#I think I’ve posted this gif here before but hey why not do it again

[happyheidi]

𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 (𝟣𝟫𝟫𝟤)

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 1: Vocal Cords

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,183,932 others

y/n_rb: Bahrain here we come! This is gonna be our season!

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user1: you’ve got this girl!

↳user2: represent! So incredibly proud to be able to support a woman in f1!

↳user1: it’s been so long…

oscarpiastri: glad to have you here!

↳logansargeant: not sure I’d go so far…

↳y/n_rb: wow logie just say you hate women then!

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that’s not very feminist of you

↳logansargeant: I’ve been cursed by the universe

↳logansargeant: LET ME BE CLEAR — I DO NOT HATE WOMEN

↳logansargeant: it’s just y/n_rb is every intrusive thought you’ve ever had with a dash of no impulse control or thought-to-mouth filter

↳y/n_rb: hey!

↳oscarpiastri: no that sounds about right — just add a dash of no media training too

↳redbullracing: oh no…

↳y/n_rb: I have a contract! You ain’t getting rid of me so easily!

↳redbullracing: we’re scheduling media training sessions right away

↳logansargeant: good luck!

maxverstappen1: it’s great to have you on the team!

↳y/n_rb: oh my god it’s Max Verstappen!!

↳maxverstappen1: …we’ve met before?

↳y/n_rb: still!

↳user3: it’s not even the start of the season and she’s already bullying both her old F2 competitors and her teammate 😆😆

user4: proud y/n fan here! Having followed her since her F3 days I can say with full confidence that I’m so glad we’re gonna have a new grid terrorist again!

↳fernandoalo_oficial: 🤨🤨🤨

↳user4: besides you of course Mr Rookie sir

fernandoalo_oficial: ¡Hola! ¡Me alegro de verte finalmente aquí! hello! glad to finally see you here!

↳y/n_rb: Mr Fernando sir I’m a big fan! Do you have a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Sí?

↳y/n_rb: score!

↳maxverstappen1: oh no

↳logansargeant: no no no

↳oscarpiastri: please don’t

↳redbullracing: the training book doesn’t have a chapter on what to do now…

↳y/n_rb: smile and wave boys. Just smile and wave

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, liamlawson30, and 2,197,284 others

tagged: y/n_rb, redbullracing, pierregasly, alpinef1team

f1: contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly turned dangerous when y/n flipped! She was quickly freed from her car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Still conscious during the crash and waving to the fans while taken to the helicopter, no further information is known on her injuries.

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user5: oh my god that was so awful

user6: I’m still sat in shock

maxverstappen1: Based on the text messages I’ve received in the last 10 minutes, she’s fine.

↳logansargeant: how many did you get? Cause I’ve gotten 82 in the last 3

↳maxverstappen1: 187 in 10 minutes

↳oscarpiastri: 23 in the last minute

↳liamlawson30: too many for the group chat. It broke my phone

↳user7: not even on the grid and still terrorizing them 😂 liked by y/n_rb

user8: why did they have to play her radio though…

↳user9: no that was fucking awful

↳user10: I don’t think I’ll be able to forget her screams

↳y/n_rb: skk food bsny!!

↳logansargeant: and that’s the concussion typing 😆

logansargeant

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, oscarpiastri, 2,284,469 others

logansargeant: “Tell that frenchie that I lived bitch!”

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user11: oh thank god

↳user12: that was one of the most harrowing crashes I’ve seen

user13: if that’s not a Gen-z response I don’t know what is

↳user14: I’m just glad she’s ok

pierregasly: 😑😑

↳pierregasly: well I guess I’m glad she’s ok

↳logansargeant: “JUST SAY YOU DONT LIKE WOMEN FRENCHIE!”

↳pierregasly: I LIKE WOMEN

↳y/n_rb: qe kniw TROPID$$$ SHIILS CSKL TJE PILICE ON U

↳logansargeant: I’ve taken her phone again but she meant “we know TRIPOD!!! SHOULD CALL THE POLICE ON YOU”

↳pierregasly: oh so she’s good

↳logansargeant: as good as she’s ever been

oscarpiastri: glad to see she’s ok!

↳logansargeant: some pretty shredded vocal cords and a nasty concussion but yeah she’s fine

↳oscarpiastri: ouch! Sending a gift basket!

↳logansargeant: “if that thing has a stupid apple in it I’m gonna save it and stuff it down your throat you stupid Aussie!”

↳oscarpiastri:…🫣🫣

↳maxverstappen1: apples?

↳oscarpiastri: don’t ask

↳logansargeant: don’t

↳liamlawson30: do not bring up that trauma again

↳logansargeant: “🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻”

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @angelluv16 @voidvannie @justaf1girl

[coastershells]

D I V I N E . .ᐟ

IN WHICH — dallas has been obsessed with you for months.

⚠️ : uh , smut.. again… and i guess this is similar to the one i posted the other day? but like , this was an ask thrown out to the dallas x reader tag so i’m gonna try to give it justice.

ʚ ɞ / wc : 5.3k

you silently walk down the dark street , and the only possible light is from the moon and the streetlights. And honestly? you’re stupid. well , not really , but you’re walking alone as a greaser. and that’s the number one thing you shouldn’t do.

socs get so bored they would beat up even a girl , it doesn’t matter to them. meaning you’re no different.

it sucks , but you need to see dallas.

recently , your ex boyfriend has been giving you things you don’t even want. flowers , chocolate , anything you could name , he would have it at your doorstep or stashed into your locker. you don’t wanna talk about the amount of times you’ve gotten jealous stares from people around you. but there was nothing to be jealous about.

if you could get rid of him , you would. in a heartbeat. you just want to be left alone.

it’s him who cheated anyway ; he hooked up with another girl , sylvia , you think her name was? though you don’t really care for her. apparently , she was just like that.

you snapped yourself out of your deep thought when you saw a light flicker , and you being paranoid about being out here in the first place , started to pick up your pace.

eventually , you made it to the all familiar building , buck merrill’s place. while you recall dallas working here , whenever he isn’t getting himself into illegal activities , he’s crashing here , or responsibly ( like he promised ) , hanging out with you to keep your ex away at times.

a few weeks ago , you had asked dallas to fake date you so your ex could back off. it worked for the most part , but that didn’t stop your ex from giving you gifts and asking to ‘ just be friends ‘.

even though everyone knows where that goes.

you sigh as you walk up the steps , hand sliding across the rails as you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. you hope it’s heard with how the music is booming , enough to shake the house like you’re in a cartoon of some sort.

the door swings open , you notice it was a girl , but she paid no attention to you , quickly going back to dancing with her friends. you shyly step into the house and close the door behind you. trying your best to ignore the music and the smell of cigarettes in the air , you make your way to the only place dallas would be at this hour.

his room. either sleeping , or smoking.

you don’t knock first , or made any sort of sound to be let in , you just do it.

and of course , you were right. dallas was at his window smoking. the window was slightly open. his back was facing you until you opened the door.

“ hey dallas. “

“ hey. why’re you here? checkin’ up on me? you’re so kind. “ he teases and you roll your eyes.

“ actually , i’ve gotta complaint. “

dallas raises a brow , and makes a weird sound. “ mmh? do tell. “

you sigh and close the door , trying to ignore the way the house is shaking. the ashtray on the edge of the window is slightly shaking as the music downstairs booms. “ you are horrible at fake dating. “ you deadpan and he laughs.

“ sorry , but can i let you know that i’ve never done this before? usually if i’m with a girl , i’m with her. this is different. “

“ exactly my point , dallas. why not just treat me like you would treat your girlfriend? “

he blinks and stares at you blankly. “ well , you aren’t my girlfriend. that’s the thing , now listen , [name] — “

“ dude , fake dating is everything couples do just without the love. think of it like that , would you? “ you groan. it’s one of those nights he’s trying to be smart and make you look dumb.

“ i mean , “ he takes a drag from his cigarette. “ sure. i guess. you complain a whole lot about us not giving off an actual dating vibe. you like me or somethin’? “

you gag. he’s right , but he’s wrong. you would try dating him , but you honestly just wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to give it your all , and knowing dallas , he wouldn’t give anywhere close to anything.

“ no. ew , not in a million years you fucking — you fucking freak! “ you point at him with a scowl , and he smiles , putting his cigarette out and onto the ashtray , he walks over to his bed and kicks his shoes off.

“ mhm. got it. just for your ex. right. okay. “

you nod in agreement , and you begin to head for the door.

“ wait , where are you goin’? downstairs? i didn’t take you for the party type. “ he chuckled at his own joke , and the look on your face was just about the opposite.

“ i’m going home. “

“ at this hour? “

“ i walked here at this hour , for your information. “

“ dangerous girl. come on , lay down. “

“ like.. “ you turn around and point at him in disgust. “ with you? “ he nods and your face does nothing but twist more. “ no. that’s disgusting. id rather walk home. “

dallas sighs. “ you’re crazy , man. you want us to act like we’re dating , then you don’t. could you pick a side? “

“ there’s no one around so we don’t have to act dallas. please. use your head. “

“ alright , if you wanna walk home then go ahead. “ he urges you out , and you do exactly that. he looks pissed that you don’t wanna stay.

such an asshole.

the next day at school went rather smooth , you went to your same classes , annoyed the teachers , hung out with your friends at lunch , and made it to the end of the day.

“ i’ll see you tomorrow , right? “ your friend lorelai asks.

“ yup , i promise. love ya , bye! “ you wave frantically as she walks away , and another voice rings from behind you.

“ hey babe. “ an all too familiar voice speaks out. and you can already feel yourself getting irritated. “ don’t call me that , it’s over between us. cant you just — “

“ got somethin’ for you. “ he says , shoving flowers in your face and you fight the urge to sneeze , or yell. you close your eyes and with an irritated sigh , you push it away from your face. “ i don’t want your shit , please go away. “ you say as you turn and walk away from him. “ ah — wait! “ he calls out and you make an annoyed sound , with a groan , you keep walking.

“ i don’t wanna hear it , fuck off. i’m being nice. “ you roll your eyes as he stutters over his words.

“ your boyfriend is cheating on you. “

“ what? “

you don’t know what to say to that. dallas isn’t your boyfriend , but he’s covering for you. so stuff like this won’t happen.

“ what do you mean? “ you turn around and he sighs in relief when he has your attention.

“ at buck’s last night , i saw you walk in but was too out to say anything. after you left dallas was downstairs and had a girl pinned to the wall. the rest you should know. “

you ball your fist , and you don’t know who to be angry at.

you settle on both.

how could he be so damn reckless?

as soon as you get your ex off your trail , you storm to your house. you look at your calendar and you’re actually quite happy that it’s friday for once. you can sleep all day , maybe hang out with johnny and pony later , get into some trouble with them , or try your best to stay out of it.

though , a part of you just wants to rest for the whole weekend.

you know on monday your ex is going to spread the word , and then he’ll be hot back on your tail again. you wish he would just.. forget about you.

it’s totally not like he’s the one who said you guys should break up after he cheated on you. why doesn’t he go back to the girl he oh so loves more than you?

you get annoyed at the thoughts , and kick your feet on your bed , rambling on to yourself.

until those kicks and your voice came to a stop as you heard 8 knocks in a rhythm on your window.

it better not be dallas — too childish. two-bit , maybe?

you pray that it’s not dallas , or your ex. anyone but those two , fucking anyone.

instead of having to shoo said people away , you figure out it was johnny and ponyboy.

you smile.

“ hey , [name]. “ johnny says in that same voice he always uses. it’s soft , and you can barley hear it while you open the window. ponyboy shoves his hands in his pockets.

“ hey guys , what’s the matter? “ you ask , and johnny shakes his head while ponyboy speaks up.

“ nothin’. just wanted to tell you that we are going to the drive in and wanted to ask you to tag along. “

you hum in response , giving it deep thought. you figured ; you don’t have anything else to do anyway , so you’ll just go.

“ sure , when? “ you glance between the two boys.

“ well , we are just walking around right now , doing random things. if you wanna join that — “

“ don’t make it seem like we are doing bad things , ponyboy. just walkin’ around. “ johnny says scoldingly , and you stifle a laugh.

“ sure , i’ll tag along. just let me put something random on. give me a second! “ you answer and you disappear into your house as the boys wait outside of your window.

you decide on something random , baggy jeans , a shirt that fits nicely on you , and beaten up converse that johnny somehow got for you.

you fix your hair slightly , though nothing big has to be done to it because you had done it in the morning for school.

with that , you grab your wallet , and return to the window.

“ hold this , pony , “ you toss your wallet to him and slowly make your way out of the window. johnny gets close to make sure you don’t fall. you reach up behind you to close the window just slightly , you have to make sure you’re able to get back in without getting yelled at by your parents.

once your out and you fix your shirt , pony gives you your wallet back , and you guys begin to walk away from your house.

“ so where we headed? “ johnny asked seemingly the both of you.

“ i wanna see a fight. “ you say and ponyboy hesitated before nodding , johnny shrugs and agrees.

“ just gotta be out of there before the fuzz pull up. “ johnny says and you genuinely laugh.

you all indeed kept to your word , fights are easy to find around your parts , and it’s like a free movie before you even go to the drive in. in some fights , knives are pulled , guns that aren’t loaded yet scare everyone away , and some used objects nearby. you usually don’t stay for those fights incase it gets too bloody.

night begins to fall , and all three of you began to make your way over to the drive in.

“ you guys know what movie we are watching? “

“ nah man , most of the times i don’t even understand the movies we watch. “ johnny comments as he hops the gate , pony does it flawlessly , and you , lastly , slightly struggle to jump over the fence. they seemed to exchange a glance and stifle a laugh , but you try to pay no attention to it.

as you go to sit down , johnny and pony tell you to find seats and they’ll go and get popcorn , while you don’t want to alone , you shrug and do so anyways.

the movie seems to be some sort of beach movie , telling from the surfing and the screams of the girls. it’s trash , but it’s also the 60s. some said the 2000s are promised to be better. so you’ll go off of that.

you see four open seats in the near front. obviously , there’s only two of you , but the thought of two-bit coming along with the chance is high. so you take a seat in the middle. you sit down and take a view of everyone around you , you see some socs , but for the most part they seem to be behaving slightly well. so you turn from their direction. another group of people you see are greaser girls.

sylvia is one of them.

you scoff and hold your head in your palm , you were getting bored without johnny and pony. how long was the line? you had to have spent atleast 4 minutes looking for seats and sitting there.

“ hey , this seat taken? “

before you register the familiar voice , you speak up. “ uh — yeah , my friends are — “ you look up to the person when something just small clicks and tells you to look.

and you’re not very happy that you did.

“ dallas? “

“ the only one round here , thank you. “ he says , completely ignoring what you had said earlier and taking a seat next to you , wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “ thank god for that. “ you sigh and he seems to just get a little pissed off about it.

“ your ex is here , over there. “ he nods his head in the direction and you dare only look for a second. yup. that’s him. but you still aren’t very happy with what dallas did.

“ oh. “ you shift uncomfortably and slowly nudge his arm off , to which he puts it on again , and this time you actually push his arm away. “ move , please. “

“ what’s with ya? is it over me askin’ you to stay that night? c’mon. bring it in — “

“ get the hell off me , dallas. “

“ so that’s not the problem. what is it , then? “

you shrug and cross your arms. “ nothing. “

“ you actin’ like a bitch ain’t nothin.’ “

“ what did you just call me ? “

before dallas can respond , ponyboy and johnny arrive at the seats.

“ man , we were looking all over for you. “ ponyboy says and johnny heads to the seat on the other side of you.

“ hey dal. “ johnny speaks out and dallas puts up a hand. “ ey’ johnnycakes. “ dallas says as he stiffens up. dallas gives you a look , but you don’t share it , nor do you speak.

you don’t say anything at all for the whole movie.

when the movies are done and over with , bottles tossed onto the ground , and the laughing and crowds die down and leave , all four of you are left walking down the street.

“ you better hurry home , ponyboy , or darry won’t let you hear the end of it. “ johnny says , more than teasing , he seems serious.

“ i know , i know , i’m goin’. “ he waves you all off and you all say your byes.

even though you knew it , johnny was the next to go. he claimed that he didn’t want to head home and made his way to the lot. you offered him to sleep at your house but he nicely declined. and from the looks of it , dallas didn’t seem to like the idea of it either. johnny didn’t notice , somehow.

once johnny was out of earshot , dallas spoke up. and he sounded more than mad.

“ what the fuck is your problem tonight? “

“ what’s my problem? what is your problem , dallas ?! “ you whisper shout.

“ you’ve been acting like an ass , what happened to fake dating? “

you groan and mentally face palm , sighing.

“ my ex said he saw you cheating on me at the party the other night. “

“ what? “ he laughs dryly , amused. “ and you’re gonna believe him over me? what the fuck , [name]? are you fuckin’ — insane? “

you push him away and he frowns. “ maybe i am! now he’ll think we’ve broken up , and i bet he’ll tell the whole school! then it’ll go to flames! “ you sigh. “ honestly , you were no damn help anyways. “ you wave dismissively and turn the other way.

