with hairs beginning to pop up across his broad shoulders. They were joined by more and more hairs, giving Luke a thick coating across his traps. The hairs began to crawl down his brawny back, knitting a rug as they grew thick and tangled across his shoulder blades. As the hairs advanced down his spine they also began covering his arms, where long dark hairs were pushing out across his triceps before utterly engulfing his forearms in dark fur. Luke watched as the thick hairs poked out of his sleeves, ensuring anyone would know even in full uniform how hairy he was under there. That is, if they didn’t notice his large, calloused hands, which had their own small carpet of hairs sprouting across the backs. Luke could feel as the hairs creeping down his back reached the bottom, where a bushy tuft sprouted up just above his waistband. He subconsciously knew what was next, and moments later he was overcome with bliss as his thick ass cheeks sprouted their own rug of dense curly hairs. He could feel how the thickest, longest, and darkest hairs were pushing out of his crack, and he reached his hand into his pants to feel the silky fur that filled the gap. As all eyes were on Luke, Corporal Evans was still engaged in his own stimulation, feeling his pit hairs push out a little more, his back get a little more hairy, and his ass plump up just a bit more.

Luke felt his now size 16 feet heat up in his boots, beginning to grow itchy. Hairs were crawling out of the tops of his massive feet, popping out of his thick toes shortly after. The hairs climbed up his thick legs from his feet, coating his calves in dark hairs before engulfing his massive thighs. The hairs came in thicker and darker as they neared his groin, where his formerly modest bush began to double, then triple in size. Thick pubes were sprouting up all across his crotch, enveloping the area in a dense forest of curly hairs. Luke let out another moan at the sensation and shoved both his hands into his pants. He felt the coarse hairs sprouting through his fingers as his bush continued to spread outward. His cock began gushing precum before it too began to grow. It had almost been swallowed up by the immense bush, but now it hardened and pushed out, growing longer and thicker. Luke grasped his growing member and felt the hair climbing up the shaft as it continued to push further out of his bush. He felt his balls swell in size and drop a little farther down, becoming coated in hairs just like the rest of his groin. 

Luke was overcome with euphoria, and the animalistic instincts took full control as he began stroking his nine inch cock with both hands, each pump blasting his brain and body with pleasure. The sergeant and everyone else watched as Luke jacked off to his own transforming body right in front of them, stunned into silence. Corporal Evans, still unnoticed, slid his own hand into his pants to deal with his rock hard problem. Luke kept at it, moaning louder and louder as precum poured out of his cock. Every stroke seemed to make him grow just a tad bit larger, just a little hairier. Finally, after a few minutes of being overcome by pure ecstasy, he erupted, a fountain of cum spraying out covering his new uniform in sticky white semen. Some of it even got on the sergeant, who seemed unfazed. Evans grunted quietly as he pumped a massive load directly into his jockstrap that he had on under his uniform. He wasn’t prepared for quite how large it would be, leaving a wet spot on the front of his trousers and leaking down his leg. Luke panted as his mind returned to his body, finally taking stock of the situation and realizing in a moment of panic what had happened.

Before he could say anything Sergeant Thornton started to laugh. His roaring laughter pierced the awkward silence that had overtaken the space for the last while. He walked over to Luke and slapped him on the back.

“Atta boy! That’s what I like to see,” He said to Luke with an uncharacteristic smile. The crowd was shocked. That was not the response they’d expected in the slightest. 

“You’re fit to be a real soldier now, and I trust you’ll serve us well. A fine specimen!” he turned to the crowd. “Look here, privates! This is a real man, a bastion of strength and masculinity who can take a beating and give some hell.”

Luke too was stunned. He was scrambling to process what had just happened to him, and that it was seemingly planned by the sergeant the whole time. His thoughts were cut short by the sergeant addressing him again.

“Well son, you’ve done good today. We’ll have to clean up that scruff of yours to get you in regulation,” he stroked Luke’s new beard with his hand, sending a bolt of lightning directly to his still semi-erect cock. “Corporal Evans will help you out with that, and with cleaning up your fatigues,” he said as Evans approached from behind. Luke noticed the darker stubble on his face and the dark splotch in his bulging crotch. 

The drill sergeant once again spoke to the crowd, “The rest of you will be assigned living quarters and shown the areas for training. I want you all back here at exactly 1300 hours!”

Evans ushered Luke away from the grounds and into his own private quarters, where he stripped out of his cum soaked uniform and finally got a look at himself. He was taller, absolutely built, and incredibly hairy. It turned him on in a way he never knew he could be, his cock once again rising to full mast. He rubbed his hands through all of his new fur, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“I was in your shoes when I enlisted,” Evans said to him. Luke turned to face him and saw a slight blush in his cheeks, and his bulge was even more noticeable. “I’ll make sure you get cleaned up and everything, but how about first we just enjoy the new you in its raw form,” he said, stepping right up to Luke and wrapping his hand around Luke’s cock. Lost for words, Luke pulled off Evans’ hat and leaned in for a kiss, grabbing his bulge and pushing him against the wall.

Maybe bootcamp wouldn’t be that bad.

This was my longest and most ambitious story yet! Hope y'all enjoy it and thank you for nearly 400 followers in just a month! Feel free to dm or send an ask if you have ideas for future stories.

[cjlouwho]

okay so I wrote a fic based off this post that I made earlier today so... enjoy!

read here or on ao3

Thomas Kinard is eighteen years old and he just graduated basic training.

He's standing among nearly two hundred other graduates, all filled with some form of anxiety and excitement.

They're all standing at attention, although Tommy knows everyone's eyes are searching the audience.

They've all been given their orders.

They stand at attention until a family member or loved one comes and taps them out. Only then can they be at ease.

Tommy had called his dad a couple weeks ago. Left him a message on the landline about the date and time of his graduation. He hadn't expected a call back. The payphones at basic weren't great and you didn't have much spare time to be on them, but he knew his dad would get the message.

He wrote a letter to his grandparents, just in case. His aunt on his mom's side, and his older cousins too.

They'd been proud when he told them he was graduating early, joining the service, would be celebrating his eighteenth birthday in boot camp.

Even his dad has slapped him on the back and told him he was glad he was finally becoming a real man.

Tommy's eyes scanned the crowd, but it was hard to make anyone out.

He waited patiently through the ceremony. His heart skipped a beat or two when people began making their way toward the graduates.

He stood still, only his eyes darting around as the people beside him began to get tapped out. He listened to the cries of parents who had done nothing but miss their children for the past 10 weeks. Saw grown men cry at the site of their moms. Heard the laughter from boyfriends and girlfriends who surprised their partner by showing up. Watched little kids run to their sibling and wrap their arms around them in a hug.

He was certain that only a few minutes had passed, but it felt like hours.

As more and more seconds passed, his heart continued to pound, but for a different reason now.

Surely he wasn't the only one. As he glanced around, he didn't see anyone else waiting. No, he couldn't see everybody, but he was near the back in the center row so he could see most people, and they all had somebody with them.

A hand tapped his shoulder and his head jerked to the side, eyes wide. He felt a lump in the back of his throat when he saw his commanding officer standing beside him. He had the softest look on his face that Tommy had ever seen.

Pity.

“At ease, soldier.”

Tommy takes a breath, relaxes his posture. His CO moves in front of him, shakes his hand. “You've done well, Kinard. You should be proud.”

Tommy nods. Can't find his voice to speak.

He feels tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away.

He shouldn't have expected anyone to show up anyway.

He lowers his head as he walks off the field. A part of him wonders what it was all even for?

*****

Thomas Kinard is forty-eight years old and he just got promoted to captain.

It's not something he ever thought about until the past couple of years. He wouldn't get to fly much as captain. There's more paperwork, more politics, more people to answer to.

But there's also more stability. Especially with being the captain at Harbor. A regular schedule, forty-eight on and ninety-six off.

It was safer. There had been a scare a couple years back. Engine failure on his bird. He went plummeting toward the ground and, if not for a dense area of trees slowing his descent, the chopper would have exploded the second it hit the ground.

He survived, obviously, but his injuries were severe. He had a broken pelvis, fractured leg, thirty stitches down his arm, cranial bleeding, and ended up in a coma for nearly two weeks.

The recovery was long and so, so painful but he had Buck by his side every step of the way. Even the times he'd push Buck away, tell him to please just leave him alone, Buck stayed. He stayed and he learned all the physical therapy techniques and he loved Tommy through all of it.

Flying hadn't felt the same since. He was relieved when he had fully recovered. When he took his recertification classes and passed with flying colors.

