#I’m sick of people asking if they spin me my eyes with spin around like in a cartoon

[tigers1o1]

Having a lazy eye is strange bc its so normal to me that i completely forget that its something ive lived with my entire life that makes me different from others

But then i see a video or a clip of someone with lazy eyes, and either the clip is making fun of them or people in the comments are making fun of them. I’m fucking sick of the only media rep for this condition being fucking Mad Eye Moody (harry potter) and Derpy (mlp). Their fucking NAMES imply that theyre crazy/insane/stupid. What the FUCK dude. If every wheelchair user in media was conveyed as lazy or stupid, people would have a lot of fucking issues with it but lazy eyes are always the butt of a joke and nothing more. I’m sick of being a joke. I’m sick of no one realizing that its not just “oh haha that person is dizzy or stupid” NO. Its a REAL THING.

[pathologicalreid]

could you write fem!BAU!reader x spencer, where reader finds out she’s pregnant while they’re on a case, like maybe she takes a test when she’s at the hotel and spencer hasn’t come back yet

(lack of) convenience | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy, nausea, vomiting, spencer reid is unfortunately perfect. vertigo. fun pregnancy symptoms. word count: 2.04k a/n: and so, the spencer reid dilf agenda continues. this is my legacy.

It came over you just after Spencer and Rossi had left to investigate a lead. This case was going nowhere fast, and the morale in the FBI field office clearly displayed it. “Are you alright?” JJ asked from right next to you, blonde hair curtaining around her face.

You nodded tightly, enough to show the newly minted profiler that you were, in fact, not alright. Nonetheless, you were motivated to push through. People were being murdered, you could brave a little vertigo to bring their killer to justice, right?

“Hey, you look a little pale,” Emily said, walking into the conference room with Hotch trailing close behind her. “Are you feeling okay?”

Rolling your eyes dramatically, you huffed at both of your coworkers. “I’m fine,” you insisted while your head was spinning. You lowered yourself down into an office chair, hoping that being sedentary would prevent your dinner from coming up.

Emily looked over at Hotch before saying, “Maybe you should head back to the hotel, it’s been a long day for all of us.”

Furrowing your brow, you frowned at your colleague. “I’ll make it through, we have work to do,” you insisted, flipping open a file as your stomach churned.

“You’re no help to anyone if you’re sick,” Hotch told you authoritatively, and you knew from his tone that he was going to send you back to the hotel. “Get some rest, we’ll start taking breaks in shifts,” he instructed, turning back to the evidence board.

It didn’t feel like shifts, especially considering you were the only one being cast off. You mumbled an acknowledgment while you stuffed your things in your bag. JJ offered to drive you, so the two of you exited the field office.

The two of you spent most of the ride in silence, just the fuzz of the SUV’s radio as background noise while you tried not to hurl in the government vehicle.

Once you were in the hotel parking lot, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get your bearings before heading inside. “You know, I used to get sick in the evening when I was pregnant with Henry,” she said offhandedly.

It felt like a pointed comment, even if she didn’t mean it like that. You started fishing in your pocket for your room card, “But I’m not pregnant.”

“Are things good with you and Spencer?” She asked, looking for details on your relationship like an older sister. JJ killed the engine before turning to face you.

Sighing, you looked at her, “Things are great with Spencer.” You wanted to scold her for prying, but you knew it was an occupational hazard. It had been seven months, and all you had been telling anyone was “great” or “nice.”

The both of you knew that the more details you gave them, the more they’d want to pry. Penelope especially. “You know he wants kids, right?” She pushed.

You frowned at her, “Jennifer.” She put her hands up in surrender as you hauled yourself out of the SUV, “I just want to go to sleep, I feel awful.” That much was true, as you stood up outside the car, your stomach started to roil again.

“I’ll check in on you later,” she said, recognizing that she had begun to pry. “Let me know if you need anything,” she urged you, the mom in her coming into play.

Nodding, you shut the door before poking your head in the open window, “Thanks, JJ.” You said, turning around and walking to your hotel room.

Luckily, the team was already checked in, so you didn’t need to waste time trying to explain the whole ‘I’m an FBI agent’ thing to the front desk. Once you got into your room, you immediately dropped to your knees in front of the toilet, eyes burning as you upchucked into the toilet.

While you were digging through your go-bag for your toothbrush, you found yourself thinking about what JJ had said to you in the car. You couldn’t be pregnant. Well, you supposed you very well could be pregnant.

Sighing, you returned to the bathroom and started brushing your teeth, having needed to take the toothpaste out of Spencer’s bag. You made a mental note to buy more for your bag – you had been using his for the last four cases.

You silently cursed JJ for planting the thought of a baby in your head as you stared out the hotel window to a convenience store on the corner. At the very least, you could get some saltines and a Gatorade. At the very most, you could get a test.

Begrudgingly, you changed into more comfortable clothes and walked across the street to the convenience store. Grabbing a sleeve of crackers and a drink before stopping in the family planning section.

Why were there so many options?

Not wanting to draw any attention to yourself, you grabbed a digital test off of the shelf and tossed it into your basket. Your shoes squeaked on the linoleum floors as you elected to use the self-checkout, not needing to provide anyone with a front seat to your misery.

Other than the nausea, your trip back to the hotel was uneventful, and thankfully it didn’t look like anyone else on the team had made the trip to your lodging.

After you took the test, you set a timer on your phone, tossing it onto the bed before you sat on the edge of the mattress, sitting on your freshly washed hands. The timer scared you when it went off, not expecting the two minutes to go by so quickly before you returned to the bathroom.

Flipping the test over, the wind was knocked out of you as you read the results.

Yes +

You didn’t know how long you had stared at the test, but the sound of the lock on your door engaging pulled you out of your stupor. Thankfully, you had done the latch on the door, so you had a few extra minutes to toss the test in your go-bag before you went up to the door and let Spencer in.

“Hey, love,” he greeted you, dropping a kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling?” He asked caringly, someone must’ve told him you weren’t well. You hoped that was all they had told him.

Humming, you leaned into his touch for a moment before he herded you to the bed. “A bit better, but not much,” you were slightly less nauseous now, possibly because there was nothing left in your stomach. There was a dull ache in your chest though, likely a result of the information you were now aware of.

He hooked a finger under your chin and studied your features for a moment, “Were you crying?” He whispered with concern-filled eyes.

You shook your head, “I threw up.” You informed him, the lack of oxygen had caused your eyes to water – similar to a yawn. Meanwhile, your head was spinning as the words balanced precariously on your tongue, I’m pregnant.

Spencer pouted sympathetically, smoothing your hair away from your face before he felt your forehead, checking for a fever. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced softly, “do you need anything?”

Pathetically, you gestured over to your Gatorade and saltines, silently letting him know that you were all good for the night. It was only about eight in the evening, but you were exhausted. Letting your head flop onto the pillows, you sighed before shutting your eyes.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer spoke up in an unfamiliar tone. “What is this?”

Crinkling your nose in frustration, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking over at Spencer as he held up your test. Your positive pregnancy test. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t mine?” Clearly, in your panic to hide the test, you had tossed the blue stick in Spencer’s bag. Your subconscious must’ve recalled that you had gotten the toothpaste out of that bag, so you thought it was yours.

Any confusion fell from his face, and in that instant, he knew exactly what was going on. “You’re pregnant?”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, you couldn’t tell how he was feeling. “I-“ you swallowed thickly, the roiling in your stomach picking back up again. “Yes,” you answered in a small voice.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked, there was no accusation in his voice, just pure curiosity and wonder. When you stayed silent, his eyes narrowed, “You were going to tell me, weren’t you?” He said, his volume raising from a whisper to a normal speaking level.

Pulling yourself up into a sitting position, you protectively crossed your arms in front of your stomach. “Oh my god, yes, I was going to tell you,” you clarified quickly. He didn’t seriously think you were going to hide this from him, did he?

He shook his head in confusion, “Then why hide it, angel?”

Shrugging, you thumbed the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, “I wanted time to think about it.” The admission hung in the thick tension of the hotel room.

“Okay,” he said slowly, walking over and sitting across from you on the mattress. It was clear to you that he was dealing with this situation delicately. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about this, but I excel in thinking,” he told you.

His implications were clear to you, he wanted you to talk it out with him. “I want kids, you know I want kids. I know you want kids,” you blurted. It was something you had talked about early on in your relationship. Spencer had been very upfront with you about wanting children, he told you he needed to be with someone who also wanted that.

Spencer tilted his head to the side, “but?” He said gently, taking both of your hands in his, holding on to you.

“It’s too soon,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable on the bed with him.

He smiled at you softly, “Have I ever told you about the first time I knew that I was in love with you?”

The question left you understandably confused, “What?” You breathed, silently pleading for clarification.

Spencer nodded, “We were on a case in North Dakota, and there was this little girl who had just lost both of her parents.” The case did sound familiar, the more brutal ones involving children tended to stick with you. “We were waiting for a social worker to come stay with her, but they were stuck in a snowbank across town. Instead of working on the case, you sat down with her and taught her how to play cat’s cradle.” His voice was soft, almost placating you.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until tears fell onto your intertwined hands, “Spence, that was years ago.”

“Two years, nine months, and thirteen days ago. I fell in love with you while watching you put a smile on her face despite the fact that it was the worst day of her life,” he said, skimming the pads of his thumbs over the backs of your hands. “I fell in love with your ability to make people feel good when the world is against them,” he murmured.

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at him through bleary eyes, “What if we can’t protect them?”

Gathering you in his arms, Spencer let you tuck your face in the crook of his neck, “I’ll do whatever you want, Y/N. We can leave, I could be a professor and you could be a stay-at-home mom. If you want, I could stay with the BAU and you could stay home, or you can stay with the team, and I’ll stay home. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

Silently, you absorbed his words as you caught your breath, “I’m scared” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured, “that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared.” He tightened his arms around you and rocked back and forth.

Allowing yourself to lean into him, you breathed him in, “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

He dropped a soft kiss on the crown of your head, “You’re already such a good mom.”

[misctf]

Singing a New Tune

Written for Occam's 2000 Follower Writing Challenge

“Babe, I love you.”

Jared smiled down at Julie, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He had to imagine his girlfriend dreamed of this moment. A romantic kiss at a Tiffany Stabina concert as the star finished out her set with one of Julie’s favorite songs. A slow romantic song- one that Jared knew all too well from frequent replays in the car. ��

“Anything for you babe.” He replied, holding her closely in his muscular arms, “I love you too.”

This certainly wasn’t his kind of music. And he didn’t understand the cult-like devotion to Tiffany. But seeing Julie this happy? Worth it. Still, he imagined the other straight dudes here were thinking similarly. In fact, he and the guy next to him shared several looks throughout the night. A silent comradery acknowledging they’d rather be elsewhere. And if they had been elsewhere, Jared would’ve asked the guy for his arm day routine.

“Alright babe, we ought to head out before...”

“To all my fans, I love you!” Tiffany called out, their cheers drowning Jared’s words, “You’ve all been with me from the beginning, and I am so grateful.” She placed a hand over her heart, “But you all know I’ve been criticized.” The fans all booed, “And they’ve come after you too.”

“A bit dramatic.” Jared chuckled, earning a glare from Julie.

“You wouldn’t get it.” She replied, “They go after he for everything.” The jock nodded, not wanting to risk ruining their perfect night, “But when she sings, it’s like she’s speaking directly to you. People just don’t get it.” Jared nodded. There were some things just not worth it.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but I have a new song for you all this evening!” The crowd erupted in screams and applause. Jared groaned, “They say I’m pandering? Then I’ll pander.” She continued, and the crowd got louder.

Jared knew there would be no way of getting Julie to leave now. And he silently dreaded the hours they’d be stuck in traffic. But as the song started and Tiffany’s words echoed through the stadium, his thoughts slowed.

“They say I only cater to a few.”

Jared felt lightheaded, the sound of the crowd growing distant.

“The gays and the girls, oh boo hoo.”

“Julie?” He whispered, but she didn’t respond, “Julie, please...” He felt sick. The world was spinning, everything becoming black, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He whispered. He couldn’t move. Was he dying? Was this it?

“But I won’t back down, I won’t apologize.” Jared looked up and saw her. Tiffany Stabina. Standing in front of him, “For making them feel alive.” She strutted towards the helpless jock.

“What...? How is this...?”

“I see you dancing in the dark, feeling completely torn apart.” She sang.

Jared yelped as he felt a cool breeze caress him. And to his horror, he realized he was nude. Butt naked in front of Tiffany Stabina no less. She grinned and approached him, circling his nude figure and wrapping her arms around him.

“Embrace your uniqueness, don’t hide.”

Jared gasped as she placed pressure on his shoulders. He felt the floor getting closer as he lost inch after inch of height. He now stood at eye level with the 5’6” popstar.

“Wait? What did you do to me?” He yelped.

“Now let my music take you for a ride.”

She ran a hand along his muscular arms. Her very touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick, and he blushed as all 10 inches stood at attention. Tiffany smirked, but continued rubbing his biceps and triceps. Her sensual touch was intoxicated, and Jared watched helplessly as his proud muscles started to diminish. His biceps atrophied, followed quickly by his triceps. His slender arms giving off the appearance they hadn’t seen a gym in years. He tried to cry out, but Tiffany placed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. He could only watch as her hands roamed his impressive pecs. He had always been proud of his pecs, and he loved when Julie rested her head on his chest. But now, he could only watch as they flattened away.

“Wait...” He was able to force out. But Tiffany was relentless, and her hands roamed down his abs.

He shed a few tears as his abs vanished, leaving him with a flat, slender tummy. There was no way this could be happening. It had to be some type of acid trip or something. Jared kept trying to reassure himself, even as she moved to his legs and quickly destroyed his muscular thighs and calves, leaving his legs slender and dainty. His feet followed, and quickly diminished from size 13s to 9.5s in mere seconds.

“My music is my contagion, unapologetic. Now we’re gonna collide.” Tiffany continued, this time wrapping her hands around his cock, “My fans are my tribe, I won’t divide.”

Jared felt like the wind was knocked out of him from both the pain and pleasure from her touch. And he watched as she shrunk his proud member. The young jock always knew he was well endowed. And he knew how to use it too. But as he watched his dick shrink from its proud ten inches to a mere 3 inches hard, he felt his confidence diminish.

“We’ll rise together, side by side.”

Her hands made their way to his flat ass. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was about to do. But he didn’t need to see. He could immediately feel his ass expand in her hands, filling them with firm, yet jiggly fat and muscle. He let out a moan as she caressed his basketball-sized ass cheeks, and he nearly came when she gave one a firm slap.

“Pl-please stop...” He begged as she placed a hand over his neck, “You can't do thith...” His voice cracked and he winced, “What’th happening to my voithe? Why do I thound like thith?” He begged, his voice cracking, “No, thith doethn't thound right.” His voice settled a few octaves higher, his masculine tone now lost forever.

“So bring on the hate, let the critics rage. We’ll keep on dancing, it’s time to turn the page.”

As she continued to caress his now slender body, and grind against him, he felt off. His dick  softened, as her physicality became less appealing to him. Her bouncing boobs and thick lips didn’t seem to do it for him. Even her touch was losing its pleasure. And he realized in terror what was occurring.

“No, not thith!” He begged, “Come on, come, think of thomething.” He remembered the BJ Julie gave him last night, and even the lesbian porn he watched a few days ago. But his measly member stayed soft, “No... pleathe...”

He felt Tiffany’s hand on his head. His pleading eyes met hers, and he knew he’d find no mercy. His hair restyled itself, and he felt a piercing pain in his left earlobe, which suddenly adourned a diamond stud. But her touch was doing far more than making a few style alterations. In his mind, his memories were shifting. Showering after football practice? Changing in the locker room after a lifting session with his bros? Watching football with his family?

“Oh god...” He moaned, as his small dick hardened and his ass throbbed with need.

He didn’t play football. He got fucked by the quarterback in the shower after a game. He wasn’t lifting at the gym. He was doing cardio and sucking off the gym bros between their sets. He didn’t watch sports like football. He just sat and scrolled on his phone, reading up on the latest Tiffany Stabina gossip and scrolling his socials. And as his new reality cemented itself, Jared’s eyes lost their intelligent spark and became half-lidded, his brain filling with celebrity gossip and how to please guys.

“This contagion’s here to stay, and we’ll celebrate it every day.”

She kissed him on the cheek. And with that, Jared was back. The cheers of the crowd filling his ears, as Tiffany thanked her fans and left the stage. Jared smiled.

“Oh my god! That wath tho amathing!” He cheered, “Tiffany! I love you!” He yelled, “It wath like Tiffany thpoke to me.”

“You felt that way too?” Jared turned and came face to face with a man of similar build. Albeit with slightly bigger arms, “Tiffany, like, totally thpeakth for uth.” He grinned as Jared felt up his arms.

“Wait!” A voice called out behind him, “Did you see the guy I came here with?” Julie asked, looking around desperately, “I swear, he was right here. I...”

“Thorry thithter, I hope you find him!” Jared replied, turning his attention back to the guy.

“Tho weird, thome poor girl athked me about her boyfriend too.” The man replied, “Probably got drunk and left to watch football.”

“OMG tho lame.” Jared laughed. The two smiled at one another, “Tho, like...”

“Wanna go back to my place? I have her latetht album.” The man winked, and Jared shuddered as his ass throbbed with need.

“That thounds delightful.” Jared replied, pulling the man in closer, his smile widening as the man squeezed his ass, “Oh! But like firtht I totally need a thelfie! I want everyone to know I thupport Tiffany and Tiffany thupports me!” He cheered, capturing their kiss on camera and posting it to his socials.

Later that night, Jared and his lover explored one another’s new bodies. Jared gasping at the size of his lover’s cock, moaning as he felt a firm hand squeeze his ass. His moans would continue to fill the room that night. With each thrust of his new lover’s dick, Jared was in heaven. Unaware of his former life or the horror it would bring his former self to see him like this. Just another horny slut- another gay twink dedicated to Tiffany Stabina.

[moonstruckme]

Remus is the type to keep a rubberband or a scrunchie on his wrist for his s/o

I believe that he started keeping it when sirius's hair got long in 4th year and he used to forget a hair tie everywhere.

When remus started dating reader he began keeping one particularly in their favorite colour but never let anyone know.

I can just imagine reader at a house party going around asking each girl for a rubberband cuz she forgot hers and he just pulls one out of nowhere and hands it to them wordlessly (or just holds his wrist in front of them and their eyes light up)

Would be awesome if you write smth abt this <3

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: alcohol, reader has hair long enough to tie back

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 560 words

Remus’ eyes track you as you ping-pong around the party, stopping to talk to people for only a handful of seconds before finding another target. He’s not trying to be a creep, but you’ve reached a stage of the night where a bit of supervision is necessary. Your eyes are alight and your smile comes easy, and when you pivot and a bit of punch sloshes onto your hand you don’t even notice. 