“ alright then , fuck you! you’ll believe your ex over your own friend? maybe you deserve to be humiliated at school. “ he spits , and even though it’s a dagger in your heart , you don’t turn around. your heartbeat is way too fast to that. and there’s no way you can give in.

you try to keep yourself together as you walk home ; you really do. but you can’t. your silent sobs turn into cries , and you just pray nobody can hear you. if they did , you think you would just pass away then and there.

you make it home , and slide open your window , crawling in and collapsing on the floor , and only then do you silent your cries to avoid waking up your parents.

did dallas really mean what he said?

the following day was saturday , but to you it felt like a monday. like you had to get up for something , though you didn’t , you just had an itch you couldn’t quite get to.

you decided that you wouldn’t go out that day , your parents wouldn’t be back til evening , you had just went to the movies , and you felt like absolute shit knowing what was going to go down on monday.

and the fact you had just lost a friend.

maybe you overreacted , sure. but he promised to fake date you and make sure

and to be honest , you loved dallas. you really did.

it started when you first asked him , it could’ve been anyone you could ask , it could’ve been sodapop to make it more believable , or johnny because of how two-bit claimed you both act the same , but you didn’t.

it started when you first asked him , it could’ve been anyone you could ask , it could’ve been sodapop to make it more believable , or johnny because of how two-bit claimed you both act the same , but you didn’t.

you picked the worst boy in the group , you picked dallas winston. and you believe your so , so stupid —

an object was thrown at your window.

you crack your eye open and hiss when the sunlight invades it. it’s too blurry for you to see anything , so you weakly swat at air.

“ go away.. “ you manage to mutter , but it obviously wasn’t even close to being heard when another series of objects that you make out to be pebbles come in contact with your window.

you sluggishly get up , and stumble over to the window , when you open it , you dodge a pebble without even trying to. you stare blankly behind you , mostly ignoring the person who was throwing things at your window. you hoped it was just a kid , or something , if they left you could go right back to sleep.

you almost didn’t register dallas hopping into your room without a word.

you wanna yell at him , scream , tell him to get out of your house , but you don’t.

instead you silently walk back over to your bed , lift the blanket , and flop onto your bed. you hear dallas light a cigarette , but you tune it out.

you try to tune him out in general , but it obviously doesn’t work when he speaks out to you.

“ hey. could you get up? “

“ that’s a bunch of work , man. “ you grumble.

“ alright , get up. i needa explain myself before you get all grumpy at me again. “

you already are , but without a word , you get up and sit on your bed. you push dallas away so he doesn’t sit next to you.

with a annoyed sigh , dallas begins to speak again. “ look , i don’t know why you would believe that shithead , but i ain’t cheat on you. “ you nod , not really believing him. “ you realize what he’s doin’ , right? he’s trying to ‘break’ us up so he has a better chance again. i was in my room all night. “

when you nod your head again , dallas can tell that you’re blankly not listening , he walks towards you and grabs your shoulders. and at this rate , you being fully awake , find the energy to tell him off.

“ get out of my house. “

“ you aren’t listening to me. “

“ because you’re a liar. i know you. “

dallas scoffs. “ you don’t know shit , clearly. “

“ what do i not know about you , dallas? “

“ hmm , i don’t fucking know , maybe that i’m not lyin’ and you’re believing your stupid ex over me , and the fact that i like you — “

“ what? “

“ wasn’t it obvious , [name]? “ he leans in close. too close.

and you realized all too late , it was obvious.

the way he accepted to fake date you so quick and was so happy about it , the pet names he slipped in every so often , the physical touch , the way he acted around you.

but you had to make sure.

“ like , you uh , love me? “

“ yes , you fucking idiot. i’ve loved you for a long time by now. why would i ruin my only chance to be with you? “ he says , he almost seems annoyed with the way he shakes you.

“ so.. what? “

“ what do you mean so what , you gon believe me or believe your ex? “

you both still in silence , dallas raises an eyebrow when you both make eye contact. you mumble something he doesn’t quite get , and he cocks his head closer to your ear. “ what? speak up. “

“ i said i believe you — i believe you dallas. “

“ it’s dal for you. “

you sigh. “ i’m sorry , dal. i’m sorry for not believin’ you and being an ass. “

“ it’s fine. i’m gonna beat that little shits ass when i see em’ though. “ he says as he backs away from you , and sits on your bed.

“ where’s your parents? “

“ work. wont be back til evening. “

“ evening , huh? “ dallas repeats what you said. “ it’s barley 6am , y’know , that could leave us time to.. “ dallas trails off , and it only takes a second to click what he wants.

“ wha — dallas — already? i mean , are we even — “

“ what we are is up to you , sweetheart. i personally have my own opinions , but your the boss. just make sure you aren’t flirtin’ with any guys , yeah? “ dallas teases and tangles his hand in your hair , you smile nervously , and fidget with your hands.

the action is slowly stopped as he took one of your hands and held it with his other , you jolted a bit when he pushed your head in for a kiss , you could barley catch your breath and the fact that this was the dallas winston giving you a kiss didn’t help with your breathing. when he pulled away , he couldn’t help but laugh at you trying to catch your breath.

“ s’pretty. can’t believe this is all mine now. “ he whispers to nobody in particular and gently pushes you farther onto the bed , and you feel yourself heating up already.

“ is this okay , doll? can i do this? “ he releases your hair and places a hand on your stomach , slowly trailing it up , you get goosebumps but you don’t comment.

“ y — yeah.. please.. “ your plead falls silent as he finds his way to your chest , and massages your breast.

“ tell me if i’m too rough. i don’t mean to be. “ and that’s something you didn’t expect from dallas , you expected him to maybe be rough , and just apologize after.

and that gets you thinking.

does he even know what aftercare is?

it’s honestly harder than you expected to focus on thinking and what he’s doing to you as of now. you thought it was a joke of how hard it is to concentrate in situations like this , but it indeed isn’t. not when he’s still apologizing for the things he said to you , which is surprisingly in itself to get an apology from the dallas winston , but he’s also telling you how great you’re doing and being ever so gentle.

“ dallas — “ he makes a sound of disapproval and you weakly clear your throat. “ dals , can you — can i — have a , uh - like , y’know.. a — “ before you can form the word , dallas’ lips are already crushed on yours , and you can’t bring yourself to pull away again , you just sink into the bed.

dallas removes his hand from under your shirt and he slowly travels his hand lower and lower , eventually finding a grip on your pants and panties at once , and you can’t say that you were ever ready for the way he pulled them both off and discarded them off your bed. in a desperate attempt of covering yourself , you stretch your shirt.

“ don’t gotta hide from me. god , so beautiful , doll. so beautiful. “ he grins as he pulls your shirt out of your hands , you look to the side in embarrassment , and instead cover your face. this time , dallas doesn’t move your hands away.

“ my face not.. “ you trail off as you watch him messily unbutton his jeans through a crack in between your hands , and you shiver as he drops them and you realize that he’s basically already made a wet spot in his trousers. “ wait — holy shit , dal , no warm up? come on — i don’t even know your size! “

you stabled yourself on his arms and he laughs , mixed with an inhale. “ mhm? you still need that even with how your dripping? i’ve barley touched you yet , man. “

you remove your hands from your face , and run one through dallas’ hair , and he removes his trousers. you don’t look down at all , you’re scared to. even as he leans down and goes for your neck , going way too high for any of your shirts to cover.

and you still don’t look. even as he whispers sweet nothing into your ears and slowly slides into you , telling you you’re going to be just fine when your breath hitches and you whine at the stretch.

you feel like your insides are being ripped , in a good way but at the same time , goddamn.

“ y’fine.. just fine.. gonna be alright , gonna be still f’me , yeah? “

you let out a choked moan as he goes for your neck again , except on the other side and lower than the last. when he pulls away , you nod. a very late answer but when he’s inside you and sucking on your neck it’s just ever so slightly hard to talk.

even though you knew he was gonna move eventually , you weren’t ready for it. he pulls out slowly , and like he promised , he’s gentle. a slow pull and a slow push.

“ bet your ex couldn’t do this. “ he groans , lightly picking up the pace as your sounds , aswell as skin going against skin grows with it. “ couldn’t fuck you like i will. “ he laughs dryly , grabbing your waist. you let out a whine mixed with a moan , and you render your hands utterly useless to save you.

it’s not like anyone is home anyway.

“ he couldn’t , could he? hmm ? “ he leans in close to your ear face , and you shake your head , in response , he makes a face of disapproval. “ words , doll , words. “ he urges you , and you have to actually think in order to say your answer.

“ n… fuck — no , he — he couldn’t. “ you gasp out most of the words , and that must’ve riled him up because his pace picked up even more , and at this point , words weren’t even possible. just gasps and moans , and whatever other sounds you could make out.

so much for gentle.

you get a tingling feeling in your stomach , and you notice at some points dallas sometimes gets sloppy and off pace , yet his grunts stay low.

you reach for the back of his head , and try to push it down , which he smiles at and leans down into yet another kiss , though this one is filled with messiness and saliva.

this time you don’t have to struggle for air , the amount of gasps you gave out were probably more than enough.

you whine into the kiss as that feeling in your stomach swirls , and suddenly you aren’t doing such a great job at that ‘ staying still. ‘

the kiss is broken with pants from both of you , what mostly disgusts you are the spit trail that falls right on your chest , even as heated as you are , it still feels cold.

“ e — ew.. dal.. t — that’s.. that’s fuckin’.. “ you try to manage , but you also can’t find it in you to actually complain correctly.

you sigh , and finally relax your shoulders. the pain on your neck doesn’t exactly go away.

you look up at dallas , and he looks absolutely beautiful. the morning sun coming in from your window makes him look like some sort of greek god , except for the fact he sure doesn’t act like one.

“ so.. “ he chuckles. “ how about a blowjob? “

“ dal , i’ll fucking kill you. let me recover. “

what ? uh. i’m not late you’re late hahahahahaha

aaaaaah… this is ass i’m sorry

in all seriousness , sorry for being late !! i fell sick and decided to rot and play roblox instead. yes i still play roblox. fight me if you disagree.

taglist : @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d , @every1hatesmayaa !!

[twddixonn]

Good Boy

Daryl Dixon x Reader one shot

Warnings/Tags: not proof read!!!, sfw, some swears, shane.

this is my first fic on this account, my first time attempting to write a fic in 4-ish years and my first time trying to write a twd fic. honestly it’s probably not great but I hope it’s at least somewhat decent. :-)

(also written and posted mobile so not sure how it will appear on browser, hopefully not too terrible!)

“Leave me the hell alone.” You harshly whispered, turning on your heels and storming away from the scene in front of you.

Your best friend reuniting with his wife and son. Alive. Not dead. This whole time he had you believing that Rick was dead and gone, never coming back. Yet your eyes were seeing a whole different story to the one Shane painted out for you a couple months prior.

Shane followed pursuit, ignoring the former comment you had made and put a firm hold on your wrist before pulling you behind Dales RV to conceal you from the others.

“Hey, hey . I swear to you Y/N, he was dead when I left that hospital room. He wasn’t breathing. Th- the monitors, they all stopped. Everything went dead. He was dead.” Shane iterated, time and time again.

You feel the anger bubbling up inside you, just like all those other times when Shane had told you Rick was dead and to get it through your head he isn’t coming back. Your hands curled into fists, your nails stabbing into your palm leaving crescent shaped indents.

“Except he wasn’t. Is this why you didn’t want me to go there? Didn’t want Lori to go there? Because you knew if you swooped in and saved her and Carl when Rick couldn’t that what- she’d become your damsel in distress? Is this why? Just so you could get your leg over and fuck your partners wife and become Carls daddy? You’re pathetic Shane.” At this point your head was swarming with thoughts and ideas of what you wanted to do to Shane but better judgement got the best of you.

You began to walk off when a hand reached for you again, this time rougher. Shane pushed you against the RV, his brows furrowed and sweat dripping off his temples- smoke nearly coming out of his ears at this point.

“I don’t know what you think you know but you’re wrong either way. I think you’re forgetting that I didn’t just save Lori and Carl, I saved your sorry ass too. I didn’t have to. That was on me Y/N, That was on me. An’ I ain’t ever looked at Lori like that before, she was Ricks wife and he was my best friend. It happened because I thought he was dead.” He all but growled at you in a hushed whisper.

You remained quiet and stoic for a few moments, registering your thoughts before smirking slightly and speaking again. Pushing Shane’s hand off of you, you began to walk away but not before turning and giving one last snide remark, “I think I know right. And, by the way.. really interesting use of the past tense in those last few sentences there.”

Dickhead.

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“I’ve been here for quite a few hours now and yet, still no hello?” You looked beside you to see Rick crouched with a smile on his face, placing an arm around your shoulder which you leaned into graciously.

“Sorry Grimes.. just- a lot to take in y’no.” You said.

“Na’ I get it. Shane told me what happened.” Rick remarked whilst kissing his teeth and shaking his head.

“He did? Really? What did he say?.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, Shane had really gone out of his way to-

“Yeah.” He breathed out, “Told me how it started, he tried to get me from the hospital but I wasn’t breathing and he thought I was dead. How he saved you and Lori n’ Carl and got you all here.”

“He told you that huh.” You should have known.

Rick started to stand back up, giving you a pat on the back and a kiss to the forehead first “I’m gonna go get some shut eye, you need too aswell. Talk more in the morning Y/N.” Rick turned to walk back towards camp, not before turning and speaking again, “Y/N.. go nice on Shane though ok? He’s a good guy, you just gotta give him a chance.”

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You wake up the next day to the sound of what you thought was - for once - peace and quiet. Until you hear the shouts outside and a woman screaming stop.

Debating between laying back down and just going back to sleep or getting up and out of your tent to see what was going on, you went with the better judgement and begrudgingly dragged yourself to get changed and step outside.

Shielding your eyes from the rays of light beaming off the Atlanta sun with a sigh escaping your lips at the slight breeze that hit your clammy skin.

“You’d best let me go!”- what the fuck was happening this time?

Walking closer you take sight of Shane with his arms wrapped around Daryl’s neck. A fuckin’ cop getting someone in a choke hold the minute they raise their voice? New worlds maybe not as different from before.

“I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic, you think we can manage that?” Rick spoke calmly whilst he crouched in front of Daryl, his chest heaving with rocky breaths as Shane’s tight grip didn’t let up just yet.

“You think we can manage that?” Rick repeated.

You zoned out at this point, eyes boring into the side of Shane’s skull with anger.

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“I’m coming.” You didn’t hesitate to jump at the opportunity to get away from camp for a while. The rising tension taking over was beginning to grate at you.

“That’s five”

Shane piped up “It’s not just five, you’re putting every single one of us at risk.” “Just know that Rick”

“Come on man you saw that walker. It was here.

It was in camp.

They’re moving out of the cities.

They come back, we need every able body we’ve got.

We need em here, we need em to protect camp.”

Staying focused when Shane’s voice is droning on for what seems like eternity is quite the mission lately. Listening to him is beginning to seem like nails on a chalkboard.

“-Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.”

Hearing Loris voice made you gain attention again.

“If someone left Rick behind-“ you began to join the conversation, maybe with the words aimed at Shane slightly. He clearly picked up on it as his eyes shot to you, if looks could only kill, you’d be six feet under.

“Would you want them to go back for him? Or would you let him stay handcuffed to a roof to die slowly?” Your eyes landing on Lori.

“That’s different. Rick.. he.. he isn’t like Merle. He wouldn’t get himself into that position in the first place.” The stern mom tone coming out as Lori tried to keep her composure and not snap in front of Carl.

“You think Merle purposely got himself into that position? He’s an asshole yeah, and he may have deserved it. But he didn’t expect to be handcuffed and then left behind. Not knowing if anyone was going to go back for him. It may have been an accident. But he shouldn’t have to sit there wondering if he’s just going to die from thirst and hunger or if he’s going to get torn to pieces at the hands of walkers. He may not be your family, but he’s someone’s family. You have your husband, your son. You have Shane. Merle is all Daryl has.” You’re not sure if you were even breathing during that, your chest rising up and down at a rapid speed. You felt rage. How could anyone justify this bullshit?

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Sitting in the back of the van was a bit more awkward than you anticipated. Glenn and Rick up front. You, Daryl and T-dog in the back. Maybe the tension in the back of this van was worse than the tension at camp?

You looked up smiling at T-dog as he avoided Daryl’s intense stare, before he got up and headed to the front to talk to Glenn and Rick.

Daryl kept shooting you glances whenever he thought you couldn’t see, a grunt leaving his mouth every so often as if he was about to talk but decided against it.

Just as you looked up at him, he was already staring with his mouth open yet no words seemed to come so he just scoffed and averted his eyes anywhere but at you.

You began to grow a bit frustrated at him. “What?”

“Nothin’” he all but murmured.

“Stop grunting and scoffing at me like a dog who didn’t get enough treats, be a good boy and just say whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say for the last 15 minutes.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at yourself.

You could have sworn you saw a light tinge of pink cross his cheeks before his head dropped down facing his lap.

His mouth opened and closed, before opening once again “Why’d ya stick up for me.. for Merle back at tha’ camp?”

Oh. That’s what this was about? The intense looks he gave you before this made you think it was about anything but this.

“What do you mean?” You had to admit you were somewhat confused at this.

“Ya said it y’self, Merle, he’s an asshole. So why’d ya go out of ya way to defend him? Why didn’t ya just side with the others and leave him?” Head dropping once again as his thumb found its way to his lips as he gnawed on the nail.

Silence.

You were stuck for words. “He is an asshole. Maybe one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever known. But he’s your brother, maybe not the greatest one but still your brother no matter what. He’s all you have left. The others may not understand, but I do.” Taking a deep breath in and thinking about your next words carefully, “I honestly couldn’t give a shit about him. Doesn’t mean I want him to suffer up there on that roof. No one deserves it. Well I mean maybe some people y’no? Really bad people. And maybe Shane. Merle, he’s not necessarily one of those really bad people. He makes mistakes, says things he definitely shouldn’t and has actions that match, but don’t we all in one way or another?”

Daryl was slightly overwhelmed. Not expecting you to be so honest and caring? Somewhat caring anyway. He didn’t know what to say.

You hummed and tapped your fingers against your legs, “Nothing to say?”

“I dunno what you want me to say.”

A grin made its way to your face.

“How about a thanks?”