But the freedom he had always felt with being in the sky changed into something completely different. There was anxiety. Relief when he was back on solid ground.

He stared out into the crowd, at the little girl sitting on Buck's lap.

Juniper. Six years old and looking more grown up every day. She was glancing all around the room, her eyes never staying in one place for very long. She kept pointing at things, leaning back to whisper into Buck's ear. He'd nod, smile, then whisper back. Tommy was sure they were swapping facts.

So much like her father, he thought.

He'd never forget the day he got home from the hospital. Juniper, only four then, staring at him as he was wheeled into the house. She was clutching onto Eddie's hand, her knuckles snow white. She hadn't gotten to see him in nearly a month, besides an occasional Facetime call.

Once he had gotten settled into the hospital bed that had been delivered to the house the day before, he called her over to him. She slowly climbed up onto the bed, Buck helping her settle beside Tommy without really touching him.

“You scared me, Papa,” she spoke quietly, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Please don't do it again.”

No, flying was never the same after that.

His eyes wander over the rest of the crowd.

A small smile breaks out over his face when he realizes he knows everyone in the first two rows.

Besides his husband and daughter, Maddie, Chimney, and Jee were there. Hen- or, Captain Wilson, now- and Karen. Eddie, Ravi, and Athena. Behind his family were all the firefighters from Harbor. They had been thrilled when they heard Tommy would be the new captain. He'd been taking cues from Bobby recently, starting special dinners with the crew and getting to know them better before he even became captain. He wanted his team to know he'd be there for them, that they could count on him. From the excitement they showed when it was officially announced that he'd be the new captain, he was fairly certain he'd done a good job so far.

The only person not in the audience today was Bobby. But, that was simply because Chief Nash was the one leading the ceremony.

Tommy takes another look around at the family in front of him. He waves at Juniper. She grins wide, showing off her missing front teeth, waves enthusiastically.

His eyes meet Evan's. Tommy gives him a wink. Buck smiles, winks back.

He straightens his posture as the ceremony begins.

He thinks, this... this is what it's all for.

[sketchyfandomgirl]

Simon Riley has a Medusa tattoo. It’s never seen since he keeps it hidden beneath his clothes at all times. But it’s small, and almost easily missed at first glance. Only a few select people know about the tattoo.

Like you.

Simon trusts you the most out of everyone he knows. Probably more than his best friend Soap. Probably even the Captain. You knew Simon the longest by almost more than a decade, as you grew up together after your family moved to Manchester.

You were there when he decided to enlist in the military. Being there to see him off, attending his graduation from boot camp and tapping him out alongside his mother.

He trusts you a lot. Enough to be an emergency contact if anything were to go wrong.

You got a call, all the way from America, in Texas if you can believe it, that one Simon Riley has been found near the Texas-Mexico border half dead and was in recovery. So you booked a flight to Texas that very night. Wasn’t Simon supposed to be on some covert mission? What the hell happened?

Simon was reluctant to talk about what happened, but he eventually opened up about the horrors he endured while he was captured by Roba.

The violence, especially the sexual abuse that Simon wouldn’t even tell his assigned therapist. You were Simon’s safety, his most entrusted person who he could be more open with.

It would take years to help him heal.

But eventually, he did start to heal from the process, and asked you to come along with him to a tattoo appointment.

It was there, Simon’s sign of addressing his pain was finally closing to an end, did he get a Medusa tattoo.

[unfair-water-plane]

So one thing that has always made me chuckle in ME2 is the fact that Kal’Reegar is a marine in a Quarian suit. And he fits in with Shepard easily, the same attitude and headspace and cadence (for mShep at least). And I’m sitting here at work and the thought just hit me.

What if that’s because he is a marine in a Quarian suit?

Hear me out. Kal is older than Tali, or at least gives off those vibes, and so he would have been on his pilgrimage a while ago. Like maybe right after first contact. And here are these brand new people who came out of nowhere and had apparently enough fire power and attitude to give the Turians a very brief pause. The whole galaxy wants to know more. And humanity has no idea who is out there, but surely they can’t all be like the creepy bird people?

Cue one very curious Quarian in Shanxi, just as curious an out humanity as humanity is about everything. Meeting with early alliance brass, giving them information common palace to any kid with an extranet feed but wholly new to humanity. He explains that the Quarian don’t have ground forces because they don’t have a ground, and is honest about the geth, and is like ‘so how did you make the Turian Hierarchy freak out?’

And somehow ends up observing basic training, and falls in love with it. To the point where he actively asks to go through marine boot camp in Hanshan, and is just earnest and endearing enough to be allowed. So he goes through it, puts in the work and the blood and sweat and tears and makes the kinds of friends that you sort of have on the Flotilla, but everyone also knows you are all going to separate ships eventually and getting attached is hard.

But the humans will pack bond with a robot vacuum without issue, and when they meet a Quarian who wants to learn and thinks it’s amazing that they stood up to the biggest military in the galaxy running on old fashioned rocketry and spite? The marines adopt him as one of their own. They are brothers, something most single child Quarians have no experience with, and Kal gives it back in spades. He talks like them, fights like them, jokes and learns and is like them.

And when it is over and they graduate, it’s hard to turn down the offer to stay. But humanity respects the loyalty to his people that takes him back to the fleet, and it almost brings him to tears when his graduating class passes a cap for his passage back to the fleet in more comfort than sitting on a box in a volus cargo ship.

It actually brings him to tears when his drill instructor informs him that while it might not be in great shape, Arcturus has authorized them to gift Kal’Reegar with a battered but space worthy corsair and an official greeting from the Systems Alliance to the Migrant Fleet.

The SSV Jarhead is perhaps the best gift anyone is his age range can give to a future captain, though his practical military experience is a gift to the whole fleet. It catapults him through the Quarian military, from for soldier to instructor to commander, and somewhere he hopes that his brothers and sisters are as proud of them as he is of every transmission that makes it back to him.

On Haestrom, that training keeps him alive long enough to watch his squad die, and that cuts like nothing else. But he can’t stop, because the principle is still depending on him, and until his suit gives out he has to fight to her.

But then the voice cuts through the chatter of his own mind, and he *knows it*. Knows the cadence and the phrasing, knows how a human mouth forms the phrases that he has spent years trying to teach. Commander Shepard might not be a marine, but they are a human combat specialist and the fraternity is there.

Maybe it’s just three more people who are going to die for this fools errand, but somehow Kal doesn’t think so. There are two bone deep beliefs that he will carry it’s him to either the home world or the afterlife, and it has always felt appropriate to him that they rhyme. That they sound similar, when he breathes them into the air.

Keelah Salai. Semper Fi.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi!!

I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing 🤌💕

I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....

Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost 👉👈) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....

Happy Writing 💝

Guilt-Tripped

CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this took😭 I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.

WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3

Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.

From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)

You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.

You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.

Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.

And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)

The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison. 

You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp. 

And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five? 

You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.

Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.

A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of a…transfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.

You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.

You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes. 

Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didn’t see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application. 

You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them. 

Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, well…Ghost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.

You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadn’t felt in years. Not quite sadness, but…pity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out. 

It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldn’t be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try. 

It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group. 

As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didn’t have to do any of the talking.

Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said ‘no thanks’ for the third time. 

Ghost didn’t like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke. 

It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasn’t until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadn’t risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you. 

And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.

His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa. 

You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses. 

It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didn’t know what you’d done, people who didn’t look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to have…friends. 

So of course everything had to go downhill from there.

End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3

[random-fandom1984]

hi, can you do, Yandere tfa Longarm/shockwave x cybertronian reader

Oh, yes! I have a story in the making on Wattpad, and in a way, I guess it would be a Yandere story? But that doesn't matter at the moment. This is exciting! :D

Warning: Potions, Yandere Behavior, etc.

~All It Takes Is A Potion to Show How Much I'm Obsessed with You~

Translations: Stellar Cycle = 1 year Deca-Cycle = 10 days Solar Cycle = 1 day Orbital Cycle = 1 month Nano-Click = 1 second

Sparkmerge = Wedding/marriage Energon Sweets = candy High Grade = Wine/alcohol/beer/vodka/etc. Conjunx Endura = Spouse Optics = Eyes Datapad = Book/tablet/etc. Subspace = Storage unit Dente = Teeth Throat Pipes = Throat

Today is our second Sparkmerge anniversary of the Stellar Cycle. I've had a good history with making Energon sweets, so I plan on making one that's his favorite, that sadly went out of business a few Deca-Cycles ago, and some high grade. I remember that we first met in Autobot Boot Camp and got along swimmingly. It was sad that my old friend turned out to be a Decepticon Spy, but I digress and moved on. Sure, it was hard to do, but at least I made a new friend who became my Conjunx Endura, Longarm.