You go from Lily, to Sirius, to Marlene, to Alice, back to Lily, and then aim for the kitchen. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Remus intercepts you, setting a hand on your shoulder and steering you discretely away from any potential refills. “Having a good time?” 

“Mhm.” You grin up at him, distracted by the movement of his hand up your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. You shrug and tilt your head, squishing his hand between them, and Remus indulges you by poking your dimple with his thumb. You giggle, delighted. “I’m looking for Mary. Have you seen her?” 

He thinks for a moment. “Not lately, no. Want help looking?” 

“Sure.” You catch at his other hand with both of yours, intertwining your fingers messily. “I just need to ask her something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as you start to tug him towards the kitchen. 

“I’m sick of my hair.” You blow a piece of it away from your face, vexation twinging in your features. “I wanna know if she has a hair tie I can borrow.” 

“Oh, wait.” He stops, pulling you closer before taking his hand from between yours. “Hold on a second.” 

You look up at Remus curiously, not protesting when he turns you around by your shoulders and begins gathering your hair in his hands. He takes care to comb the errant strands around your face and the nape of your neck up with the rest, confining it all to a loose ponytail. 

“S’that alright?” 

“I didn’t know you carry a hair tie,” you murmur, almost to yourself, as you go towards a small mirror mounted on the wall. “Remus!” Your voice goes up an octave, elated. “It’s my favorite color!” 

“I know,” he says, a bit smug. It only worsens when you spin around and throw your arms around his waist. Remus hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you tilt your head back, chin digging into his sternum as you beam up at him. 

“You’re so good to me,” you gloat. “How long’ve you been carrying that around for?” 

“A while,” he says vaguely, because Since you told me your favorite color makes him sound like a loser and in your current state he’s not entirely sure you wouldn't start crying. “I’m used to having one for Sirius anyway, so it was really just a color adjustment.” 

Your eyes go all soft and smitten, your bottom lip jutting out a bit even through your smile. “You’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” you tell him, sincerity coating your words like honey. 

Remus rolls his eyes to dodge the compliment, opting instead to take your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks together. You let him without complaint, your smile going mushy. “You make me do sweet things,” he says. 

You hum like you know the truth but you’ll let him get away with it anyway.

[s-4pphics]

click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes 

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?” 

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest. 

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder. 

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek. 

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie. 

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.” 

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought. 

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?” 

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.” 

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed. 

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person. 

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you. 

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers. 

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming… 

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.” 

Oh God. “What?” 

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.  

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!” 

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick. 

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.” 

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.” 

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom. 

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization. 

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one. 

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl. 

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work. 

DENY REQUEST. 

…

DENY REQUEST. 

…

DENY REQUEST. 

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed. 

Why are people… so odd? 

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?! 

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one. 

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty. 

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away. 

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name. 

ELLIE WILLIAMS. 

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement. 

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval. 

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you. 

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it. 

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note. 

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.” 

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend. 

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.” 

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out. 

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.” 

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.” 

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.” 

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.” 

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face. 

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.” 

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”  

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup. 

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.” 

“The wettest. Go.” 

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers. 

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear. 

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely. 

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected. 

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.” 

“Alright.” 

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads. 

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?” 

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.” 

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward. 

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.” 

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder. 

“What’d I say!” 

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Oh yeah what.” 

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?” 

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles. 

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish. 

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper. 

… Cute. 

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here. 

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable. 

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking. 

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil. 

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention. 

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before. 

“Hey. Can we switch the time?” 

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare. 

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?” 

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?” 

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.” 

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?” 

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.” 

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge. 

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.” 

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you. 

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.” 

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them. 

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.” 

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face. 

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly. 

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.” 

“Sike.” 

You scoff in disbelief, “What?” 

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.” 

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.” 

“Right.” 

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.” 

“Hm?” 

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat. 

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.” 

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee. 

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself. 

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie. 

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word. 

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant. 

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn. 

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.” 

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.” 

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs. 

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.” 

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.” 

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.” 

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.” 

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?” 

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff. 

“Damn… My fault.” 

“I’m chilling. I just need head.” 

“Go out! Find somebody!” 

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!” 

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.” 

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone. 

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.” 

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment. 

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged. 

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night. 

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it. 

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes. 

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be. 

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure. 

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely. 

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing. 

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you. 

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open. 

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly. 

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious. 

“To move in.” 

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen. 

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that? 

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?” 

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.” 

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.” 

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder. 

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.” 

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit. 

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case. 

tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (4)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader • series masterlist

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

Tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal, talk about divorce, talk about not wanting a child, ANGSTTTT, (marjorie being a mean bitch but also a great plot device!), trauma!!! reader has daddy issues, but dont quote me on that.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! the second to last part is here!! how do we feel so far? IT'S GOING DOWN!! one more chapter, and we will find out if anyone will get a happy ending. who knows.. maybe we'll make a spinoff of this? anyway, this is 3.37k words, so the shortest of the bunch butbi didn't want to add unnecessary smut :') HOPE YOU LOVE IT! not proofread soo if you anything spelled wrong umm close your eyes.

“Glad you could make it,” Marjorie said, closing the door behind you. “I thought we could have a little chat.”

“What do you want? was it really necessary for us to come here?” Joel asked, his tone edged with irritation. "Wouldn't want more people to see us now, right?" She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. “I think you both know exactly what I want." You exchanged a worried glance with Joel, trying to gauge how serious she was. “What are youㅡ?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. Marjorie pushed off the counter and walked towards you, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. “I want you to share him for a bit." she said bluntly, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to let the grown-ups play too. Besides, it’s only fair, isn’t it? After all, we can't let your mom find out about you two..." Your heart sank. “You can’t be serious,” you said, laughing as disbelief washed over you. “Oh, I’m very serious. If you want to keep this little affair of yours a secret, you’ll have to comply with my terms. I’ll tell your mother everything if you don’t.”

“Why would you do this?” Joel’s voice was low, but you could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Because it’s fun, Joel. Because I can. And because your little fling is just that—a fling. I want you back, and I’m not above playing dirty to get what I want.” You felt sick, caught in the middle of a game you never wanted to play. “This isn’t fair,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Life’s not fair, sweetie,” Marjorie shot back. “You should know that by now.”

Joel stepped in front of you, a protective stance that made your heart swell and ache at the same time. “You don’t have to do this. You could just walk away, Marjorie. You’re better than this.” She laughed, a sound that was anything but lighthearted. “Better? Oh, darling, I’m far from better. I’m just getting started. So, that's the deal. You decide now.”

You felt the world around you spin as Marjorie’s words sunk into you like a bullet. “You’re a terrible friend,” you spat, rage and hurt flooding through you. “Your mother is the one who’s a bad friend,” Marjorie retorted, her eyes narrowing. “She knew how I felt about Joel. She knew we were together all those years ago. And yet, she had the audacity to marry him anyway.” Tears burned at your eyes as her words cut deep. “You’re just bitter because he moved on,” you accused.

“Bitter? Maybe. But I’m also vindictive. You’re standing in my way, and I don’t like it.” Joel’s hand squeezed yours tightly, and you could feel the tension. "Oh, so that's the only thing keeping you away? the fact that I am with him and not that he's your best friend's husband?"

"Didn't stop you, honey. And she's your mom." As Marjorie’s laughter echoed around the room, a twisted sense of triumph in her eyes, you felt the walls closing in on you. She was ready to play this game to the bitter end, and the stakes were too high. “Fine,” you said suddenly, surprising both Joel and yourself. “I’ll think about it.”

Marjorie’s expression turned sly. “Good. You have until tomorrow. Make your decision, and let me know. I’ll be waiting.”

On your way back home, the car ride was silent. You turned to Joel, his face a mask of frustration. "What now?" You finally speak up. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. The gravity of the situation bore down more intensely than ever before.

When you got home, the air felt suffocating and so cold at the same time. Your mother had gone to bed early, and joel decided to spend the night at his apartment, closer to where he worksㅡ again. the stillness of the house was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within you. You wanted to scream, cry, and run away from everything that was happening. But instead, you collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as the reality of your situation washed over you.

The next morning brought with it a sense of impending doom. You felt like you were walking on a tightrope, and the slightest misstep could send you tumbling into chaos. Your mother chatted about her plans for the day, seemingly oblivious to it allㅡ her daughter was fucking her husband. But you couldn’t focus on her words; all you could think about was Marjorie and the ultimatum she had laid before you.

As the day wore on, the burden of your decision weighed heavily on your chest. You knew you couldn’t keep Joel, your mom and Marjorie happy without sacrificing something monumental. The thought of losing Joel made your heart ache, but so did the thought of being betrayed by your own mother. Hours passed, and by the time your mother left for a gathering with her friends from work, you felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap. “I’ll be back late, sweetheart,” she called over her shoulder, and for a moment, you felt that flicker of guilt in your very sould again.

With the house empty, you sank into the couch, pulling out your phone and staring at it, waiting for Joel to text. The minutes turned into hours, and just as doubt began to creep in, your phone buzzed, a message from him lighting up the screen.

• Meet me at our spot?

Your heart raced, and you felt a surge of trepidation.

• I’ll be there.

You arrived at the secluded spot by the river, where the world felt far away. Joel was already waiting, leaning against his truck, the setting sun casting a warm glow on his rugged features. When he saw you, a relieved smile broke across his face. “Hey, you,” he said, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melted against him instantly, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Marjorie is insane...”

but maybe so were you.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said, voice steady. “I won’t let her hurt you. We’ll figure this out together.” But even as he spoke, you could see the doubt flickering in his eyes. “She wants me to share you with her, Joel, what the actual fuck?" you whispered, the words feeling heavy and bitter on your tongue. “She can’t have you. You’re mine.” But then reality crashed in, and you felt the tears prick at your eyes. “What if she really tells mom?” you asked, desperation threading through your voice.

“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.” his hands were cupping your face, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “I love you. You know that, right? No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere, baby." but the words felt hollow. “What if this is all my fault?”

“It’s not,” he insisted, his grip firm, eyes fierce. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We love each other. That’s what matters. ain't nothin' wrong with lonving somebody."

yeah, your mom's husband.

You wanted to believe him, to let those words wash away the doubts, but all was a threat and it loomed large, an insidious whisper in the back of your mind, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to shield you from the consequences of your actions. "Mom wouldn’tㅡ she will not understand, Joel. She’ll be devastated.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said again, his voice firm, but you could sense the uncertainty lingering beneath the surface. “We can go to her together and explain it all. You’re everything to me, baby, you know that. this is just a lessonㅡ people will always try and come between us.” Just like you came between him and your mom.

You wanted to believe him, but fear clutched at your heart like a vice. “What if she gets angry and takes it out on you?” Even now, he was all you cared about. The thought was unbearable. “I can handle it,” he said, determination lighting his gaze. “No one is going to make me not love you, babygirl.”

Finally, you took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I have to go home.” His expression shifted, disappointment mingling with concern. “Are you sure? We can stay a little longer—”

“I have to think. About everything.”

maybe love won't save it all.

The walk home felt like a thousand miles, each step heavy with dread. You replayed everything in your mind. was it really worth it? Was Joel worth it? Was your mom worth it?

the house was quiet, the only sound being the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. You slipped inside, the darkness wrapping around you like a shroud, and paused for a moment to collect your thoughts. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening. You froze, your heart racing as you turned to see your mother step inside, her face illuminated by the hallway light. She looked tired but happy, her laughter still lingering in the air as she made her way toward you.

“Oh, sweetheart! You’re back!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace. You inhaled her familiar scent, a mixture of lavender and home, and felt a surge of guilt wash over you. “Hi, mom,” you said, your voice betraying the turmoil inside you. She smiled, but it faltered as she took a closer look at your expression. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I... it’s nothing,” you replied too quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. Your mother’s brow furrowed in concern. “You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right, ladybug?” A lump formed in your throat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Yeah, I know.”

This was it.

The moment where everything hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of no return. You knew what you had done was wrong—there was no denying it. No sugarcoating, no excuses. But as awful as your betrayal was, letting her find out from someone else, someone who wanted to hurt her for sport would be even worse. It would be cruel, cowardly, and the final twist of the knife. The only thing you could do now, the only thing that held even a shred of dignity or decency, was to take control of the narrative. To tell her the truth yourself. Not because it would fix anything—nothing could. but because it was the last way to show her respect. The last chance to do something for her that wasn’t tainted with deceit or manipulation.

You owed her that much. Even if she hated you forever, even if she never looked at you the same way again, it would come from you— not from Marjorie or anyone else who wanted to see her destroyed. You had already broken her heart, but you couldn’t let them shatter her spirit. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. It felt impossible, like standing in front of a firing squad, but you had to do it. The power had to be yours. This was the only way to make sure she knew the truth wasn’t a weapon someone else could wield against her.

You looked at her. If you’re going to lose everything, at least lose it by owning what you did. Not by running away.

“Mom, can we talk?” The words rushed out before you could second-guess yourself. She turned, her expression now serious. “Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” You hesitated. You wanted to tell her everything—about Joel, about Marjorie, about the love that was blossoming in the shadows. You had to. “Just... something.” You started biting your lip.

"Something?" she pressed, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of concern. She stepped closer, her eyes searching your face as if trying to read your thoughts. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” Your chest tightened, the truth pressing down on you like a boulder. “It’s about Joel,” you blurted out, unable to stop the words from spilling over. Her face stiffened at his name, her posture straightening. “What about Joel?” she asked, her tone sharper now. The air grew heavier with each passing second, the silence between you stretching like a chasm. "Did he do anything to you?" her worry was obvious.

"N-no..." You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “We’ve... been seeing each other.” The words were heavy and raw. Her face shifted, confusion and disbelief warring for dominance. “What do you mean ‘seeing each other’?” she asked with a laugh, though you knew she understood exactly what you meant. “I mean we’ve been... together,” you admitted. Her face twisted. “Together?” she repeated, the word snapping like a whip. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Mom, I love him.” Her laughter was harsh, bitter. “You love him? Joel? My husband? Your stepdad?” Her voice cracked with fury and pain.

You hated to hear that. You hadn’t realized quite yet who he was to you. "He's not my dad, momㅡ"

“How long has this been going on?” she interjects. “Since... before the wedding,” you confessed, and the words hit her like a physical blow. She staggered back, her hand flying to her chest. “Before the wedding?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “So you’ve been lying to me this entire time? Both of you?" Tears streaked her face, but they did nothing to soften the anger in her eyes. “How could you? How could heㅡ ?!” Her voice rose. "Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?" her voice cracking. "It's not a joke, Mom," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want this to happen, but it did. I—"

"Didn't want this to happen?" she cut you off, her eyes blazing. "You expect me to believe that? That it just... happened? His dick just fell into you, right? You betrayed me! My own daughter, with my fucking husband!" She threw her hands up, pacing the room like a caged animal, her anguish filling every corner. “You’ve destroyed everything—everything! How long have I been the fool, sitting at home, playing happy family while you... while you—”

“Stop it!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?!” she snapped, whirling to face you. “You don’t think I understand betrayal? You don’t think I know what it feels like to be stabbed in the back by the two people who should love me the most?” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing erratic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said desperately, tears spilling freely now. “But I love him, Mom. I love him.”

“You love him?” she echoed mockingly. “You love my husband? Do you even hear yourself? What kind of daughter—what kind of person does this?” The venom in her voice stung, but you couldn’t back down now. “I’m not proud of this,” you said, your voice quiet and steady. “But it’s the truth. I love him, and he loves me.” Your voice rises again. She stared at you in disbelief, her jaw tightening. “Loves you?” she spat, her tone dripping with scorn. “Is that what he told you? That he loves you? That this is some grand romance and not just another one of his selfish, disgusting whims?”

“Stop it,” you said quietly, but she pressed on, her anger building like a storm. “Do you even know him?” she hissed. “The real him? Or are you just blinded by whatever lies he’s been feeding you? He’s a liar, a manipulator, and now he’s turned my own goddamn daughter against me.”

“You don’t know anything about us!” you shot back, your voice rising to match hers. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt? The only one who’s ever felt unloved? You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” she interrupted, her voice rising to a shout. “What don’t I understand? That you’re selfish? That you’re reckless? That you’ve thrown away everything we had for... for him?” The words hit you like a slap, but they also ignited something inside you. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend you’re some kind of victim!” you yelled. “You’re not perfect, Mom! You’re not blameless!” Her face twisted in rage and pain. “So now this is my fault?” she demanded. “You’re blaming me for your choices? For his choices? You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m not blaming you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion, as you were sobbing. “But you don’t get to act like you’re innocent either. You’ve pushed people away your whole life, and now you’re acting surprised that someone finally—"

“Stop,” she said coldly, her voice low but dangerous. “Don’t you dare try to twist this around. Don’t you dare try to justify what you’ve done.” The room fell silent for a moment. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter but no less filled with anger. “I gave you everything,” she said, her voice shaky. “I sacrificed everything for you. And this is how you repay me?”

“I know you didn’t want me,” you suddenly snapped, the years of buried hurt rising to the surface. “I always heard you fighting with Dad, saying I was your biggest mistake! Isn't that why dad left?" Her eyes widened, stunned by the shift in the conversation. “What?” she said, her voice barely audible. “I know,” you repeated, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. “I heard it all. I wasn’t deaf, Mom. I was a kid but i wasn't fucking stupid! I knew you never wanted me.”

Her face hardened, a mixture of guilt and defiance flashing across her features. “Of course, I didn’t fucking want you!” she shouted, the admission slicing through the air. “I was twenty years old! I didn’t want a kid, and guess what? I can’t change that! I can’t just grab you and shove you back into my fucking uterus, can I? But i didn't abandon you, Iㅡ"

“I already knew that,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You didn’t know,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “You didn't know shit! You’re just trying to make me the bad guy so you can feel better about the awful, disgusting thing that you did.” The room seemed to pulse. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But it did, and I can’t change it.” She shook her head, her hands trembling. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ve destroyed everything. Our family. My marriage. Everything.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words feeling inadequate even as they left your lips. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“You’re just like him,” she spat. “Selfish. Just like your fucking dad."

taglist ⭐️ ㅡ @eviispunk @joeldjarin @whimsiwitchy @guelyury @untamedheart81 @dollyxzy @mybvalentine @am-3-thyst @klajmekk @cuteanimalmama @corinnedollete @vickie5446 @gabymalikk

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the dancer and the angel part 2

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: lyra kane is closer to your boyfriend than ever seen as grayson has just been put of her team in the grandest game and it’s making you a little nervous, you don’t trust her and you don’t want her too close to him

parts: part 1 part 3 part 4

warnings: mild swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: I had quite a few requests for a part 2, so here she is… trying to get into my productive era right now (fake it till you make it right??)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234

RECAP

“Whose team is he on?” I say quickly.

“Odette Morales and Lyra Kane.”