“Thanks.” He grumbled trying not to scoff afterwards to avoid being called a dog again.

The van began to come to a stop, Glenn saying something about walking from here.

You stood up whilst stretching your arms above your head.

“That’ll do. Good boy.”

You smirked at him before opening the back of the van and climbing out. Leaving a blushing Daryl in the back trying to hide his face as he groaned standing up.

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authors note: it’s not the greatest, I am very aware. but I really wanna get back into writing in general and I thought starting with twd would be the best place to start as it’s one of my comfort shows. there’s not much happening, it’s very heavily based on s1 e3 obviously but it’s mostly just to try and get back in the swing of things! if you have an constructive feedback or any comments you’d like to make, please feel free as it will be much appreciated :-) I’m hoping to improve my writing skills more and more. It will probably take a while (I’ve literally had the first half of this thing in my notes app since June 2024) but I hope to get to the point of making some good fics! thank you for reading if you managed to make it this far!:)

[coquitokisses]

Oh, baby! | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: reader had a one night stand with Dean and they find out she’s pregnant

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: I gotta be honest, this is from a fanfic lmao, which is supposed to be a crossover of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but I haven’t published it yet and I’ve been wanting to write something about Dean for a whileee so I decided to just edit this lil thing I had and post it here cuz why not?

“Hey, Cas, you’re back.” You smile sweetly at him once you saw him as you made your way to the library to help Sam with research

“Hi, y/n.” He replied with a small smile that soon turned into a confused frown

You noticed. “Everything okay?”

“How do you feel?” He asks

“I’m fine.” You replied, not understanding his sudden worry

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Cas, why? What’s wrong?” You questioned feeling a little alarmed by the way he was asking

“It’s just that I feel another presence.” He said

“Another presence?” Sam took his eyes off the laptop to look at Castiel

“What do you mean another presence?” Dean’s voice was soon heard throughout the library

“Is it bad?” You ask

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “It’s inside you.”

“Inside me?!” You were so confused right now “But what is it? Is it bad?”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked somewhat worried after hearing Castiel’s words

“She’s fine,” he replied and then looked at you “Can I?” he raised his hand

You nodded giving him permission to do whatever he had to do. Castiel put a hand on your forehead and then began to lower it down your body, but without actually touching it, until it reached your belly.

“Can I?” he looked at you, you just nodded

He placed his hand on your belly and that’s when he realized what was the presence he was feeling.

“It’s a baby,” he said, removing his hand

You almost choked. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“A.. baby?” Sam was dumbfounded

“Wait, wait, are you sure?” Dean looked at Castiel

“Very sure,” the angel nodded

“It can’t be...” you put one of your hands on your chest. “Oh my God..”

“Are you really sure?” Dean asked again

“Yes, Dean, I am one hundred percent sure that I feel a baby’s presence.” Castiel snapped back

“This isn’t happening.” Dean ran his hands over his face “This is.. this is simply not happening.”

“Please don’t tell me you guys…” Sam looked at you both

“Sam, just shut up for a minute, okay?” Dean replied

“I- I need to get some air.” You muttered as you walked backwards like three steps and then turned around heading to the stairs

“Y/n wait!” Sam called out but you ignored him

You got out of the bunker and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down and not have a panic attack.

“This can’t be real..” you murmured to yourself

You raised your hands to your belly and you’re just standing there in shock.

Of course you wanted a family, but you knew that it was probably not going to happen due to the fact that you’re a hunter and you’ve been hunting basically your whole life. You knew how your life was gonna end. And you made your peace with that. Kinda.

Worst thing about all of this is the fact that Dean is the one who got you pregnant. You two used to hate each other, but throughout the years, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and well, you’ve basically been working with them since they had to deal with the angels pretty much.

He’s always had a crush on you and you knew it, but it wasn’t really that serious. He usually just flirted with you and most of the time you just ignored him.

Until a few weeks ago, while you guys were finishing up a case that Sam decided to let you two handle so you could work on your communication and your anger issues, because the week before that, you have to admit that you were both butting heads every five minutes, and it was driving Sam insane. So he sent you both to deal with a vampire case in Wyoming and with a little assignment to work on your issues and stop behaving like kids. His words.

And you did worked your issues out. You just didn’t think it was gonna be by having sex, but hey, you weren’t complaining at all. He was perfect. And it was the best night you’ve ever had in a while.

And here are the results of that hook up.

It’s clear to say that neither of you are prepared, mentally nor physically prepared to have a kid.

And besides, how were you gonna raise a kid together if you can’t even get along for more than two days?

You got on your car and decided to go for a ride, just to clear your head. And while you were at it, you bought like two boxes of pregnancy tests just to be one thousand percent sure and because you would believe it more once you see it yourself.

You got something to eat after that and decided to use the bathroom at a gas station so you could take the pregnancy tests.

While you waited on the results, you were walking around in the small bathroom, thinking what the hell you were gonna do.

After a few minutes of talking to yourself internally, you decided to take a look at the four pregnancy tests.

“Oh god..” you muttered under your breath seeing the plus sign on the tests

(…)

After a while of just driving around, you finally decided to get back to the bunker. Once you open the door, Dean’s head turned to look at you immediately.

“Where were you?” He asked, leaving the book he was reading on the table

“I was getting rid of the little creature,” you replied

“Y/n.” Dean gave your a stern look

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “I went for a ride and to get something to eat, anything else you want to know?”

You walked to where he was and put your hand inside the pocket of your jacket.

“In case you thought Castiel was lying...” you took the pregnancy tests out of your jacket pocket and placed them on the table. “It’s quite real.”

Dean looked at the tests in front of him realizing that this was really happening. He did believe Cas, but seeing the positive pregnancy tests, definitely made his mind finally fall into the acceptance that this was real. Very real.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re not completely happy with this situation, believe me, I’m not either, but..-

“But we already did it and now we have to take responsibility, I know,” you said taking off your jacket “What I’m still trying to figure out is how you and I are going to raise a baby”

“I don’t know either.” He sighed

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” you pulled out a chair so you could sit and then you brought your hands to you face

“I know...” Dean said in a soft voice and leaned a little so he could look at you. “Hey,” he gently took you by the wrists, removing your hands from your face. “You’re not going to be alone, I’m not going for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

That made you laugh a little. “I know you won’t.”

“I’m just.. scared.” He admitted “Scared to raise a kid, scared that I might turn out like my dad and I don’t want that..”

“You’re not going to be like your father, Dean.” You said softly “And I’m scared too, like, I’m gonna be carrying a baby inside of me for the next nine months, I’m terrified that I won’t be a good mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled a little. “That’s kinda comforting.”

“I think we can make it work if we make the effort.”

“We hate each other.” You roll your eyes

He scoffs. “Speak for yourself, I don’t hate you, sweetheart, like, at all.”

You chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, you only wanted to get in my pants.” You joked

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you.” He shrugged

“I don’t hate you either, you’re just.. very annoying.” You said

“You are too.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“In all seriousness,” he started saying “I think we should give it a try.” He looked into your eyes “And you know, we would also be getting out of this life and finally getting a normal one.”

“That does sound nice.” You nodded

“It’s up to you, babe.” He said

You could see in his eyes that he was dead serious about this. He wanted this. He wanted to give it a try with you.

And after a few seconds of thinking, you finally responded.

“Let’s do it then.” You said and he smiled “But we’re not getting married.”

“I’m fine with that.” He said with a shrug which made you smile

part two • main masterlist

A/n: I think I can make this into a small series, should I? 👀

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

divider creds @hyuneskkami

[adieutristana]

was i just a fool? jinx x fem!reader

i want to do more songfics and i’ve been on a fleetwood mac kick lately so…! here’s some angst

inspired by ‘silver springs’ by fleetwood mac

summary; after her attack on the council, jinx decides it’s best to break up. it’s been months, and she can’t move on.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; angst, hurt no comfort, break-up/post break-up, takes place beginning of s2, mentions of poor mental health, mentions of alcohol but no drinking, r works at the last drop, dual pov (kinda), jinx spiraling

men dni.

jinx feels like her heart might just leap out of her chest, right through her throat.

she's stood in front of your apartment, twiddling your thumbs and trembling. the previous week had been nothing short of chaotic- with her kidnapping her sister and sister's girlfriend, accidentally killing silco, and blowing up piltover's councilroom.

you knew, of course you did. you were the first person jinx ran to afterward, because she trusted you, and you've been the one constant in her life. with shaking limbs and hot tears running down her face, she'd collapsed onto your lap in a fit of shaky sobs.

"i'm sorry- i, oh gods, i'm so sorry..."

"shh, shh," you'd whispered, rubbing soothing circles into your girlfriend's lower back. were you confused, conflicted? of course. jinx had just done an objectively terrible thing, killed someone- probably multiple someones in just one night, but part of you could understand why she did it.

she was overwhelmed. she felt hurt, betrayed. discovering that your sister is dating an enforcer after her history with enforcers, being as volatile as jinx is and feeling rejected by vi over and over again. being actively manipulated by silco. if you were in her situation, you might've done the same.

"you're not mad at me, are you?'' she'd sniffled, looking at you through tears. to which you only placed a kiss on her damp forehead. "please don't be mad at me. please. not you."

"i'm a little confused, but no, i'm not mad."

every word and touch from you made jinx positively melt, and she never knew what she'd done to deserve this kind of kindness. you could see her lash out, hallucinate, try to hurt herself, hurt others- do some of the most monstrous acts possible, but you still found it in yourself to be gentle with her, and love her. she's never seen that in the cards for herself.

but it's that goodness you have in you that kills jinx. because she's convinced herself after that attack that somehow, she's going to make your life worse. she might hurt you. she might accidentally put you in danger. and even if none of that happens, you just deserve someone better than her. someone who has a stable head on their shoulders, and can provide you comfort. that same sweet and gentle love that you give her, despite her best efforts to be what you need.

she can hear her heartbeat in her ears, but slowly raises a fist to knock at your door. knock, knock, knock- and then silence. it's only fifteen seconds maximum before the door swings open, but it might as well be forever.

"oh, hey, babe," you hum, a light smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you clearly weren't expecting her, but she figured this wasn't the kind of visit she'd want you to plan for. "i, uh.. didn't know you were coming. do you wanna come in? i could get you water, or i've got some juice-"

"no, thanks," she interjects, her voice trembling. this doesn't go unnoticed by you, though- and your brows are immediately furrowed.

"hey... what's going on?"

so much, she wants to say. i feel like shit, i don't know what my purpose is, i've already got several warrants out for my arrest, and i just killed the only father figure i have left. i don't know what to do with myself, i'm barely sleeping, i'm barely eating.

"i think we should break up," is what comes out instead.

the color drains from your face almost immediately, and oh, does jinx hate the sight. looking at you right now might be one of the hardest things she's ever done, but..

"huh?" your voice is small, shaky. this is the last thing you'd expected, clearly. things were going so well, you reassured her after everything, what's the problem?

"i think we should... break up," she repeats. "i'm not good for you. you deserve somebody who is."

your first instinct is to reach out in an attempt to pull jinx into your arms, but she flinches away and shakes her head. her throat bobs as she swallows nervously, and takes a step back.

"jinx.. of course you're good for me," you whisper, almost taking on a pleading tone. "you make me so happy. you're loving, you're smart, you're funny, i feel like i can forget everything else when we're together. you're perfect for me."

"but i'm not," and her voice is getting a bit more aggressive, the same way you've seen her get when people lie to her, and you can't help but wonder if she thinks you're lying to her. even though you never would. "i'm not a good person. i've done horrible things. killed people, destroyed people's lives. you know that, and you're- you're still here, for some damn reason."

"i'm here because i love you," you whisper, voice breaking midway through. your eyes are filling with tears, the thought of your girlfriend leaving is unbearable. "i love you. you've only ever been good to me, and i know you've done things, but i see you, jinx. not for what you show others, but for who you are."

jinx just swallows back bitter tears, and steps back. once, then twice.

"i'm sorry," she whispers, her voice trembling. "i love you too. i'm doing this because i love you."

another moment, and she's gone.

you're not sure what to do in that instance- scream? cry? bolt down the apartment complex's hallways in hopes to find her and beg her to stay? but you don't do any of that, you only stand in the same spot, your gaze fixed on where your girlfriend- no, your ex, stood just a minute ago.

✧.*

jinx hasn't left her hideout in days.

she wants to, she knows that she should, logically. fresh air would serve her good, even if what zaun has barely qualifies as 'fresh.' she could go outside, blow song things up, get some spray paint and cause mayhem in piltover. anything to get her mind off of things, but she can't.

all that she's able to do is lay in her cot and stare, her only company her own thoughts. she hasn't cried once since she left, though maybe she wishes she could. it'd be better than constant deafening silence and not being able to move from one spot. the image of your face when she uttered those words- 'i think we should break up,' haunts her like no other.

she's dealt with a lot in this life. death, war, destruction. but the expression she saw that day, like she had ripped out your heart and stomped on it, breaks her. she made you feel like that. she did that to you.

so she'll try not to love you, even though it kills her inside. she'll try to put you out of her memory and pretend nothing happened, or that you're in the distant past at best.

she's bullshitting herself, and she knows it. but there's no better way to cope. and for the first time since that day, she feels tears welling in her eyes, hot and wet and- oh gods, they won't stop. she's trembling all of a sudden, her breath coming to her in ragged gasps.

it feels as though the world is closing in on her, a weight on jinx's chest that's absolutely crushing. you're gone. it hits her all at once, like she hasn't spent the past few days without you, but maybe part of her was hoping you'd come knocking.

but you didn't.

you're gone, and it's all her doing. you, the one who loved her fearlessly and desperately. stupid, failure, fuck-up, she tells herself.

✧.*

all you've done is cry. you've cried and cried until you thought you might drown yourself in it, having to change your pillowcase at least once each evening. after everything you'd given jinx, why? you were the happiest version of yourself when you were her girlfriend.

her love was always unconventional, sure. but it was unabashed and fierce. the way that she loved you was all-consuming, like you could drown in it. the harder you fell for her at the beginning, the more it felt like the air was being sucked from your lungs- but you never wanted to rise above water. not for a second.

and now you've cried until you can't anymore. the most difficult part of all this might've been having to delete the countless photos of you both in your camera roll. ones where she's pressing her lips to your cheek, smiling with her arms wrapped around your waist, on your back after she insisted you carry her because 'it'll be fun.' the worst are the live photos, which you can't bear to replay.

but still, you have a life to lead. you have to pay rent somehow, so you drag your heels to work every day, mindlessly greeting customers. bussing tables, switching roles, taking orders, making the occasional drink or two. you did actually like this job at some point; decent pay, good coworkers, the only downside was shitty hours and having to deal with drunk customers. now, you're going through the motions. whatever will make ends meet.

clock in, do your tasks, clock out. walk back to your shitty apartment, take a shower, stand under the hot water until you can't bear it, then step out, get dressed, and go to bed. rinse, recycle, repeat.

you're beautiful, that much has always been clear. you're not exactly sought after, but there's the occasional comment- like when you're scrubbing a wine glass, trying not to think about losing the love of your life-

"hey, bartender," a woman calls from the side bar, and you immediately set down the glass, approaching the counter.

"anything i can do for you?" you ask, though less enthusiastic than you normally would. a young woman, probably around your age. she doesn't look too out of it, so this should be a relatively easy interaction.

"uh, yeah," she chuckles, leaning forward on her elbows. "a bottle of bacardi light please, and... your number."

a beat of silence- the woman is objectively pretty, she seems forward enough. she isn't drunk out of her mind like a lot of other customers on a friday night, she seems genuinely interested, but could she love you like jinx did?

nobody could.

"i'll get you that drink," you reply, trying to put on a polite smile. "but i like to keep that information private."

for all jinx knows, you could be chatting up some girl in a club right now. maybe you're at dinner with a woman right now, laughing over lit candles and red wine. another woman's lips on yours, the place where hers were for so long.

and this hypothetical woman- could you love her? is she pretty? she doesn't want to know.

✧.*

it's been a month and a half now, but jinx hasn't been able to throw away any of your gifts, or any of the things you left at her hideout.

they stare at her from her workbench, from under her bed, mocking her. reminding her of what she once had, but let go of and has no chance of getting back. she thought letting you go would make things better, she could eventually forget you and move on, but she's starting to realize that might never happen.

because of something she did, she left behind the best thing she ever had. even though you promised to stick by her side through absolutely everything. it was supposed to be you and jinx against the world, but now it feels as if you're a world away.

she shifts on the workbench, trying to focus on the task at hand. focus, jinx. focus. she's just reworking pow pow, giving it some upgrades, but she's already burned her fingertips more times than she'd like to admit... and forgot to turn on the blowtorch, and almost tripped over wires, and used the wrong screwdriver heads. truth is, the girl's mind is anywhere but on her work.

"oh, fuck me," she grumbles, slamming the tool down. her body trembles with each move she makes.

her mind is on your scent, your lips, the way your laughter made her heart contract, the sound of you saying her name. damn it, damn it all.

the more she thinks, though, it becomes apparent that she's grateful. below all of the self-loathing, she's glad she got to love you, even if she had to go and fuck it up. it's worth it, because she got to know your warmth for a time, and she wishes so badly that could be enough.

a card she used to open and read any time she felt down glares at her from the workbench, one you'd made for your six month anniversary.

"jinx,

it's been half a year with you. can you believe it? it feels like it's been so much shorter, because i always have so much fun with you. i don't think you realize how happy you make me, or how much i love you. i plan to spend the rest of our anniversaries showing you, though. happy six months ♡

-your trinket"

she hasn't opened it since, and now, the way it seems to shake her by the shoulders and scream "you had one shot," and "she must've already moved on." she can't help the yell that erupts from her chest, or the way she hastily sweeps everything off the workbench.