We both graduated with flying colors and became Primes. He became head of Cybertron Intelligence – the one before him, Highbrow, was discovered dead, and no bot knew how – and I became his S.I.C. – the previous one ending up missing for some reason–, so they put us at the top since we were great at our jobs. We became an item way before we got promoted.

Of course, there had been an issue that popped up. Five Orbital Cycles ago, Longarm had gotten a call from a couple of bots that we went to boot camp with: Bumblebee; the one who Longarm helped to call out Wasp as the spy, and my cousin Bulkhead. The both of them are a part of Optimus' team on Earth, fighting Megatron. Apparently, the both of them intercepted a call with Megatron and a spy. Something about a construction project.

I can feel excitement pulsing through the other side of the bond, to which I sent back to with suppressed giggle; He's been like this all Solar Cycle, even yesterday ever since he came back from Iacon's Hall of Records, and I find it cute. He's so sweet, smart, and adorkable! I wonder how things are holding up on his end.

Yesterday

It's true, you two have been bonded for the past 2 Stellar Cycles and started dating in the middle of your time at boot camp. But there was one thing you didn't know; let me start from the beginning.

When entering the Autobot Boot Camp with a fake frame, he wasn't expecting anything to distract him from his mission for Lord Megatron as a spy. But... that all changed the moment his optics landed on you. To him it was love at first sight. And he saw how close you were with Wasp and Bulkhead, he felt something inside of him. What was this? Jealousy? No! There's no way! He's a Decepticon and you're an Autobot.

When he was approached by Bumblebee, who told him that he found out there was a Decepticon spy and suspects it might be Wasp, he took that as a way to drive attention away from him and onto him and C/n will be hi- Stop it! After Wasp was taken away to prison, he found you slacking off and then later came across you crying in your room. For some reason, he comforted you even though he shouldn't; you would've been kicked out for slacking, which would have gotten rid of another Autobot in his way, but he didn't. You also had another bot help comfort you, which was Bulkhead, who he later found out was your cousin; nothing to worry about with him getting in his way.

Later on, he grew to accept these feelings. You needed him; you don't need those unknown admirers that went missing a few days after interacting with you. Just him. This turned for the better in his favor when caught you leaving secret admirer love letters in his dorm; he didn't bring it up until he confessed his feelings. The image of your flustered face plate when you realized you'd been caught from the start will forever remain in his processor.

After graduating, he had to wait a while to kill Highbrow and instantly killed his assistant for abusing his role by being a creep; he deserved it. And it turned out good because not only did he become the new Head of Intel, but you became his assistant.

For the past Deca-Cycles, he's been conflicted. The Prime Council found out that there's a Decepticon spy in their ranks, which only led to another problem. If they found out he's the spy, you would most likely react negatively; you knew him better than anyone else in their ranks and will use it against him. So, he has two options:

Do nothing, and if he does get found out, have you sparkbroken and hate him, assuming he faked his affections towards you.

Find a way to turn you into a Decepticon.

He wanted to do the second option, but so far, all resources he's found in the history section in the Hall of Records ends up with the victim in pain in the process. The only thing calming his nerves and keeping him from lashing out in frustration that he was getting nowhere was a gift you made him when you both were in the dating phase of your relationship; A charm that hangs from a string, which is connected to a small magnet that is currently magnetized to his wrist.

He was fiddling with the charm until he felt it slip from his grasp. He looked down to see something slip into the shadows and move away in a blob of shadows. Obviously, he chased after it, nothing takes something of his that was made by his darling and gets away. As he chased it, he didn't notice the scenery change until he was deep enough in another section of the Hall or Records, which seems to be abandoned.

He continued to chase until he came across a bot. The shadow he was chasing phased out of the shadow in the form of a snake, with only a single eye, dropping the charm in the figure's servo. The figure turned their head, and to his surprise, was literally made of shadows, the only thing that stood out from the dark mass with glowing purple outlines was that had one normal optic and the other looked like the snake's, the Snake-Eyed Bot he'll call them.

Before he could demand for the charm back, the Snake-Eyed Bot tosses it back to him without a single word and beckoned him over. Suspicious, he approached with caution. Upon arrival, the figure gives him a datapad.

"H̵̯̞̥̙͕͔̗̺̠̼͖̩̟͚̄̅͂͗̐͂̈́͜e̶͇̣͉̫̻̹̝̻̩̰̲͇̘̱͒͐̊͌̽͠ṙ̸̢̉̓͐̃͠e̵̞̺̟̗̤̎̈́̀̑͊͝'̴̢̘̣͉̬̙̘̞́̇̃̌͑̈́̈͘̚ş̸̢̧̹̬̟͎̘̓͛̓̎͗̀̓̆̏͋́̆̃́̀ ̶̧̥́̅̈́̏̈́͆̆͒͗͒̉͂͗͒t̶̡̨̨̧̤̬̱̘͎̹̞̪̻̀̕ͅh̸̢̏̑͆͆̊̅̋͊̇ę̸̜̭̬͍̜͎̣̬͔̘̮͙͋̐̿́̈́͠͠ͅ ̷̩̫̿̃̿̐͛͝à̷̢̢̢͍͎͚̓͂̆͗̔̆̈̕̕̕n̴̢̲̹̬̩̼̙̯̬̜̼̩͈̎͂̾̃̈͜ş̷̬͍̻̰̩͓̗̱̥̗̝̩̏̏̽̃̅͒́́͜͝w̸̧̡̨̟̺̣̖͉̣͎̦͈̗̳̏͂͊̑̋̈́̿̿́͗̃̑̕e̴̬̺̙̞̗͎̞͍̞̠̒͜͜͝r̷̡͙͇͕̫͉̞̮̞̦̦͚͒͗́͐̽̉̕͝͝ ̸̢͇̲̬͕̺̙͉̈́́͐̇͂͌͂̊̑̽͝ț̴̡̺̾͋̅͐͑͊̌̈̓̌͗̕̚̕o̶̭̞͙̳͇̰̘͛ͅ ̶̨̧͎͇̫̹̰̮̘̬̯̗̟́y̴̢͖̩̳̱̞̎́͜͜o̶̡̫͔̹̯͍̹̱͖͔͎͚͚̼̎̾́̓̀̐̈́̈̄͂̀̈́̓̃̚u̷̺͕̭̫̬͛̎r̸̲͓̺̖͔̠̤̪̺̮̦̗͇̾̐̐̈́̌̈́ͅ ̴͉̺̯̯̻̓̀̃̈́̿̓š̸̱̫͈̥̺͔͚̣̺͍̒̑̍̇̊̉͆̀̔͘̚͠ͅe̸̡̧̨̖̣̰͍̺̻̱̅̌̈́͊̅̑͠a̶̤͈̭͈͆̓͝r̶̨̜̜̱̫̣̭̼͎̤̊́̓̃̾̈́č̶̡̻͎̠͉͎̩͉͓̜̰̭̱̓͐͜h̶̛͙̻̭̮̮̖̼̦̞̩͚͚̹̀̆͝ͅ."

Confused, he looked at it's contents; the Title caught his attention. Forever Potions? Before he could ask anything else, the figure tossed him a sack. Looking inside and at an ingredients page, there was three of everything on the list. He looked back up, only to find that he was standing behind the table he was sitting at, almost like he experienced a hallucination in a mere second, but the data pad and bag proved otherwise.

He placed the bag in his subspace before sitting back down and looking through the datapad. The results is what he needed: Something painless. Knowing better, he knew to read the part about the inner workings before heading off and doing something without knowing if this was truly safe or not. Luckily, it was.

He returned home, happy with his search.

It was the next day, and it was their second anniversary, and he came up with the perfect plan. For his surprise, he prepared a romantic dinner for just the two of you. He luckily had the day off, and as he was preparing the dinner, he was filled with joy and excitement, which only grew when every single time you returned the feeling over the bond.

He made Energon cubes for the both of you, crafted the potion carefully as possible, and poured it into yours. Luckily, it didn't affect the color of it so then you wouldn't be suspicious of it. He had extra time before it would be the exact time you would arrive home, so he decorated the room for the occasion.

When you arrived, he was both surprised and happy that you had his favorite Energon sweets; he'd thought they sold out. To his surprise, it wasn't that, you made it yourself?! He couldn't have asked for a better sparkmate.

He sat you down at the table, and you were flabbergasted at how gorgeous the room was, and he made Energon cubes? Frag yes! When you ate your cube, for some reason it tasted sweet/salty/sour/whatever-flavor-you-like than the last time you had one, but you weren't complaining because it tasted better than ever before.