***

Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. The name rattles around my brain, echoing off of my skull, only to replay in my mind again. Of course it just has to be Lyra Kane that he’s on a team with. That breathtaking woman with beauty that shouldn’t be possible for a human. Yeah, that Lyra Kane. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, so I express nothing instead. Why did it have to be her? Out of all of the players.

I’m not jealous, I try to convince myself, I’m just concerned. Yes, that’s it. Except it isn’t and the only person I’m lying to is pathetic little old me. I am ferociously jealous. It scolds me torturously, raging from the pit of my stomach, crawling under my skin to settle comfortably.

Grayson loves me, I know this. I felt the kisses we’d shared on the beach moments before he’d gone into the stupid house. They still linger on my lips now, I could taste him slightly, I’d heard him say he loved me, only me and yet I can’t get the feeling out of my system. The jealousy always manages to seep its way back in. I’m sick with a disease called envy.

I don’t want to be the jealous girl, the possessive one that people roll their eyes at or avoid. That’s not me. I didn’t want it to be me. But deep down I’m petrified that that’s who I’m becoming. I sigh, realising I was just going to have to swallow it. What could I do about it now? Besides I know Grayson, I trust Grayson. He wouldn’t let her try anything on, would he?

***

Hours of waiting and not watching. We couldn’t see the players at all. Or hear them. Anxiety is killing me slowly from the inside out, gnawing happily at my organs. I spin the ring on my middle finger as my leg jigs up and down, counting down the seconds until sunrise, four-thousand one-hundred and eight-two to go.

“You know you don’t have to look so panicked all the time,” Nash sighs, slumping down beside me.

“I’m not panicked,” I say, forcing a laugh.

“Sure darlin’,” he says, “my name’s Roger and I have a pet turtle.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to smile, “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“It’s completely safe in there, we designed it that way,” he explains slowly, soothingly, “no one’s going to get hurt and there’s an emergency button just in case.”

“Okay,” I nod, exhaling.

I don’t believe him and his words don’t offer me much comfort. My overthinking brain is currently listing all of the ways Grayson could possibly die in the next ten minutes. But Nash is trying and I’m thankful to have him.

“At least pretend you’re convinced,” he drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maybe I’m not convinced that everything’s going to be fine but I am convinced Nash has a sixth sense called ‘big brother knows all’ because for some reason he always knew everyone’s thoughts and feelings, even when they were trying to hide it. Either that or he’s a mind reader.

“I am,” I tell him, as convincingly as I could muster, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“Shit!” Jameson yells from across the room, perfect timing as per usual.

“What?” I hear Avery ask quickly.

“The powers gone out,” he says, smacking the table so hard I didn’t know how he didn’t break a bone.

“What do you mean the powers gone out?” I say, standing up and walking over.

“I mean they have no light, no heaters and they ate completely locked in by the mechanisms,” he explains, gesturing to the blank screens.

“We’ve lost all connection to them as well,” Xander murmurs, eyes darting from left to right at each and every screen.

“Everything?” I exclaim, trying not to get over-anxious and failing miserably.

“Yes,” Jameson confirms.

“You’re panicking her,” Nash scolds him.

“Well she asked I’m not going to lie,” he defends.

“Not the time to argue guys,” Avery rolls her eyes, getting back to the computer. Jameson follows her lead, trying to reconnect the lost signals.

“Shit shit shit,” he groans as more things shut off. He slams his hands down on the keyboard and starts guessing random buttons, “Xand help me out here,”

“Don’t you worry, dearest brother,” Xander replies calmly, “I’m working on it.”

Silence hits us like the dead. We’re all intently staring up the layers and layers of code coming up on the several screens. I can’t understand any of it.

“This is Python,” Jameson points at one of the scenes.

“Yeah and this is Java,” Xander nods, “but I have no clue what this is.”

“Shit,” Jameson curses, running a hand through his hair, reminding me of Grayson when he was overstimulated.

“Not yet,” he replies, turning to the other Hawthorne brother present, “Nash do you remember when I was in fifth grade-“

“The de-coder book?” he says before Xander even finishes.

“Please,” he nods sharply.

“Got it,” he replies, rushing out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” I whisper to Avery

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, looking as clueless as me offering me some comfort.

“Who would even cut the power?” Jameson asks to nobody in particular.

Avery and I share a look. I already know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Grayson is in there, does she know that?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, chewing the inside of her cheek

“She?” Jameson interrupts. We both ignore him.

“Don’t you think he’ll be her prime target,” I say, the worry warping my tone a little in a way that made me sound a little too vulnerable for my liking.

“Target?” Jameson says. We ignore him, again.

“Most likely, if it is her,” Avery sighs, tapping her bottom lip melodically.

Jameson looks at Xander, baffled, “are they speaking in code?”

“I’m kind of concentrating right now Jamie, please don’t talk to me,” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the computer screens as he attempts to decode.

“Who are you talking about?” Jameson raises his voice a little, forcing me and Avery to address his question.

“This could be Eve,” Avery says softly.

“Eve?” Xander says, freezing mid-type and actually lifting his head up.

“No surely not,” Jameson shakes his head in denial.

“Think about it,” I say, “who else can you think that would want go sabotage this game?”

“Anyone who fancies a good bit of money,” he states, “and it could be nothing at all.”

“A power cut isn’t nothing,” I argue.

“I hate to agree the circumstance,” Avery exhales, “but it’s true, this feels like a threat of sorts.”

“And we can’t contact the players meaning anything could happen right now,” I say, worry bleeding into my voice.

Jameson’s face softens.

“But they’re locked in,” Nash points out, sauntering back in, “no one is getting in or out, that means they can’t be hurt.”

He hands the decoding book to Xander who frantically flips through the pages to find something in particular.

“Windows can be smashed,” I point out.

“You think whoever this is would risk smashing a window,” Nash asks, with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how these people work,” I snap, throwing my hands up in the arm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

I look up to see my shaking limbs. Immediately they drop to my sides and I desperately try to still them, “no I’m not-“

“Breathe a little okay, Gray will be fine,” he reassures me, his tone placid, as he delicately takes my shaking hands between his.

“Look as long as they all stay put no one should get hurt,” Avery says calmly, “the glass on the windows are double glazed and harder to smash than the average window, that is if they’re going to risk that.”

“Besides Xander’s on it,” Jameson adds.

Xander sticks a thumb into the air, still audibly tapping the keyboard with the other, “whoever did this is incredibly skilled at hacking and annoyingly so,” he mutters in reply.

No one talks. We are all just stood in silence, barely daring to breathe not wanting to break Xander’s concentration. Mine and Avery’s hands are intertwined, gripping the others so tightly that our fingers are white. Xander is frantic. He’s practically sweating as he types quickly and clicks buttons I didn’t even know existed. And just when it seemed like he might be getting somewhere more and more boxes of undeciphered code popped up. I’m close to being hopeless when Xander leans back in his seat.

“We’re back up and running,” Xander announces, “lights, buttons, connections, locks, everything.”

Avery and I squeal, hugging each other tightly. Relief floods through my body and I’m giddy with it. Xander stands up and breathes out slowly.

I kiss his cheek in affection and gratitude, platonically, “thank you Xander.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“I owe you a scone,” Jameson tells with a slap on the back.

“That, you do,” he nods with a wide grin.

“What do we tell the players?” Nash asks, reminding us that the game is still going and the players will be wondering what the hell just went on.

“Do we tell them the truth?” Xander asks.

“We don’t even know the truth,” Jameson tells him.

“Then we tell them what we know,” Avery says, “Nash?”

“You got it kid,” he nods.

Xander slides an arms around me.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks,” Nash drawls through the microphone, “brief technical snafu on our end, but we’re back. You still have sixty three minutes until dawn. As long as at least one team makes it down to the dock by the deadline, the rules still stand.”

It’s fine, everything will be fine. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty seconds left. I rest my head on Xander’s shoulder and he puts his head on mine. I think he’s the only thing that’s holding me up at the moment. If he weren’t I’m pretty sure my body would be some sort of odd shaped puddle of consumed thoughts on the carpet. Only one sentence goes through my head, over and over and over. I can’t wait to have my arms around Grayson again.

***

It’s almost sunrise when we make our way to the dock so we’ll be there for when the players make it out. If they make it out. I walk in between Xander and Nash, trying to keep up with their obscenely large leg strides. Avery and Jameson lead the way holding hands. My heart squeezes, it won’t be too long before I see Grayson again. I know it seemed stupid, we had only been apart for a few hours, but those hours had felt like weeks given all of the events that had taken place. Not to mentioned the long prolonging wait of which I couldn’t see or hear him.

And there was still something going around in my head. Something about him being with Lyra Kane for this long in such close proximity. It was grating at me, but I push the feelings down and bury them under a mound that I’m trying to ignore.

“Want to have a bet?” Xander ruffles my hair, stealing me from being consumed by my own thoughts.

I slap him away, “I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wager with a Hawthorne.”

“What’s my brother been telling you?” he asks.

“Mum’s the word,” I wink back, tapping my nose.

“What’s your bet on little brother?” Nash asks.

“What team will make it first,” Xander grins, mischievous glint in his eye.

His brotehr grins towards the sky, “had a feeling it might be.”

“I’m bias then,” I scoff.

“Okay so your Hearts,” Xander says.

“Hang on I never agreed to this bet,” I exclaim, holding my hands up to surrender.

“Whoever wins gets a scone,” he bribes me.

“That only benefits you,” Nash points out.

“Actually I would also benefit, I like scones,” I smile sheepishly,

“See? Who are you voting Nash?” Xander asks.

“I’ll go with Clubs, I’m rooting for Gigi,” Nash shrugs.

Xander nods, “that means I’m going with Diamonds.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Yes I do, otherwise it’s uneven,” he says. I wasn’t going to argue.

“Who would your original vote gone to?” I ask.

He smiles at me, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “no one shall ever know.”

“What are you three wittering about,” Jameson says, interrupting the train of conversation as he turns around.

“Probably something better than the lovesick whispers you two are sharing,” Xander teases.

“Xand-“

The thumping of footsteps cut him off. It’s a race. Hearts and Diamonds are out. Savannah is the fastest, Rohan hot on her heels. Though Lyra takes them both over in a matter of seconds. She must be a runner. Would explain the to-die-for figure. Grayson is close behind her thought Odette trailed behind slightly, but for a woman of her age she’s doing remarkably well. They all arrive within milliseconds of each other, breathless and rosy-cheeked.

“Congratulations Diamonds and Hearts, you’ve made it,” Avery smiles.

“Where’s Clubs?” Savannah asks, its only then I notice how her longs blonde hair has been chopped off unevenly. It makes her look even colder than before, sending a chill down my spine

“Still playing,” Jameson says.

“Gray,” I breathe in relief, as he takes me into his arms.

Something about the hug feels unnatural maybe even slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. We’d both been awake for far too long. I couldn’t trust my judgement on this little sleep.

“You okay?” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Fine,” he replies, so only I can hear him.

“Good.”

It hit sunrise and something sinks in my stomach. Clubs haven’t made it. Gigi is out of the game. This is going to destroy her. We all wait in silence. All knowing Clubs have failed, all knowing the disappointment we’d have to see on their faces. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, I can hear it in my ears. I grip onto Grayson’s hand tightly. I catch Lyra’s honey golden eyes. She looks me up and down as I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t read her body language towards me, it was difficult to make out what she was thinking or feelings. I turn away and try not to think too much of it.

There’s sound coming from the left of us and in the distance there are three figures. Everyone’s eyes snap to the three remaining players who’s hearts are probably all sinking in realisation that they were nit longer players in this game. Then I notice what’s in Knox’s arms or rather who… Knox is carrying a bleeding Gigi. My stomach twists. Grayson freezes beside me.

“Put her down,” Grayson says sternly, his voice commanding authority.

Immediately Knox gently places Gigi down, making sure she was stable before he completely let go. We rush to her side immediately. Grayson putting a protective arm around her shoulder, his eyes flitting between the gash on her head and her face.

“Oh god Gigi,” I murmur tentatively touching her bloodied head to assess how severe it is.

“I’m fine,” she winces, blinking back tears.

“You are not,” Grayson says, his voice hard almost empty, “you’re injured Gigi.”

“Who among us is not occasionally concussed?” she says happily.

“Our team is out of the game, go ahead say it we’be been eliminated,” Knox says turning to Avery.

She ignores him and approaches Gigi, “are you okay?”

She nodded with a smile laced with the pain he thought she could hide. Maybe it was invisible to the others, but not to me. I’ve been under the same mask she’s trying to hide behind now. I understand. Grayson keeps his arm around her and I keep my hand in hers. She squeezes my palm and I squeeze hers back. I’m here, I wanted to scream, I’m here for you.

“Diamonds and Hearts, you’re onto the next phase of the game. Clubs… there’s always next year,” Avery finally brings herself to say.

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson adds.

***

I don’t leave Gigi’s side until Nash has patched her up properly. ‘Stay with her, please,’ Grayson had murmured after we’d shared a quick kiss. He’d had something to discuss back at the dock with Odette. And Lyra. So I did, I stayed by Gigi’s side through every wince, every hand squeeze, every stitch.

“All patch up darlin’,” Nash nods, tipping his cowboy hat towards her slightly.

“Thanks,” she smiles brightly, it’s an unnatural fluorescent brightness that she radiated. Too bright, too artificial.

“You feeling okay?” I make sure, looking at her head.

“Fine,” she replied, gently feeling over her stitches.

Before anyone can say anything else there is a sharp knock at the door interrupting the thread of conversation. Nash answers. Brady walks in. Something was off about that guy. I got a bad feeling when I was around that guy. Nash gets up to leave and as much as I want to stay, it’s not my place to and I know that.

“Holler if you need anything,” Nash tells Gigi.

“We’re not going far,” I reassure her.

“Don’t worry about me,” she beams up at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “really I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” I say, my voice so low I’m not sure if she can hear me.

The way her eyes soften, revealing an ounce of vulnerability, indicates she has, “can we talk later? Maybe on the boat back?”

“Of course we can,” I say, squeezing her hand in mine one last time, before standing up to leave her to talk to Brady.

She nods with a small smile which I return, then turn to follow Nash who’s holding eye contact with Brady intensely. As soon as we’re out of the room and a few paces down the corridor Nash blurts out, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I grimace, at least someone else had picked up on Brady’s sketchy vibes, “he gives me a weird feeling.”

“Same here kid,” he nods in reply, then pauses slightly before saying, “you go and find Gray, I’ll be close by if she needs me.”

I fumble over my words. How did he know again? He has to be some sort of mind reader. I make a mental note to discuss it with Xander.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure,” he says, placing a brotherly hand in my shoulder, “I know you’re still worried, you’re horrible at hiding it.”

“Thanks Nash,” I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face,

“No worries kid,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin as I rush off to reunite with Grayson.

***

The boat left for the mainland at noon, that was when Gigi, Knox and now Odette were leaving, as she traded her place for Brady’s. But the players had been told to try and get some rest before the next phase. I’d also been up all night and could feel myself growing tired, so Grayson and I were currently laying on our bed in each other’s arms. It feels nice to finally breathe a little. I don’t feel the weight of stress from my jealousy or guilt or worry, I just feel normal.

“Do you think Gigi will be okay,” I murmur into Grayson.

“Nash is used to patching up our ailments,” he responds, his tone a little distant. It made me iffy.

“Yeah but I mean after being cast out of the game,” I reply, “I know I wouldn’t feel great if I were in her position.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, blowing out a short breath.

“I’m worried about her,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” he whispers, “I’m really worried about her.”

“I think we’re going to talk later,” I tell him, hoping it might provide himnwith some sort of solace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, “I hope she might get whatever it is that’s hurting her off of her chest.”

“Make sure she’s okay for me, okay?” he makes sure, “no matter what.”

“Of course,” I say, a little confused. Why had he said it like that? Like something bad might happen? Like I might lose him? I brush off the feeling. I put it down to overreacting, as usual.

We fall into a long silence as I trace different shapes on chest with my finger tip. I slowly drag it along, with no specific shape in mind. A blank expression is present on his face and I can see he’s deep in thought. There’s something on his mind and I have a horrible feeling it has something to do with the unseen, unheard happenings of the grandest game.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him, doe-eyed.

“Hmmm nothing,” he says, refusing to look me in the eye.

“You sure?” I press on.

“I’m sure,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

The kiss was off and I could see something was bothering him but he didn’t want to tell me, I’d wait until he was ready. Even if it were forever.

“What was it like in there?” I ask, attempting to change the subject, “the game.”

“It really was the grandest game,” he whispers, “like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Really?”

“They outdid themselves thoroughly,” he says.

“I bet,” I nod, nuzzling further into him affectionately.

“You really couldn’t hear or see anything the whole time?” he asks, a hint of worry delicately woven into his tone. It was so brief you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him. But I know Gray.

“Nothing, it was like hell,” I say with a small tired laugh, “it was killing me that I had no clue if you were okay.”

“I was fine,” he replied quickly, almost curtly.

“Well I know that now,” I yawn and feel my eyes begin to close slowly but I fight to keep them open.

“You’re tired,” Grayson says, the ghost of a smile faintly touching his lips.

I shake my head in denial, “no I’m not,” I protest, “not even a little bit.”

“Go the sleep love,” he whispers.

“I want to talk to you though,” I pout, rubbing my eyes.

“We‘ll have plenty of time tomorrow,” he says, playing with my hair.

“Okay,” I murmur, letting myself fall into a dimension of much needed sleep, finally with my love back in my arms.

***

I wake up in the middle of darkness, though there is light desperately trying to make it through the black out blinds. I wonder how long I’d been asleep for, it couldn’t be past noon though. I’m aware of the coldness on the other side of the bed. Grayson wasn’t there. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually when we were home, if it were the early hours he would either be swimming or having a wander and a read to make himself tired again.

I hear the door handle turn slowly and the sound of his all too familiar footsteps hitting the floor. I crawl out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I make my way toward him. Though as I do he stands still, frozen, like he can’t move. Concern latches onto my throat.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tentatively touching his arm.

He recoils away quickly, like I’ve hit a tender nerve or a bruise of sorts.

“Are you hurt?” I ask worriedly

“No,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold.

It hurts a little more than it should, he’s never usually so blunt, so cutthroat. Not with me anyway.

“Where have you been?” I say, fishing for an honest reply.

He meets my eyes for the first time. Swimming in endless pools of grey is a mournful sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracks. Grayson’s voice never cracks.

“Gray?” I say in a ghost of the whisper, the word not even feeling real once it is said. My pulse quickens suddenly and a large lump that I cannot swallow forms in my throat.

He’s pale, his face is regretful. Hollow. Lifeless. My heart sinks. I already know.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking nearly breaking like weak houses in an earthquake.

He shakes his head glossy eyed, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” I grit through my teeth trying to prevent the thick emotion building up in my chest from overflowing.

There is a long pause. A deadly silence that seemed to last for days.

He parts his lips and utters the words, “I kissed her.”

