#Like I think something like this has happened before and I’m deeply concerned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesturniolos · 8 months ago

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make you mine ~ m.sturniolo x reader (she/her)

જ⁀➴. summary: i mean you know what they say, keep your friends close but always keep your enemies closer- just how much closer?

જ⁀➴. warnings: filthy smut, fingering, dumbification, degradation, praise, rope bunny, spitting, spanking (i’m sorry), dom!matt and sub!matt, jealousy, brat!reader, a little angsty (cause yk i fw that too much)

જ⁀➴. this is for @annamcdonalds67 challenge!! i will be basing this fic off of madison beer’s ‘make you mine’ !

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

‘i wanna lay you down, i wanna string you up, i wanna make

you mine.’

do you know that feeling when you’re drunk, so drunk that your mind feels like a fog? like a layer of cloud and mist has settled into the crevices of your brain, seeping into your every thought. a fog so powerful that it alters your visions and brings hidden secrets to the tip of your tongue, the kind of secrets that would change something, anything once and for all.

and in that moment, the feeling of freedom outweighs all the consequences of letting that secret out. slowly, my fogged brain pieces together to allow my hands to fiddle with the padlocks of the secret. to untie the tangled chains, to swivel the tiny little key around on the pads of my fingers, to push the blade into the hole in the chest.

and just like that, a secret sworn to never be spread dribbles down the edges of the box and every thought telling me, yelling actually, that what i’m about to do is wrong is etched away by a metaphorical marker and nothing will stop me from what i want to do and what i’m going to do.

the dizzying noise of a thousand people, some my friends, most of them random people you’d find at classic LA parties, is silenced by the sound of my beating heart and the blood pumping viciously around my body.

it’s the kind of passion that comes from envy, that comes from jealousy, that comes from resent so blinding that every step you take feels like it could break the marble floor underneath your feet. or that steam pushing out of your ears could be visible.

it’s the kind of jealousy that comes from seeing a person you care so deeply about in a corner with some bitch who knows nothing about him.

like- she doesn’t know what he likes and doesn’t like, she doesn’t know that he has three books by his bed and that one of them has her initials carved into the fourteenth page. she would never know that his own couch has an imprint from where my fucking ass sits everyday. like she wouldn’t know that their shared ‘hatred’ wasn’t actually real. just like how she doesn’t know that he is not on the market and she has absolutely no fucking place in the world to have her wretched bones on his skin.

you’d assume that in a situation like this time slows like a movie but it doesn’t. it speeds and i can’t keep track of anyone around me or what song is playing or even what drink is sloshing onto my hand from my cup. i just know exactly where it’s going to go though.

before i step foot into the beaming light of the kitchen, two hands grab my hips and swivel me around. two hands that won’t be there in a minute if they don’t leave my body.

im met with a pair of very similar eyes and i suddenly feel very guilty for thinking what i thought a second ago.

‘hey! where have you been all night? me and nick have been looking for you literally everywhere.’ chris’ eyes look concerned but his smile is still in full tact.

‘i’ve been talking to people, catching up-‘

‘did something happen? cause you know, you look like you’re gonna kill somebody’ he laughs, his hands leaving my hips and i brush the area off where he touched, holding my head high to hopefully hide the seeving look on my face.

‘just people liking to get up in my business, you know how it is. ‘ i nod, sipping from cup, immediately regretting because actually wtf is in it.

‘okay, well- me and nick were about to leave, we’re just tryna round you and matt up.’ my teeth clench together at the sound of his name.

‘yeah, i don’t know chris. i might go home later, feels like we only just got here!’

‘it’s literally 2am, we’ve been here 4 and half hours already-‘

“come on, chris! when do you ever get to go to a party as big as this? go find a girl or something- give yourself a good time!’ his eyebrows furrow and he shrugs his shoulders.

“i guess so-“

“you gotta get over that bitch ex of yours anyways, perhaps this could be your perfect time.” and with that, he was fully listening. his shoulders now standing upright and his posture as straight as possible.

“you’re right, y/n. oh, look- there’s matt! guess he’s already a step ahead of me and you.”

my head spirals around is quickly, i think i saw stars. big, white, angry shooting stars. the sight of his hands clenching onto her ass, pushing her against a kitchen counter. her dress slowly riding up her thighs, thanks to his legs prying them open.

and with that, something ticks inside me.

i’ve been jealous before. hell i’ve been the most jealous in the room. but have you ever been so jealous that a rack of knives looked appealing and the bat that hangs above the wall in the living room looked handy dandy to do the exact job you needed to?

why was it always the bitchiest of girls who all the guys hate -but apparently not so because she’s tugging on one of their dicks by saturday.

well guess what? two can play at that game, bitch.

i turn around to find a good looking guy, not so attractive that i could become attached but not ugly enough for me to be gagging when i run my hands along his dick.

‘you. come with me.” i gesture, my fingers curving in to lure him into me.

his brows furrow and he scoffs, “why?”