"fuck you, fuck you! shut up! i did what i had to!"

✧.*

it isn't often that jinx finds herself at the last drop these days. knowing that you're one of the top-performing bartenders has steered her away. while she used to come sit at the counter during your shifts, chatting away while you kept rounds of less-than-nutritious bar food coming, she steers clear now.

no matter how enticing the thought is, or how much she misses the place her childhood self once called a sanctuary, she doesn't go in.

except today, she can't help herself, it's a visceral need. she misses the run-down booths and idle chatter with 'chuck,' and she misses you.

despite the girl doing everything in her power to distract herself from the feeling and her love, she's found herself powerless. she's always been powerless when it comes to you.

the heavy doors swing open, and the smell of liquor is immediate. happy hour has just passed, but the troves of customers remain. laughter and chatter overlap to a sort of informal symphony, one she used to be comforted by.

jinx knows the place like the back of her hand now, and retreats to a middle booth. the drink menus are already laid out, but she isn't interested in any of that. she doesn't want a quick buzz or even some overpriced heated-up food, she just wants to be there. maybe catch a glance of your face. just one would be enough.

she's close enough to the bar, but not close enough to draw attention to herself. hopefully.

a host- a new hire, presumably, approaches the girl's table and quickly eyes her. "anything for you today?"

"...no, not today."

a packed saturday night probably wasn't the best way to clear her head, or even get to see you, now that she realizes the bar is full and you're likely going to be backed up on orders all shift. but at this point, where she knows she was just a damn fool for letting you go, she's desperate.

her appetite is gone and she hasn't been able to create things the way she used to. she needs you so desperately. every second she's spent away from you has felt like her body being slowly ripped in half. she'd follow you to the ends of runeterra if she meant she'd get a glimpse of your beauty once more. if you could hear the sound of her voice begging for you to let her just love you again.

then she hears it, the all too familiar ring of your laughter. jinx's head whips in the direction of the sound and she sees you conversing with a colleague, your arm raised like you're pouring a drink. she can't tell exactly, not with all of the patrons gathered around.

but you look happy. genuinely happy. she doesn't know how much you've cried over her or the fact you had to restrain yourself from calling her that morning, only that you're enjoying yourself. without her.

that sound that she used to hear every night at her place, now just a distant noise in a bar. though the second she sees your gaze turn toward her side of the seating area, she retreats back into the booth. don't get caught, jinx. she can't see you. she doesn't want to see you.

is this all the satisfaction she'll be able to get, watching you from your workplace while you move on with your life? seeing your face from rooms apart and pictures instead of holding it, kissing it? it's absolute torture, but there's no way she'll have any more than this.

she hears it again, a clear rustle of laughter followed by, "oh, you- stop! thieram's gonna kick our asses for that!"

it's clear as day, and it hurts. twists in her stomach. if only she could hear her name in that voice one more time, if only, if only, if only.

she'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved her.

[pinkbowsxo]

Corrupted Innocence - Part 6

Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

Corrupted Innocence Masterlist

summary: when you were hanging out with the group again, thanos was asked if he had slept with anyone lately... he couldn't help but mention what an amazing night he had with this 'girl' about a week ago.

warnings: swearing, vaping, drinking, mention of sex

a/n: a short and simple chapter because i’ve been so busy but i really wanted to post another part so this one is really simple����

but be patient because the next part is gonna be really interesting😏 and a lottttt longer too

anyway i hope you guys still like this🙏🏼

have a good day and lovee from meee x

It's been a few days since you had sex with Thanos in his car. You were glad to know that you didn't have to feel weird around him, since he didn't text you for a whole week after you first slept together, you felt awkward not knowing what he was thinking, but now it was clear.

You haven't seen him since, you wanted to, but you were busy with university and he was busy with his work. You would probably see him this weekend, hanging out with the group.

But... you texted him. You couldn't get enough of him and his attention, so sometimes you just texted him something simple because you couldn't resist.

You

I miss you

Su-bong

i’ll see you this weekend angel

You

I can’t wait💕

It's not that he sends a lot, but everything he sends makes you incredibly happy.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

When the weekend finally arrived, the four of you went to Se-mi's, because you were going clubbing tomorrow, so today was going to be a relaxing day.

Thanos and Namgyu were already there when you came in, sitting on the couch. Nam-gyu was focused on his phone and Thanos was busy vaping.

You gave Se-mi a hug before walking over to the couch where they were sitting. "Hi." You said, nervous and excited at the same time to see Thanos again.

“Hey,” Thanos said, taking a puff on his vape, pretending not to care that much in front of Nam-gyu and Se-mi. Nam-gyu looked up from his phone for a moment before going back to scrolling. “What’s up?”

You try to play it cool, pretending like you haven’t seen Thanos in a while, despite the fact that it’s been less than a week since you hooked up with him. “I haven’t seen you guys in a while.”

“Mhm. I’ve been busy.” He continues to vape, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Nam-gyu didn’t even look at you when he said, “Se-mi, do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.” Se-mi calls out from the kitchen, “I have some chips and beer!”

Nam-gyu stood up to get the chips and beer from the kitchen. You sat down on the couch next to Thanos. He leaned forward slightly with a knowing smirk, but kept his voice low enough that only you could hear him. “Missed me?” His knee brushes against yours as he shifts. “You look good today.”

You didn't say anything, you just looked at him with a smile on your face. Thanos raises an eyebrow and smirks at your reaction. He leans in even closer to you. "I guess that's a yes." He winks at you, clearly enjoying the little secret they both share.

Nam-gyu came back with beer and chips. He handed Thanos one. "Here." He tosses you a can of beer without even looking at you. He sets the bowl of chips on the coffee table between him and Thanos. He then turns on some loud music on the TV.

You didn't even like beer, but you opened the can and took a sip anyway. Then Se-mi came to sit on the couch with us and immediately grabbed the remote control to turn off the loud music that Nam-gyu had turned on. “This awful music gives me a headache,” she complains.

“Damn it Se-mi, why you gotta kill the vibe?” Nam-gyu sighs, “Put it back on, I was jamming.” He throws a chip at her. Se-mi rolls her eyes. “No. You know I hate it.”

"You're so boring...no wonder you don't have any bitches." Se-mi's face twists into an angry expression, "Shut up Nam-gyu!" He laughs, "What? It's true! You always kill the vibe, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend." She crosses her arms and glares at him. “It’s not like you have a girlfriend, Nam-gyu.” The words came out of your mouth without thinking.

Nam-gyu tenses up slightly, then laughs it off. “Exactly. Neither of us has a girlfriend. At least I hook up though.” He smirks, “What about you Se-mi? When was the last time you got some?” Se-mi gasps dramatically. “Ew!”

“Yo Thanos, what about you actually?” Nam-gyu asks curiously, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Spill the tea, man.” He laughs and waits for Thanos’ answer.

Thanos takes a long drag from his vape, exhaling slowly before responding with a cool smirk. "Me? Last week." He says casually, glancing briefly at you. "Had a pretty sick hookup in my car actually."

You almost choked on your beer when he said that, you started coughing. Thanos notices your reaction and smirks secretly, knowing exactly why you're coughing. “Are you okay?" He asks playfully, patting you on the back and maintaining eye contact with you. Nam-gyu watches, completely unaware of the tension between the two of you.

"Are you okay?" Se-mi asks softly, handing you a cloth to wipe your mouth with. She looks at you intently, "You almost choked on nothing." She laughs lightly.

You feel Thanos his hand slowly slide down your back, giving a gentle squeeze before he pulls back to lean back on the couch. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” You respond to Se-mi, giving her a small smile. You then turn your attention back to Thanos, your cheeks slightly red.

“Come on, Thanos. Don’t leave us hanging. Details, man!” Nam-gyu urges, leaning forward eagerly. “Was she hot? Where did you meet her?”

Thanos smirks and takes another drag on his vape before answering. “Yeah, she was definitely hot. I met her last week at a bar downtown. We hit it off, one thing led to another..." He finishes with a smug grin, avoiding any specific mention of you. That's where you two first met a while ago, in a bar, Se-mi introduced him to you back then.

"You know what the best part was? When I made her scream. She was totally into it." He said nonchalantly, giving you a subtle, knowing smirk.

You groan internally as Thanos continues his teasing, purposely leaving out details that would give it away. You know he’s doing this on purpose, enjoying the fact that he can talk about his ‘hookup’ right in front of you, without anyone knowing it’s you.

You knew this was going to be a long night.

[inkspiredwriting]

Without her

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Hey, this was a sweet request from @llawlietswif I hope you like it, and even if you don't please let me know

Warnings: none

It was rare—almost unheard of, really—that Five slept in. But that morning, the sunlight was unusually gentle, the blanket warm, and the absence of doomsday-level threats meant he actually got a solid night’s sleep. So when he blinked open his eyes and saw the clock blinking 10:30 a.m., his first reaction was confusion. The second reaction, however, was alarm.

Y/n was not in bed.

Now, under normal circumstances, a missing spouse might not warrant a full-blown panic. But this was Five. A man who had lived through a post-apocalyptic wasteland. A man who had seen timelines bend, break, and collapse. A man with trust issues not just with people, but with reality itself.

He sat up sharply, hair sticking up at odd angles, still wearing a T-shirt that read "World’s Grumpiest Genius." He looked to Y/n’s pillow. Cold. Her phone was not in its usual place. Her shoes were gone. The house was too quiet.

“Y/n?” he called, already swinging his legs out of bed. “Are you here?”

No answer.

He walked into the hallway, calling her name again. Still nothing.

Bathroom—empty.

Kitchen—empty.

He even opened the pantry door for a second and peered in, like she might have inexplicably decided to hang out between the flour and the cereal boxes.

Then came the garden. Also empty. He stared at the tomato plants like they might give him answers.

"Okay, don't panic," he muttered to himself, tugging a hand through his hair. "She probably just went out to grab something. Like... fruit. Or... emergency jam."

He pulled out his phone and called her. Straight to voicemail.

“Great,” he muttered. “She was either kidnapped or I’ve slipped into another cursed timeline.”

He called again. Voicemail.

He called Allison. No answer.

Viktor. No answer.

"Okay," Five said to himself, pacing in a circle in the living room. "If I were Y/n, and I decided to disappear without warning, where would I—wait, why would I disappear without warning?"

Out of mild desperation, he even checked the laundry room, just in case. Then the closet. Then, in a move he would never live down, he actually crouched and checked under the bed.

At this point, he was about thirty seconds from teleporting to every coffee shop in town.

By the time 2:00 p.m. rolled around, Five was sitting on the couch with a scowl so deep it could have split the Earth’s crust. He had made himself coffee and promptly forgotten it, and now it sat cold and bitter beside him. His arms were crossed. He had called Y/n’s phone at least seven times, and left a voicemail that could only be described as "angrily affectionate."

Then—finally—he heard the jingle of keys at the door.

Y/n stepped in, laughing, with Allison and Viktor behind her, carrying shopping bags and to-go cups. All three looked happy, relaxed, and completely unaware of the emotional hurricane Five had been through.

“Oh, finally,” Five snapped, rising from the couch. “Look who decided to show up after vanishing off the face of the earth for four hours!”

Y/n blinked. “Hi to you, too?”

“Where have you been?! I woke up, and you were gone. I checked the entire house. I looked in the pantry, Y/n.”

“You looked in the pantry?” Allison started to laugh.

Viktor added with a smirk, “Did you also check the freezer?”

“I almost did,” Five admitted, with the sort of self-righteous glare only a 51-year-old man trapped in a 30-year-old body could manage.

“I turned off my phone,” Y/n said, apologetic but clearly holding back laughter. “I just wanted a relaxing day. I didn’t think you’d wake up before noon.”

“I never sleep in!” Five said, waving a hand. “It was one time!”

Y/n walked over and kissed his cheek. “You’re cute when you panic.”

“I wasn’t panicking. I was doing a thorough sweep.”

“You looked in the pantry,” she repeated with a giggle.

“That was part of the sweep,” Five muttered.

Viktor patted his shoulder. “You know you’re whipped, right?”

Five ignored him. “Next time? Just leave a note. Or a post-it. Or a breadcrumb trail. Anything.”

Y/n grinned and slid her arms around his waist. “You really got that worried?”

“Yes,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around her anyway. “Because you are the most important person in my life, and when I woke up and you were gone without a trace, I thought maybe the universe finally realized it screwed up by giving me something that good.”

“You’re so romantic,” she teased.

“Don’t push it.”

Allison and Viktor were now cracking up on the couch, and Y/n whispered into Five’s ear, “I love you.”

He sighed, kissing her temple. “I love you too. Even if you cause me minor heart attacks.”

“And next time, I’ll leave a note in the pantry,” she promised.

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Chess Not Checkers

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Summary: You and Yunho have been sleeping together in secret for months. Both of you want more, who’s going to make the first move?

Warnings: 18+, Mature Content, Oral Sex (F receiving),

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (affectionately.) I once stole a yunho photocard right from under my best friend’s nose at an ateez concert. This is one of my favorite things I’ve written. Hope you enjoy!

XOXO, Bibi 🩷

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. ALL WORK IS PURELY FICTIONAL. NOT MY GIF

P.P.S

Likes and reblogs welcome

Thanks For Reading ❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You walked into the KQ Entertainment building, heels clicking down the halls as you made your way to your brother’s studio. Hongjoong was sitting at his computer when you arrived.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he swiveled is his chair to look at his as you plopped down on the couch.

“I have about an hour before my lunch date, I came to kill time.” Which is true. You did have some spare time before meeting your best friend for lunch down the street, but the main reason for your visit had just walked into the room.

“Hi. Hi.” Yunho greets as he walks into the room. His gaze lingers on you for a second longer than it should before he turns to Hongjoong asking what the plan for the day was.

You can feel Yunho’s eyes on you the entire time he is recording. His eyes are burning a hole straight through you. You know he wants to ask why you’re dressed up and waiting in the studio. He is just waiting for the opportunity to present itself. After about 45 minutes of recording, Hongjoong gets a call and excuses himself to take it outside. Leaving you alone in the room with Yunho.

“So…what are you all dressed up for? We don’t have plans do we? I wouldn’t have forgotten that.” Yunho’s voice floods from the booth, pulling your attention from our phone. You look at him, a flicker of mischief in your eyes.

You walk over and press the talkback button.

“No we don’t. I have a lunch date in a few minutes.” It’s like you watched a switch flip in Yunho. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he stared at you.

“I’m sorry. What?” Before you get a chance to respond your brother comes back in the room.

“Hey, that was my manager. There was an error in my schedule. I’m actually supposed to be filming a radio show in an hour. I have to go.” He rushes around the room gathering his things before he stops.

“Shit. Yunho, you need to finish today.”

You can see the vein start to pop in his forehead, which only happens when he’s overly stressed. Being the good sister you are you jump in.

“I can finish helping him record. I remember everything.” You’ve been Hongjoong’s shadow since he was still putting together songs in his childhood bedroom. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Thanks Sis! I owe you one.” Then he’s out the door, once again leaving you with Yunho.

You shift your gaze from the door to Yunho, who’s looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You say as you move to sit in your brother’s seat.

“You were explaining to me, how you think you’re going on a date.” Yunho moves to lean against the wall, never taking his eyes off of you.

“No..I know i’m going on a date. In about 15 minutes actually. We need to move this along.” You meet Yunho’s gaze and the jealousy on his face surprises you.

Yunho rests his head against the wall behind him, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he laughs. (author’s note: *insert gif*)

“If you think that I’m gonna let you walk out of this room to go entertain another man with a meal, you’ve lost your mind.”

Yunho pushes himself off the wall and takes off his headphones, before making his way out of the booth. He makes his way over to your chair before trapping you in the chair with his arms.

You look up at him and voice your confusion. “What are you talking about?”.

Yunho leans closer to your ear before he begins speaking again. “You’ve been mine since the moment I met you and you know it. I don’t just fuck anyone into the mattress like I do you.” Shocked by his brazenness you reach out and shove at his chest with flushed cheeks. It doesn’t sway him, but it did make you feel better.

“Yunho.” You lean back in the chair, trying to create space between the two of you.

“Are you being serious right now? You want to be together? Seriously?”

Yunho signs before moving to kneel in front of you. “Princess. I never say anything I don’t mean. But you seem to be a hands on learner. Let me try and change your mind about that date.”

Yunho places his hands on your knees and spreads your legs. He slides his hands up your skirt, long fingers brushing tenderly against your thighs as he reaches to pull down your underwear. Once he has them off, he brings them to his nose and inhales your scent deeply. He proceeds to tuck your favorite lace thong is his pocket. Winking at you when he catches you staring at him hungrily. Yunho spreads your legs further and takes a moment to admire the glistening mound between your legs. He leans in, pressing soft kisses along your thighs. He must’ve neglected to shave this morning because the slight stubble on his face is causing a delicious friction against your inner thighs. Yunho’s large hand reaches out and he hooks his index finger to swipe through your folds. He exposes your clit before diving in. He laps at your pussy like a man starved. Loud slurping noises bouncing off the room of your older brother’s studio. Yunho suckles your clit as he inserts two fingers into your eager hole. Yunho pumps his fingers in and out of you and he continues his assault on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Above him you have your hands woven into his dark hair. Your hips are slowly grinding into his face, head tilted back in pure bliss. You’re trying to be quiet but the man at your feet is trying twice as hard to make sure you aren’t.

“Come on Baby, let me hear you.” His ego had taken a blow. Yunho needed to hear you cry out for him. His girl? On a date with someone else? Over his dead body.