It’s like a masked killer has dragged me from the comfort and safety of my own bed in the middle of the night, taken me into the thick of the wood where the vegetation is overgrown and no one will ever hear you scream. The part where it’s hard to see the sky or tell day from night and where no birds sing. And once we’re there, he takes a sharpened knife, laced with the most excruciating poison and slowly opens the left side of my chest, carefully ripping out my beating heart full of blood to destroy in his hands at his leisure. Grinning as her leaves my broken body to bleed out, dying heartless and lifeless. It’s like the person under that mask is Grayson. The one person I put all of my love and trust into. The one person who I thought would saved me from the masked killer is the masked killer. What a fucking joke.

“Who?” I ask, my tone low, dangerous, angry, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

“I kissed Lyra,” he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, a state I’d never witnessed him in before. But right now I’m too broken to care.

My heart shatters into a million pieces on the spot. And then I am numb with agony.

a/n: so that was a fun ending :) hope you enjoyed part 2 my loves <33 and thanks to everyone who requested it, I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it

NOTE I DONT THINK GRAYSON IS A CHEATER!! LIKE AT ALL. MY BABY WOULD NEVER!! but I thought I’d spice things up a bit yk, for the ✨drama✨

ALSO the de-coding thingy when the power went out if probs completely wrong on my part but I was allowed to drop computer science last year and I did ;) so I was just waffling, I know nothing about computers other than they can type, play music and they provide me with google and amazon

TIG masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: Andrew keeping us angry this fine friday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You leave your headphones around your neck and tuck your phone into your pocket. You focus on the simple steps of loading the coffee machine as your grandmother mutters and shuffles away. You can hear her harrumph as she goes into the front room and the groan of her chair as she sits heavily.

The scratch of dry pages sounds as she gives no acknowledgement to the intruder. You stop in the archway as a chill runs through you. You’re sick to your stomach. The walls are closing in. They always feel a bit tight, suffocating even, but you’re really trapped. He’s not going to stop. He’s showing you just that. 

You make yourself keep going. You come out into the front room. Andy stands by the bay window, looking out onto the unmowed lawn. His shoulders are straight even as he has his hands in his pockets. He wears a pair of sleek pants and a powder blue button-up with short sleeves. He looks as put together as ever, definitely out of place in your grandmother’s cramped house. 

“Coffee on,” you croak to your grandma and Andy turns, his lips twitching as his cheek dimples, “can we talk outside?” 

He tilts his head, “sure,” he accepts, “Cassie,” he nods at your grandma as he struts across the room, “sorry for disturbing you. You have a lovely home.” 

Your grandmother rocks the chair and looks up at him. There’s an arch in her brow that isn’t entirely bothered, “thank you, Andrew? Was it?” 

“Andy,” he grins. 

“Hm,” she grumbles and narrows her eyes, “sorry to hear about your kid.” 

“Thanks,” his voice falters, “getting through.” 

He nears and you quickly turn away, keeping your distance from him as he follows you the door. You can barely get it open before he catches up. He holds the door above your head as he trails you outside and you stumble down the step. You spin to face him, crossing your arms as you maintain a wide breadth from him. He stops on the bottom stair and watches you. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask crisply. 

“I’m trying to help you.” 

“I don’t need help--” 

“You sure about that?” He challenges swiftly. 

You wince and look away. You’re embarrassed. You never invited friends over because they weren’t welcome. Even Kara only ever saw the outside of your grandma’s house and you never told her about the nasty remarks or the boiling silences that had you fleeing like a frog from hot water. 

You swallow and purse your lips tightly, “I’m sure. I’m just fine.” 

“Can’t be easy, living like that,” he remarks. 

“Stop,” you keep your gaze averted. 

“Not just the peeling walls and whatever, but her, she’s not very nice, is she?” 

“I told you to stop,” you snap at him, facing him, “you do not know me or my life.” 

“You’re the one closing me out,” he accuses, “honey, please, I want to know. Has anyone else even asked? Checked in?” 

“I have friends--” 

“Yeah, but they got their own live, don’t they? Like, what’s her name, Kayla?” He puts a hand up, then snaps his fingers, “Kara, yeah, that’s it. Sure, you had your day out but what’s she doing for you now? Miles away.” 

“I’ll figure it out. I am,” you sniff, “it’s not your business, Andy.” 

“You know, making yourself suffer isn’t some great show of honour, right? You’re just spitting in the face of the escape you’ve been hoping for--” 

“No, not with you,” you sneer. 

“How do you know that? Why can’t it be me?” 

“You know--” 

“I know, I lied. I hurt you. I’ve apologised over and over and I’ll keep doing that as long as I need to. Honey, let me ask you, when has anyone ever said sorry to you? When have they ever cared about your feelings? About your forgiveness?” He cranes to look at the house then back to you, “did your parents ever say sorry for leaving you here? Does your grandma ever say sorry for insulting you? How about Kara? Does she ever apologise for ignoring you for that skinny kid she’s got nipping at her heels?” 

“How do you know that?” You exclaim, “what-- why--” you can barely speak as your head reels. You don’t understand how he knows about Kara or how he found you or why he just won’t give up. “Andy, I—you can’t replace Jacob, alright? I don’t want anything from you. I can’t-- I can’t take it. Alright? It’s not right.” 

“I’m not trying to replace him, he’s gone,” Andy drops his shoulders and steps onto even ground, “I’m trying to start over and I’m offering you the same thing. You don’t have to stay in this shit hole. You don’t have to wallow like this. I could get you into a better school. I can make a few calls, get you in at UMass or Boston, close to me--” 

“What the fuck?” You burst out, “what-- no. No. You’re... you... I don’t want that.” 

He’s quiet. His brows knit as he stops just a step away, “why not?” 

You stare at him, stunned. You should want it, shouldn’t you? To get out? To have better? Opportunity doesn’t knock on your door every day but this is not that. This is strange. He hasn’t said so but you know there’s more than just generosity at play. More than a mourning father trying to do good. 

“Because I don’t want to be anyone’s burden. So no thank you. I am not interested in whatever you’re offering. I can’t trust you. Everything between us is based on a lie,” you say, “you need to understand that and move on.” 

He stares at you. His blue eyes search your defiant face and he blows out slowly through his nose. He pushes his shoulders back and stands at his full height. 

“No, you don’t understand,” his face darkens and you back up, “you don’t understand everything I can give you. Everything I could do for you. You don’t get it. You’re young and you have no idea because you’ve never had any of those things.” He steps closer as you inch away, “but what you really don’t understand is what I can take away from you.” His lashes flick down and he sighs, “I didn’t want it to be like this but it’s the only way to make you see.” 

“What do you mean?” You utter. 

He smiles, not a real smile, a wry, almost mournful smile. He shrugs and you flinch as he sidesteps you. You keep out of his way as he strides down the walkway and you turn to watch his back. He stops at the end and peeks back, “you and me, we were meant to be together. Can’t you see that? It wasn’t chance, it’s fate.” 

He puts his back to you once more and struts to his silver SUV. You stay as you are, trapped in everything he said and didn’t. He’s not done and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop him.  

Or maybe it’s not you who needs to stop him. 

🎮

It isn’t your first time in a precinct. You have vague memories of similar scenes from your childhood; some faded by the years, others out of pain. As you pass through the doors, doubt stops you in your tracks. How many times did they send you home with your mother still reeking of alcohol or let your father out still in one of his rages? 

It’s been a long time and the world is different. Isn’t it? Besides, you’re an adult now. You have a voice. You better start using it. 

You approach the desk where a man in uniform sits behind thick plexiglass. You cough to get his attention and bounce nervously on the balls of your feet. You can’t think how to begin so you just start talking. 

“Uh, hi, um, I think I need to file a police report?” You say. 

He looks at you dully, “for what?”��

“Well, er, I... don’t know what it would be technically called, I guess. But, this guy, uh, a man... he won’t leave me alone.” 

The officer scoffs, “really? You young ones...” 

“It’s not... I don’t know him, sir, so--” 

“Let me guess? He whistled at you on the street? Or maybe he offered to buy you a drink?” He narrows his eyes. 

“No, sir. He’s been following me. He showed up at my work and my house and I told him to go but he... won’t.” 

He rolls his eyes but grabs a piece of paper. He shakes his head and slides it under the slot, “fine, fill it out. We’ll put the incident on file. Unfortunately, we don’t lay charges for being social.” 

Great. So you were wrong. Again. And why would they take you seriously? No one ever does. 

You sit and fill out the form. Your info, Andy’s info, and a written recount of each incident. You think you have the dates right. You bring it back to the desk. 

“I have texts too, if that helps.” 

“Nah,” he takes the form as you push it through, “not like you’re going to court.” 

You grimace. You hate being talked to like you’re stupid, you’d rather be ignored. 

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you grumble. 

“Hold up,” he says, “gotta do a quick check before we file this.” 

He types into his computer. He looks between the paper and the screen. You wait. What a waste of time. Now you’re sure he’s just trying to make you look stupid. 

“Where is this Andrew Barber from? He’s not in the local records.” 

“I don’t... know,” you blink. He said something about Boston U? “Massachussetts, maybe? I think he’s a lawyer.” 

“Pretty common name...” he mutters as he hits several keys, “hmm, let’s see. Lawyer... sure, makes sense—ha, assistant DA? All the way down here?” He looks at you, “alright, honey, why don’t you go have more fun on Google?” 

“No, it’s not--” 

“You know it’s obstruction to file a false report,” he says. 

“No, it’s true. I told you, I have messages--” 

“So you don’t know him but you’re texting him?” He challenges, “I’m advising you to leave right now before I book you for wasting my time.” 

You exhale and shake your head, dropping your shoulders as you turn. You drag your feet across the gray tile and to the door. So much for trying. Just like everything else, it’s a lost cause. You’re starting to believe Andy. He might be your only chance. You really are that pathetic. 

No, you won’t give in. You might not have had much in life. Maybe not a nice house or a good family or even done anything great but you’re still your own person. You’re working towards that. You’re going to school, you’re making minimum wage, you’re doing what you have. It’s a means to an end. Andy can’t be that end. 

You don’t know what to do. It’s not like you can ask your grandma. She’d never listen long enough to understand and even if she did, would she care? 

You wander down the street and sit on a bench, numb as you try to think of something. You clutch your phone and look down at the screen. You have one lifeline left but is it too much to ask? You unlock the phone and find Kara’s name. 

You hit the call button and raise the phone to your ear. Maybe she knows what to do. She always had boy troubles; you remember when Michael had a crush on her in grade eleven. 

“Heya! How are ya, girl?” She answers with a giggle. 

“Kara, I’m...” you search the street and your eyes water, “not good.” 

“Oh,” her tone falls, “oh, is everything okay?” 

“No.” 

“What’s going on? Are you hurt? Is your grandma okay?” She hushes someone and you hear rustling as she moves on the other end. 

“Kara, you remember that boy I met online. The one I was supposed to meet?” 

“Yeah, the one that stood you up.” 

“It wasn’t a boy. I mean. It wasn’t who I thought it was...” it all comes tumbling out before you can stop yourself, “it was his dad.” 

“What?” She nearly shrieks, “ew. Oh my god, what the fuck?” 

“Yeah, and he...” you see a silver SUV and your words crackle. The window rolls down as the car slows and Andy peers out at you. 

He knows Kara. He saw her at the con and somehow he learned more about her. How did he do that? Obviously, he has connections. Far above you. And her. If he can find out who she is, where you are, what else can he do? 

You’ve already told her too much. 

“Sorry, Kar, I gotta go--” 

“Wait, wait, wait, you can’t drop that on me and just bail,” Kara squeals. 

“I’m sorry, I just... I’ll call you back.” 

You hang up and lower the phone. You stare at Andy as he parks and gets out of the car. He shuts the door and crosses the pavement, turning to sit beside you. He peers around casually. 

“So, should I expect a visit from the police?” He asks. 

You sit back and scoff, “whatever, dude.” 

“I got a lot of buddies on the force. They don’t mess with DA’s, even out of district. If you gave me a chance, you’d know these things about me.” 

You don’t say anything. He’s not listening and he’s not going to. You should be used to that. 

“So, do we keep going?” He asks. 

You slide to the edge of the bench. You don’t look at him. You just walk away. He’s your problem. You can’t make him Kara’s too. Not when he’s showing you exactly how far he’ll go. 

[enkvyu]

"good morning."

"what."

your breath condenses as you exhale in soften shock, the presence of your boyfriend waiting by your bedroom door at a time when the moon still shone simply perplexing to you. gojo smiles, kindly, patiently, as you sniffle and force the gears in your head to turn.

finally, you shuffle up and sit upright in bed. "what are you doing here?" you croak, throat protesting from the lack of use.

"i came as fast as i could when you told me you were sick."

"it's almost three in the morning."

"that's why i said good morning."

your body takes a screenshot.

gojo laughs in a single breath and pushes himself off the doorframe, untucking his hands from behind his back.

he isn't in his usual jujutsu uniform you realise, as he steps into a spot where the moonlight shines through your window and spills onto the carpet. instead of his uniform, he's wearing a tight black shirt that's riddled with cuts and it's styled with an outrageous amount of scars on his face.

you can't help it, worry forces you up.

gojo catches you in his arms as you attempt to get out of bed, the rush of motion causing your head to spin but you don't care, you couldn't possibly. you trace a scar by his lips with your thumb.

"what happened to you?"

his lips quirk upward and you catch the movement with the tip of your finger. "do you think i look tougher with the scars?"

"what do i think? are you serious? you look like you’re on your deathbed, what happened?" your voice rises and he shushes you gently.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry. don't be mad, please?"

"why are you covered in scars?" you say instead.

"i got into a fight."

there's another scar across his cheek and you trace it. "with who?"

gojo tilts his head towards your hand so that your palm ends up caressing his cheek. "no one important especially because, you know, he's dead now."

"and you're definitely okay?"

he nods into your hand. "i think the one who isn't okay, is you."

you sniffle. "i took medicine already, i'll be fine. but you, god gojo, where do i even start?"

"you can start by getting over your fever."

your boyfriend tries to wiggle out of your hold but you only clench tighter, intent on keeping him close by. "are you sure you're okay?"

the smile he gives you is pure sweetness. he leans forward to kiss your cheek and you feel his grin even then. "of course. i’m more than okay, you’ll never guess who i just won against."

there's still doubt in your gaze when he pulls back and he laughs, breath hitting your face.

"i already went and got checked up by a doctor that i really trust." he adds.

it’s hard to not believe him when he looks at you like this, so you relent, sitting back. “shouldn't you be sleeping and resting up, then?”

gojo takes something out from the bag you didn't know he had been carrying, and places it on your bedside table. "shouldn't you? how could i sleep well knowing you were probably suffocating from all that snot in your nose?"

you scrunch up your face and glance quickly at the pile of used tissues on the table that he had to brush aside. "i was just about to blow my nose actually." your argue sounds weak even to your own ears.

he hums like he believes you. "right. and when was the last time you took any fever medication?"

"i think i went to bed at around eight?"

he tsks. "you're long overdue for something."

you recall his earlier words. “so, who was the guy you just beat?”

his eyes glint in the light. “guess.”

you groan. “i don’t know, was it the guy you were talking about a few weeks ago?”

“sukuna?”

“why are you asking me like i know?”

gojo makes a face at you. “but yeah, it was him. i beat him real good too.”

you’ve never really believed in gojo’s outlandish tales, of scary monsters and magic people, but sometimes your boyfriend will come home with injuries just as mindboggling, and you must admit you’d believe him a little then.

still, you can’t hide the taunting smile that passes through. “yeah babe, you really showed him.”

he sticks out his tongue and unpacks the bag he brought.

you watch as he walks in and out your room, holding nothing in his hands one second and appearing with a thermos later. he pours steaming water into a mug and places that down next to the bottle of medicine. it's the liquid type, and you wonder if it became a habit to buy it over tablets and pills, from raising megumi and tsukimi.

"babe, i don't want you to stay up just for me." your blocked nose causes the b's to come out as m's. “especially if you’re injured.”

"i'm your boyfriend, this is what i'm meant to do." he says. “and i’m fine, seriously.”

"i'm pretty sure this is a job for my parents, not you."

"i'm trying to be romantic." gojo sighs, measuring out the bright red liquid into a medicine cup. "but of course, you have to be incredibly snarky, even more so now that you're sick."

you rub your nose. "careful, i'm extremely emotional right now. you could easily make me cry."

he spares you a quick glance. "you'll live. here, take this."

gojo hands you the medicine cup and nudges forward the mug of warm water. looking up, he eyes you expectantly.

you meet his gaze hesitantly. "does this... taste gross?"

there's a silence until gojo starts laughing. "are you a child? i don't even think you could taste it even if you tried."

"i'm literally a patient, don't laugh at me."

"just drink the syrup."

"in shoujo mangas, isn't this when you're meant to be nicer to me?" you mumble underneath your breath, though he catches it anyway.

in the silence that ensues, you begin mentally prepping yourself for the unnaturally sweet taste of raspberry medicine, the kind that has always reminded you of childhood sickness. back then, you were lucky to have your family hovering over you with a wet towel and a warm hand.

just as you go in for a sip, gojo suddenly speaks.

"want me to make this more shoujo-esque, then?"

you blink at him. "huh?" you ask intelligently.

under the moon, you can barely make out the soft smirk on his face and the look in his eyes that you know all too well. it's a feature of his from when the two of you were still in highschool, and though this kind of cheekiness has faded away with time, you still recognise it.

it's the look he gives you when he's up to nothing good.

something in the air changes, and your fever can’t completely explain the sudden heat.

gojo leans over, carefully taking the cup from your hands. making eye contact, he tips the red liquid into his mouth, careful not to spill any. you gape at him, captured in his gaze, as he lifts your chin with a finger and presses his lips on yours.

he swallows the gasp that tumbles out from your mouth, flooding your senses with raspberry, though not the kind that reminds you of sickness. you can only think of his hand that creeps up to cup your cheek, the other tucking hair away from your face. he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and forces you to drink.

when you’ve gulped it all down, his hands leave your side. he tries to lean away but you follow after, deepening the kiss.

gojo's fingers curl into your bedsheets and you feel his weight dip into the mattress as as he uses his knee to lean forward. you feel yourself fall backwards but he catches the small of your back with a hand and a chuckle.

eventually, he pulls away for air and though you need it just as bad, your lips trail after his.

eyes meet and spark in the dim lit room.

"was that still gross?" he asks, and it takes you a while to realise he was talking about the taste of the medicine.

you swipe your tongue against your bottom lip to relive the flavour, and his eyes follow the motion.

"no." you murmur. "actually, i don't remember. why don't we do it again so i can find out?"

gojo grins, using the hand on your back to press you against him, the other resting on the wall behind you. "only once more."

just like he promised, his lips fall back on yours and you sigh into the contact.

the night ends in raspberry sweetness, but not the kind that is unpleasant.

if you saw this somewhere else, no you didn't <3

[maxiskindahere]

Hell is forever | Lute x F!Reader

i’ve become obsessed w Hazbin Hotel recently and well where’s better to write than Tumblr!