A few cups of high grade later, you started to feel lightheaded. He saw this and led you to the berthroom where you both cuddled as you both went into recharge.

Everything is going according to plan.

(The Next Day)

No one seemed to notice any changes at work. Everything is going on like everything is normal.

"C/n Prime, here's some reports about the information of Decepticon spy my team could possibly find." Firerunner said, giving you a datapad containing all the information. "Thank you, Firerunner. You are dismissed." You said, taking the datapad, not taking your eyes from your screen and your fast typing.

Just as he was about to turn around, he noticed something. "Um, C/n Prime?" He called out. "Yes?" You quired. "Are you okay? Your optics are looking a little..." He trailed off. You turned your helm, your green optics staring back into his, almost boring into his soul. "Oh, I'm fine! Thanks for asking. An old friend of mine, who's a medic, looked into it and some bot decided to do something funny to by Energon rations for this to happen to me. I don't know how long it'll last, but I can assure you, I'll be fine." You informed with a smile, which just made your green optics seem a bit creepier. "Okay then, have a good day, ma'am." He said with a bow before walking off.

When he was out of sight, you picked up the datapad and looked through it, and sure enough, it had information regarding any information they could find about the Decepticon spy and where they might be hiding. With your smile never faltering, you deleted everything off of it before breaking in half, your smile now showing your dente. A giggle escaped your throat pipes as you dumped it in the garbage chute behind your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

That's when you suddenly received a call from your comm-link. "Hello?" You asked in a sweet tone. "Dear, can you please come to my office? There's someone I'd like you to meet." He requested. "Of course, be there in a nano-click." You said before ending the call.

You stood up from your seat and started to traverse through the halls of building to your sparkmates office. You were in front of his door, looked around to see if anyone was around. You saw no one. Not a bot in sight. You opened the door, closing it behind you so no camera can have a peek on what's inside.

At his desk was your love, his true self of course. He was now taller than you by a landslide, had two antlers on the sides of his helm that extend upwards, three digits that are claw-shaped, a single, red optic being the only thing in the center of his face plate, and, of course, a Decepticon sigil proudly shown on his chassis.

"Lord Megatron, this is our new recruit, and my love: C/n." He said as you walked over and were in frame of the camera. On the other end of the screen was Lord Megatron himself. "And how are you sure she isn't tricking you?" Megatron asked. "Nothing that you should worry about, my liege. I made sure. But let's just say, it was an enchanting discovery."

Part 2?

[katebishopshands]

A Kate Bishop with a fem reader based on the song Red wine supernova by Chappell Roan

If Chappell Roan has no fans, I’m dead omg

✨RED WINE SUPERNOVA ✨

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

You’re not one for clubs. They’re hot, sweaty and too loud most of the time. You’re not one for clubs, until a pretty stranger catches your eye from across the dance floor.

(18+)

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

You watch a bead of condensation roll down the mirror in the bathroom as you check your makeup. The mirror is cracked and stains surround the corners, you shudder not even wanting to know what could’ve caused them. Years of sweat, alcohol and probably bodily fluids caked onto it.

Some loud music reverberates against the walls of the tiny bathroom. Sweat rolls down the back of your knees and pools into the leg of your boot. It’s too damn hot in this bathroom. It’s actually too damn hot in the entire club, but your roommates had insisted on taking you out as a graduation present.

Months of locking yourself into your room to study for hours on end had paid off in a mediocre accomplishment of a diploma. A diploma you didn’t even have yet, as it had to be ordered AFTER you walked the stage. Your roommates were right of course, you did need to get out.

A girl behind you gives a huff of annoyance as you look at yourself once more in the mirror before taking a deep breath. You shove your way out of the cramped bathroom, accidentally bumping into a few girls in the out the door bathroom line as you exited. You’re pulling at the right skirt you wore. The heat of the club making your thighs sweat and stick to the tiny piece of clothing. You’re grabbing your hair and holding it off your neck in a makeshift ponytail as you snake your way through the crowd, attempting to find Yelena.

She was the one who had pushed you to go out, so she was the one who had to deal with your complaints. The blonde is leaned up against the bar, making conversation with a girl you’ve never seen before. She’s confident and cool, some drink that didn’t look appetizing sat in her hand. You’re able to make your way to her.

“It’s too fucking hot in here” you whine, hand still holding your hair up. Yelena rolls her eyes and casually places her drink against the back of your neck. The cool feeling of the glass makes you jump. You can feel the water droplets roll off the glass and down your back.

“Better?” She looks at you, still holding her glass to the back of your neck. You nod.

“Where’d everyone else go?” You question her. Yelena shrugs and takes the drink away from you.

“Who knows, there’s so many people here” she turns to you . She’s in high waisted black trousers, a simple cropped white tank top on top. She’s braless. You’re honestly surprised she hasn’t been scooped up by someone at this point.

You cross your arms and look out at the dance floor. It’s packed. People soup as your camp counselor from 10 years ago would’ve called it. People are pressed into each other, swaying and moving to the music. The wine you had pregamed with sits at the bottom of your belly, a pleasant buzz coursing through your limbs.

“You seem stressed” she furrows her brows at you.

You shrug again. Honestly you kinda are. You haven’t been out in months, it’s almost like you had forgotten how to party. To have a halfway decent time you’d need more alcohol in your system.

Yelena reads your mind, she flashes two fingers at the bar tender who gives her a nod. A few seconds later she’s sliding a shot glass over to you. It’s filled with a clear liquid, which means it could realistically be two things. Vodka or tequila.

“Are you trying to get me fucked up?” You laugh at her as you take the shot glass. She gives you a chuckle and bows her head.

“No, I’m telling you to loosen up.” She holds up her glass to you as a way to beckon you to take the shot. You groan, throwing your head back but raising your glass anyway. Yelena forcefully clinks your glasses together and sends her shot back smoothly. She chases it with the drink she had been nursing when you got there.

You grimace as the shot hits the back of your throat. It’s vodka. Knowing Yelena it wasn’t surprising she ordered shots of vodka. The shot goes down your throat and you’re left sputtering. Curling forward, you cough uncontrollably. Tears fall from the corners of your eyes. Yelena pats your back, muttering something in Russian that you can’t quite put your finger on.

It’s as your standing up that someone catches your eye. She’s the definition of tall, dark and mysterious staring at you from across the dance floor. You nearly choke again.

black jeans, a dark purple cropped tshirt and a pair of scuffed up doc martins on her feet. Long dark curls fall to probably her mid back. You can see a plethora of silver rings on her fingers as she sips on a pink drink that looks more appealing that whatever Yelena had. It’s almost as if the vodka took effect instantly in that moment.

The girl raises her drink to her mouth and waves her eyebrows at you, making eye contact. You cough. Yelena responds with a harsh slap to the center of your back. You’re pretty sure the girl laughs at you and rolls her eyes before she turns on her heels and fades back into the crowd. Heart pounding, palms quickly collecting sweat, you turn back to the bar.

“Two more!” You yell at the bartender over the pounding music throughout the club. Yelena gives you a glance as you slam your shot glass onto the bar, sliding it back to the bartender as she slides you two more shots.

“What’s gotten into you??” Yelena says with a grin before she takes her own shot and throws it back. You swallow. Eyes falling to the faded bar and then flicking back up to Yelena’s green ones. Her brows are furrowed, she cocks an eyebrow at you expectantly.

“I think I just saw the hottest girl I’ve seen in my life.” You throw your shot back. The alcohol burns down your throat and into the pit of your stomach. Your joints grow warm and fuzzy as a result. You hiss at the leftover feeling in your mouth.

“Well I’m very flattered, but you see me every day” Yelena can’t contain her own laughter. She laughs her way through her shitty joke. You groan and roll your eyes as you turn back to face the mass of people, attempting to find mystery girl in the sea of faces.

“Shut the fuck up”

“What? I thought it was funny! I’m a very funny person!” She hits your shoulder lightly, trying to rope you in on her antics. Yelena continues laughing.

“I hate you.” You shove her a little, not taking your eyes off the crowd.

“No you don’t, that’s literally impossible” Yelena shoves you back. You stumble a little bit to the side. Your boots being a little too tall for you after downing two shots that quickly back to back. You’re attempting to get a grip of yourself and find your footing against the bar. You weren’t drunk, but you were sure to the average outsider, the way you were flailing made you look absolutely wasted.

A body stopped your tumble. But not before you felt the splash of a drink down your bare arm and onto the tube top you wore.