“Yunho” You moan as he replaces his long slender fingers, with his tongue. The tip of his tongue brushes the soft spongy spot inside of you. He feels your body stiffen above him, and he knows he has you. An orgasm crashes over your body, and Yunho keeps his pace. Slurping at your juices until he’s satisfied. Yunho picks his heads up, eyes twinkling and your juices dripping from his chin. Once you catch your breath, he moves to stand up.

“So Princess..What do you say? Still wanna go on your little date” He stands back and watches as you adjust your clothes.

You chuckle as you shimmy your skirt back into place. “Yes, I will still be meeting Y/f/n for lunch. Even though you’ve put

me behind schedule.” Yunho looks at you puzzled.

“As in your best friend? Your female, best friend…” You can see the wheels in his head turning. Slowly you grab your purse and start making your way to the door. “Did you trick me into thinking you were going on a date to make me jealous?” Yunho laughs, he should’ve known. When you wanted something. You got it.

“You little minx” Yunho chuckles as he reaches to grab you. You quickly turn the door handle and run out of the room. As you get further down the hall you turn to see Yunho standing outside your brother’s studio smiling at you. “I’ll see you tonight.” You call as you continue to make you way down the hall. Yunho shakes his head as he makes his way back into Hongjoong’s studio. You sure will see him tonight, and maybe a glimpse of his wooden spoon for your sneaky scheming. He begins packing his things thinking he is done for the day since both you and your brother have now left, when he gets a text:

From: Shorty in Blue 💙

My studio better not smell like sex. I’ll kill you if you fucked my sister on my couch. I’ll be back up in 10 minutes so we can finish recording.

Of course Hongjoong knew. He should’ve known. His sneaky girl. You were definitely getting the spoon tonight.

THE END.

[tj-is-down]

Ten Dollars (Line Cook! Scott Miller x Reader)

Okay so somebody posted a headcanon of Scott Miller but as a line cook (I believe it was @glossykissies) and I literally cannot stop thinking about it. I've plotted a whole story about him in my brain, and this is but a small snippet and all I've put in words. Just a quick warning that this is not proofread and if you see an error I will cry. But I think it's cute! So here it is.

Summary: Reader gets a shitty tip from a customer, and Scott has something to say about it

Word count: ~950 (I'm sorry this is so short! But if it goes well I'll hopefully post more.)

Warnings: Swearing, that's really it. Insecurities, reader is compared to another (girl) character.

I walk into the kitchen and hand a bill to Scott. He glances up at me, only for a second, before flipping a few burgers on the grill top.

“Cooks don’t take tips,” he says plainly.

“He wanted me to give it to you, specifically,” I rebuttal, almost muttering in annoyance. If Scott notices, he doesn’t show it. “‘‘My compliments to the chef,’ or whatever.”

“Cooks don’t take tips,” Scott repeats, and he stops what he’s doing before moving onto something else. “Ten bucks? How much did he give you?”

I grumble. “Five.”

“Five?” Scott asks, slightly miffed. “Well, you should definitely keep it then. Five bucks? That’s like, barely twenty percent, even if he only ordered a kid’s meal.”

“He had two kids' meals,” I say, this time definitely muttering. Scott raises an eyebrow, and I nod my head towards the dining room. “Table thirteen, party of four. Parents and their two kids. Will you just take the ten, Scott?”

“I’m not taking the ten, Y/N. He looks over my head, through the kitchen window towards Table 13. “And you should’ve told me before they left. I would’ve gotten you a tip.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I say, a slight smile before pushing the money into his hands. “Take the money, Scott. I don’t want it.”

He pushes my hands back towards my torso. “I’m not taking it, Y/N. Especially after he stiffed you so much.”

“Fine,” I shrug indifferently. “I’m putting it in the register, then.”

He grabs my arm as I walk past him, both gentle and firm. His calloused hands are rough against my skin, and though he’s been by the grill all day he’s still cold enough for me to shiver. “Can’t do that. You’ll throw off the pull. Keep the money, Y/N. Seriously.”

I shake him off. “I don’t want it!” I almost shout, and a few of the servers walking past the two of us look over at me in surprise. Even Scott looks taken aback, showing more emotion than I’ve probably ever seen from him.

“What’s the deal?” He asks quietly. His tone is normal, neutral and calm as ever, but I can tell he’s worried, or at least curious.

I avoid his eyes. “Nothing.” I catch the attention of one of the other servers, Kara, as she walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, Kara,” I say, getting her attention. “I found a ten out in the parking lot. You want it? I know you’re saving up for school.”

Kara, though briefly confused, smiles as she takes the money from my hand. “Thanks, Y/N!”

“No problem,” I reply, satisfied. When she walks back out to the dining room I take off, refusing to look back at Scott. I hear him start to follow me, but one of the fryer timers goes off and he reluctantly turns his attention back to the kitchen.

I’m in the walk-in freezer for about three minutes before the door opens and Scott enters, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you hiding in the walk-in?” He asks.

“I’m not hiding” I reply, defiant. “I’m looking for something.”

“Which is?” When I don’t answer, he speaks again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Scott.”

“Are you sure? Because you just turned down free money.”

“So did you.”

“Cooks don’t take tips.”

“It wasn’t my tip to take.”

“It wasn’t Kara’s, either.”

“It probably would’ve been, had she taken the table.”

“Didn’t you say he only gave you five dollars?” His eyebrows furrow again, confused. “Bad tippers are bad tippers, regardless of who's giving them the food. He would’ve found a problem with Kara's service too.”

“Doubt it,” I mumble.

“Doubt it? Why’s that?”

“Come on, Scott,” I scoff.

“‘Come on, Scott,’ what? What am I missing?”

“There wasn’t an issue with the service. There was an issue with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, Scott. Look at Kara, look at me, and tell me who you think is getting better tips.”

Realization flashes across his face, and his eyes narrow. “You’re talking about how you look.”

I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Yes, Scott, I am.”

“Well, don’t. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit. It’s documented, and it’s true. Pretty servers get better tips, even if the quality of service is the same. It’s just how it is.”

“And you’re saying you’re not one of the ‘pretty servers’?” He puts air quotes around the words. When I nod, he grunts. “Fuck off.”

“Did you just tell me to fuck off?” I ask in angry surprise.

“I did.”

His double-down shocks me even more, but even more than that I’m angry. Angry at Scott for not understanding where I’m coming from, and angry at the whole system for being unfair, and angry at that guy at Table 13 for making me feel this way.

“Whatever, Scott. You’re a guy, and you’re you, so you wouldn’t get it.

I try to push past him to leave the walk-in, but he stops me. All of a sudden, in one quick, fluid motion, he’s bent down so our faces are on the same level, and he kisses me. He holds my cheek in one hand, my upper arm in the other, pulling me closer to him as seconds go by. I can’t tell how long we’re actually kissing for, but after a second-long eternity he’s pulled away from me, leaving me confused and wanting more. I don’t remember placing my hand behind his neck, but it falls back to my side as he stands up slowly.

“Stop saying you’re not pretty,” he says, simply. His eyes are focused on mine, making sure I understand how serious he’s being.

Before I can reply, he turns around and walks out of the freezer.

[panerasbox]

i can’t believe it’s tomorrow. this truly went so fast!! here’s the last fic of 30 days of melissa schemmenti. thank you everyone for reading these, it’s been really fun (and challenging!) i’ve slept maybe four hours since tuesday night, im too excited (or nervous) to sleep!! expect the post all about it tomorrow night 🩷

—LITTLE BIT HEISTY; 1 Day To Go

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader. Heist AU | Ocean’s 8 Vibes

Genre: crime romance, slow burn, found family

Word count: 4,198.

summary: Five years after walking out of your life, Melissa Schemmenti shows up on your doorstep asking for help with a job. You’re not sure which is more dangerous: the heist… or falling for her all over again.

The last person you expect to see standing in the lobby of your cybersecurity firm on a rainy Tuesday morning is Melissa Schemmenti.

And yet, there she is leaning on the reception desk like it owes her money, red leather jacket still as worn-in and dangerous-looking as it was the last time she walked out of your life. Her hair’s pulled back, but you can still see the copper strands curling at the edges, defiant as ever. She hasn’t changed. Not in the ways that count.

You pause halfway through the glass doors, heartbeat kicking up before your mind even catches up. You think: She looks good. You think: She’s here for something. And then you think the thing you swore you were over: What if this is about us?

She sees you and smirks. That same cocky, tilted-lip thing she used to use when she’d beat you at pool or pin you against the wall of your old apartment. You hate that you remember the heat of it. You hate more that you miss it.

“Hey, kid,” she says, like five years haven’t passed and your heart didn’t get broken in the middle of a South Philly parking lot at midnight.

“Melissa.” You cross your arms. “Can’t say I was expecting you.”

She shrugs. “Didn’t think I’d be here either. But I need someone with your…skills.”

A beat. You raise an eyebrow. “This a social call or a job offer?”

Her smirk grows. “Both, maybe. But mostly a job.”

You glance at your receptionist, who’s now watching like it’s a soap opera. You jerk your head toward your office. “Five minutes.”

Once inside, you close the door and turn to face her. She’s already prowling the perimeter like she owns the place, eyes scanning the sleek décor, the awards on the wall. You can practically hear the judgment brewing.

“This yours?” she asks, tapping a frame. “Didn’t think you’d go legit.”

You snort. “You didn’t think I’d do a lot of things.”

Her eyes flick back to yours. A moment of silence. Tight, uncomfortable.

“So,” you say, settling behind your desk. “Why are you really here?”

Melissa leans forward, both palms flat on your desk. “You heard of Raymond Cranston?”

Your brain runs a quick scan. “District administrator. Embezzlement rumors, but nothing proven. Real piece of work.”

“He’s stealing money meant for Abbott and the other schools. Slashing budgets, padding his pockets. Barbara’s livid, Ava’s ready to stage a coup, and I’m…” She pauses. Her voice drops. “I’m done watching kids suffer while people like him walk away clean.”

You watch her carefully. Her voice is fierce. Controlled. But underneath, you hear something deeper, something almost desperate.

“You want to expose him?”

Melissa smiles, sharp as a switchblade. “No, hon. I want to rob him.”

A beat.

You blink. “You’re serious.”

“Dead.” She folds her arms. “Gala’s in three weeks. Cranston’s flaunting every dime he stole. I’ve got Ava for the distraction, Jacob for the groundwork, Barbara on logistics, don’t ask how, she’s pretending this is a ‘moral countermeasure’ or whatever, but I need someone who can get into the systems. Security, bank accounts, cameras. You.”

You stare. Then laugh, once, incredulous. “You want me to help you pull a heist on the Philadelphia School District?”

“I want you to help me get justice,” she corrects. “The fact that it’s gonna be a little illegal is just a bonus.”

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled. “And why me? Why now?”

Melissa hesitates. For the first time, she looks less sure. “Because I trust you. And because you’re the best at what you do.”

Your throat tightens. You wish she didn’t still sound so sincere when she says things like that.

“This is insane,” you say.

“Yep.”

“It could land you in prison.”

“Only if we get caught.”

You stare at her for another long moment.

“Who else is in?”

Melissa smirks again. “Just wait ‘til you see Ava’s outfit. You’ll fold.”

And damn it, you already are.

You regret saying yes somewhere between Melissa telling you Ava Coleman is “handling distractions” and the moment Ava actually walks into your office.

She’s in a metallic rose gold pantsuit, matching stiletto boots, and oversized sunglasses that absolutely do not hide her smug grin. Her hair is pulled into a high, dramatic ponytail that somehow screams both spy thriller and host of a messy reality show. You glance at Melissa. She doesn’t even blink.

“This her?” Ava asks, looking you up and down like you’re the newest model on a showroom floor. “This is your hacker? Girl looks like she files taxes for fun.”

You stare. “I’m the reason your Amazon Alexa didn’t narc on you to the IRS last year.”

Ava gasps. “Oh, so you do know me.”

Melissa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ava.”

“What? I’m just saying. She’s hot in a nerdy, ‘I could ruin your credit score’ kind of way. I respect it.”

You deadpan, “And you’re the distraction?”

She flashes a smile. “Baby, I am the show.”

Melissa turns to you with a tight smile. “This is what I’ve been dealing with.”

“I see that.”

Ava flops onto your office couch like she owns it, propping her boots on your coffee table. “So, hacker girl. What’s your handle? Like, your criminal hacker name? You got something cool? HexKitten? ByteMe?”

Melissa snorts. You ignore her. “I don’t have a handle. I run a legitimate business now.”

Ava makes a face. “Boring. I’m calling you ByteMe anyway.”

Melissa gives you a look that says sorry, but she’s clearly not. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells you she’s enjoying this. You’re not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” you ask.

“Ava’s the first one I brought in,” Melissa says. “Barbara’s in, but she’s… still pretending it’s a spiritual mission.”

“And Jacob?”

“He cried when I told him,” Ava says. “Like, actual tears. He was like, ‘I always dreamed I’d be recruited for a heist!’ I think he’s building a vision board.”

You blink. “So to be clear, we’re trusting a woman who runs a school like a TikTok account, a kindergarten teacher who considers this a divine quest, and a man who’s treating this like Ocean’s Eleven: Quaker Edition.”

Melissa leans against your desk, arms crossed. “That’s why I needed you.”

It’s quiet for a beat. You glance up and realize she’s looking at you, really looking at you the way she used to, back when things were simpler. When it was just pool halls and bar booths and the soft ache of wanting to be loved by someone who couldn’t quite say it out loud.

You swallow. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”

“I know.” Her voice is softer now. “But you never really stopped thinking about it, did you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Ava makes a pshhht noise and pretends to spritz herself with imaginary perfume. “Damn, the sexual tension in here is like, fourth-wall-breaking.”

You both shoot her a glare. She only grins wider.

Melissa turns back to you. “The gala’s in less than three weeks. We need access to Cranston’s schedule, building blueprints, account info…anything you can get. I’ll handle the people. You handle the tech.”

You nod slowly. “And if this goes sideways?”

Melissa’s smile sharpens. “Then we improvise.”

You sigh. “Of course we do.”

Ava claps her hands. “Ooh, this is so exciting! Are we getting code names? I call Diamond Viper.”

“You’re not getting a code name,” you and Melissa say at the same time.

She grins like the cat who hacked the canary. “See? You’re already in sync. Y’all are so married.”

Melissa mutters something about regretting her choices.

You kind of regret nothing.

If your office conference table wasn’t currently covered in blueprints, surveillance photos, and sticky notes labeled “Ava DO NOT TOUCH,” you might mistake this for a teacher work session.

Except no teacher work session features this much crime.

Jacob stands at the front with a laser pointer like he’s leading a TED Talk. Barbara sits stiffly at the edge of the table with her arms crossed, lips pursed in a way that suggests she’s praying for all of your souls. Ava’s reclined in a chair spinning slowly in circles, nodding along to a beat only she can hear.

Melissa is next to you. Too close. She smells like smoke and gum, and every time her arm brushes yours, it short-circuits your brain.

You focus on the schematics spread across the table: a floor plan of the Franklin Institute’s ballroom, where the district gala will be held. You marked every camera, every entrance, every potential security checkpoint. You told yourself this job would be a nice distraction. Instead, it’s giving you whiplash.

Jacob points to a hallway on the printout. “This is where Cranston’s personal suite will be during the event. That room is our goldmine, rumor has it he keeps backups of his embezzlement files on an offline drive. Cash, too.”

“Backups,” you mutter. “That idiot probably thinks USBs are untraceable.”

“He’s not wrong,” Melissa murmurs, leaning in. “That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes flick to hers. “You always knew how to make crime sound like a compliment.”

She smirks. “I always knew how to make you say yes.”

Ava lets out a dramatic ooooh and spins faster.

Barbara shoots a look skyward.

You clear your throat and tap the screen of your tablet. “The room has a biometric lock, likely fingerprint or retina scan. I can spoof it, but I’ll need time on the inside. At least fifteen minutes.”

“I can stall,” Ava says, flipping her ponytail. “I’ve been practicing a fake faint. Someone just has to catch me dramatically and I’ll moan about the patriarchy until the paramedics come.”

Melissa looks at her like she’s considering it, which is concerning.

Barbara folds her arms tighter. “I am not condoning this.”

“Noted,” Melissa says without missing a beat. “And you’re still our contact for real-time radio comms?”

Barbara sighs, muttering something about “the Lord testing her” before nodding once.

Jacob glances around the table. “Wait. Who’s our backup if things go wrong?”

The room falls quiet.

Then Melissa says, “Gregory.”

You blink. “Gregory Eddie? The human clipboard?”

A voice from the door cuts in dryly, “I can hear you.”

Gregory steps in, dressed in black, holding a set of walkie-talkies. “I’m only here because Melissa said this was technically about helping the school.”

Melissa claps him on the shoulder. “You’re our runner. If things go sideways, you get the data and disappear.”

Gregory frowns. “What about the rest of you?”

“We improvise,” Ava says, winking.

Barbara mutters louder. “Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Later that night, you’re the last one in the office. The crew’s scattered, your tablet’s still glowing, and your coffee’s gone cold.

Melissa lingers in the doorway.

“You always stay late?” she asks.

You glance up. “Only when I’m helping a morally flexible elementary school teacher plan a heist.”

She smiles and walks in, slow, deliberate. “It’s good seeing you work again.”

You pause. “You mean ‘good seeing me be a criminal again.’”

“I mean,” she says, pulling out a chair across from you, “you’re the best at what you do. I never stopped thinking about that.”

There’s something heavy between you now. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s familiar. Like coming home and finding all the furniture the same, but knowing the locks were changed.

You say, quietly, “Why didn’t you call?”

Melissa doesn’t pretend not to know what you mean. Her gaze drops for the first time all night.

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor,” she says. “Thought you were better off.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I know.”