I also love x readers and Lute so this is a fun time xx

i also haven’t written in a WHILE so this is not my best work but i promise im better xx

————

CW: swearing, sexual comments

Lute was an interesting person, she wasn’t typically the type of person you’d get in with. But since meeting her & Adam, you are sure that your life has improved… to an extent.

——

“Hey, Y/N! Don’t you think Lute would so much better with less on?” Adam teases as you walk into his office “Adam, you are going to be the first man with no dick if you don’t shut up.” Y/N deadpans, plopping down beside Lute on the couch

“You’re no fun, Y/N” Adam complains, throwing his head back with a groan “I just know that if I agree with you, Lute is very much able to fuck me up.”

You know of the exterminations, and you know Lutes body count. Being on her bad side is not something you wanted.

“Please, Lute’s too busy st-“ Adam is cut off with a yelp as Lute throws something at him “Shut up, Adam.” She hisses, glaring daggers at him “Fine fine” He mutters, flipping her off as you look between them in confusion

“So what happened in Hell?” You decide to ask, knowing the extermination had happened just a week prior. “Well we had a talk with Lucifers bitch daughter today.” Adam begins in a rant about how “Charles” decided to talk about how she wants the exterminations gone and some bullshit hotel

“She seriously thinks sinners can be redeemed?” Y/N questions, leaning forward “What does Sera think about this?” Adam scoffs, rolling his eyes

“she doesn’t know, it’s not like it’s going to cause problems anyways.”

——

Adam was wrong. It was definitely going to cause problems, but that wasn’t her issue. So, she continued on with her day while waiting for the time to come when she’d meet Lute for lunch.

“Sorry!” A voice exclaims as Y/N feels someone crash into her “Fuck!” She yelps out, quickly spinning around to be met with two demons and Emily, the seraphim of joy.

The h/c girl quickly straightens up “Seraphim Emily! What… are you doing here?” She splutters out, glancing nervously at the demons “Oh hush, Y/N. You know you can call me Em when Sera isn’t around” Emily informs the girl with a happy smile.

“Right well.. Em, what is.. going on?” She questions the seraphim, still glancing between the demons “Right! This is Charlie and Vaggie! They’re representatives from Hell!” The girl cheerfully explains

Y/N’s eyes widen “Holy crap! You’re the princess aren’t you?” She asks Charlie, whose face flushes “Yep, that’s me..!” She says awkwardly before taking Vaggies hand in hers “This is my girlfriend, Vaggie” She introduces with a soft smile

Y/N grins “I knew gay people went to he-“ She’s cut off by Emily wacking her lightly “I’m kidding! That’s sick, congrats” She says softly, fluttering her wings

“So, you here about this.. hotel thing?” Y/N questions, crossing her arms together “How do you know about that?” Emily quizzes the girl who pauses for a second “Uh, Lute told me!” She quickly states, rubbing her arm

Emily’s eyes widen “please tell me you two are-“ Before Emily can continue, Y/N spots Lute approaching the four “Respectfully, your majesty please stop” Y/N hisses out as Lute reaches them

“Y/N, where have you been?” Lute asks the girl, anger clear in her voice “Sorry, I ran into these lovely girls and you know how I feel about ditching people” Y/N states innocently, smirking at the anger in Lutes eyes “And you know how I feel about waiting, finish up here and meet me in my office.” Is all the taller girl says before departing

“She seems.. nice.” Charlie says after a few moments of silence “Oh she is, I just don’t think she likes demons” Y/N comments, she knew Emily was unaware of the exterminations and she was not about to admit that she knew to anyone.

“I’m not sure why, you two are lovely” Emily pouts, causing Charlie and Vaggie to give her light smiles “But uh, I better go.. Lute will be a pain if I keep her waiting much longer” She says, excusing herself as she bids farewell to the trio and makes her way to Lute’s office

“Hey..” Y/N says awkwardly, walking into the unlit office before being slammed against the now shut door “I can’t believe you!” Lute exclaims, glaring down at Y/N

“What did I do?” The girl yelps out, feeling the pain rush to her wings “You’re talking with Vaggie! Of all people!” Suddenly everything made sense.

Lute was always fighting for Adam’s favouritism with Vaggie. She was better than Vaggie in every way, but until Vaggies betrayal Adam couldn’t see it.

Since then, the girl had some serious issues with abandonment.

“Oh cmon Lute! You know I don’t care about that failure” Y/N tries to reassure as she feels Lutes heavy breathing hit her face “I only care about you, I promise” Y/N says softly as she notices Lutes eyes soften

“Sorry.” Lute mutters, still holding Y/N against the door “I know a way you can make it up to me” Y/N mumbles, looking down at Lutes lips before glancing back up at her eyes which were wide in surprise before slowly leaning down and capturing the angels lips.

Y/N quickly reciprocates the kiss, wrapping her arms around Lutes neck and pulling her closer, desperate to have the girl closer to her.

But before anymore could be done, Adam suddenly barges in knocking the two away from each other

“The trials starting, come on.”

—

[merrybloomwrites]

I'll Be There for You - Platonic Smosh x Reader

Summary: 2020 starts great for reader before covid enters the chat and flips her world upside down. Her friends at Smosh are there to support her through one of the hardest times of her life.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: covid, quarantine, parent death, panic attack

AN: Was listening to a Smosh Mouth episode and they brought up filming during quarantine and it randomly inspired this story. I lost my own dad during covid and Smosh was absolutely one of my escapes during that time so this story may just be me processing that haha

No romantic relationships for reader in this, just lots of supportive friends.

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From the moment you hear about this new virus, you’re nervous about it. The news stations are trying to keep everything positive, spin it like this is no big deal. But what you see on social media is telling a different story.

You’re not so much worried for yourself as you are for your family. They’re all the way across the country on the east coast while you’re in Los Angeles. And many of your family members have lung issues. While you don’t know much about this coronavirus, it seems to be most harmful to people’s lungs, leaving you to worry. 

It seems crazy to be taking a trip right now, but the threat doesn’t seem to be too bad. Travel is still permitted, and so your group goes ahead with your trip to Australia. You’ve been looking forward to this for months, and try so hard to not allow your anxieties overshadow your excitement. 

It’s a solid group on the trip: Shayne, Courtney, Ian, Damien, Sarah, and Matt Raub. All of you are trying to ignore the increasingly worrisome news and keep things light. You attend two different expos, doing live shows as well as meet and greets with fans. Those bookend the trip, with lots of different activities in the middle, including visits to a couple zoos to learn about local wildlife. 

You hold koalas and snakes, laugh with your friends, and for a little while, you forget all about the bad things that are happening. 

But you can’t hide from it forever. Despite everyone joking about the virus, you can’t help but be afraid. Every day of the trip, more news is revealed, and things look more and more grim. 

Towards the end of the trip you do a couple planned meet and greets at Sydney’s Madame Tussauds. You’re on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, feeling like every person you talk to could be carrying this unpredictable virus. 

Ian picks up on this and pulls you aside during a break.

“You okay?” he asks, concern etched on his face.

“I can’t shake this feeling, like we’re all going to get infected and then bring it back home, and every time a new person comes in the room it’s like another chance for germs to spread. What happens if we get sick? We don’t know anything about this virus, or what it can do to people, and there’s more and more cases everyday-” your rambling cuts off as you gasp for a breath. The panic attack is officially setting in, the room spinning around you as it gets harder to breathe. 

You hear Ian say something, but the ringing in your ears prevents you from understanding him. A moment later Sarah is standing in front of you, catching your eye and encouraging you to breathe with her. After a minute of matching her breaths, you’ve calmed down and gotten through the worst of the panic attack. 

Sarah leads you to the couch, sitting next to you, close enough to be a grounding presence but far enough that you don’t feel closed in. Ian walks over, crouching in front of you and handing you a water bottle. 

“Sorry about that,” you finally say.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Sarah says. “Your feelings are completely valid.”

Ian nods before saying, “I know we’re all making jokes about this, but I think everyone’s just covering up how scared they are. I’m definitely scared. You’re right to say that there’s so much we don’t know. I’d say don’t worry about all that, but that’s stupid because you’re gonna worry anyway.” 

You laugh at that, feeling much better now knowing that you’re not alone. Ian smiles and places a comforting hand on your knee and you reach out to hold Sarah’s hand as well. The three of you sit for a moment and then Shayne walks in the room saying, “Time to start up again.”

He looks at you guys, sees the redness in your eyes and notices the way the others are comforting you and asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yea, I’m good now,” you answer. “We’ll be right out.”

Shayne nods and walks away. You go to stand but before you can get up Ian says, “You don’t have to go back out there if you’re not comfortable. We can do the rest without you if you need some space.”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” you reply. He smiles and gives your leg one last squeeze before standing and giving you a hand up. It’s a nice moment, one where you’re reminded about how wonderful it is to work for Ian. He’s a kind boss, but also like a big brother to you, and you appreciate having him in your life. 

The rest of the time in Australia goes smoothly, and then it’s time to fly home. Sarah and Ian stick by you throughout the long day of travel. You don’t ask them to, but you can tell they’re worried that you’ll get anxious in such a crowded space. Somehow that makes it easier, and you’re able to spend the day joking with your friends rather than panicking. 

You’re exhausted when you get home, saying a rushed goodbye to your friends and heading home.

And then the isolation begins. The world practically shuts down completely as soon as you get back to the states. You go from constantly being around people, to being completely alone. It’s fine at first, you’re exhausted from traveling and this gives you a good excuse to be lazy for a few days. 

You spend a lot of time on the phone with your family, begging them to stay inside the house and stay safe. And they seem to listen, only going out twice for supplies. But apparently that’s all it takes. 

Just over a week after the Australia trip your mom gets sick. It’s obvious right away that it’s covid. For one thing, your mom has worked with children for decades. Her immune system is impeccable, you’ve never seen her get a cold or the flu before. For her to be sick is odd, plus she has all the symptoms, so it’s a no brainer.

And then a few days later, your dad is sick as well. You knew it was inevitable, that once the virus was in the house he was going to get it as well, but hearing it for sure makes your blood run cold. 

He already has a couple of lung issues, and you can’t help but feel like this isn’t going to go well. You hate that you’re stuck on opposite coasts and can’t do anything to help. You call them as much as possible, wanting to stay positive and hearing their voices always helps.

But then your dad gets worse and ends up in the hospital. You finally tell your Smosh friends what is going on. You’d kept it quiet at first, but they picked up that something is wrong. 

You try to continue on like normal, assuring your friends that you’re fine, but they don’t accept that. While they never overstep, you’re often surprised with kind texts or things appearing on your doorstep. 

It’s a particularly bad day. Your dad has just been placed on a ventilator. You get the news while in a zoom meeting, and everyone can tell that something has happened. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Courtney asks. 

You shake your head no and think about what to answer. You could be vague, just say it’s an update about your father and leave it at that. But these are people that care about you, that want to support you. 

“My dad just got put on a ventilator,” you reply. 

“My god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Did they say anything else?” Shayne says. 

“Apparently the doctors said it’s a preventative measure. Supposed to let his lungs heal. But we’ve all seen the statistics. Most covid patients don’t come off the vent.” 

“If you need to go you can,” Ian says. “Don’t feel like you need to stay on this call.”

“No, that’s okay. I’d rather keep working. Either that or sit in silence in my apartment,” you answer with a shrewd laugh. 

“Alright, well if you need to leave at any time please feel free. No explanation needed, we’ll understand,” Ian says. 

The meeting resumes and you sit quietly while they plan the upcoming Smosh Games schedule. You don’t have any input, and it’s pretty clear you’re not really listening, but you’re comforted by the sound of your friends' voices. 

The zoom call finishes, and you’re left alone with your thoughts. You’re not sure how much time passes, but the sun has moved to shine through a new window as husk begins so it must be a while. 

You’re startled back to reality by a text on your phone. Your heart races, fearing it’s you mom with even worse news. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see it’s from Spencer, his message saying, “Check out your front door.”

Doing as he’d instructed, you see a bag that had been delivered. It’s takeout from chilis, enough food for multiple meals, all your favorites. 

This is just what you needed. Your appetite hasn't been great, but smelling the familiar food has your stomach growling. After sending him a thank you message you dig in. 

Now full of comfort food, you manage to do your normal nightly routine of cleaning up the apartment and taking a shower. You go to bed feeling scared, but supported. 

Three days later, you get the news you’d been dreading. Your moms calls in the morning, saying the doctors think he won’t make it through the day. It’s a Sunday, and you have nothing to distract you. People text, but you leave them unanswered. 

It’s a beautiful day in Los Angeles, and you do the only thing you’re allowed to do: take a walk. 

Losing track of time, you wander through neighborhoods, making sure to keep distance from other people out walking. It pains you to see happy families, people who are making the most out of this pandemic. People whose lives aren’t being drastically changed forever. 

You get back home in the early afternoon. Soon after, your mom calls. You almost ignore it, knowing what she’s going to say but wanting to delay the inevitable. But you know you can’t do that. 

It’s a short conversation, your mother unable to say too much between the tears. 

You hang up feeling numb. It grows dark outside and finally you text Ian, asking for the next day off. 

His response is immediate, expressing his condolences and telling you to take at least the week off. You ask him to send a message to the others, not wanting to have to do it yourself. 

You wrap yourself into a cocoon of blankets, lay in bed, and cry over the loss. 

The next few days you find that you’re exhausted, with random bursts of high energy. You use the energy to respond to your friends' messages, thanking them for reaching out and telling them you’re okay. 

You speak on the phone with Damien for a while a couple days after it happens. While all of your friends are supportive, he’s the only one who’s been through this before. He truly understands what it’s like to lose a father. His experience, his words, everything he has to offer is incredibly comforting to you. And when he says he’ll always be there to listen, you know he’s telling the truth and not just saying what he thinks is the “right thing”. 

And then that Thursday, just a couple days after your dads death, the vlog of your time in Australia is released. 

You get the notification that it’s been posted as you always do, and instead of being excited that a new video is up, it sends you into a breakdown. You’re crying, gasping for breath, and you need someone there with you. 

For the first time since all of this began you cannot be alone. People have been offering to stop by and because it’s been over two weeks since any of you have been around others it’s technically safe. But you always refused, assuring them that you’re fine. 

Now, however, you need people around you. Through tears you find your phone and immediately call Courtney, asking if she and Shayne could come over. She says yes without hesitation and stays on the call while the two of them make their way to your place. 

Needing the comfort of your room you say, “Front door is open. I’ll be in my bedroom when you get here.”

“Just a couple more minutes,” Courtney replies as you climb under the covers. 

“Okay,” you murmur to let her know you heard her. 

As promised she and Shayne enter a few minutes later. Without hesitation Courtney climbs into bed with you, wrapping you up in your arms. You melt into the embrace, sobs ripping through your body. 

When you’ve finally cried yourself out, you pull away and notice Shayne’s no longer in the room. A moment later he walks back in, carrying water, tissues, and your favorite cookies. You smile weakly at him and pat the bed, inviting him to join you and Courtney. 

He sits next to you, and you’re effectively sandwiched between the two of them. It’s comforting to be surrounded by two of your best friends. You’d always been close with them, and we’re happy that nothing changed when they started dating. 

They’re two people who will always have your back, no matter what. They stay with you until the next morning, Shayne leaving temporarily to pick up anything he and Courtney need for the night. 

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be around people, but it’s clear how much it helps to actually see people and talk to them without a screen. 

Finally, you start accepting people’s invitations to hang out. You make good use of your apartment complex’s patio area so that you can hang out while still social distancing. You don’t often talk about your dad or how you’re doing, but rather about other mundane things. It feels good to talk to friends about something even somewhat normal. 

The other cast members take turns filling in for videos that you’re supposed to appear in. You’d tried going back to business as usual, but found that you couldn’t be as lighthearted and funny as you usually were. Rather than try to fake it, you’d switched to a more behind the scenes role for the time being. 

In May and June, fans start to notice that you aren’t appearing in any videos. Many theories float around, and you decide you’re ready to make the news about your dad public, instead of letting the rumors continue to spread. 

You make a post about your father on Instagram, a picture of the two of you with a caption explaining the loss. Support floods in, from friends, family, and fans alike. 

Though it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever experienced, it’s so nice to know you have such wonderful people who will always have your back.

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AN: Thanks so much for reading! I'm working on two stories for Whumptober, One Spencer x reader and the other Damien x reader!

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｂｅｓｉｄｅ ｙｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jisung x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: Han adores you and there's truly no one else he'd rather ditch a party early to cuddle with.

♡ Genre: fluff 

♡ Word Count: 1k-ish

♡ Warnings: mention of anxiety, brief non-sexual undressing

Han sits on the floor in front of Felix’s couch with his head cradled by the softness of your thighs. You run your fingers through his hair, stopping every now and then to carefully massage his scalp. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, and slowly lets it back out. When his eyes open again he doesn’t feel as smothered by the party raging around him.

Suddenly the music’s muffled, the lights have softened, and the crowds push away until there’s only you. His darling. His love. His sweet baby. His reputation for being a social butterfly has come to mean that people expect a lot of him. With expectations come pressure and with pressure comes anxiety. But sitting here with you is his safe place. You are his safe place. 

He takes you by the wrists, weaving his fingers between yours, and lays your arms over his shoulders. “Why ya lookin at me like that? Hmm?” you tease, nuzzling your chin against his velvety hair. Han smiles, those pinchable quokka cheeks perking up, “Because you’re so beau-ti-ful.” There’s something charming about the incredibly British way he says that word.

Beau-TI-ful. So beau-TI-ful. He’ll say it in any accent you want, any language he can learn if you ask him to. In his eyes, you’re a work of art worthy of praise in every possible way he can offer it. And every time he does, without fail, you get this warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. The one you're feeling right about now.

You kiss him on the forehead, trying to hide that sweet smile of yours even though he wishes that you wouldn’t. “I wish we were home so we could cuddle” you sigh and he’s already on his feet, helping you get your things together. Typically he makes it a point to say goodbye to Felix but now all he can think of is lying in bed with you, his arms snug around your gloriously chubby figure.

Getting you back home is his only objective. Han leads you out into the night, fingers still interlocked with yours and tries his hardest to remember where he parked the car. Crossing the street, your heel catches on a piece of gravel. “Shit” you mumble, nearly losing your balance. Han spins around, wide eyed and worried sick that you’ve gotten hurt somehow.

He kneels down right away, inspecting your ankle for broken bones, “Are you okay? Does this hurt?” “Baby, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have worn these stupid heels anyway.” Despite your assurance that you’re alright, he continues to examine your ankle, even checking the other one to be double sure.