“Fuck I am SO sorry. My friend pushed me and I couldn’t really stop myself, I’ll uh, buy you a new on-“ as you’re wiping the drink off of your arm, you fail to look at who exactly had stopped your fall. Too preoccupied with rambling out every excuse you could come up with ,so whoever you did run into wouldn’t be too mad at you and you wouldn’t end the night prematurely with a bar fight.

“No no it’s all good!” The person cuts you off. You let out a sigh of relief as you look up to them. And almost as soon as the air had left your body, it got sucked back in.

Standing infront of you was Tall, Dark and Mysterious. She gives you a smile. The corners of her eyes crinkle as her cheeks cover a bit of her eyes. Her teeth are perfectly white and straight. You weren’t exactly sure how she was a real person standing in-front of you. Somehow she had managed to evade your gaze because she was actually sneaking her way up to the bar. And you just had to make the most embarrassing second impression on her, after an already horrific first one.

You’re dumbfounded. Heat rising to your cheeks you scramble to find the words to explain yourself. Somehow this girl had seen two incredibly embarrassing moments for you in the span of ten minutes. That had to be a new record.

“God I am so sorry” you apologize again, all other words failing you. Tall, Dark and Mysterious shakes her head.

“No really, it’s all good” she rushes to set her now empty glass down on the bar, awkwardly the remnants of her drink off of her hand and onto her jeans. She reaches it out to you in a handshake.

“I’m Kate” another 100 watt smile. Your knees feel like jello. A bead of sweat drips between your shoulder blades and down your back. You’re blanking. Forgetting your name. Did you even remember how to speak?

You somehow managed to give her your name, meekly shaking her hand. Both of your hands are sticky from Kate’s drink. The skin catching on each other when you release your grip. It’s awkward. This whole thing is incredibly awkward. You mentally curse at yourself, having blown it with the hottest girl you’ve ever encountered.

“Pretty name” she smiles again at you. You’re able to return it this time.

“Honestly though, it should be me apologizing,” Kate starts. Her eyes drift down to your top. “ my drink totally stained your top” . You follow Kate’s gaze, and sure enough there’s a pink hued stain down the left side of your shirt.

“Oh no it’s all good!” You lie. It is in fact not all good, you loved that shirt, but anything to make yourself seem like any less of a hot mess than Kate probably already thought you were. You were ready to leave. Ready to turn on the heels of your platform boots, grab Yelena and leave the suffocatingly hot bar and never return.

Kate bites her lip a bit, clearly in thought. She drums her fingers on the bar for a moment and then stops suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off in her head.

“How about I buy you a drink as a way to break even?” Her eyebrows upturn in the center, looking at you hopefully while your response brews.

“God I could never accept, I literally spilled the rest of yours, let me pay” you rebutted with her. Kate looks sheepishly at the floor. You’re able to see a faint blush across her cheeks in the dim lighting.

“Okay well, I have a confession” your heart skips a beat.

“I actually was over here because I wanted to ask to buy you a drink, but I guess the plan didn’t really go accordingly. So here we are now” she bites at her nails.

Turns out that Tall, Dark and Mysterious isn’t really that. She’s actually kinda awkward and dorky.

“You wanted to buy me, a drink?”

Kate nods.

“Even though you watched me choke on a shot from across the dance floor?” You wrinkle your nose as you brace for impact. But Kate only nods again.

“Honestly, I don’t blame you, I’m shit at shots too!” Kate yells over the music. You laugh a little and take a step towards her , not wanting to have to continue yelling over the music to chat.

“My uh, roommate got us vodka shots…they’re not exactly my favorite.” Kate nods in agreement .

“I’m more of a fireball girl myself” Kate says casually as she raises her hand to grab the bartenders attention.

“Me too!!” You give a little jump in excitment. She quirks an eyebrow at you as she orders two of whatever that pink drink she had earlier.

“A woman of taste I see” she smiles at you.

There’s something ridiculously charming about this girl. You’ve been talking for a few minutes at most but you’re already planning your future with her. You can see it now, some cute apartment with thrifted furniture, a killer vinyl collection. It’d be perfect.

Kate handing you a drink brings you out of your head. The clubs music shakes your eardrums, Kate’s very presence makes you sweat with nerves.

“To something that’s not a shot of vodka” she raises her glass. You take yours and clink them together.

“To having to tide pen my shirt in the morning!” You lock eyes with her as you both take a sit of your drink. You were right when you first saw it in her hand. It was better than whatever Yelena had been drinking.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Kate talks, a lot. And somehow, she manages to keep you engaged the entire time. You’re standing closer than you had been when she ordered your first round of drinks, your chests nearly touching.

“Y’know , if I didn’t know any better I’d say you do this kind of thing often.” You bat your lashes as you take a sip of your drink. Kate smirks at you, her arms slowly making their way around your waist.

“And I would be lying if I said I didn’t.” She makes a face , one that you don’t know if it’s pride or embarrassment.

“Oh so you’re a playboy” both hands are on your glass as you hold it gently nearly your face, hips pressed against Kate’s as you look up at her. You half joking half being honest as you make your remark.

“Something like that..it kinda comes with my job” she’s a little cocky with her comment, a smirk finding its way into her plump lips.

“And what exactly is your job?” You finish off your drink before setting it on the dingy bar. Kate lowers her head, aligning her mouth with your ear.

“Would you believe me if I told you thank I’m kinda an Avenger?” You can’t help but snort. Throwing your head back with laughter you put a hand on Kate’s shoulder and gently push her away. She sighs a bit in annoyance.

“Oh really?”

“Yes really!”

“Well how come I’ve never seen you on the news before?” You tilt your head, playfully jesting at the dark haired girl infront of you. The alcohol coursed through your veins, making you feel more confident than before. Maybe you were actually starting to enjoy the club.

Groups of people passed by where the two of you stood. You stayed put. You honestly had no clue how long you had been standing there talking to Kate

Kate puts her hands on her hips

"I'm kinda in training right now" she sounds embarrassed, avoiding eye contact with you. Kate shuffles back and forth on her feet a few times.

You nod your head a few times dramatically. "And girls believe that?" You ask skeptically.

"Well uh..yeah..normally they what to come home with me after I tell them that" she fiddles with the rings on her fingers," oh my god that made me sound like such an asshole" Kate curses to herself.

Her blue eyes search your face for some sort of disapproval. You raise your eyebrows in fake shock

"Wow, Kate I thought better of you, who said I was trying to go home with you?" Hands on your his you plant a foot behind you, and lean back. You give Kate a once over with a disapproving look.

You give Kate a once over with a disapproving look. "I just wanna get to know you"

"I know, I'm so sorry that was such a stupid thing of me to say.." she turns to the bar and puts her head in her hands, aggressively rubbing her eyes as if it would make her forget the stupid thing she said. "it's just, I'm a little drunk and I really like you and I just-"

"Do you want to come over?" Kate looks up, hopeful.

“Really?” You nod at her. Warmth spreading across your cheeks, you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or your bold move.

“Are you sure? Because I can totally accept this as a total failure of wooing a pretty girl and leave” she bounces back and forth on her feet as she plays nervously with her rings.

“I’m sure” a smile makes it way across your face, and then one appears onto Kate’s. You grab her hand, beginning to lead her out of the bar. Your eyes search the crowd for Yelena, wanting to tell her that you’re headed out and have company coming home with you.

After failing so you pull your phone out from your bra, the screen dragging against your skin.

Have a hot date so I’m dipping, pls don’t come home anytime soon. And keep the others out as long as possible!

You hit send as Kate scoots In front of you to open the door. The sole of your boot scuffs on the mat infront of the door, you stumble forward, into Kate, again.

“ again?” Her hands are on your lower back. You bite your lip at her, head a bit fuzzy with the drinks you had.

“Whoops?” You chuckle out as Kate stands you upright. She shakes her head at you and grabs your hand again. You phone buzzes.

Atta girl,I’ll knock three times really loudly when I come home ;)

Yelenas response makes you giggle a little . The air outside of the club is refreshing as you walk with Late towards your apartment. The lack of loud noise and hustle and bustle around you lets you actually admire how incredibly unreal Kate is.

She’s tall, you can tell she’s all lean muscle under her clothes by the way her biceps flex a bit when she talks with her hands. Every time her arms raise you’re able to get a glimpse of the abs that lay under her shirt.

Long black hair, a sprinkle of beauty marks across her face. With thick lashes and plump lips you’re curious as to how she could ever fight a villain with a face like that. That is if she was telling the truth about being an Avenger. If you had to fight her you’d struggle to not fall in love at first sight. She glows under the streetlights on your walk home.