“I never stopped thinking about you either,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Melissa looks at you like you’ve just said something dangerous. “We’re gonna pull this off, you know.”

You nod. “I know.”

And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe it might not just be the job that changes everything, it might be her.

Melissa is yelling at Ava again.

Something about timing, choreography, and Ava nearly setting off a test alarm because she insisted on filming a TikTok mid-dry-run. Ava’s yelling back that “style is substance,” and that if she’s going to be the distraction, she’s gonna distract, preferably in five-inch heels.

Jacob’s somewhere in the corner hyperventilating into a reusable tote bag, while Barbara stands completely still, praying out loud like she’s Moses trying to part the idiocy in the room.

You, meanwhile, are about two seconds away from walking out.

“Enough!” you bark, and the room freezes. “If anyone touches the surveillance rig again before I finish calibrating it, I will throw this laptop out the window and call the FBI myself.”

Melissa turns to you. “Hey, breathe, alright? I’ve got it under control—”

“No, you don’t,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “You don’t have it under control, and you keep acting like this is just some righteous crusade, but it’s not. It’s a damn heist, Melissa. This isn’t just about some corrupt administrator. You’re trying to fix something you think you broke years ago.”

Ava makes an impressed oooooh noise and then wisely shuts up when you shoot her a look.

Melissa doesn’t respond right away. She just looks at you.

And it’s not angry. It’s not even surprised. It’s hurt.

“Everyone out,” she says softly.

Jacob scurries. Ava tries to sass but Barbara grabs her by the arm like a mom who’s had enough. The room clears. The door closes behind them.

You’re left in the silence, with Melissa standing across from you and five years of unsaid things vibrating between you like an electric current.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, voice low. “You think I don’t wake up every morning thinking about how I screwed it all up?”

You don’t answer.

“I told myself it was about the school. About the kids. But I knew bringing you back into this…” She trails off. “I knew it’d hurt. And I did it anyway.”

You sit down, the adrenaline fading just enough to leave you feeling hollow. “Why, Melissa? Why not just leave it alone?”

“Because I never stopped loving you,” she says, like it costs her something to admit it. “And because this is the only thing I know how to do…fix what I broke. Even if it’s too late.”

You blink hard. “You left. You walked away. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I was scared,” she says, and there’s no pride in it. “You wanted a future. Stability. Something clean. And I was still fighting ghosts. Still picking fights with shadows. I didn’t know how to let myself have something good.”

You look down at your hands. They’re shaking, just a little.

“You think this heist is going to erase that?” you ask, softer now.

“No,” she says. “But maybe it can be the start of making things right.”

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

And finally, finally, you whisper, “You still have a habit of making everything complicated.”

Her lips twitch. “Yeah, but you liked that about me.”

You don’t smile, but you don’t walk away either. You stand, take a step closer.

Her breath hitches.

“Just… don’t break my heart twice,” you say, quietly.

Melissa nods once. “I won’t. Not this time.”

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you both stop pretending the job is the only thing at stake.

You’ve never worn a dress this expensive.

Or this revealing.

Or this dangerous.

The silk clings like it knows all your secrets. One wrong step and your thigh holster will flash like a neon sign, and then it’s all over. But that’s not what has your hands shaking.

It’s her.

Melissa Schemmenti walks into the Franklin Institute gala like she owns the building, like it was built around her. She’s in a deep emerald suit that should be illegal, the jacket tailored so close it might as well be stitched to her spine. The red lipstick is new—braver than she used to be. But it’s the smirk that hits hardest.

She sees you. And for a moment, the whole room falls away.

“Jesus,” she mutters when she gets closer. “You look like sin in that dress.”

“Fitting,” you say with a faint smile. “We’re about to rob a man blind.”

She offers her arm. “Shall we?”

You take it. God help you, you take it.

Inside, the gala is a mess of bad lighting and expensive perfume. The kind of place where people say “philanthropy” but mean “money laundering.” Ava’s already working the crowd in a sparkling red jumpsuit, dragging attention like a magnet with legs. She’s halfway through a champagne flute and mid-laugh with the mayor.

Barbara is tucked into a quiet corner near the AV booth, earpiece in, muttering coordinates like a CIA agent moonlighting as a Sunday school teacher. Gregory’s posing as security, face like granite, hands on a clipboard. Jacob is, god bless him, crying in a supply closet out of sheer joy and nerves.

You’re all exactly where you need to be.

“Target approaching,” Barbara says over comms. “Cranston incoming. Three o’clock.”

Melissa squeezes your hand.

You shift.

And just like that, it begins.

You slip away while Ava starts her scene. You don’t even know what it is… there’s screaming, a fake proposal, possibly a flash mob. You’ll ask later. Right now you’re moving fast down a hallway, Melissa shadowing you in practiced silence.

The door to Cranston’s private suite clicks open with a code Jacob swiped from a security badge two weeks ago. Inside, it’s absurd marble, liquor, leather chairs no one’s meant to sit in.

The safe is real. And locked.

You’re halfway through cracking it when Melissa speaks.

“You were always the smartest person in the room.”

You blink at her. “Now’s not the time.”

“I know,” she says. “But if I wait until it is, I’ll never say it.”

Click. The safe opens.

Inside was hard drives. Envelopes thick with cash. A folder labeled Trust Fund Allocation – Revised.

You bag everything. Fast. Efficient.

But Melissa doesn’t move.

“You’re stalling,” you say, quiet.

She steps closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You freeze.

“Not because I’m trying to distract you,” she adds. “And not because it’s convenient. I want to kiss you because five years ago I was too much of a coward to do it when it mattered. And now we’re standing in the middle of a goddamn felony, and all I can think about is your mouth.”

You stare at her. She’s waiting.

And maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Maybe it’s the years.

Maybe it’s just her.

You drop the bag and kiss her. Hard.

Like the last five years never happened. Like the world doesn’t end in twenty minutes. Like you never stopped.

She kisses you back like she regrets everything.

It lasts maybe ten seconds. Maybe an eternity.

Then the comm crackles: “Guests are moving toward the east wing! You have sixty seconds!”

You break apart, breathless. Wide-eyed.

Melissa grins, all teeth. “We really need to do crime more often.”

You grab the bag. “Let’s get out of here before I commit a second felony. This time for assaulting your mouth in public.”

She laughs as you run.

And God, you hope she keeps laughing.

The gala is chaos.

Jacob’s voice is high-pitched over comms—“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”, and you can hear Ava shouting “Don’t touch me, I am the fire code violation!” from somewhere behind you. Gregory’s giving cool, clipped updates, but even he sounds tight.

You and Melissa are sprinting.

Your heels click against the marble as you race through the hallway, bag of stolen evidence clutched to your chest. You round a corner just in time to hear Melissa bark, “Left now!” and shove open a utility door.

It slams shut behind you, cutting off the roar of the crowd.

Inside, it’s dim. A narrow maintenance corridor. You’re both breathing hard, the kind of breath that drags heat through your lungs like fire.

“We’re not going to make it to the car,” Melissa says between gasps.

“No,” you agree. “But we can get to the archives exit. East side. Leads to the loading dock.”

“Then let’s move.”

You both start running again, only this time, you can feel it. Someone’s on your tail. Security. Maybe a camera caught too much. Maybe Jacob tripped an alarm. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But the danger is real and closing in.

You slide to a stop outside the archive room.

And that’s when everything goes sideways.

The door won’t budge.

“Locked,” you hiss. “Cranston must’ve had it sealed after his little embezzlement parties.”

Melissa pulls out a pin from her hair, of course she’s wearing one sharp enough to pick a lock, and gets to work.

You press your back to the wall, watching the hallway.

Boots.

Shouts.

“Melissa—”

“I got it.”

She does. The door clicks open, and you both dive inside, just as a flashlight beam sweeps past.

Inside, it’s dark. Rows of dusty boxes. Echoes of time.

You crouch low behind one, chest heaving, Melissa right next to you. The bag of evidence is wedged between your legs. Her hand brushes yours in the dark.

You grab it and don’t let go.

For a minute, there’s only your breathing. The adrenaline still in your throat. Your heart, beating out of rhythm.

“I thought this part would feel better,” you whisper. “Like a clean win.”

Melissa turns to you. You can’t see much, just the outline of her jaw in the faint emergency light.

“Doesn’t feel clean,” she agrees.

You look at her. Really look. “Why’d you really bring me in?”

She hesitates.

Then she says, “Because I wanted you to see that I wasn’t that woman anymore. That I could be better. Be worth the risk.”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t need proof. I just needed you.”

She leans in. No drama. No tension. Just soft lips and a quiet kiss that feels like a truce.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours. “If we get out of this…”

“We will,” you say, firm.

“Then I’m going to ask you to stay. This time for real.”

You nod.

Outside, the guards’ voices fade.

Barbara’s voice crackles to life in your earpiece, “East exit’s clear. Go. Now.”

You and Melissa stand.

Still holding hands.

Still choosing each other.

Even now.

Three days after the gala, Cranston’s career goes up in flames.

It starts small, a headline buried beneath a city council squabble: “Anonymous Tip Alleges Embezzlement at Franklin Institute Fundraiser.”

Then the leak hits Facebook.

Then the drive hits the press.

Then the FBI shows up at his door.

By noon, he’s on administrative leave. By dinnertime, the news runs footage of him being escorted out of his luxury condo, blinking in the sunlight like a man who never thought he’d lose.

You, meanwhile, are sitting on Melissa’s couch with her legs across your lap, a glass of wine in your hand, and an entire soft pretzel from Wawa in hers.

“I can’t believe you made Jacob the anonymous source,” you say, trying not to laugh.

“Who’s gonna question that face?” Melissa shrugs. “He looks like a distressed Muppet. The feds loved him.”

“He’s going to frame his subpoena.”

“Let him. He earned it.”

You smile. You’re quiet for a beat.

And then you say, “You did it.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just leans back against the couch and chews thoughtfully.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she admits.

“Like what?”

“Like… closure. I thought I’d want fireworks. A parade. Maybe a little public humiliation. But it’s not about him anymore.”

You look at her. She looks at you.

“It’s about you,” she says softly. “It always was.”

Your heart aches.

Not in the sharp, unbearable way it did five years ago when she left.

No, this ache is warm. Healing. The kind that comes from the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, this broken thing between you has finally been put back together.

“You could’ve called,” you say gently. “Years ago.”

“I didn’t know what I’d say.”

“And now?”

She turns, fully facing you. Her hand curls against your thigh. “Now I know I want to build something. Not just clean up messes. Not just run.”

You blink.

“Are you saying you’re ready for a future that doesn’t involve handcuffs and burner phones?”

She smirks. “I didn’t say I was going boring. Just… maybe a little more rooted. A little more honest.”

You set your wine down.

Then you lean in.

Then you kiss her slow and deep and certain, like the kind of kiss that says we’re not done, we’re just getting started.

She pulls back, eyes warm.

“You staying?” she asks, a little shy.

You nod. “I’m home.”

And for the first time in years, it’s true.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

Hey can I request a Pablo Gavi story where he comfort the reader after their big argument? Thank u💐

it's just a blurb, but i hope you like it!

the things i said | pablo gavi

☁️ synopsis: You have to deal with the aftermath of your first fight with your boyfriend. tags: hurt/comfort, happy ending. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 0.9k words)

You’re outside now, the door clicking shut behind you, and it feels like the air is too thin to breathe. Everything feels too loud and too quiet all at once – the faint hum of the streetlights, the distant sound of someone’s TV, the blood rushing in your ears. You’re hyperventilating, you think, leaning against the cool stone of the building’s entrance, trying to ground yourself.

You’ve never yelled at each other like that. Never. Not in two years. And now you’re out here, and he’s still inside, and what does that mean? Are you breaking up? Is that what this is?

You’re pacing back and forth along the edge of the manicured sidewalk. The words from the fight replay in your mind. “You’re overthinking again.” “Why do you always do this?” “Your feelings don’t matter.” Wait, that’s not what he said. Not exactly. But that’s how it felt. That’s how it landed.

You stop pacing, leaning against a lamppost, and close your eyes. Breathe in. Count to four. Hold it. Count to four. Breathe out. Your therapist’s voice echoes in your head, calm and steady. You try to listen to her, to slow your racing thoughts, but the question looms, heavy and relentless: What if this is the end?

Your eyes sting, and you swipe at them angrily. No. You’re not going to cry again. Not out here, not where anyone could see. What if someone takes a picture? Posts it somewhere with a caption about the two of you fighting? You hate the thought, but then again… you did fight. So maybe it doesn’t even matter.

The door creaks open behind you, and your heart lurches. You don’t turn around right away. You’re not ready to face him yet, not ready to see if he’s still angry or if he’s sorry or if he’s… whatever he is. You’re not ready.

“You’re still here,” he says, his voice almost disbelieving.

You flinch, trying to wipe at your face before turning around. “I was just leaving,” you mumble, hoping he doesn’t see the tears.

“No, come here. Are you crying?”

He steps closer, his hands reaching for your face, and you try to turn away, but he’s gentle, cradling your jaw, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears you couldn’t hide. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking, his touch so soft it makes your chest ache. “I didn’t mean what I said. Are you okay? Are you…” He trails off, searching your face, like he’s trying to read every thought you’re too scared to say out loud.

“Are we breaking up?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Your voice wavers, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Is that… is that what’s happening?”

He looks stunned, his hands falling to his sides for a moment before coming back, holding your face again. “Is that what you want?”

You shake your head quickly, too quickly, your tears starting again. “No,” you whisper. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s not what I want either,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose you.”

And just like that, the tears come harder. You try to stop them, to hold them back, but it’s no use. They spill over, hot and unrelenting, and before you know it, he’s there, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him. You let yourself collapse against him, your face pressed into his chest, his shirt dampening with your tears.

“We’re okay,” he says, over and over, like a mantra. “We’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His hand moves to your hair, gently combing through it, soothing, grounding. “Breathe,” he whispers. “Just breathe. I’m here.” His other hand rubs slow circles on your back, and it feels like he’s trying to hold you together, like he’s piecing you back into something whole.

“I hate fighting with you,” you manage to choke out, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I hate it too,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t mean what I said. I was just… I don’t know. I was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His face is so honest, looking so upset, it makes your heart ache. “I’m sorry too,” you say. “I didn’t mean… I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” he asks softly, his brow furrowing in concern.

“That this was it,” you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush. “That we weren’t going to be able to fix it. That I… that I’d lose you.”

His hands cup your face again, his thumbs brushing away the new tears that spill over. “I’m yours,” he says firmly. “You’re not going to lose me. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

You nod, trying to believe him, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. It’s not even romantic; it’s something else. Deeper, something steadier. Reassurance. Comfort. Love.

“Let’s go inside,” he says gently. “We can… we can talk. Or not talk. But let’s get out of here, okay?”

You look around at the quiet street, the windows that feel like they’re watching. Then you nod, letting him take your hand, his grip warm and sure, and lead you back inside.

[writeriguess]

separate request but eijiro who finds out reader isnt sleeping well due to like unexplainable anxiety but then when he cuddles with her it quells her anxiety and lets her sleep!!

In His Arms, At Last

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing a mile a minute. It was like this every night lately—no matter how exhausted you felt, sleep just wouldn’t come. Instead, you lay there with your heart pounding, thoughts looping in endless, anxious spirals. You weren’t even sure why you felt this way. There was no specific reason, nothing actually wrong. But your body refused to relax.

The digital clock on your nightstand glowed red: 2:37 AM.

With a quiet groan, you turned over, hugging your pillow to your chest. You tried counting your breaths, squeezing your eyes shut, even shifting positions a dozen times, but it didn’t help. You were stuck in that awful state of exhaustion and wakefulness, too wired to rest, too drained to do anything else.

A soft vibration buzzed from your phone. You squinted at the screen.

Eijiro ❤️: Still up?

Your heart clenched. You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He must’ve noticed your activity online—probably saw you liking posts or scrolling mindlessly. You considered lying, saying you’d just woken up for water or something, but… that felt wrong.

You: Yeah…

Not even a second passed before your phone lit up again.

Eijiro ❤️: Can I call?

You swallowed hard and quickly typed back, Sure.

Your phone rang almost immediately. You answered, pressing it to your ear.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, warm, like a blanket draped over your tired body. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You sighed, rolling onto your back. “I don’t know. I just—” You hesitated. “I can’t sleep.”

“You feeling anxious?” he asked gently, already knowing the answer.

You closed your eyes, nodding even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah.”

“Have you been feeling like this a lot?”

“Lately, yeah. I don’t even know why. It’s just there. My body feels on edge, even though there’s no reason for it.”

You heard rustling on his end, then a deep inhale, like he was thinking carefully before responding. “That sounds really rough, babe. You should’ve told me.”

You bit your lip. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You never bother me.” His voice was firm, no room for argument. “I hate thinking of you struggling alone when I want to be there for you.”

Warmth spread through your chest, but it wasn’t enough to push back the tightness in your ribs. You sighed again. “I don’t know what to do, Ei. I’m so tired, but I can’t turn my brain off.”

There was a short silence before he spoke again, a little more serious this time. “Can I come over?”

You blinked. “Right now?”

“Yeah. I don’t like knowing you’re lying there feeling like this.” You could already hear him moving around, probably pulling on a hoodie and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You opened your mouth to protest—tell him he didn’t have to, that you’d be fine—but deep down, you wanted him here. You wanted his warmth, his steady heartbeat, the way his presence always made you feel safe.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

“Good. Stay comfy, I’ll be right there.”

—

True to his word, ten minutes later, there was a soft knock at your apartment door. You hurried to open it, and there he stood—Eijiro Kirishima, your rock, looking at you with concern in those warm, crimson eyes. His red hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his fingers through it on the way over, and he was wearing his favorite hoodie, the one that was just slightly too big on him.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, stepping inside. “Still feeling bad?”