“cause i fucking said so, come with me.” i drag his hand and he turns back to look at this friends with a sudden bright smile.

our hands are clenched together as i pull him through a small crowd towards the kitchen. the urge to instantly jump on him to rile matt up is incredibly overwhelming but desperation isn’t always the best look on me.

my hand reaches for a red cup, filled with what looks like classic punch and i pour it down the sink to fill it up with straight vodka and hand it to him. “drink up, buttercup.��

his eyes widen but he obeys and i watch as he drinks every last sip, my fists clenching from the idea of what’s going on directly behind me.

“ngh’ matt-“ i hear the girl moan and my head twists to see his eyes glaring into mine whilst sucking red marks onto her neck.

i scoff and drag my guy closer to me, all whilst maintaining eye contact to lick a stripe up his neck and shove my right hand up his shirt to feel his torso. the guy did have toned abs, i could feel from how rock hard he was against my fingers but unlucky for him, i was completely and utterly distracted by the guy i hated so fucking much opposite me.

hate so pure that the sound of his name made goosebumps run down my neck and my blood bubble under my skin. my eyes would sting from the gaze of his eyes, my eyelids burning from refusing to shut. it was hate so pure that seeing a girl on his arm made my throat run dry and my words choke. the rings on my fingers digging into my palms and my teeth scratching against one another as i clenched my jaw to see the hickies scattered on his chest.

my tongue caresses the skin of his neck, latching over what i think is his sweet spot, as he moves his hands down my body. i smirk as i see matt latch onto the bitch’s figure tighter, desperate to outweigh whatever i was doing.

i look up at the guy and say, “do whatever you want to me, right here, right now.” his eyes light up and his breath halts slightly.

“but we’re in here with so many people-“

“i don’t care.” my head turning back to look at matt who is still looking at me, a grimacing smile speaking across my face which makes his brows furrow deeper into his skin.

the guy grabs my leg to push it onto his, my front up against him and he latches our mouths together, his tongue immediately creating a space between my lips to enter.

after a solid minute of awkwardly making out in front of what felt like 30 people, a hand pushes my leg down from the guys hip and grabs my hand to pull me away from the crowd.

i’d be stupid if i said i didn’t know it was matt, of course i knew it was him. after all, he knew i had full control over him even if we were just enemies.

sweating bodies collided with mine and i squeeze my body close together to avoid elbows to the face. my heels making me stumble a little, alcohol still running through my system.

i look down to find a step up a winding staircase, a classic LA mansion.

20 steps felt like half a lifetime as matt still desperately drags me up them, whispering incoherent, angry remarks under his breath. until finally he makes it to the top and barges through the first bedroom he sees.

i enter quickly after him, my hand falling to my side as he slams the door behind us. i didn’t have time to react before he pushes my shoulder into the wall behind me, digging his nails into my skin.

his eyes are practically black with anger, his eyebrows fallen to his eyelids yet a disgusting grin on his face. his tongue slides along his teeth, before he spits, ” what the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”

“whatever you’re playing, i mean it’s only fair.” i squeak back, my breath a little taken away from the sudden collide with my back and the brick wall. and of course the incredibly small space between our lips and the fact that our noses are touching.

“that’s not how this works around here.”

“then how does it? you get to go around with every girl in our state and i sit in the background watching?” what was that even supposed to mean?

he removes a hand from my shoulder and shakes his head, “people around here know they can’t touch you. they just know that, sweetheart. i assumed you would too.”

“and you’re allowed to have that bitch all over you? tell me, matt. how is this really fucking fair?” his hand comes up to my throat to clench it, light enough so i’m not choking but hard enough so that i’m gagged, my head lifted up a little.

“because how else am i supposed to get you to fucking take notice that i want you.”

i furrow my eyebrows, i try to speak but he clenches harder and the words don’t form in my mouth.

“every girl i have i imagine it’s you, every time i’m fucking a girl i imagine it’s your pussy im in, i imagine it’s your lips that im sucking on.”

i look dead in his eyes, my lashes blurring my vision slightly, his hooded gaze mesmerising me as i take in his every word

“every mean comment i made and every remark you made back riled me up. i knew it, you knew it, everyone else fucking knew it. im fed up of this bullshit circle we’ve had going on- i need you to see that you’re mine. when i saw you and that bitch in the kitchen, i smiled because i knew i got you. i got you to the point where you fucking admitted to me that im in your brain, you want me just as much as i want you baby.”

his tongue pokes out to lick a strip along my lip, he stands back to look at me in such a vulnerable position. my legs squeezed together in my little black dress and his hand wrapped around my neck as i look up at him with teary eyes and a dumb little smile on my face. it was just all he had ever wanted.

his hand leaves my neck, reaching up to grab my jaw and push my lips against his. a messy, tongue-filled kiss. his tongue sucks onto mine and i moan into his mouth, my legs moving forward to push him backwards.

he hums into the kiss, moving his head to suck on my lips whilst treading towards the bed in which he eventually pulls us onto. my legs scramble to straddle his lap and loop my hands around his neck.

he pulls away to pull the straps of my dress down as i look into his eyes, if somebody had told me two years ago that i was straddling matt’s fucking lap i probably would’ve slapped you around the face.