She holds your hand the entire walk home. Telling you weird niche things about her. She has a dog, she went to an all girls school, she does archery. You stop at your building, but she keeps rambling.

“-and then I fell off the building, but these Christmas lights caught me so I was okay but I really thou-“

“Katie..” your back is against the door to your building. Kate closes her mouth, looking at you with big blue eyes. Her cheeks are pink from the alcohol. She swallows nervously.

“…yeah?” You watch as her breathing quickens. Her fingers wiggle at her sides, like she was unsure where to put her hands. You lean forward, grabbing both her hands. She flushes a deeper shade of pink.

You decide in that moment, it’s fun to watch Kate squirm.

Through half lidded eyes, you look at her. She’s standing stiffly, clearly not sure how to react to you. You lean close to her, letting your nose bump hers.

“Can I kiss you?” You ghost over her lips. For someone who was once flexing about how easily she can pick up girls, she sure is eating her words now.

“Yes please” she whispers while nodding her head furiously. You smile a little before crashing your mouth against hers. Kate gasps into you before planting her hands on your hips.

Her lips are slightly chapped from the walk home. Kate’s hands press the two of you closer, hip bones banging against the other as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. You hands rest on her cheeks.

Kate pulls away first. Her pupils are blown, a thin sliver of blue ringing them. A flame had been ignited inside of her. She’s panting, as are you.

“Wanna go inside?” Kate nods again. You grin at her as you insert your key fob into the building.

You could’ve sworn she was chasing you up the stairs as you made your way to your unit. Kate stands behind you as you unlock the door, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body. 

Before you’re even done shutting the door, Kate is on top of you. Pressing your back against the door and forcibly closing it. The door slams behind you as Kate connects your lips again, hungrily nipping at your lips. The cool wood of your door presses against the exposed skin of your back. The alcohol you had drank clouds your mind, leaving you unable to focus on more than one thing.

You have to choose.

You have to choose between the taste of Kate on your lips or the door handle pressing into your back. You choose Kate.

She’s grabbing at your hips, drawing you into her. You let her manhandle you for a moment. Fingertips pressing into the material of your metallic skirt. The sound of them against the material interrupts the smacking noises coming from your mouths.

“I’ve got a surprise” you whisper against Kate’s mouth, a smile creeping across yours. Her warm breath fans across your face as she leans back to catch her breath. Your stomach drops when you make eye contact with her.

“And that is?” She presses a kiss to your mouth. A kiss to your cheek and then to your jaw. She sucks at your neck, letting her teeth graze over it. She punctuates her actions with a bite, a period to the end of her sentence. You gasp into her as she soothes the forming bruise with her tongue.

“What if I told you I’ve got a California king bed in this apartment?” You chuckle out. Kate pulls away from your neck as she skeptically looks at you.

“Do you now?” You nod. You playfully skip over to the entrance that leads to the hallway, stretching your arms out to either side of the entryway to block Kate from going any further. She follows your lead.

“That is..if a California king bed is also known as a twin mattress with a shitty second hand bed frame” Kate is all smiles as she kisses you again. You melt into her with a hand against her cheek.

“That’s even better” she giggles against your lips.

Your hands are up her shirt. She’s got no bra on. You thought this whole thing couldn’t have gotten better until then. You knead at her, eagerly grabbing at a nipple. Kate whines into your mouth before she’s scrambling to get out of her tshirt. You help her, pulling the shirt over her head and throwing it on the ground before reconnecting your mouths.

You lead Kate towards your room as she awkwardly kicks off her shoes, leaving them in her wake. You’re up against your door when you stop her. You’re standing there in your knee high boots and mini skirt while Kate is half dressed in your hallway.

“Oh and I also have roommates” you sheepishly smile at her. Kate eyes dart to the trail of clothing she had been leaving.

“Don’t worry, they’re cool” you add to reassure her. Kate doesn’t care as she’s back on you in a second. Her hand reaches for your doorknob and you both stumble into your room. You’re unzipping your boots, stepping down as you leave them where you got out of them.

Kate chases you, high just on your kisses. She kicks the door closed with her foot. The sound of the door slamming shakes the foundation of the apartment. You were thankful that your roommates were still out drinking, or else you’d never hear the end of it.

She’s down on her knees, bringing your skirt with her. You watch as it pools around your ankles, but Kate is in your way of seeing it fully. Staring up at you, blue eyes wide, face flushed. Her lips are slightly parted as she pants with anticipation .

“Jesus Christ…” you mutter.

Two fingers under her chin as you guide her up, Kate obeys. So eager and willing to do whatever you will her to. She stands fully, a little taller than you now without your boots. Her fingers flick at her sides as you grab at her pants button. She says nothing.

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as you slowly drag her zipper down. Each drag of the zipper being painful too slow for Kate’s liking. You gently guild them down her long, pale legs.

It was your turn to salivate now. Her thighs were toned, a few bruises scattered across them. You assumed they were from her “hero business”. You still didn’t know if you believed that she was an avenger in training, but it was easier to believe that than swallow that she had lied to get in your pants.

Batting your eyelashes at her, you force her to step forward and out of her pants. She gingerly places her hands on your hips. A girl who was manhandling you a mere five minutes ago, now so scared to touch you in fear that she’d break you.

Wrapping your own fingers around hers, you guide her to the edge of your alcohol stained tube top. Her thumbs rub soothing circles into your rib cage. Her fingertips sneak under the material, pinching it between her thumb and her pointer finger. She gives a gentle tug upwards, and then another.

On the third tug the top is over your head and thrown behind Kate. She makes eye contact with your chest and her breath hitches. The pink lighting of your room makes her oncoming blush glow a deeper, more rich shade of pink.

She’s on top of you again, suffocating your whines with her tongue. Kate gives you whiplash. One minute so demure and unsure, the next she’s showing you exactly what she needs.

It excites you.

Kate’s hands are on your hips as she attacks your neck, gently guiding you back towards your bed. The backs of your bare thighs hit the mattress, Kate doesn’t budge from your neck. She’s nipping and sucking at the soft skin, inhaling the perfume you had put on prior to going out. Your hands reach for the base of her hair and tug on the soft strands.

Kate moans in pleasure as you do so. Her canines connect with your neck. You whine, only tugging Kate’s hair harder. She groans into your neck as she soothes the bite with her tongue.

“Oh so you’re a little freak?” You pant out with Kate’s face still shoved into your neck.

“I guess you could say that” she giggles out, gently biting at your neck again. You laugh at her as you’re able to flip your positions. Kate’s knees up against your bed, your arms over her shoulders.

You meet her baby blues. Rimmed with thick lashes, a freckle placed perfectly under her right eye. Her face is flushed, her chest heaves. Her demeanor shifts again as her knees buckle. You’re falling with her as she lands atop the white comforter. You kiss her again, a little slower than prior.

“Do you like magic?” You pull away. Kate blinks at you a few times.

“Huh?”

“Do you like magic?” You repeat plainly again. Kate ponders your question for a moment, jutting her lip out a bit.

“Uh sure?” She answers, still unsure of what exactly you were getting at. You grin down at her as you reach for your bedside table.

“Because I’ve got a wand..” you produce a vibrator from the drawer. Kate’s eyes light up. “…and a rabbit”

A second vibrator is produced. Her eyes go even bigger. You lean down to kiss her again, switching on the first vibe to the lowest setting.

Kate plays with the hair that goes down your back while you kiss her. She makes soft whines into your mouth. She’s actually so cute. She gasps into you as you touch the vibrator to Kate’s covered cunt. She jolts upwards, a moan dying in her throat.

“Shhhh” you shush her as you turn it up another notch. Kate swallows and nods, all words drying up before she could say anything. Instead she opts to kiss you again. You oblige her, reveling in the feeling of her blunt nails on your back.

You dig the vibrator into her clothed clit. She hisses a bit but eventually begins to rock her hips back and forth in an attempt to gain friction against the vibrator in your hands.

She’s surprisingly obedient. When you had first met her you were sure that confidence of hers would ooze into the bedroom but now you weren’t so sure. She doesn’t ask you for anything more, just politely takes what you give her in the moment.

Kate’s breathing hitches suddenly and her hips stutter as she finishes against the vibrator. Her head slumps into the space between your neck and your shoulder while she starts to catch her breath.

Apparently all your teasing had riled up the girl enough that she came that fast. You rub her bare back as she comes down. Switching off the vibe you toss it behind you.

Kate begins to bring her head up to look at you. She said nothing. Her dash is flushed and you’re able to click a few beads of sweat dripping down the sides of her pretty face.