You nodded, chewing your lip. “Yeah.”

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms. His scent—clean, fresh, a little like cedar—filled your senses as he held you tightly against his broad chest. His hands rubbed slow, soothing circles over your back.

“You’re okay,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

Something in you cracked. The tightness in your chest didn’t disappear, but it loosened just enough for you to take a shaky breath.

Eijiro pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

You nodded again, and he led you back to your room, climbing in beside you like it was second nature. He settled against the pillows, opening his arms in silent invitation. Without hesitation, you curled into his side, resting your head on his chest.

The second you were in his arms, everything felt different. The tension in your body melted away, the constant buzz of anxiety dulling under the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He was so warm, his presence a protective cocoon around you.

His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along your arm. “Better?” he murmured.

You exhaled softly, nuzzling closer. “Yeah.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Told ya I’d fix it.”

You smiled, the first real one you’d had all night. “Cocky.”

“Nah,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Just confident in my cuddling skills.”

You laughed softly, a sound that made him squeeze you a little tighter. He kept murmuring soft reassurances—telling you how much he loved you, how safe you were, how he wasn’t going anywhere. Each word was another weight lifted from your shoulders, another layer of peace settling over you.

For the first time in weeks, your eyelids felt heavy. Your body, finally finally at ease, melted into his embrace.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you actually did.

[tillysslife]

wsp with you—part two

pairing: walker & teen!actor

warnings: none <333

you stared at your phone like it had personally betrayed you. where were the spies on your phone? they should’ve not let this reach your eyes.

walk💙

we gonna talk about this or what?

or what!! that was your choice. there was no way you could face him like this. your face was akin to a roasted tomato and the amount of energy flurrying in your chest was enough to power a neighbourhood at christmas time.

so instead, you did what any spiralling girl would and called your best friend from home. you would’ve loved to talk about this with leah but she was too close to the action, she had been plotting on this for months and you needed some real advice.

with trembling hands you pressed on the facetime button like your life depended on it and waited for scarlet to answer.

when she did you let out the scream you had been holding in, “oh my god!” you said, raking a hand through your hair in an attempt to busy yourself. “oh my GOD!”

scarlet held her hands to her ears, your shriek obviously not what she was expecting. “why are you screaming?” she yelled back, eyes wide with terror. “you either got hit by a car or something happened with walker.”

“he texted me,” you sighed, voice lowered to a normal human level as you flopped back dramatically on your bed. “like, full sentence and grammar. ‘we gonna talk or what?’ who does he think he is, a lead in a romcom?”

she gasps, a smirk making its way onto her face even though she had no idea what they were going to talk about. “right. and to make sure i’m crystal clear here. what the fuck do you have to talk about?”

“oh you haven’t seen it? well y’know that trend that’s like ‘they say shooters shoot. duke dennis what’s up with you?’ well…i may have done something.”

“you didn’t!” she cackled, falling back into her own bed in a fit of laughter. “oh my god, y/n, that’s priceless.”

you whined. “it is so not funny. what if what he wants to talk about is that i overstepped our boundaries and i shouldn’t have made that post.”

that was what you were really scared about. you and walker had developed a true ‘platonic’ relationship and you didn’t want to ruin it because of a stupid tiktok trend that would disappear in a few days. god why did you always ruin everything?

“i’ve just looked at the post and to me it looks like he said, and i quote. “oh. bet?” does that really mean nothing to you y/n l/n?” scarlet inquired, her eyebrow raised halfway to her forehead with a look of disbelief. “god you always were oblivious,” she joked.

but you couldn’t even hear her any more because a notification at the top of your phone read his name.

“babe?” scarlet questioned, eyebrows drawn together. “you’ve gone deadly pale. what have you done this time?”

you dropped your phone from your hands, watching helplessly as it bounced on the bed. “he texted me. again,” you whispered. “oh my god what do i do? do i pretend i’ve fallen off my balcony?”

your best friend shook her head, pursing her lips as she thought. “no. first you’re going to read me this new message and then i’ll help you find a new name and you can fly to mexico, okay?”

you nodded wordlessly, as you exited the facetime app and clicked on you and walker’s thread again. “i’m scared to look what if he hates me now?”

“this is walker we’re talking about. you could kill his dog and he’d forgive you.”

nonetheless, you bit on your lip, eyes shut as you fought for the courage to open them. this was scary. you had never had this reaction to a boy before. was this really what having a crush felt like? “okay i’m ready,” you finally whispered, eyes fluttering open as you took in his message.

walk💙

hey i’m not trying to freak you out. just wanted to talk. maybe not on the internet. fuck can i call you, y/n?

”he said what?” scarlet choked out, clutching her blanket like it was the last thing tethering her to earth. yeah, now she gets how you feel.

you stared at the screen your voice a half-whisper as you repeated his virtual words. scarlet screamed. you didn’t blame her.

“HE SAID FUCK, like a casual swear? he’s giving boy who’s nervous but trying to play it cool.”

“yes!!” you whisper-yelled, very aware that anything to loud would alert your little sister and bring chaos. you paced the room, massaging your temples. “he swore and then said my name! that’s so hot, why does that sound so hot?”

“because you like him,” scarlet said simply, “and because he clearly likes you back. he wants to talk to you. like about real shit. oh my god this is happening. this is happening!”

you let out a panicked literal squeak. “i can’t. i literally can’t do this.”

“you can,” she said, firm and composed, acting like she was your life coach. “you’re gonna hang up this call and then you’re gonna call him and you’re gonna be normal.”

“i don’t know how to be normal?!”

“figure it out,” she yelled back. “you’re hot and funny and charming. go get your man. i’ll be here having a heart attack while i wait.”

you laugh, nervous but feeling a little bit better after talking to scarlet. “okay i love you”

“love you more, go!”

you hung up.

your heart was pounding so loud you could hardly hear the dial tone.

but then—it clicked.

”hello?” walker’s smooth voice came through the phone’s speaker, sounding a little panicked himself.

that soothed you a bit.

“hey,” you said, barely above a whisper. “i hope it’s okay i called.”

“of course it is,” he rushed to say, his voice softly firm. “i was kinda staring at my phone waiting for it to ring,” he admitted with a chuckle.

you let out the softest laugh, already overwhelmed. “i’m uh— i just wanted to say i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he sounded genuinely curious.

“for posting that. for dragging you into… all this,” you said, gesturing wildly with your hands even though he couldn’t see. “i didn’t think it’d blow up like that. it was supposed to be funny. just a joke. and i totally get it if you never wanna talk to me again or if you think i’m—”

“woah,” he cut in gently, “slow down.”

you went fully quiet, your uneven breathing the only sound echoing through the call. “i don’t want you to hate me,” you whispered, voice shaking.

“of course not, y/n. i didn’t think anything bad about you, okay?” he said, voice steady. “i wasn’t upset at all. especially not at you. i was just…caught off guard i guess. you know i love being dragged into your messes.”

you blinked. “oh.”

he laughed softly, like he was nervous too. “it’s not a bad thing. it’s just—it felt like when you posted that my whole world flipped.”

your heart clenched. in a good way or a bad way you were still unsure.

“i’ve been trying to find the right way to say this for a while now but nothing ever seemed perfect enough for you. i didn’t know if you’d ever see me that way or if i was just this dumb guy who pulled faces at interviews while you sat there being gorgeous, laughing at me while being so ridiculously talented. ”

“walker—“ you murmured, or at least tried to.

“no just…please let me get this out. i’m not good at expressing my emotions and this is scaring the shit out of me, but i need to. you don’t know how many times i wanted to tell you, you’re just so perfect and i couldn’t find the right moment. but then you posted that, and i thought maybe, i wasn’t imagining everything all along.”

your whole body went still, frozen in shock. but your words moved before your normally overthinking brain. “you weren’t,” you started softly, “imagining things. god—i’ve liked you for ages. i just didn’t think you’d feel the same.

“are you serious?” he breathed.

“yes walker. i like you, like, really like you.”

he let out this laugh from the back of his throat—disbelieving and warm and happy. “this feels fake. like i’m gonna wake up.”

“you’re not dreaming,” you said, smiling so hard your cheeks ached. “unless i’m dreaming too.”

another pause. a little silence. but it was the good kind. the kind where you both knew everything had changed, and it wasn’t scary—it was perfect.

“so,” walker said, voice a little shy now, “can i see you? like… not through a screen?”

you laughed, giddy. “yeah. i’d really like that.”

“cool,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “guess the shooter did score.”

“guess so, huh?” you giggled, biting your bottom lip.

GUYS ITS FINALLY OUT!! thank you so much for the love on tbe first part it really gave me the motivation to write this out quicker then i ever have. and i’ll work on the requests soon❤️❤️ love yourself bye💋

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Eternal Torment

Part 6 of the Uncaged series

A/N: guys I know I said I was taking a break, and I still am, but I just got so excited about this new chapter I ended up writing that I had to post it.

A/N 2: Ok so I’ve been doing this for a few chapters, but just to make sure this isn’t super confusing, the italics are either cage memories or when the reader thinks she’s still in the cage (or the occasional inner monologue). So (tiny spoiler) the italics are gonna be jumping up a lot and going back and forth, just to show the confusion of “is she in the cage or not”. (I have no idea why I decided this, I just decided to be weirdly literary and symbolic for no reason and I hope it didn’t turn out dumb.)

Edit: guys not me forgetting the warnings…

Warnings: mentions of torture, actual torture, guns, brief mention of s**c*de (because Lucifer’s a jerk), panic, angst, gunshots (lot of sad in this one guys)

Eternal torment.

That’s what Lucifer had promised you the first day you fell into the cage. The idea was so big, so…lasting. Your brain couldn’t comprehend eternal torment. You couldn’t even wrap your mind around 180 years of torment. So your brain sent you little bits, one memory at a time, moment after moment of torment. Your mind relived every day, every hour, every second, like it was trying to prove to you that it was real, that you’d gone through it, that you were somehow still alive.

No one should be alive after that much pain. So your brain punished you for still living every time you closed your eyes.

You were in a position you were all-too familiar with; hooked to the bars of the cage, waiting for Lucifer to decide what tool to use on you. You were shivering, partly from dread, but mostly because of the cold—it was always so cold here.

“Let me see…” Lucifer picked up a tool before setting it down and picking up a new one. He loved to draw this part out, making you think he’d chosen his weapon before changing his mind. He knew it made you remember the last times he’d used the tools; the psychological parts of his games were his favorite part.

“How about this?” He hummed to himself, picking up a serrated blade and inspecting it. “Or…” he snapped his fingers, and suddenly you were in Bobby’s house, and it wasn’t cold anymore, and your hands and neck weren’t stabbed through with hooks holding you down, and Dean was coming towards you with his arms outstretched. You found yourself reaching for him, reaching for his embrace…

And then you were back in the cage and Lucifer was sawing the serrated blade across your thigh and you were screaming and he was cackling and it hurt so much. This wasn’t a memory—he’d never shown you Dean before. This was something new.

“The Dean you’ve been seeing isn’t real. This is real—this pain. You’re never going to see the real Dean again. I’m never going to let you go.

“Never.

“Never.”

“Hey, hey Y/N!”

You sat up with a gasp, and you were back in Bobby’s house. Dean was in front of you, his hands outstretched—but not for an embrace, as he had in Lucifer’s vision, but in an ‘it’s ok’ gesture.

But then he was reaching to cup your face and his fingers brushed the back of your neck where the hook was and his hand gripped yours where the hook was and it was all too much and was that a chill? and where was Sam and where was Lucifer and—

“Y/N, calm down!” You heard Dean’s voice but you couldn’t calm down because he wasn’t real.

“Dean, move.” And then it was Sam in front of you and you felt your body shake in a sob of relief because it was Sam and Sam was real.

“Sam,” you whimpered, reaching out for his hands, which he wrapped around your wrists and started to brush his thumb back and forth, grounding you.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “It’s ok, we’re at Bobby’s.”

“No.” you sobbed, collapsing into your brother and grabbing at him, trying to bury yourself in his protective embrace. “Not real.” Forcing each word out was like spitting up razor blades, and your eyes were dancing around, waiting to see Lucifer, waiting for him to punish you for speaking. But you had to tell Sam; he deserved to know. “It’s all fake and he’s messing with us and we’re still in the cage—“

“Shh, hey it’s ok.” Sam rubbed your back. “It was just a dream, you’re awake now.”

“Feels the same.” Your voice was muffled against Sam’s shirt, but he understood.

“I…” Sam’s voice cracked. “I know it does.” It all felt the same to him, too—Lucifer, Dean, Bobby—there was no difference.

“How do we know what’s real?”

“That pain sure felt real, didn’t it?” You didn’t have to look to know that Lucifer was once again perched at the edge of the couch. “Can’t fake that. Can’t fake this, either.”

And suddenly you were shivering with a bone-numbing cold, and you felt Sam shudder against you, too.

“What’s going on?” You looked over Sam’s shoulder and Dean was still there, but he wasn’t shivering; how could he not feel that?

“It…it’s not real.” Sam’s arms tightened around you, and you weren’t sure if he believed what he was saying. “It’s not real.” He pulled away suddenly, and the cold bit into you harder without Sam’s heat next to you. Sam grabbed onto your hand, squeezing it once and ducking his head to your level. His eyes were boring into yours, imploring you to believe him.

“It’s just our hell memories screwing with us, ok? We gotta believe it’s not real, we have to.”

You slowly uncurled yourself, sitting up straight and trying to ignore the devil sitting next to you.

“Ok,” you whimpered, forcing the words out even though you weren’t sure you believed them. “Ok, it…it’s not real. Bobby’s is real.” You squeezed Sam’s hand back twice.

“Good,” Sam breathed. “Good.”

“Hey um…” Dean swallowed hard, looking indecisive. “I’ve gotta head out on a lead, but I want you two to stay here with Bobby.”

“What?” Sam turned. “We should help you, we can help you,” he argued.

You couldn’t find it in you to care about Dean’s decision to let you tag along or not.

You’re out of the cage, you told yourself. This is real, it is.

You wanted to believe it more than anything. But nothing outside the four walls of the cage had mattered to you for a very long time. When you’re promised eternal torment, not much seems to matter anymore. Nothing around you except for Sam’s still-shivering form and Lucifer’s red eyes really felt real.

“Not like this.” Dean shook his head, suddenly more sure of himself, and you tried to focus in on his voice. He’s real, Dean is real. “You two need some recovery time. I’ll be fine alone, but I can’t be worried about you out there.”

“But…” Sam had no suitable defense, so he let the argument trail off.

“It won’t take long,” Dean assured you, lingering awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading out the door.

…

It wasn’t long after Dean left that Bobby got a call from a friend needing help. It was clear he was uneasy about leaving you and Sam alone, but Sam managed to convince him you’d be ok.

“Sam?” You spoke up once you were alone. “What are we gonna do if…if this really isn’t real?”

Sam sighed, an exhausted sound that made your stomach twist.

“I don’t know.”

The silence lingered like a thick fog.

“And…and what are we gonna do if this is real, but Lucifer never goes away?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Are we crazy?”

Sam’s eyes finally lifted to meet yours. His were bloodshot, with dark bags under them. You were sure you didn’t look much better.

“I don’t know.”

…

The Impala’s headlights flashing through the window were a surprise.

“Dean,” you mumbled, dropping the lore book you’d been pretending to read. He’s not supposed to be back yet.

“Maybe something went wrong,” Sam said before rushing to the door.

“New lead,” Dean announced, barely taking two steps in the door. “I need you guys for this one.”

“What?” Sam asked. “But I thought—“

“I could really use you on this. If you wanna sit here, then fine, but I’m asking you to help.”

Something was itching at the back of your mind, but you ignored it.

“O…ok. Ok.” Sam glanced at you. “Kid, get your gun.” He didn’t need to get his; he’d been field-stripping it for the past hour, taking it apart and putting it back together over and over. You would’ve called him out on it if you didn’t think he’d bring up your nervous tick of picking at your fingers.

You reluctantly tucked your weapon into your belt and followed your big brothers out to the car, still trying to ignore the feeling that something didn’t seem right.

The feeling grew during the ride with Dean. He was talking to Sam in the front seat, and you forced yourself to pay attention, hoping listening to your big brothers would ease your racing mind.

“Maybe we should try to get you…I don’t know, some professional help,” Dean was saying. “I mean, remember Martin? Went nuts, starting shooting at nothing.”

“I’m not Martin,” Sam insisted. “And neither is she.”

“No, but you are crazy.” Dean’s answer came out so casually, so natural, but the words made your breath stop. “That don’t wash off, you get that right?” All you wanted was for Dean to stop talking, but he seemed to be on a roll, like he’d been dying to say these things. “You are never gonna be ok.”

Dean’s words seemed to echo around in the car and in your head.

“You are never gonna be ok.”

Why was it so familiar?

“You are never gonna be ok.”

The memory came to you in full force; Lucifer was dragging you away from Sam by a fistful of hair.

He’d been ripping into you with his bare hands for what felt like days—he liked his toys, his torture devices, but once in a while he also liked to get his hands dirty. It finally felt like he was going to take a break when he’d tossed you on top of Sam like he was throwing away a dirtied and bloodied rag. Sam had grunted in pain when you landed on him, but he wasted no time in wrapping you in an embrace.

That was when he’d made his mistake.

“It’s ok, you’re gonna be ok.” This memory was from the early days in the cage, back when you still bothered to use those empty words like “ok” to comfort each other.

Lucifer had heard Sam’s words, and he didn’t appreciate them.