You’re his favorite. The thing he wouldn’t trade for every star hanging up above. If anything ever hurts you, even something as small as a paper cut, he has to take care of it. Make it all better. “Just, uh, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” he instructs, moving you back onto the sidewalk. “Han…” A quick peck on the lips cuts you off before he’s racing to get the car.

You aren’t nearly as fragile as your boyfriend acts like you are but it makes you feel special that he cares so much. Han pulls the car up beside you, hopping out to help you into the passenger’s seat. His sense of urgency makes it seem like you were injured in battle. “I said I was fine” you giggle, “It’s really not that serious.” Han pulls off your heels, taking a few seconds to massage your “poor little ankles”.

On the ride home he asks a million times if you’re comfortable. Is the seat the way you like it? Is the music okay? You tell him that it’s perfect because it is. It always is. 

You shift the focus from yourself by asking about his music and the spark it sets off within him is visible. “Oh my pretty, pretty baby” he squeals, resting a hand on the gentle meat of your inner thigh, “I have, like, so much to tell you! So much!” Han talks a mile a minute, squeezing your thigh a bit tighter each time he gets to a detail he’s really excited about.

Before you know it you’re pulling into your garage and he’s almost dragging you up to the bedroom. You don’t have to lift a finger to change out of your clothes because Han’s already plucking them off of you and replacing them with your comfiest pajamas. “You want tea? Water? A snack?” he asks, hopping into a pair of sweatpants. 

“What I want is…” You collapse onto the bed, bringing him down with you, “This. This is nice.” Han lays his head on your stomach, hands sliding up the side of your shirt to squish your love handles, “If you ever get rid of this I’ll cry.” You roll your eyes, "Oh please.” “I mean it, it’s my favorite.” “You say every part of me is your favorite.”

Han scooches up to kiss you on the nose, “You can have more than one favorite. Like here…” Lips brush against your neck. “And here...” Fingers trail down your spine. “And here…” Han could go on like this, worshiping everything from the nape of your neck to that ticklish spot behind your knee, for the rest of the night. 

And he does. Even going so far as to double back to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. When he’s finished, he cuddles up behind you, no longer content with being the little spoon. “Can we just stay like this forever?” “Mmm, maybe…” you mumble, rolling over to rest your face on his chest.

“Maybe?” You can’t see his face but you’re positive there’s a look of utter offense on it. Draping your leg across his waist, you kiss underneath his chin, “Yes, we can. Forever. You are my favorite after all.”

[turtletaubwrites]

I Want To Be Needed ~ Part 10

Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader, Robin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5613

This is part 10 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Series Link

Summary: You ask Robin out on a date. You struggle with your place in your relationships, and on the crew.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Blow Jobs, Polyamory, Relationship Discussions, Relationship Drama, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Penis in Vagina Sex, Thigh Riding, Hair Pulling, Choking, Overstimulation, Aftercare, Alcohol, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Insecurity, Tickling, Robin is mysterious, and the boys are protective

A/N: Hey y'all! Since this 'one shot' has gotten out of hand I've made this part rather long to wrap things up. I will be continuing this series, and next part will be a chaptered work that will follow after the events here. I hope you enjoy this, and where the story is headed! Thank you for reading! 😊🙏🏼

“I didn’t know you could draw like that.”

You flashed Zoro a grin. He was leaning over your shoulder while you worked on a monograph, and he’d been following you around all morning. 

“I have to, it’s how we identify plants in the wild. We have to know the shapes of the stems and leaves, the textures, how many petals, every detail. If I identify a plant incorrectly it might not work the way we need it to, or it might make us sick. Or dead.”

“Damn. So you know how to poison people then?”

“Of course I do. Nature can destroy just as much as it can heal. Maybe even more.”

He wrapped his arms around you, humming softly against your neck.

“So you could probably kill any of us if you wanted. Just sneak something into our drinks?”

“Well, I won’t do that.”

“That’s pretty hot.”

He kissed your neck, nibbling with a soft chuckle as you squirmed.

“There’s something wrong with you!”

“Oh no! I bet my evil, sexy girlfriend can find a plant to fix me.”

He lifted you out of your chair, kissing and sucking your neck as he growled, sounding so playful that it made you squeal. Especially since it was the first time he’d called you his girlfriend. 

He pulled you away from your desk, spinning you to face him. Out of breath, you shivered as you looked into his gorgeous, dark eyes. 

“I’m working, Zoro.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me.”

He crossed his arms, and had the audacity to look skeptical.

Your cheeks burned as you fought a grin, and you tried to move around him to your desk. 

He was immovable.

“Zoro!”

“I’m the first mate, Y/N. I have to protect this ship.”

He leaned over you, his words getting heavier.

“I just found out there’s a potential murderer on board.”

“Zor- unf.”

He’d lifted you over his shoulder, and you fought his hold. Until the wind was knocked out of you when he slammed you onto your bed. 

“I need to make sure all threats are dealt with.”

You hadn’t caught your breath yet, but you managed to moan as you watched your swordsman free himself from his pants, stroking his hard length as he towered over you. Your body was already reacting, readying for whatever he had planned.

“Strip. I need to inspect you for weapons.”

He seemed so serious, and the fact that your body was already caving in pissed you off just a little bit. 

But not enough. That look in his eyes made you shiver with anticipation, and you needed him to wreck you. 

“Make it quick, I’ve still got work to do.”

He raised his brows at the challenge.

“So you wanna do this the hard way, huh? Get on your knees.”

His growl made your eyes roll back, and you obeyed. He shoved his cock down your throat so fucking deep you could barely breathe before he practically ripped your pants down.

You’d noticed Zoro preferred you in tight pants, enjoying the violence of dragging them down your skin, of using them to restrain your legs while he fucked you hard and mercilessly.  

After he made you beg him for more until you were lost in pulsing waves of pleasure and pain, he laid with you until you could walk to the shower with him.

And all of that was before lunch. 

You were starting to realize you’d need to take breaks between days with the boys just so you could get some work done.

~

“You’re not gonna watch me?”

After lunch, Zoro was pulling his shirt over his head, and you forgot what you were going to say. 

“Nevermind,” he teased, his smirk bringing your eyes back to his face. 

“I thought I’d go ask Robin out, actually.”

His eyes went wide for a moment, but he shook it off. 

“Well, uh. Good luck?”

His questioning tone brought a smirk to your face, and you gave him a playful punch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back to ogle my boyfriend.”

You turned to leave, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a kiss. 

“I like that.”

You shivered at his whispered words.

“What do you like?”

“My.”

~

“Come in.”

Robin’s lilting voice made chills trail up your skin, and you opened the door with a smile.

Her eyes sparkled when she saw you, and she made room on that pretty loveseat of hers. 

“Y/N, it’s lovely to see you.”

Settling on the couch, you tilted toward her, and felt your hands shaking slightly.

She kept smiling at you, waiting.

“You too, Robin. I was hoping that you’d still be interested in having that date with me.”

Her smile deepened, and she set down her book. She reached her hand to yours, and your skin flushed red.

She’s so beautiful.

“I’d love that. When are you available?”

She asked that question with a smirk, and you gave a self deprecating laugh. 

“I’m taking a break tomorrow, and I’d love to spend it with you.”

“Can’t wait.”

Heading back on deck, you were practically skipping, amazed at how your life was turning out. 

Stopping in your tracks, you enjoyed the view before interrupting.

For as much as they seem to hate each other, they always end up close to each other when they don’t need to be.

You grinned at the boys, Zoro caring for his swords, while Sanji was leaning his elbows over the railing while he smoked. They were silent, but within 5 feet of each other.

Shaking your head, you intruded on their quiet company. 

“Hello boys.”

Seeing them both turn to you made warmth pour through your chest, it was such a satisfying sight.

“I’ve got a date with Robin tomorrow.”

“Congrats,” Zoro said with a small smile, seeming to be getting used to it.

Sanji on the other hand accidentally crushed his cigarette, dropping it on the deck to avoid burning his treasured hands. He stomped it out, making sure to pick it up to dispose of it properly. Smoking was bad enough, you were glad he didn’t litter. 

You tried not to laugh at his beet red face, but he started speaking so fast out of nowhere that you couldn’t help it.

“What are your plans? Are you having a brunch date, or maybe a candlelit dinner? We can set up some games on deck for you, and I’ll make some desserts. I wish the last island had some decent produce, I don’t know how I’m supposed to work without strawberries.”

He kept going, seeming to be talking to himself now, You laughed even more at Zoro’s grimace. 

~

Taking extra care getting ready in the morning, the thought of Robin kept tugging your lips into a smile. 

“Good morning, Y/N dear! Right this way!”

“Wh-What?”

Sanji didn’t answer as he rushed you outside. 

“Sanji, did you steal my rose petals?”

There was a sparse trail of pink rose petals guiding your way.

“Only one flower, my dear. New love is worth all the flowers in the world.”

“Sanji, I harvest the petals and buds, you owe me a flower.”

He turned, winking before bowing out of the way. 

“I'll buy you a barrel of roses, darling. Just promise you’ll have a good time!”

You twirled to watch him go until you heard the soft chuckle behind you. 

“Good morning, Y/N. It looks like we’re going to be spoiled today.”

You beamed as you met her eyes, breath catching for a moment. Robin looked stunning in a cropped vest and pants, the dark purple making her skin seem to glow. 

“Good morning,” you replied, biting the inside of your lip as you sat with your favorite archeologist. 

Sanji had set up the entire day, and you had to admit that he did a lovely job. Occasionally you’d have to shoo him away when he acted like a butler, jumping at every possible need, lingering for just a bit too long.

Robin’s voice, her soft laugh, her playful smile. The fact that she was here with you, on a date. Your head was buzzing, and you hardly knew what you were talking about. She asked you about your favorite flowers, your goals to discover rare plants on the Grand Line, and you hardly noticed that she didn’t share much. 

She teased you, drawing you out with questions. Your mind filled in so much, your admiration for her blurring the edges a bit. 

After lunch, Sanji had paraded games for you to choose from. He was almost singing as he listed them off until you both cracked up, pointing to the Shogi board to get him to leave you alone.

Shogi was not your game, and you couldn’t help but feel her piercing eyes as she maneuvered her pieces, almost effortlessly taking you down. 

The sounds of Nami exercising across the deck drew your eyes, and you watched her practice with her baton for a moment. Robin’s voice pulled you back, and you noticed that your fingers had begun to dig into your thigh. 

“Another game?”

“Why not,” you laughed. “I love getting destroyed by you.”

You hadn’t meant to say that in the tone it came out in, and your eyes went wide at her smirk.

“That does sound fun,” she teased, setting up the board. 

You spent the entire day together, and it was just as lovely as it was at the start. The sun was setting, and you tapped your wine glasses over the incredible dinner Sanji had prepared. 

He’d left the wine bottle at the table after you’d told him to stop checking if you needed refills. As you pulled your glass away from hers, your elbow knocked the bottle over. 

Wincing, you waited for the crash, but Robin had sent an arm to catch it. Not a drop had spilled.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Robin picked up the conversation where you’d left off, but your mind fought to tear you away. 

I can’t even go a day without needing help.

You felt like you constantly had to prove your usefulness on the crew, no matter how wonderfully caring and supportive everyone was. 

Your self pitying thoughts filled you with guilt, fogging your mind when you were meant to be here with Robin.

Robin, who was so powerful, she could save the whole crew. She’d saved you more than once.

So had Sanji and Zoro. Everyone on the crew.

And you were usually there hiding with Chopper. Until Chopper would transform, and save you too. 

You looked at Robin, her deep eyes scanning your face. You wanted to be present, grateful to be right here. 

I’ll just be everyone’s girlfriend. Everyone’s cheerleader. 

“Where have you gone, Y/N?”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, Robin.”

She tilted her head, always seeming mildly curious.

“Really, I’m sorry. I’ve just had some things on my mind lately, I don’t know why they’re hogging my brain right now.”

Robin set down her glass, leaning on a hand toward you. 

“Whatever else we might become, we are friends. I’d like to know if something is bothering you.”

You cringed internally, hating how much you needed everyone. How much you’d needed Robin’s help lately. 

“I’ve just… been feeling… I’ve been wanting to do more for the crew than I have been.”

Her eyes softened, but she waited for you to continue. After a large sip of your wine, you took the opportunity she was giving. 

“I guess seeing the boys has made me notice it more. My work is valuable, I know it. But I want to help. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Your eyes had drifted to your wine glass, until you heard her take a breath. 

“Y/N, you have saved us in so many ways. Your skills are incredibly useful.”

“Not when we fight.”

Her deep eyes held yours, and you couldn’t decipher the emotion in them. 

“Knowledge is more valuable than violence.”

Now you let out a breath, trying to sort your thoughts. 

“I want to be able to protect the people I care about. I don’t want my friends to get hurt because I can’t protect myself… I want to be needed.”

“Well, Y/N… It sounds like you’ve got a new project to work on.”

Robin’s light tone broke the tension, and you let out a grateful laugh. The confidence in her words shivered through you. 

“I guess I do.”

She grinned at you, stretching and moving in her seat. 

“Y/N, it’s been a lovely day.”

Your heart sank.

“Would you like to have another glass in my room? Away from prying eyes?”

You nodded, not sure you could say anything, but followed Robin while your pulse sped through you. 

You could practically feel Sanji’s heavy breathing on your skin as he watched from across the deck. Remembering his blissed out face when you let him look up your skirt, you bit your lip. What a fucking perv. 

The thought of his desperate whines, and his needy hands on you tomorrow after his obsession today made you shiver. You had to shake it off.

Watching Robin’s hips swaying gently in front of you brought you back to the moment. 

You sat beside her, feeling suddenly paralyzed. 

We’ve been talking all day, what do I say now?

Luckily she leaned toward you, tapping your glasses again. 

“To firsts.”

You blushed, lifting your glass to your lips before replying.

“First dates?”

Chuckling, she adjusted her position, her thigh now warming against yours.

“To first everythings. Much more fun than lasts.”

Robin’s voice had shifted slightly, and you caught a slight furrow in her brow.

“Robin, ar-”

“Y/N.”

She put the force of those deep blue eyes on you then. Your breathing slowed, noticing the air touching your skin. 

She brushed a strand of hair out of your face, and that little bit of contact made your eyes flutter shut.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N.”

The way those words fell from her lips made them seem more real than you’d ever heard. Your eyes flew open, and you leaned toward her, your hand resting on her thigh.

“You are beautiful, Robin, gorgeous!”

She chuckled, leaning closer as she trailed fingers along your neck and shoulder. Her face leaned closer still, and your eyes were wide as she glanced at your parted lips. 

“May I kiss you, Y/N?”

You wanted to say yes, but all you could do was feel a shy grin take over your face until you nodded at her.

Then you gasped as her soft lips took yours.

Soft was the overpowering sensation. You reached for each other, your hands enjoying the smooth skin of her lower back, and the silkiness of her hair. 

Her hands ran along your thigh, and traced along your jaw to the back of your neck.

Robin's lips and tongue tasted like wine, and something sweet. You couldn’t help a small moan that escaped at how intoxicating she felt.

She let a pleased hum into your mouth before sucking your lower lip between her teeth. 

Your hands clenched on her skin, and she pulled you closer, trailing her fingers down your throat, teasing along your collarbones.

Robin pulled back from you, giving a quick kiss before searching your face. Your breath was heavy, and you had to fight not to pull her back in, feeling your body squirming with the ache for more of her touch. 

“Mm, I think I can see what all the fuss is about.”

Your eyes rolled back at her sultry tone, and then you moaned as her lips found your neck. 

You stopped holding back then, sending your hands to pull her toward you, teasing your fingers in her hair. The soft moan she gave you when you pulled that beautiful black hair had you reeling, and you climbed onto her lap to get closer. 

“Robin, you feel so good, so soft.”

Her breath was heavy now, and you felt her tugging at the ties at the back of your dress. Your body moved on its own, thrusting in her lap. She paused, gripping you, moving you so you were straddling one of her thighs. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against your neck as she moved her leg beneath you. Crying out, you grinded your center against her thigh, starting to pull at the laces on the front of her vest. 

Every movement, every breath felt electric, addictive. Every sound out of her lips made you need to make more, the need to make her feel good taking you over. The pressure, the friction from her thigh filling you with twisting warmth.

You caught her eyes before you opened her vest, smiling at her small nod before revealing her perfect chest. Her full breasts were so enticing, the buds of her nipples already hardened, and you ached to taste them. 

First you touched, gently caressing, massaging, before trailing small circles around her nipples while you continued to grind on her thigh. She cried out when you pinched them lightly before she pulled your dress over your head, revealing your own chest. 

The look in her eyes when she leaned forward to trail her tongue along your breasts was too much. You lost your grip on her, reaching back into her hair to keep from collapsing. 

Her muffled chuckle against your skin made you twitch, dancing on her thigh as you felt how much you’d soaked through your panties onto her tight pants. 

You slid off of her, landing on your knees between her legs, your breath catching when you saw her heavy lidded gaze. Now you brought your lips to her smooth skin, twirling your tongue around her nipples while you started pulling at her pants. 

Robin moaned as she helped you, lifting her hips as you dragged the fabric down. Her panties got pulled along with her tight pants, and you sucked in a breath when you saw how much wetness had pooled between her legs. 

You both giggled as you fought to pull the pants off completely, struggling at her feet while she leaned back and grinned at you. 

Settling yourself between her knees again, you gasped as she leaned over you, grabbing you by the hair into a rough kiss until you whimpered into her mouth. 

She pulled back, that teasing smile on her lips again.

“What would you like to do, Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you felt your body lean toward hers, craving her touch again.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whispered, suddenly shy again. 

She kissed you softly now, before scooting her body to the edge of the loveseat. She spread her thighs for you, leaning back to watch you. She trailed her fingers across her chest, and licked her lips.

“Please do.”

You moaned then, looking down at her gorgeous pussy, the wetness dripping from her folds making you shiver. 

You smiled up at her, meeting her darkened eyes as you brought your lips to her, kissing her clit the way she’d kissed your lips. 

Wrapping your hands around her thighs, you groaned against her folds while you felt her writhe for you.

Robin made such beautiful sounds, and you watched her face as you alternated sensations. Circling her clit with your tongue, long, flattened strokes, fast or slow, different directions. You smiled against her as she moaned your name softly, and you wanted to find what she needed.

When you sucked her clit lightly into your mouth, you were rewarded with the sight of her back arching against the love seat, her hand gripping at your fingers on her hips. 

You could have done this for days. 

“Please, Y/N.”

She bucked against you as you moaned loudly against her skin. The sound of this beautiful, mysterious woman begging you, gasping your name like that. It was perfect.

Pulling back to kiss your way up her thigh, you brought your fingers to her core. You traced them along her folds and around her clit, wetting them while she twitched for you. 

The taste of her still on your lips made your own body clench. You watched her, taking in every gasp and movement while you dipped one finger into her. Exploring, enjoying, you added another and leaned close, breathing along her skin. Robin bucked against your hand, and you thought you’d found what you’d been looking for. 