She seizes your head, colliding your lips again as she manhandles you onto your bed. She lets you scoot your head up to your pillow as she pulls her underwear off. She then goes for yours.

Kate hooks her thumbs under your waistband and tugs. You heard a slight rip.

“Sorry..” she mutters as she leans over you. Her words fan over your hot face as she pulls your underwear down the rest of your body. You give a pleased moan as the cool air of your room hits your pussy. You shuddered under Kate.

Calloused fingers graze your ankle and she gently guides it upwards, causing your leg to bend at the knee. You swallow hard, maintaining eye contact with her. Her confidence oozes from her.

Once again, the duality of this girl shocked you.

Kate begins to slot herself against you. You can feel the heat radiating off of their center. It makes you salivate.

“Wait” you pant out. Kate hovers above you.

“Yes?” Her face is close to yours again. How could a girl that was whimpering into your neck five minutes ago be this intimidating now.

“Are you..” you pause realizing how stupid this actually sounded in the moment. Kate quirks a thick eyebrow at you. “Are you actually an avenger?”

She laughs, fully, then nods.

“I promise you I am… why?” She looks at you skeptically. You shy away from her avoiding her eyes. You look everywhere. The pretty shade of dark pink her nipples are. The beauty marks that work their way down her toned torso. The way her bicep twitches with impatience.

“I just want to get to know you” you look at her finally. She smiles at you, delivering a tender kiss to your forehead.

Kate lets herself sink down onto you after that. You both moan at the contact. You can feel how wet she was from her earlier orgasm. You pulse around nothing and Kate gives another whine as she begins to rock into you.

Where you both connect makes loud noises, but you wouldn’t be able to hear it over the noises that you were making. Kate on top of you feels amazing to say the least. She plants her rough hands on your tits, using them as anchors as she ruts herself against you.

“Want me to fuck you?” She whines out. You’re not sure if it’s for her own sake or yours, but you nod frantically. Eyes rolling into the back of your skull as she works harder. She gives a squeeze to your breast, eliciting another moan from you.

Kate’s clit bumps against yours . She’s sucking air through her teeth and the hot contact. You pulsate at the sound.

“Fuck I felt that” Kate picks up her speed. You can feel yourself getting wetter as she continues to work at you. Your slick getting all over your thighs and Kate’s, and dripping onto the sheets of your bed.

You’re able to hear the squeaking of your mattress as Kate basically bounces in your pussy. You thrust up into her in an attempt to chase your high.

It only makes the sound of the mattress more obnoxious. But between the combined sound of Kate humping into you like a dog in heat and the noises leaving both of your mouths, it was the least obnoxious sound in the room at the time.

Kate leans down and kisses on your neck. Sucking and biting little marks that you would for sure regret in the morning. You grab at the curls at the back of her head. She whines into your neck again .

She alternates her pace, one hand keeping your knee propped up, the other supporting her own weight over you. One thrust slow and sensual, the other hard and fast. Kate drives you crazy you’ve decided.

You stomach grows warm, the familiar feeling of an orgasm.

“Gonna cum” you pant out. Kate kisses up your neck, working her way up to your mouth.

“Hold out for me, just a couple seconds”

You nod at her as she grinds her own cunt into yours . Kate moans into your mouth as she chases her own high. You’re not sure if you can wait for her any longer. Your coil is about to snap and there’s absolutely no way to save it.

“Kate..” you whine to her. She just nods at you, brows furrowed as she collideds her pussy into you, clits angrily squishing into each other.

You’re crossing the finishing line, as is she. She kisses you one more time as you finish. Attempting to swallow your noises.

Your hair is sticky with sweat, as is Kate who lays on top of you. Her toned body lays limp on top of yours as you catch your breath. You can feel the familiar feeling of release between your legs.

Maybe you needed to spill people’s drinks more often.

Kate rubs her fingers against your sides as you rub her back, gently moving the dark curls off of it to cool her off.

“I’m burnt out..” she mutters, soft cheek pressed against your chest. You laugh a little. Kate bounces with your laughter.

“So am I but..” you trail off. Kate props her head up to meet your eyes.

“Round two?” You raise your eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes at you.

“Give me a few to recharge.” She lets her head drop again. You both lay there in comfortable silence.Kate tracing circles on your skin, you trying to find the most perfect curl in her hair.

You can tell when Kate has “recharged” once she starts kissing on your shoulder, to your neck, to your chin, to your lips. You cup her face in your hands as you sit up, deepening the kiss. You bite at her lip playfully, Kate groans. Just as you think Kate is about to slide down your body to eat you out, a noise stops your ministrations.

The front door of your apartment slams loudly.

Your roommates are home.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚

I loved this so much. I love Chappell. I love Kate Bishop. I love combining them.

I know it’s a little long for a request fic but what can you do when it’s Kate AND Chappell Yknow ? ✨

[strawburry01]

Northern Attitude

Summary: The team goes out to a small Montana town facing a random string of murders pointing to a new cult forming in the woods around town. Only once they get there does Hotch realize he recognizes the assistant chief for the town force- someone from his university days.

Word Count: 3k

No smut just angsty, maybe not entirely canon compliant but nothing crazy.

Authors Note: Let me know if folks want a part 2 (you may get one anyway, but my brain hasn't decided yet), or any one offs from Hotch and the characters time in uni. I have ideas...

It was another cold morning in your room. You refused to go to bed if it wasn’t comfortably cocooned in at least three blankets, but it did mean getting out of bed in the morning was particularly dreadful. You groan as you stretch your back hearing it pop as you twist. Eventually, you push yourself out of your warm pile of blankets and pillows to take a shower to wake up and start the day.

You worked as an assistant chief in your small Montana town. Things were slow for the most part. Nobody beyond the average population, except for the summers when the tourists came in for hiking and camping, but even then, it was never too much. A few rambunctious teens some nights, the occasional robbery of the convenience store downtown, a random carjacking every other month, but this had all come to a screeching halt when a random string of murders popped up over the last few weeks. Unfortunately, based on the scenes and your analysis, it seemed cult related, bringing a lot more attention, specifically from the government, to your once quaint town. 

Shuffling back to your room after your shower you throw on your average attire, black slacks, blue button up, and boots. Being a woman in a small town police force wasn’t easy, but you’d done your time. It only took a few cases before the men started realizing you meant business, and often would run the opposite direction in the office whenever they saw you walking in with a bad mood knowing you would make their life a living hell. Graduating from university with both electrical engineering and criminology made you stand out when you entered the workforce all those years ago, but the quiet side of you still yearned for silence and a work life balance, which is something you did get all the way out here. Well, at least before this all. You’d been working overtime every night into the late hours trying to figure out what you were dealing with. All you had was your bed every couple hours at night before your brain would wake you up again with a flood of new theories and ideas. You’d be happy when this was over, for all the reasons.

You jump into your truck and quickly blow onto your mug of coffee to cool it down as you head out to the latest scene. You swear out loud as you nearly spill it onto your lap as you take a turn too sharp. You crank the volume of your radio up to help wake you up and try to put you in a good mindset. You never tried to come to work in a bad mood, in fact you tried to come in on the cusp of being annoyingly positive and cautiously optimistic. You knew this line of work was easy to get sucked down into and spiral, you’d seen it before, hell you lived it before when you were fresh out of university. It’s what got you out working in a big city, or for a bigger federal office. 

You pull into the parking lot alongside the other police vehicles that had already shown up for the day. This latest murder scene was unfortunately in an empty field behind an abandoned high school. Definitely not creepy at all, you thought to yourself as you got out and eyed the several busted windows on the second floor. You grab your backpack and mug as you make your way to the tent set up with the team’s temporary office with laptops and files from the case.

“Morning boys,” you hum as you step underneath the tent, observing the open screens. You get a few ‘good mornings’ back. Some of the guys had been working since the scene was called in and you could tell. Dammit you should have brought coffee or doughnuts for them.

“Cheers boss”, one of the officers, Carter, sighs to you as he walks into the tent, clinking his coffee with yours. Carter had always been one of your favorites, he was young, wide-eyed, but still meant business. He’d grown up in the area so he knew all the folks like they were family. You let out a small smirk as you sip your coffee, starting to map out the plan for today.

You’d have to scour the entire field. And the entire school. You didn’t want a single potential lead or clue or mistake from them to be lost. The team would hate it but it needed to be done.

“Alright team find a friend and meet back here in ten minutes. You’re going to be split between the school and the field and I need all of it thoroughly searched. Heard?” you said, leaning on the table facing the team you had. They all nodded or chirped back a complaint which you laughed at, “you got ten minutes to warm up”.