He started muttering to himself as he stomped towards the two of you. You weren’t sure of what he said, but it sounded something like “I didn’t rip her ribs out of her body one at a time to hear you call her ok, Sam.”

And then his fist was wrapped up in your hair and you were being yanked out of Sam’s arms and you were already whimpering and Sam was pleading for mercy from the merciless.

“Hey!” The same voice that sparked the memory snapped you out of it, and you realized the Impala had stopped. “You two need to keep it together. I mean if you’re seeing Lucifer, you could be seeing all kinds of things.”

“Ok…” Sam mumbled, stepping out with Dean. You slipped out too, and you heard Sam mutter, “how is that helping?”

“I’m just saying, you two are out of control,” Dean snapped. He led the way towards the door into an office building, and you tried to force yourself to focus on the task at hand. It was hard to think about fighting monsters when Dean was calling you crazy.

“We’re trying to deal with it, ok?” Sam sounded exhausted, and sick of Dean’s comments.

“Dealing?” Dean scoffed, his voice cruel. “How can you deal? I mean you think this is an office building.” He opened the door, stepping to the side to allow you and Sam to go in first. The minute you stepped through the door, glass windows and pristine desks were suddenly replaced by concrete walls and wooden pallets. “Sorry, wrong.”

The air suddenly felt thick and heavy, like someone had dropped a wet blanket over your face. This was wrong, it was all wrong. You found yourself reaching out for Sam’s hand, but he’d already stepped out of your reach, looking around the building in utter confusion.

“Where are we?” He demanded.

“Oh, you think I’m Dean.” The grin that crossed your oldest brother’s face chilled you to the bone. “Right…” the face suddenly shifted, and you let out a sound that was half gasp, half whimper.

Lucifer.

“You poor, clueless little kids,” he scoffed.

“Stay away from me!” Sam snapped, turning and striding away from Lucifer, but you couldn’t force your feet to move.

Because that wasn’t supposed to be Lucifer, it was supposed to be Dean and you were supposed to be fighting monsters and it was supposed to be real.

“Your world is whatever I want it to be, understand?!” Lucifer yelled after Sam. Then his eyes were on you, and it was all you could do to keep yourself upright. “She understands.”

“Leave me alone!” Sam spun on his heel, yanking his gun out of his belt and firing it at Lucifer. You flinched as the sound echoed through the empty warehouse—Lucifer was gone.

“Now we’re getting there.” Lucifer appeared just behind Sam. Finally you forced your feet to move; you couldn’t let Sam be alone and so close to the devil, you wouldn’t. “Pinnochio is seeing his strings.”

Was he right? Was it all fake?

“Shut up,” Sam snapped. How was he always so brave? You’d reached him now, but all you could do was cower next to him while he yelled at the devil.

“It’s the big crescendo,” Lucifer sing-songed.

“I said shut up!” Sam fired again, but Lucifer disappeared again.

“Wanna fire that gun at someone useful?” You flinched when Lucifer’s voice came from behind you, and Sam whirled around, moving to stand in front of you—always the protector.

“Try your face,” Lucifer said. He was advancing on the two of you now, but neither you nor Sam moved. “Or hers.” Lucifer pointed to you with his chin. “You wanna see the ending? Skip to the last page of the book?” Lucifer shaped his hand like a gun and pointed his finger at his neck. “You know where to aim.”

Sam swallowed hard, and you saw his hands shaking.

“It’s the only way to know what’s real,” Lucifer said. “Look at her.” And suddenly both Lucifer and Sam’s eyes were on you. “She doesn’t know what’s real, and it’s killing her. Your hurting her, Sammy, by letting her stay like this. Put one right between her pretty little eyes, and then she’ll finally be out of her misery.”

“Sam? Sam!” The door to the warehouse opened, and Dean stepped in. But was it really Dean?

“Oh look, another me.” You turned your head at the sound of the voice, and now it wasn’t Lucifer next to you, but another Dean.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, stepping further into the warehouse.

Sam lifted his gun and aimed it right at Dean, who lifted his hands and took half a step back, exclaiming, “Whoa, whoa!”

“I thought I was with you, Dean,” Sam insisted. You couldn’t decide which Dean to look at—which one was real.

“Ok…” Dean’s brow was furrowed, and he spoke slowly. “Well here I am.” His eyes flicked to you, but you stayed rooted to the spot, too scared to believe it was Dean but also too scared to fight him if it was Lucifer.

“No no no, I can’t—“ Sam looked to his left, and you followed his gaze; the devil was standing in the corner, watching the scene unfold with a grin. “I can’t know that for sure, understand me?”

“Ok, we’ll start small,” Dean said.

Amidst the dozens of questions floating in your mind, you managed to grab one.

“S-Sammy…” you felt Lucifer’s eyes on you while you spoke, but you forced yourself to continue. “Who drove here?”

“I did,” Lucifer said. “Or, you thought I did.” He did, didn’t he? But if that Dean was really Lucifer, then the Dean standing in front of you had to be Dean, right? You couldn’t take it anymore, it was all too much, but Sam had told you to believe this was real, so you had to try.

You took a few cautious steps towards Dean—was it Dean?—ignoring the fear twisting your gut.

But then suddenly Lucifer was standing a few feet to Dean’s left, and he spoke to Sam—

“She’s getting braver. Or dumber.”

Sam’s eyes whipped to you before flashing back to Lucifer. He grit his teeth, turning his gun on Lucifer and firing at him; Lucifer disappeared again.

You whimpered, halting your movements.

“Whoa, hey, Sam!” Dean snapped. “This discussion does not require a weapons discharge!”

Sam was slowly lowering his gun, horrified that he might have just shot so close to his brother. But he still turned his gaze on you.

“Y/N, stay away from him,” Sam pleaded. “We thought we were with Dean, we can’t trust him!”

Sam didn’t believe it was real.

So maybe it wasn’t.

“C’mon,” Dean was pleading with Sam, but you were just looking around for Lucifer again. “You don’t know what’s real? Sam, I’ve felt torture too, and it feels different. This, what’s going on? This is just regular, crappy…this.”

“No, no how can you know that for sure?” Sam pushed him. You held your breath, turning again to stare at Dean; you wanted to hear his answer, you wanted it to make sense, you wanted this to be real.

“Give me your hand,” Dean said. “The gimp hand.”

“Well take a look at Florence Nightingale.” Your whole body flinched, and you couldn’t focus on Dean—or not Dean—anymore because Lucifer was here again, and nothing felt real.

When Sam got distracted by Lucifer, Dean took a step forward and gripped Sam’s injured hand. You found yourself taking small steps toward them, because that hurt hand was vulnerability and vulnerability around Lucifer meant pain.

“This is real,” Dean insisted. “Not in hell, now. I was with you when you cut it, I sewed it up. Look.” Dean squeezed Sam’s hand, and Sam grunted in pain. He tried to lift his gun, but Dean—or not Dean—grabbed it, stopping him.

“This is different, right?” Not Dean pleaded—it had to be not Dean, because Dean wouldn’t hurt Sam, right?

“We’ve done a lot more with pain,” Lucifer insisted. You stepped towards them more quickly now, because he was hurting Sam and you had to make it stop.

“I’m different!” But was that Dean? Because his eyes were filled with that worried desperation that only your big brother could hold. “Right?”

“Yeah I think so,” Sam said, yanking his hands away from Dean and leaving his gun in Dean’s hand. Your steps stopped. Did Sam believe again?

“You sure about that bunk buddy?” Lucifer asked, but then his eyes were on you and they were flashing red and you couldn’t focus on Dean and Sam anymore because how could that not be real?

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Lucifer insisted.

“You gotta believe me, Sammy!” Dean insisted.

“Sammy,” Lucifer taunted, but Sam didn’t seem to be listening anymore.

“Ok,” Sam said to Dean, but you had no idea why. Didn’t he see the devil right there? How was he so convinced, over a little cut? Lucifer had done so much more than that.

“Just because he wants to believe in this cute little fantasy, doesn’t mean it’s real,” Lucifer was speaking to you know, and it felt like no one else existed. “He thinks it’ll make him feel better to ignore what’s really going on, but I know you don’t. I know you know what’s real.”

“Hey!” Sam yelled, catching your attention. “It’s not real, ok? I made him go away.” Made him go away? That was impossible—

Unless this really was real.

“But he’s right there!” You insisted, pointing at the devil—who grinned and waved.

“I…” Sam looked from you, to Dean, to Lucifer—except he was looking a little to the left, like he couldn’t actually see where Lucifer was. It was the same vacant gaze that Bobby and Dean got when they tried to look; Sam really didn’t see him.

Then Sam looked down at his bleeding hand, and a look of steely determination crossed his eyes. He snatched his gun from Dean’s hand, turning and aiming it at you. Before you could register what was happening, Sam fired, and the bullet ripped right through your calf and Dean was yelling and you were on the floor and Sam was running at you.

“He’s gone, right?” Sam grabbed your face in his hands, ignoring your whimpering protests. “Pain makes him go away. You can’t see him, right?”

But you weren’t looking around for the devil anymore. You didn’t have to. You knew for sure that this wasn’t real, that none of it had been real.

Because the one thing Sam had never done—not in decade after decade of torture in the cage—was hurt you.

It couldn’t be Sam. This couldn’t be him, it couldn’t be real.

You pulled your face from “Sam’s” hands and curled your knees up to your chest, burying your face against the material of your jeans and letting out a hoarse sob.

Blood was running down your leg and pooling in your sock. Dean wasn’t real. And now Sam wasn’t real—the one person you thought you could always count on to be real, was just Lucifer screwing with you. You were still in the cage, but now you didn’t know where Sam was. You had never felt so alone.

And it hurt so much, it felt like coming home.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

Uncaged Taglist:

@redbird-tf @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @o-birdseed-o @hopefuldreamers-world @s0urw00lf @yasmin12312 @star-maker-rain-dancer

[meazalykov]

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x oc x reader

part two of five

summary: you know you will have to do what is right

warnings: angst

oc description here

you sit at a small table in the back corner of a quiet coffee shop in new york, your hands nervously wrapped around your cup filled with an iced latte as you wait for sloan. 

the national break had brought you back to the states, prepping for the friendly match against mexico before the olympics, but the last thing you expected was for sloan to reach out and ask to meet up. 

you saw her instagram story where she posted a picture of the sky. it was clear she was in a flight, a flight heading to new york.

fans saw the post and believed that she was coming to support you at your matches in new york and washington dc before your send off. 

oh were they wrong.

your stomach churns as you glance at the door, knowing this conversation is long overdue.

when she finally walks in, you feel your chest tighten. she looks the same as always—confident, effortless—but there’s a tension in the air, and it’s obvious to both of you that this is the breaking point. 

sloan approaches the table with a half-hearted smile, sitting down across from you. 

“hey,” she says, her voice unusually soft, like she’s trying to tread lightly.

“hey,” you mumble back, avoiding her eyes as you take a sip of your coffee, your fingers trembling slightly. 

yeah, you knew this had to end soon. this wasn’t a way that significant others greet each other after not seeing the other for months.

the silence stretches between you, heavy and awkward, until sloan finally breaks it.

“i’ve missed you,” she says, her voice laced with a strange mix of sincerity and defensiveness. 

“i hate how things have been between us.”

you take a deep breath, setting your cup down as you meet her gaze for the first time. 

“things haven’t been good for a long time, sloan,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but steady.

“and we both know why.” you mumble under your breath.

sloan frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“what do you mean? i’ve been trying, y/n. it’s hard with the distance, but i’m still here.”

you shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rise up inside you. 

“you’re not here, sloan. you’re barely around. and when you are, it feels like you’re not even present.” 

you pause, gathering your thoughts before continuing. “and then there’s savannah…”

sloan’s eyes widen slightly, and she leans back in her chair, clearly taken off guard. 

“savannah? what does she have to do with anything?”

“don’t play dumb, sloan,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. 

“i’ve seen the pictures, the videos. you’ve been spending time with her again. and let’s not pretend it’s innocent.”

“savannah’s just a friend. we’ve known each other for years, y/n. it’s not like that.” sloan’s face hardens, and she looks away, her jaw clenching. 

“are you serious?” you ask, your voice rising slightly. 

“do you think i’m stupid? you’ve been ditching any opportunity to see me to go see her, and everyone knows it. even your club teammates asked me what’s going on.”

you’re referring to sophia.

“i didn’t ‘ditch’ you,” sloan retorts, her tone defensive. 

“i’ve been busy with my own career, trying to make things work. and yeah, i saw savannah a few times, but it’s not what you think.”

you scoff, shaking your head. 

“it’s exactly what i think, sloan. you’ve been emotionally checked out of this relationship for months, and now you’re trying to downplay it.”

the tension between you escalates, and sloan’s frustration boils over. 

“the same way you’ve been emotionally checked out with oberdorf?” she spits, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. how does she know about lena? sloan doesn’t even know her—she’s never met her. 

panic rises in your chest, but you try to keep your voice steady. “what are you talking about?”

“oh, don’t act innocent,” sloan snaps, mocking your voice and her eyes narrowing as she leans forward. 

“i’ve seen the pictures. you and her, looking all happy and close in your pre-training photos at bayern. do you really think i wouldn’t notice?”

your mind races, trying to make sense of it. has sloan been following your every move in bayern? and worse, does she know about the night you and lena hooked up? 

your stomach churns as you realize just how deep you’re in.

“that’s not…” you stammer, but sloan cuts you off.

“don’t lie to me, y/n. i know there’s something going on between you and her,” sloan says, her voice trembling with anger. 

“you’ve been pulling away for months too, and now i see why.”

your heart pounds in your chest as you try to regain control of the situation, but the guilt is overwhelming. 

“nothing happened between me and lena until… until after everything with you and savannah started,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper.

“so you’re admitting it? you’ve been seeing her?” sloan’s eyes narrow, her anger intensifying. 

the words spill out before you can stop them. 

“well, i wouldn’t have hooked up with obi if you hadn’t been abandoning me to go see savannah!” the moment the words leave your mouth, you freeze, the weight of what you just confessed crashing down on you.

you were so angry. why is sloan acting like a complete victim? you’ve never seen this side of her before, you thought.

which was a lie, you have seen it.

“you… what?” her voice cracks, disbelief and hurt flooding her expression. “you actually cheated on me?” sloan’s eyes widen in shock, her face paling as she stares at you. 

you can’t speak. the reality of it hits you all at once, and suddenly, everything is spiraling out of control. you wanted to throw up the latte you’ve been drinking.

“i can’t believe this,” sloan says, her voice breaking as she pushes her chair back and stands up. 

“you—you actually cheated on me. after everything.”

“after everything?” you snap back, your own anger flaring up again. 

“you’ve been running back to savannah for months! don’t act like you’re innocent in this.”

“it wasn’t like that,” sloan fires back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“savannah and i are just friends who happen to be exs. we didn’t cheat. we didn’t hook up behind each other’s backs.”

“you emotionally cheated,” you argue, your voice shaking.

“you’ve been distant, and you’ve been choosing her over me. that’s why this whole thing fell apart.”

“don’t turn this around on me, y/n,” sloan says, her voice trembling. 

“you’re the one who went to have sex with lena. i had no idea it went that far.”

you shake your head, tears burning in your eyes as the reality of everything crashes over you. 

“i’m done, sloan,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

 

“i can’t do this anymore. we’ve been holding on to something that’s been dead for months, and you know it.”

you finally admit it— well after the entire national team, ex-psg teammates, and bayern teammates had to convince you that. 

sloan’s face crumples, and for a moment, she looks like she’s going to say something—maybe try to argue, maybe beg for another chance. but instead, she just nods, her lips pressing into a tight line as she swipes at the tears on her face.

“fine,” she whispers, her voice broken. “if that’s what you want.”

you nod, the finality of it settling heavy in your chest. 

“it’s what we both need,” you say softly, your throat tight as you stand up from the table, leaving your iced latte behind. 

the weight of the breakup hangs between you as you walk out of the coffee shop, not looking back. 

you step out of the coffee shop, the warm new york air hitting your face as you take a shaky breath. 

your heart is pounding, your thoughts a tangled mess as the reality of what just happened settles in. you just ended it with sloan. 

after years of clinging to a relationship that was falling apart, you finally cut the cord.

but as you walk down the busy city street, the weight of everything presses down on you. the guilt, the hurt, the confusion—all of it swirls in your chest, and for a moment, you wonder if you made the right choice.

you pause on the corner, leaning against a lamppost as you try to steady your breathing. 

your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it for a moment, letting the emotions wash over you.

"the same way you have feelings for oberdorf." sloan’s words echo in your mind, cutting deep. she didn’t even know lena. 

how could she see what was going on? is everyone seeing what is going on? 

you pull out your phone, staring at the screen as the messages pop up.

sloan: i didn’t mean for it to end like that. i’m sorry.

sloan: but you’re right. we weren’t working anymore.

you don’t reply. instead, you pocket the phone and keep walking, trying to clear your mind. but the more you think about it, the more sloan’s accusations sting. 

you didn’t plan for this to happen with lena. you weren’t looking for something outside of your relationship with sloan. but after months of distance, of feeling abandoned, lena became the person you leaned on, the one who made you feel seen.

lena wasn’t being used as a rebound either. you had genuine feelings for the german woman. sloan hasn’t been in the picture for months, being thousands of miles away in portland, of course you were put in a position for this to happen— especially since lena already had feelings for you. 

your mind drifts back to those moments with lena—the way she’d smile at you during training, her teasing comments that always made you laugh. and that night outside your door, when the air was thick with tension, and she’d looked at you like she saw something more than just a teammate.

it was that night, in the stillness of the hallway, where everything between you and lena changed.

as you walk back to the hotel where you stay at with your national team, you let the tears flow knowing that your three year relationship finally came to a close. 

part three here