“Does this feel good, Robin,” you teased as you dragged your fingers along the soft spot you’d found deep inside her.

“Y-Yes, Y/N, right there. Gods, you feel so good.”

You felt a satisfied hum leave your throat before you tasted her clit again. 

Robin moaned louder now, and you gasped as you felt hands behind you, around you. All caressing your skin and holding you in place, as if there were anything in the world that could have kept you from bringing Robin what she needed. 

The sensation of Robin getting closer spurred you on, and you gave her everything you could. She screamed your name while you felt her body clenching, almost pulling your fingers deeper into her, her clit throbbing on your tongue. 

You kept going, riding that high with her until you brought her down gently.

She hummed happily as she looked down at you with heavy lidded eyes. 

I did that. 

You felt your skin buzzing as you kissed up her body, joining her on the loveseat. You let her taste herself on your lips before pulling her legs onto your lap while you softly touched and massaged what you could reach. 

She squirmed when you traced nails along her side, pulling away.

“Are you ticklish?”

“I guess I am.”

She’d laughed, but something in her words felt sad. 

“Can I see how ticklish you are,” you asked with a smirk on your lips. 

The grin that bloomed on her face made you forget it, and you giggled on the couch with her as she writhed under your touch. 

Finally she’d had enough, laughing and breathless until she called arms to trap you. 

You gasped at the warm restraints, and felt your skin flush as she stood in front of you, hands on her beautiful hips. 

“Is it my turn now?”

All you could do was nod, then cry out as you were carried, lifted, and set up on her bed by a small wave of arms. She’d laid you up on her pillows so you could meet her eyes as she laid across the edge of the bed. 

“Y/N, is it alright if I use my abilities to please you?”

The feel of her arms still softly restraining you, and the dark look in Robin’s made you gasp, and you breathed your ‘yes.’ 

Then you were moved again, a hand moving to the hair at the back of your neck, hands wrapping around your ankles, pulling your legs apart, and arms pulling your hands above your head, trapping them there. You sighed as so many warm hands slid across your skin, then cried out as you felt them pulling your panties away from you. 

Robin lay on her side at the bottom of the bed, leaning on an elbow as she watched your reactions. Her lips were parted, and you shivered under her attention. 

“What do you want now, Y/N?”

Gasping, you tried to remember how to speak. 

“I-I want you to touch me, Robin. Please.”

Her smile was too much for you, and your eyes fluttered closed.

Then you cried out as your body was covered in sensations. She gripped your hair, tugging until you whimpered. Soft caresses, warm strokes, light tickles, and even scratches took you over, until there was no room for thought. 

It wasn’t long until you were twitching, and you could feel even more wetness dripping from your core as you ached for her. 

“Ro-Robin…”

“Would you like more, Y/N?”

Tears had started forming along your eyes, and you nodded desperately as your body shook. 

Your eyes had closed again until you felt her weight settle between your legs. You gasped as her lips teased your thighs, all of her arms still playing with you. 

She watched you, smiling as she kissed down, so close. She reached out with her tongue, the lightest of touches against your folds, and you tried to buck. Her arms held you like a vise, and your breathing stuttered. 

Her tongue and lips sank against you, and you were already so close. Robin wasted no time, sending one finger, then two, curling deep inside you. Her eyes still watched you, and you felt a hand reach around your throat. You nodded, seeing the pleased look in her eyes.

She sucked your clit at the same time that her fingers squeezed around your neck. Her fingers inside of you were moving hard so fast as you came. Your body would have bucked off the bed if she hadn’t held you so still. 

Your screams were high and breathy as her fingers kept their grip on your throat. You were fucking lost to bliss, and as you came down you couldn’t believe you were here with Robin. 

You laid together in her bed, cuddling and laughing quietly together. Now and then cozy kisses would be shared, gentle caresses. It felt like you were living in a world of soft and simple pleasures, nothing to do or worry about. 

“What’s that about?”

You’d pointed to a rather large book she’d been reading lately.

“Archaeology.”

You groaned in her arms, shaking your head at her smug smile. 

“I’d like to know you better, Robin.”

She looked away, a smile on her face that didn’t seem right to you.

“It’s okay, Robin. You don’t need to tell me your life story.”

You pulled out of her arms so you could sit and face her, waiting for her eyes to return to you. Your breath felt restricted, and you realized you might have soured the perfect day. Touching your hand to hers, your breath eased as she looked back at your face. 

“Robin, whatever else we might become, you are my friend. We don’t have to talk about it. But I feel like there are things that hurt you, that you hide. You’re very good at it.”

You tried to keep your words light, almost joking with her at the last part. But her eyes stayed even.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you, that’s all.”

You stared at her face, looking for anything, any sign that things were okay, or that you’d ruined it all. 

All you saw was a slight tension between her brows, and what looked like sadness in her eyes.

Then she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. Her voice was light now, but you couldn’t see her face.

“I’m here for you too, Y/N.”

~

The next morning you ignored Sanji’s pleas to stay with him after breakfast, promising you’d be his after lunch. 

Instead, you found Usopp in his quarters with the door open, filling his stars with gunpowder with his brows furrowed, and tongue poking out of his teeth in concentration. 

You waited until he finished, then joined him. 

Luckily, Usopp had stopped seeming nervous around you after finding out about the polyamory drama. You were glad to see him smiling at you again.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could help me.”

He raised his brows at you, and your mouth went dry.

I need this. I need to be able to help the crew more. 

“I know you helped Nami with her Climate Baton. I was hoping you could help with an idea.”

“Sure! What are you thinking?”

His whole face lit up, and you wanted to feel that. To feel needed by the crew.

You barely had time before lunch started, but you pulled Nami aside.

“Hey, hot stuff,” she teased before leaning in close and whispering. “Do I get to hear how things went with Robin yet?”

Laughing, you shook your head.

“Later, I swear. I was actually hoping you could help me with something.”

~

The rest of the day, you allowed yourself to be showered with affection. Sanji didn’t seem to mind that you sat between Zoro and Robin today, and the thrill you felt when she took your hand sent chills across your body. 

As the crew was finishing up with dinner, she pulled you aside before Sanji could interrupt. 

“I had a lovely time last night.”

“Me too.”

She grinned at your reply, touching her fingers to your jaw. 

“When can we have our next date?”

Today’s events swirled in your head, and you felt you were buzzing with excitement. Sanji had made a dessert just for you, and you savored it with him while he ate his meal. He made some cocktails, and you sat together, enjoying your evening, looking forward to whatever else he had planned for you. 

Sanji raised his glass, his cheesy smile bringing one to your lips. 

“Here’s to my stunning girl. My sweet, Y/N. You are a treasure to this ship. Everything you do helps us so much. This crew wouldn’t be here without you.”

His words made you pause. You felt your brows furrow as you looked at him, his cheesy smile seeming a little strange now. 

“What do you mean,” you asked, setting your glass down without taking a sip. 

“I just mean that we- I think the world of you!”

Narrowing your eyes, you felt like you should let it go, but something about his strained smile pushed you on. 

“Why are you telling me how much I help the crew?”

Your words made you realize what it meant, but you waited for him. 

Sanji winced, setting his glass on the table.

“Fuck… I’m so sorry, Y/N. Last night I saw you knock over the wine bottle, and I came closer. Then I heard you. I heard you share what you’ve been struggling with. I shouldn’t have listened, I know I need to fucking stop.”

He looked away, taking a swig of his drink. 

“I was worried about you, darling. I don’t want you to feel that you aren’t needed here.”

The glass was dripping condensation onto your cold fingers. Parts of you were fighting to let it go, but the rest was too full of the empty, uncomfortable feelings you’d been harboring. 

“How do you need me?”

“Wha-I…”

You gave him a break on that one. Sanji looked desperate, and you started to feel like a shitty person instead of just a useless one. Standing up from the table, you downed your drink in two burning gulps. 

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better, Sanji. I’m going to go to bed now.”

Fuck, he looks fucking lost. 

Biting your tongue to keep your anger from spilling onto him, you leaned over the table for a hug. He gripped you tightly, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades until you broke away, eyes stinging. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said quietly as you tried not to run toward the door. 

~

A hard knock woke you in the morning.

“Open up, Needy!”

“Don’t yell at her, moss head.”

“Shut up, dumbass cook.”

Groaning, you glanced in the mirror, and shook your hair out of your face before opening the door. Sanji leaned against the frame, but Zoro came charging in, towering above you. 

“Why did I have to hear from Usopp that he’s making you a weapon?”

Sanji cut in, his tone far more even than Zoro’s near anger. 

“Sweetheart, I know you’ve been feeling self conscious about your place-”

“I’m not feeling self conscious,” you snapped, seeing Sanji’s eyes go wide as you threw those words at him. You turned back to Zoro, meeting his burning gaze.

“Usopp is making me a weapon so that I can be of more help to the crew.”

“What do you mean? You’re not a fighter.”

Your jaw clenched, glaring at Zoro’s face as he shot you down.

“Not yet. But I need to be able to defend myself.”

He frowned at you, seeming to struggle with his next words. 

“You’re right. As first mate, I should tell you too… But I don’t want you to fight.”

“Well I’m going to listen to the first mate. Plus, I’m not like you guys, or Luffy. I’m not going to run around picking fights.”

His narrowed eyes stared at you for too long, but you didn’t need to explain any more, so you just kept his gaze.

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.”

“Marimo, you can’t seriously be considering this.”

You rounded on your cook. 

“Sanji, I have to know how to fight if I’m going to survive on this crew. I don’t want to have to be saved all the time.” 

“Y/N, please listen. Going into fights without enough training is more dangerous than hiding. We’ve always had you. I will always protect you.”

“The waiter’s right, Y/N. You’re not carrying anything like that off the ship until you show me you can handle it.”

You grinned at them, even though you felt very unconvincing in your comfy pajamas. 

“Then I’ll show you.”

The boys left you to get ready for the day, but you just sat on your bed, planning your next steps. Your dream was still to discover the rarest plants in the world on the Grand Line. 

But if I’m going to achieve that goal, I’ll need to learn to survive here first. Nothing’s going to stop me. Not even the boys.

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Part 11

Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think about Robin and their date 💜🥰

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[moonstruckme]

Dude I just get my hearing aid after have trouble hearing for some months

Could I request one for any character you like with a reader with hearing problem? When it happens they already in relationship so it a big change for both of them?

Cos not everyone in my family take it kindly... So it might happen in relationship too right?

I'm sorry you had to wait so long lovely! I don't have much experience with hearing impairments, so I apologize if anything is inaccurate—please feel free to let me know! And thank you for requesting <3

cw: frustrations around not hearing well, difficulties aquiring healthcare

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re dicing onions, blinking hard against the fumes and trying to make as quick work of it as you can, when something touches your lower back. You gasp and jolt, knife slipping down the curvature of the onion and scaring you badly enough that you drop it as you spin around. 

Steve looks just as startled as you do, staring at you with wide eyes. Lately, you’ve had trouble catching everything people say when they talk, but that’s not an issue now because he’s immediately yelling. 

“Jesus—shit!” He drops into a squat, picking up the knife you hadn’t realized had clattered to your feet. Your heart’s still going a mile a minute, his panic fueling your own. “What the hell was that?” 

You press your fingers to your temples, mindless of the vegetable juice stickying your hairline. “Oh my god,” you pant, “you scared me!” 

You see it click in Steve’s face. “You couldn’t—I said hi when I came in.” He shakes his head, agitated. “You hummed back!” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You did!”

“I must have been humming about something else!” A belated, frightened tear leaks from your eye, and you take a harsh breath, trying to slow the adrenaline racing through your bloodstream. “I didn’t hear you.” 

The appearance of tears reverses your boyfriend’s demeanor in an instant. “Hey,” he says, now soft enough that you see his lips form the word more than hear it. He sets the knife on the counter, gripping your upper arms. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” 

“It’s the onions,” you huff, though you’re not sure that’s strictly true. 

He makes a sound that might be a word and pulls you into his chest. You fist your hands in the material of his sweatshirt, still a little bit furious at him. Or maybe at everyone. Everything. 

Steve says something else, and you sigh. 

“Can’t hear you.” 

Usually he’s better about this, but you still get sick of saying it. It feels like he’s making you remind him, forcing you to admit you can’t get on just the same as everybody else, though of course you know he’d never do that. Steve’s a good guy down to his bones. You’re just mad, lately. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says at an audible volume. “I thought you could hear the door, and then when you seemed like you responded to me saying hi…I just thought I was good.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You’re shaking just slightly, the adrenaline working its way out of your system, and when Steve notices he tightens his grip on you as if he can contain your panic. 

“I almost made you cut your own finger off,” he says. 

“Well, I didn’t.” 

“Still.” He presses a kiss into your hair. “How long until you can get a hearing aid again?” 

Irritation prickles down your spine. “I don’t know. I’m still working it out with the insurance company.” 

Steve must hear the darkness seeping into your tone, because he gives your upper back a solid rub. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help.” 

You have to clamp your jaw shut, the temptation to be cruel sharp and cutting in your mouth. You could help by remembering to speak up, you want to say. It doesn’t seem like you’re asking that much of him. You can understand when other people forget, but Steve lives with you. It’s not so hard to raise his voice a little when he wants you to understand what he’s saying. Half the time, you can’t even hear yourself when you speak because you’re trying to be considerate of him and talk at a normal volume. When he doesn’t do the same for you, it makes you feel like you’re in this alone. 

Still, you know these thoughts don’t have so much to do with a deficiency in your boyfriend as your upset over your own change in circumstance. All of a sudden, the way you experience the entire world has shifted. You hate asking Steve to accommodate you, and you wish that you didn’t have to ask, but it’s nobody’s fault that you’re both still adjusting. In the time between now and when you eventually get a hearing aid, you’re just going to have to get used to this feeling that you’re a world apart from him. It’s not his fault he can’t be in it with you. 

Steve pulls away from the hug but keeps his hands on your arms, and he’s looking at you oddly. Considering. For all the shit you give him about not understanding when you need help, he really can surprise you with his intuition sometimes. Maybe he just knows you that well. 

You’re about to ask What? and hope your voice doesn’t come out as pissy as you feel when he says, in a tone somehow both loud and gentle, “Maybe I could get you a walkie talkie.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

“Dustin just got these ones that light up when someone’s talking to you,” he explains. He lets you go, leaning back with his elbows on the counter opposite you and a pensive furrow between his brows. “So what if instead of trying to guess what you can hear, I just call you on that when I’m about to come inside? That way even if you don’t hear it you’ll see the light.” 

“That…could work.” You hesitate. “So I’d just carry it everywhere with me so I see if it lights up?” 

Steve winces. “I guess it doesn’t sound as easy as I’d thought.” 

“No, let’s try it,” you say, encouragingly as you can and nodding for good measure. “It might help.” 

“Yeah?” he asks hopefully. 

“Mhm.” You nod again. “Thanks, Stevie. I know I…I know this is really inconvenient. Thanks for trying so hard.” 

“Hey, it’s not. It’s nothing.” His voice drops until you can barely make it out, and when you look up at him Steve’s expression is softly fond. He makes sure you can hear when he asks, “You want another hug, honey?”

There’s that intuition again. You nod, stepping into his arms where he waits by the counter and wrapping yours tightly around his waist. 

“Thank you,” you say again, the material of his sweatshirt heating with your breath. 

Steve presses his cheek to your head. “Don’t mention it.” 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Pairing - Will Miller x female reader. Benny Miller, Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales x female reader.

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Brief allusion to sexual content. No cursing in this one!!

Word Count - 4.3k

Author's Note - hi lovelies. here's another triple frontier fic for you all!! i love writing these boys so much. we all know by now that i am a total will girly, so it's no surprise he takes the lead in this one. but all the boys are included - i can't leave them out <3. as always, if you have any specific requests or thoughts, send them over!! lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Time, and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Baby, we gotta go!”

“Coming!” you yell, running down the stairs with a duffel bag in your hand. “Almost forgot my toothbrush.”

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t on your neck,” Will winks, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Shut up, Miller,” you tease, no real malice in your voice. You lean up to peck his lips gently, before he takes a step back.

“We can’t be late again. I can’t make up another excuse – last time was bad enough.”

“That was literally your fault! You were the one that couldn’t keep your hands off me, like some sort of teenage boy,” you laugh.

“It was the green dress’ fault, not mine. I don’t regret it,” he chuckles.

Will winks at you again before picking up your bags and walking outside to pack up the car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Four days by the lake with your boys sounded like complete and utter bliss. When Frankie had suggested it, initially, everyone had laughed it off. Realistically, it wouldn’t work. You all struggle to plan a day off at the same time, never mind multiple. It sounded like a sweet little idea. Nothing more.

Then, life got stressful. Work was tough on everyone, families causing issues, deadlines looming – the mundane routine of every day wearing the five of you down. Eventually, it was Santiago that snapped.

“We’re going to that damn lake house,” he exclaimed one evening in Benny’s backyard. “I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if we all have to call in sick. We are going to the lake house.”

He looked around at his friends, expecting them to instantly shut him down. Instead, he was met with unanimous nods of agreement.

That was months ago. It was a logistical nightmare, working out your schedules to intertwine with each other, but you did it. You were ridiculously ready for four days of swimming, drinking, sunbathing and laughing with your favourite people in the entire world. It sounded like the well deserved break everyone needed.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will’s warm palm meets the bare skin of your thigh as he drives. The roads are long and monotonous, but you don’t care. Everything is an adventure with him.

“You still sure about not telling ‘em?” he asks, blue eyes flitting over to you briefly. He’s got a gentle smile on his face. He always does when he’s with you. It’s like his default setting.

“Yeah, I think I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Think we should live in paradise a little longer.”

“Paradise, huh?” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“You know it is. I’m on cloud nine every moment I’m with you, baby.”

His words make your head spin, and you’re glad you’re sitting down already. You wonder everyday how you got so lucky. It’s rare, to know with full certainty that you are someone’s favourite person in the world. The centre of their universe. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Mostly, it’s astounding. It warms up your bones, settles itself carefully into your ribcage, pumping your heart to the beat of Will’s love. What a gift.

Which is why you’ve decided to keep the two of you a secret from the boys. You know that it won’t change anything between the group, not really – but you’re a little worried nonetheless. It’s scary, altering a dynamic that works so well. The five of you, stuck like glue, know each other like the lyrics to your favourite songs. You know each others strengths, weaknesses, favourite ice cream flavours, middle names, star signs, families – everything. It’s the kind of friendship that binds you together for life. Changing that in any way would break your heart. Will’s too. You know, deep down, that they’ll be perfectly accepting. But the fear still lingers, ugly and unwavering.

Also - you and Will didn’t take the most conventional route into a relationship.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you met in Delta Force. Co-workers, first. Comrades in arms. He had your back, you had his. You saved each other’s lives countless times. You’d stitch up each other’s wounds, carry each other back to base, share your water even though you only had a drop left. You were a team.