You leaned back on the front of your truck as you took out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. Lighting it up you stared out into the field. Dappled with yellows and oranges, you can’t even see the ground through the wheat and piles of ancient dirt. Why here? Any other day this would be beautiful, but knowing a murder happened right here made it such a tragic scene. There’s a crackle of gravel from an incoming car behind you. Probably the chief coming in, albeit uncharacteristically early since he usually stayed in the office until things got really hairy. You sighed as you let a cloud of smoke out of your lips, staring up at the sun. Your phone buzzes against your hip and you lazily slide it out before checking it. 

It’s a text from the chief. “Federal Bureau coming in today. Play nice.”. Your stomach flips. FBI? Well shit. Also how rude of him not to text you any earlier than right now. “Who?”, you texted back. You see the cursed three dots pop up and down a few times before the text actually sends. “BAU”. You nearly drop your cigarette out of your mouth at your jaw dropping. 

As if on some otherworldly cursed cue.

“Y/n?” a terribly familiar voice says from behind you. You take a sharp inhale, before taking out your cigarette and turning your head, trying to look charming as hell.

“Hello dear Aaron,” you say with a smile on your face, seeing the man who’d been stuck in your thoughts since the day he left your side. 

It’s his eyes that never changed. They still scrunch up as he smiles at you.

“I didn’t know this was your town,” he said as he moved beside you. You look up at him, placing your cigarette back between your lips and shrugging with a smirk plastered on the side of your face. You catch his eyes quickly flickering over you, just as you look over him. He used to be skinny, studious, almost a nerd, but the man that stood in front of you now was built, stern, and serious. 

“I got told a few seconds ago that you’d be here at all. Chief keeps me on my toes,” you remarked, internally thinking about how you actually wanted to wring his neck for not telling you sooner. 

When you woke up this morning you did not- in a thousand years-  expect Aaron Hotchner to show up at your work. At your crime scene. It was a tumultuous mix of excitement, nerves, intrigue, and still a bit of anger. You hadn’t seen him in years, let alone reached out. Ever since ending on a sour note you never tried, mostly because you knew he wouldn’t respond- not out of spite but just because he was so busy and focused on work. It was admirable, but also so annoying.

“You smoke now?” he asked, snapping you out of your mental musings. He was eyeing disapprovingly the cigarette still hanging in the corner of your mouth. 

“You wear contacts now?” you retorted, raising an eyebrow. He sharply laughed and looked back to his team as they approached.

“Have for a while” he said, turning back to you.

“Haven’t known for a while” you snipped before throwing your cigarette butt onto the ground and smashing it out with your heel to free yourself to meet his team. “We’ll talk later Aaron” you said with a nod which he nodded back to, ending this conversation, knowing more pressing things existed than-

your-

university-

situationship- 

showing up again in your life. 

Aaron’s team pops up behind him and brings you back to focus. Dammit there was a murder on your watch and you could only think of this fucking man. Grow up, you swore in your head as you forced a customer service smile onto your face. 

“Team this is y/n l/n, a friend from university,” he said as he gestured to you. He couldn’t make eye contact when he called you just a friend. You noticed two of the men on the team elbowed each other, no doubt in shock their boss actually had friends outside of work at some point in his life. 

Aaron introduced you to his team and you tried to run through their names in your head as you shook their hands. You were terrible with names. Agent Reid was the twiggy one who looked perpetually deep in thought, Agent Morgan was the one with the tight black shirt who who had an air of confidence about him, Agent Jareau was the sweet blonde who acted like the unofficial mother of the group, and Rossi who was the tired old dad of the group. I’m sure Aaron loved being bossed around by him, you thought to yourself as you shook his hand. He seemed nice, but Aaron had never been one to not be the one in charge- the little control freak. 

You brought them to your tent to introduce them to your folks, trying to get everyone on the same page with daylight burning. Later than expected due to the guests everyone was ready to actually start looking through the field and school. You felt Aaron’s eyes on you as you told everyone to pair off, but you nabbed Carter before he could object. 

The search of both areas wasn’t as successful as you had hoped. The school had some ominous latin scribbled onto the walls in red, which had been determined to be blood on the scene, although it wasn’t the latest victims. Reid had somehow been able to translate the latin- you could see in an instant why they kept him around.

“So what’s the deal with you and the FBI guy?” Carter asks when you get to the smack dab middle of the field. Your neck hurts from craning over the ground, trying to not let a speck of earth go unseen. 

“What do you mean?” you ask back, not looking up as you continue scanning the ground.

“I’ve never seen you flustered,” he quips as he pauses, “you actually like-I don’t know it was just weird” he said and half heartedly shrugged as he looked back at the group that had begun to reform by the tent. 

“It’s complicated,” you said, knowing that the young adult in him would eat the drama up. Sure enough, he perked up.

“Yeah? What is it? You got an ex?” he said, nudging you.

But that was the problem. He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t really an anything. He was a friend, sure, but friends also didn’t make out in the corners of parties as much as you two had. And friends didn’t stay up until sunrise testing each other for the upcoming exams every single finals week. And friends didn’t invite each other to spend weekends at their family vacation cabin alone. 

“No, no, no, just-” you tried to explain to no avail, not even knowing how to justify this to yourself, “okay maybe,”. Carter let out a low whistle.

“Hey if my ex showed up to work I’d be flipping the fuck out, you’re handling this really well,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. You chuckle at the kids joke.

“Sometimes it’s just nicer to see a familiar face, you’ll get it when you’re older,” you said, knowing hated when you pulled the you’ll understand when you’re older card. He rolled his eyes and groaned. 

Once the sun started setting you made your way back to the huddle that was forming of everything theorizing and laying out the evidence. Tomorrow would be busy in the office working to get everything categorized and bagged. You leaned up against your truck again, just like you did this morning, and pulled out another cigarette, flicking the lighter onto the end. You waved your team over and told them to head home for the night. You knew a lot of them had families at home, and you tried to be respectful of it all, even if you didn’t have your own. Some of the security officers watching the spot for the night stayed and mingled with the BAU team a ways away from you, and you settled your sights on the pink hue of the clouds as the sun lowered.

A familiar body moved next to you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Aaron. You blew a cloud of smoke out the other side of your lips and stayed quiet, waiting for him to start. He had his hands jammed in his coat pockets, his shoulder grazing against yours. People used to laugh at the height difference back in university, and it had only gotten worse it seemed, or at least Aaron walked around with much more presence these days. You were leaning up against the front grate of your truck and felt Aaron slowly move his arm behind you, holding onto the grate on the other side of your hip. Feeling his arm behind you felt so familiar. 

“There’s Latin at the other scenes too,” he said, facing straight ahead into the sun.

“Shit,” you said as you slowly nodded, realizing that the scribbles would not just be nothing. There was a moment of silence before he broke it again.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, glancing down for a second, but long enough for you to meet eyes before you looked away.

“You know I could never hate you,” you said begrudgingly, knowing it was the truth. His arm got closer to your back at that and you leaned further onto it, “it’s really annoying honestly” you halfheartedly laughed. You heard him laugh under his breath. You swallowed your pride and leaned in, resting your head on the side of his torso, letting out another cloud to try and soothe your nerves. 

“It’s nice out here,” he said, looking out at the sunset still which had only gotten deeper pink and orange. 

“ ‘S quiet,” you agreed, “I don’t know how you do it in the big leagues,”. 

“You know you could’ve too,” he said, looking down. You stayed staring straight ahead.

“I’m not doing this argument again Aaron,” you said curtly, as you eyed him back. He shrugged and turned away again. 

“You know you could have that’s all,”. 

“You ever think I’m okay with it out here? You ever think I don’t need to kill myself over every case with the fate of the world hanging on it?” you said, raising your voice a little.

“I’m just saying you were one of the best and you could do a lot in the bureau,” he said back, “in the BAU,” he tested. You let out an angry air of smoke from your cigarette.

“Dammit Aaron don’t do this again,” you said, cutting him off before he can say anything else. You throw your cigarette onto the gravel and kick some rocks over the smoldering residue, “I’m happy here, can’t you just be okay with that?”. Aaron watched you and sighed and shifted in his spot, taking the second to move his hand from the car to your waist. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, and he meant it. You sighed.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay huh?” you asked, trying to joke, but inside you really did mean it earnestly. His thumb rubbed your side. It had been a while since you felt like this.

“I don’t think you’re able to,” he responded, sadness tinging his voice. The two of you stood, leaning into each other watching the sun finally dip behind the hills in the distance.

A few yards away Morgan stood on the phone, peeking around a car before ducking back. Garcia was not going to believe this shit.