Then, you became friends. It’s hard not to, when you’re thrown into a life-or-death situation. You spent 24 hours a day together, wherever you were sent – sometimes Asia, sometimes South America, sometimes Africa. You got to know each other, learnt one another’s quirks and habits and likes and dislikes. The five of you bonded quickly and effortlessly. It made you a slick team, your missions running like clockwork. You could all predict each other’s movements, finish each other’s sentences. It’s what made you so successful, so revered.

After Delta Force, you became friends outside of work. Forced proximity friendship is one thing, but actually making the time to see each other back on home soil is another. You were worried that you were going to drift, and all of the trust built would perish. That wasn’t the case. The five of you quickly adjusted to being home together. You’d all spend Saturdays in Frankie’s backyard, Friday nights on Santiago’s porch, Sundays in Will’s kitchen. You’d pop by and see Benny on a Wednesday night after work, ready to watch another episode of that reality show you both couldn’t get enough of. You’d see Will any chance you got. Sunday morning farmers market trips and early swims and pancakes for breakfast and why don’t you just stay over? It’ll save you driving home.

You’d been best friends with Will for years before you realised how you felt about him.

It’d hit you, all of a sudden, one Sunday morning. You drove over to Will’s to pick him up, ready to go to the flea market downtown. You were going to grab lunch after, maybe cook some dinner together later. Just an average day.

You let yourself in to his house using the key he’d had made for you years ago. You had keys to all the boy’s places – just in case. You found Will at the stove, shirtless, golden skin on display. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and you wondered for a minute how it was fair that he was talented at everything.

“Morning, Miller,” you sing, throwing your bag down and striding over to him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replies, turning around to face you. He opens his arms and you step into his space, wrapping yourself around him and resting your head on his bare chest. You inhale, breathing in his scent deliberately. He smells like warmth and sleep and sunshine and promises.

You take a step back, craning your neck to look at him. The morning sunlight is gleaming through the windows, casting a gold hue across the room. Will’s hair is glowing, illuminating him like some sort of halo. Angelic boy.

Those ocean blue eyes survey you carefully. He rests his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“What’s on your mind? I can see it runnin’ a mile a minute,” he murmurs. You try to look down, but he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding you back up.

How do you explain that you’ve just realised that you’re completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with Will Miller? That it’s just dawned on you like a sunrise, warm and promising? How do you tell someone that you’re quite convinced you’ll drop dead if you don’t kiss them immediately? Is it even possible to explain these feelings? Is it possible to put all of these emotions into words? Are there enough words in any language to explain the enormity of what you’re experiencing?

Instead, you simply say,

“I’m in love with you.”

Will’s pupils blow wide, and he sways slightly, as if the weight of your confession has knocked him off balance. You steady him by cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you continue. “But I’ve kind of just put the pieces together, and it seems stupid not to tell you. You of all people know that life is short and fragile and can change in the blink of an eye, so I just thought –”

Will cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is passionate and tender and so full of love you’re convinced you could get drunk off it. He pulls back for air and looks at you earnestly.

“Don’t have to say it back? Sweetheart, do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me?”

You can’t help but break out into a grin. You feel like you’re floating, levitating above ground, held up purely by the love William Miller has for you.

“You have?” you ask, disbelief written on your features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you,” he beams. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

You smile at him ear to ear before jumping into his arms. You kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist to anchor yourself, closing the distance. He spins around the kitchen with you in his arms, the joy of being in love filling the room.

Suddenly, Will puts you down.

“Stay here,” he tells you, before sprinting upstairs.

Usually, you can predict Will’s every move. But not now. Now, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

He returns, placing a kiss to your forehead, before getting down on one knee in front of you.

“Marry me,” he says, complete certainty in his voice. You’ve never heard him this assured.

“Will… what?” you ask incredulously. You confessed your love for each other ten minutes ago, and you’ve skipped straight to marriage, apparently.

“Listen. I know it’s crazy. I know it seems fast. But we’ve loved each other for years, sweetheart. I realised when I met you that I was never, ever going to love anyone else again.”

He pulls out a box from the pocket of his pyjama pants and opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It’s understated and it’s elegant and it’s just so you.

“I bought this two years ago. Maybe you think I’m insane, and maybe you’re going to run out of that door the minute I stop talking. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”

You’ve been trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully for the past few minutes. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, and your brain is trying to keep up.

“Will, we aren’t even technically dating,” you tease playfully. You already know your answer. You just like hearing him bear his truth to you like this.

“We’ve been dating for years, technically,” he rallies. “Everyone always thinks we’re a couple. We’re together every weekend, we go on dates, you sleep over… we went grocery shopping last week!”

You grin, remembering how you’d jokingly argued over whether to get the red or the green grapes, and how you’d ended up getting both. It was all so domestic it made your heart ache.

The two of you sit in the silence for a minute, Will still on one knee. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. There’s no doubt in your mind what you’ll say.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Will. God, yes. The easiest yes of my entire life.”

He jumps up to grab you, spinning you in circles. You kiss him with so much force he stumbles backwards. Will takes your left hand, and carefully slides the ring onto your finger. It looks like it’s always belonged there.

You always knew it’d be Will Miller. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

That was months ago. The other boys know that you and Will spend a lot of time together one on one, so no one has suspected anything out of the ordinary. You have no doubt they’ll be happy for you both, but you’re content to keep everything a secret a little while longer. It’s easier, that way. It means you and Will get to keep living in your bubble of bliss, unphased by the outside world. You’ll tell them soon enough. You’re just trying to savour every last second.

“We’ll tell them soon,” you reassure Will, interlocking your fingers with his where they rest on your leg. “We’ll make it a whole thing, if you like. It feels like something that warrants a celebration.”

“Oh, definitely,” he grins, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re almost there. So, you’re gonna have to act like you’re not totally head over heels in love with me for four days. You think you can manage?”

You scoff playfully, and squeeze his hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you tease. He chuckles, and the melody of it is music to your ears.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You arrive at the lake house only ten minutes late, which you and Will agree is not entirely unacceptable.

“Finally, they’re here!” Benny yells as he bounds over to the car. He envelopes you in a bear hug, picking you up off the ground accidentally.

“Frankie is inside,” Santiago reassures when he catches you looking over his shoulder. You turn to give him a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek. Old habit.

“Santi, did you pack bug spray? You know the mosquitoes love you,” you wink, running your hands through his hair affectionately. He has greys coming through, and they suit him beautifully.

“Yes, hermosa, I got your text reminding me,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You and Will grab your bags and make your way inside, where Frankie is making margaritas.

“Hola, mi amor,” he greets, wrapping his arms around you. “How was the journey?”

“All good, Francisco,” you reply. “I have a very reliable chauffeur.”

Will laughs from behind you, and it makes your knees weak.

“Bad news, you guys!” Benny interrupts, jumping to sit on the counter. “You two have to share a room, since you were the last ones here. Finders, keepers, and all that.”

That really isn’t the inconvenience that the boys think it is, but you and Will play along nonetheless.

“Damn it. He snores, you know!” you laugh, looking over to where Will is pretending to be offended, hand over his heart.

“That’s what you get for being late, losers!” Benny retorts, throwing his head back in amusement. Everyone laughs along with him, and all the tension melts from your body.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s day one, and you’re already struggling. You’re all relaxing on the dock, soaking up the sun’s rays. Will is wearing his forest green swim trunks with a ridiculously small inseam, his strong thighs on display. You so badly want to kiss them, lick them, bite down on them in the way you know he likes. Instead, you sip your margarita and settle for ogling him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He dives into the lake elegantly, and a bead of sweat drips down your neck. He breaks the surface, coming up for air, and pushes his hair back, water cascading down his golden skin. He’s glowing, beaming, gleaming in the sunlight like an ancient marble statue. You’re practically panting. Santiago notices.

“You okay, hermosa?” he asks, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, Santi, I’m good. Just super warm,” you lie. He seems to buy it, because he moves to grab his book, fanning you with it. Admittedly, the light breeze does cool you off, and distracts you from Will. Double win.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you joke, as he pretends to tip his hat towards you.

“You should join us!” Benny shouts from the lake. When did he even jump in?

“Yeah, come on, darlin’” Will chimes in, watching you with a slight smirk on his face. He’s not going to pass up the chance to see you sun soaked and dripping wet.

“Fine!” you huff jokingly, pulling your oversized t shirt (which you’re realising belongs to Frankie – when did you steal that?) over your head. You’re left in a bikini that leaves little to the imagination, the bright colour accentuating your skin beautifully. You look good. You feel good.

Will looks you up and down and takes a deep breath. You’re just friends, remember? He’s trying to convince himself, attempting to make the act somewhat believable. You break him out of his thoughts by running along the dock as fast as you can, and diving into the lake with a surprising amount of grace.

The five of you spend all afternoon in the water. Benny thinks it’s hilarious to pick you up, placing you on his shoulders before jumping backwards, sending you both flying through the air. You all play catch, laughing when Frankie misses the ball and accidentally punches Santi right in the stomach. You and Will easily fall back into your old habits of being friends, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger just a second too long every now and again. You’re sure nobody else clocks on, all of the boys too busy splashing each other like children.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When the evening comes, you all shower and dry off while Will and Frankie make dinner. You, Benny and Santi curl up on the couch, trying to warm each other up after hours of being in the water. You eat, you laugh, and you all swap stories about the things that you’ve missed since you last saw each other properly. It’s bliss. Perfect tranquility.

The sun sets, and you all move outside to the deck. Santi starts a campfire, and the five of you grab beers, settling into the warmth of the crackling wood. Everyone is relaxed, not a care in the world. You wish, for a moment, that life could always be like this. As if reading your thoughts, Will reaches out and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb in a fleeting moment, before retracting his hand as if nothing happened.

“I’m gonna make us some warm ciders,” Frankie decides, rising from his chair.

“I’ll come and help you. You always put way too much alcohol in - these idiots can’t handle it,” you signal towards where Benny, Will and Santiago are sat. They all scoff at you, laughing because they know it’s true.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sit atop the counter next to where Frankie begins gathering his ingredients. When a strand of hair falls into his eyes, you move it away gently.

“Will you let me cut your hair tomorrow? It’s getting in your way,” you ask him softly.

“Of course, mi amor. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

He smiles at you, and your heart swells. You love this man so much - some days you wonder how you got so lucky. All five of you are bonded for life, best friends until the end. But there’s no denying that you and Frankie have always understood each other on another level.

He stops making the drinks, moving to stand between your legs. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to solve something.

“I like seeing you happy like this,” he murmurs.

“How can I not be?” you whisper back. “I’m with my favourite people. I have everything I could ever want.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, and he chuckles. He begins to draw slow circles just above your bare knee. You can tell he’s thinking carefully.

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

In this moment, you could lie. You could feign innocence, deny it with your life, maintain that you and Will are just friends. But what’s the use? Why hide the best thing that’s ever happened to you from one of the people you love the most in the world?

“Yeah,” you grin. “It’s Will.”

He’s practically beaming at you now, equal parts proud of himself and you.

“Knew it,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. “Did something happen?”

You realise now that there’s absolutely no point in lying to Frankie. You’ve come this far. Might as well tell him the truth.

“We’re engaged,” you whisper, grinning from ear to ear.

He pauses for a moment, processing the news. You can see the shock registering on his face. Then, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh my god, hermosa! You’re kidding!”

He’s squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You hear a shout from the boys outside and remember where you are.

“We haven’t told anyone yet. We’re just living in our little bubble of happiness for a while.”

“Hey, I get it,” he reassures. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew it’d happen eventually. It was just a question of when.”

You hug him again, so overwhelmed with love. What a miracle, to be loved like this by so many brilliant people.

“We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise. We were thinking of making it a party, a whole celebration.”

“Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

He pinches your knee playfully, before making his way back to his drinks, smile still plastered across his face.

“Hey, Francisco?” you murmur, still aware of the volume of your voice.

“Yeah?” he turns, giving you his full attention.

“So, I know it’s not traditional, but, I mean, when have me and Will ever done traditional?” you both laugh, and you continue. “I was just thinking – and you don’t have to say yes… I’d love it if you did, but really, you don’t have to – “

“Spit it out, mi amor,” he teases gently.

“Will you be my best man?”

He stops in his tracks, suddenly serious, and you’re worried you’ve made a mistake. Then, he breaks out into a grin, practically running over to bear hug you again.

“Of course I will,” he confirms into your ear. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly.

“I love you too, hermosa. So much.”

Frankie kisses you on the forehead once, then again, and begins to pick up the drinks he’s made.

“They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long. You know how they get,” he winks, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sit in your happiness for a little while, just basking in the glow. You’ve never felt so at peace.

Will wanders into the kitchen, immediately coming over to stand in front of you. His warm palms find your hips, and he leans in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, sugar,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Hi, handsome,” you mutter back.

“You okay? You disappeared,” he asks, fingers moving in warm circles on the bare skin of your waist.

“I’m good. So good,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s then you realise what you’ve done. You broke the rule – don’t tell the boys.

“Will?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I have something I need to confess.”

He pulls away so he can see your face, and smiles at you gently, before putting the pieces together in his head.

“You told Frankie, didn’t you?” he asks, still smiling.

There’s a pause before you bare your truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry! He kind of figured it out himself, and he asked, and I didn’t have the heart to lie to him. He’s my best friend, he can see right through me at any given moment. I know I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell them and I know this makes me a hypocrite and I’m sorry – “

Will cuts you off - just like that day in his kitchen - by smashing his lips to yours.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he reassures when you pull away.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

He rests his forehead against yours, and allows you to breathe him in. Then, he chuckles softly.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re idiots,” he replies.

“I mean, yes. But why?”

He chuckles again, clearly amused, before answering,

“I totally just told Benny and Santi while you were in here telling Frankie.”

You process the information, before bursting into a fit of giggles. He joins you, the both of you laughing like fools.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. Benny made a comment, said he’s kinda noticed that something has changed, and I just sort of confessed.”

You’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt. What are the chances? It all feels like fate. The two of you, together. The timing of the evening. It couldn’t have worked out any more perfect.

“We’re idiots,” you agree, throwing your arms around his neck. Will pulls you off the counter and spins you around, making you shriek. It’s the most beautiful déjà vu.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you make your way back out to the deck. As you walk over to the boys at the campfire, you’re suddenly caught off guard by two of them rugby tackling you, the three of you barrelling into the ground with a thud. Benny and Santiago are crushing you beneath them, shouting as they do it.

“Congratulations!”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart!”

“How did you even keep this a secret for so long?”

“Yeah, when were you planning to tell us, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re marrying my brother. Oh my god, we’re gonna be family!”

“The five of us are already family, Ben.”

“Yeah, but, like, legally. Brother and sister!”

Benny’s hair is in your mouth and Santiago’s knee is in your ribcage and your earring is caught in someone’s shirt and the grass is scratching your back and you can’t breathe. Will and Frankie are watching from a distance, chuckling. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tranquility.

[featherandferns]

Prompt 2 with angst

2. I blame you for this.

I lost the original ask (which was from ages ago - sorry!) but they added extra information along this line: JJ cheated by ‘accident’ and wants reader to forgive but having hard time trusting. Fluff ending, possible smut.

a mistake - prompt 2

JJ is hot on your tail as you storm into the chateau. You can’t believe he followed you back. Can’t believe he had the nerve to. No, not the nerve. The audacity. 

“Baby, come on! We can just talk about this!”

“Talk about it?” you echo. Spinning around, you can’t help but laugh humourlessly. “What the hell is there to talk about?”

JJ falters in his step. You watch as he swallows, slow and thick, and you shake your head, lips down turning into a painful, deep frown. 

“JJ. You slept with another woman.”

You’re surprised you keep yourself from gaping in shock when he raises a finger, pointing at you accusingly. 

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t say it like that! Like I cheated on you or some shit!”

Another laugh bubbles up through you. You’d never been good with shock. Some people freeze, some people cry, and some people laugh and cackle and grin. The whole situation is so absurd to you, so far from what you could ever imagine, that it doesn’t feel real. 

“You did!”

“We were on a break!”

“You think you’re getting out of this on a technicality?”

“I think it’s an important dissertation,” he loudly replies. 

You grit your teeth, eyes narrowing. “It’s distinction, and no, it is not.”

You want as much space between you as possible. He could be on another continent and it still wouldn’t be far enough. The thought of having him near you, having him talk to you- it all just makes you feel sick to your stomach. Storming into the hallway and into John B’s (thankfully empty bedroom), you go to shut the door. JJ forces it open, stronger than you. Tears begin to sting your eyes. Why can’t he just leave it alone? 

“Look, can you just try to understand things from my perspective?” JJ says, the anger morphing into desperation. 

You stare at him, lips parted. He takes your silence as cause to continue. 

“I thought you’d left me forever, and I was spinning out, and freaking, and didn’t know what to do.”

“So you fell into another girl’s bed?”

“It was a month later!” JJ snaps, throwing his arms up. “You hadn’t spoke to me for a month!”

The thing is, you and JJ had a rather dysfunctional relationship. Neither of you had very good role models growing up of what a healthy, happy romance looked like: your dad had cheated too many times to count on your mom, and JJ’s mom and dad were a nightmare before the former up and left. That meant codependency and challenge and combativity. I’m not happy if you’re not happy, and you’re never fucking happy type beats. So, you finally broke. You told him that you both needed a break and some space to think. And now it seems that whilst you were actually trying to reflect and work on yourself, JJ had been getting his yips from other chicks on the island. Beneath all the anger and rage, you were breaking inside. Since JJ admitted it after a more than bizarre interaction with some brunette at a kegger, all you can picture is her lips on his neck, and his hands on her figure, and their writhing, sweaty bodies intertwined…Your stomach is sick. 

Finally, the tears begin to fall. Your heart shatters as you let out a shaking breath. JJ’s own face crumbles with that. He closes the distance between you, grabbing for your arms and hands, refusing to back down until you relent. 

“It was a mistake. It meant nothing, okay? And I know jackasses always say that, and it’s a cheap line, and it sounds like a cop-out, but I swear on my ma’s grave that it’s true. I swear on my fucking life.”

Your lip quivers. You can’t help but look up at JJ. Darling, sweet, troubled JJ. You knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. And as you stared up at him, you knew he was telling the truth. Maybe some might say that you were being wishful, or too forgiving, or running back to a bad thing…But you’d seen JJ lie plenty of times to know when he was being honest. To you, the difference was as clear as night and day.

JJ tries to steal himself. His voice is quiet, vulnerable, prepared for rejection, when he speaks. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

“I blame you for this,” you hear yourself say. You’re not entirely sure what you by it. Blame him for cheating? For making you walk away? For making it so hard for you to say no, here and now? 

His eyes slip shut, ready for the final blow. You can see him mentally preparing to depart from your life forever. 

But no. 

No. 

Slipping your hands up, cupping his face with each palm, you lovingly stroke a finger over his damp cheek. At the tender action, JJ forces his eyes open. 

“But I don’t know who I am without you either.”