“do you know how long i’ve wanted you baby?” he says, yanking down my black dress to reveal a lacy, practically see-through bra that pushes up my boobs to accentuate them especially for matt’s eyes.

i shake my head, my hands clasping onto the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“too fucking long.” he rips off my bra, my mouth wide from how easily he broke the fabric, a loud groan leaving his mouth as he launches forward to suck my hard, pointed nipples.

my head thrown back as i grind against his jean pants, desperate to relieve the feeling in between my thighs. the tent of his pants brushing roughly against my region making me pull his head closer into my tits.

he pulls away to stare up at me, already looking a little disheveled, as he chuckles slightly, “you’re so fucking needy, who knew a pretty baby with a mouth as big as yours could be so desperate for my cock?”

i whimper at the sound of his patronising voice, my hips moving faster as he speaks but the loss of the soft pad of his tongue of nipples making my eyes water a little.

he grabs my jaw to force me to look at him, his fore finger and his middle finger squeezing together closely as he pushes them towards my lips. “open up, slut.”

i open my mouth for him and he guides his fingers into my mouth and instinctively i suck on them, my eyes slowly fluttering shut and i hum onto them, wishing it was something else.

the tent underneath me twitching even under all this fabric and the hands looped around his neck untie to slowly run down his torso all the way to the zip on his jeans.

“you want it all don’t you baby? you act so tough but really you’re just a whore for me and my dick. it’s not even been five minutes and you’re already scrambling to undo my pants. that’s it baby, let me use all your pretty parts.” i pull them down to reveal his wet boxers and his huge dick.

this man wasn’t just packing a couple inches, it was enough to bruise the back of my throat and my cervix. my eyes light up as i hold it through the cotton of his underwear, drool begging to leave my mouth.

he leans back slowly, his elbows digging into the plush mattress underneath of us as he guides me closer towards his cock, pushing away stray hairs that curl around the frame of my face.

i pull down his boxers for his dick bounce straight up and hit his stomach, pre cum leaking from his bright red, swollen tip. and i hungrily scramble to grab hold of it, his words replaying in my head, i’m just a whore for him.

my hands smooth the veins along the bottom of his dick, slowly making my way up to kiss his oozing tip and i feel his body shudder underneath me. without a second thought, i shove his tip in my mouth and suck his cum off. my mouth hollows and i move my head up and down, determined to get some noise out of his pretty mouth.

“that’s it pretty girl, just like that- mmm” his head is thrown back and his hands come round to cradle my head, pushing me further onto his dick.

i moan which sends vibrations down his cock, his tip growing in my mouth as i swirl my tongue around it, the gagging sounds echoing in the room, riling matt up more and more.

“fucking take it all baby- oh fuck, i know you can” he winces out, the grip on my hair tightening and i smile against the girth of his dick doing exactly what he says, hollowing my mouth and sucking all the way to his bone. his hips shove up to hit the back of my throat and my eyes flutter shut, the full feeling in my throat overwhelming me.

he guides my head by bobbing my head up and down in time with his hip thrusts, the sounds of my gargling getting progressively louder as he becomes more determined to cum down my throat.

a sudden halt to his erotic sounds, i feel my head being pulled up, a ‘pop’ sound coming from my mouth from the sudden loss of his dick in my throat. he laughs, smoothing my cheek with his thumb before gently slapping it and grabbing my chin so i look at him.

“you gonna let me make you feel good?” i frantically nod my head, the heat between my legs practically burning a hole thru my panties now.

“that’s my girl, you’re mine. aren’t you?” i nod and he tuts, “ use your words.”

“i’m yours.” and that’s all he needed before he picks me up like i’m a fucking feather weighing nothing more than a couple pounds and throws me onto the bed whilst he twists around to stand up off the bed, looking down at me.

“you know it, my little slut.” he pulls down my dress finally, he didn’t get to finish underdressing me cause the idea of finally tasting him was too much. but now that i can feel the cold air hitting the most private of places and his glare blazing up and down my body, i feel shy.

my elbows hover over my boobs as i try and scrunch up a little but matt’s hands pry them away and he spreads my legs before discarding my little black dress on the floor, i’m only left with my matching lace panties.

he licks his lips, his glare fixating on the wet patch created on my underwear, just for him. as he holds my thighs apart, he blows gently onto the fabric making it instantly cold and i shift up the bed a little, whimpering.

“this all for me, baby?” he looks up at me, caressing my thighs gently. the cold metal of his rings making my goosebumps more and more apparent.

“mhm.” my eyes flutter shut and i push against the force of matt’s hands, becoming increasingly desperate for any kind of pressure on my pussy. “please.”

“please what?” he smirks, his touch on my thighs now so light you wouldn’t even believe it was there. it was another level of teasing that made the core of your very stomach fuzzy and the lack of any touch adds to the sick feeling you have.

“just do something, anything.” he snaps when i say that, flipping me around quickly so that my body slaps against the mattress, my ass on full show to him, my thing not doing much too cover my the cheeks of my ass.

“i wanna feel the rush, i wanna taste the crush, i wanna get you going.”

the sharp sting of fabric ripping against my delicate skin and sudden gasp mixed with the breaking of sweet lace makes matt chuckle in the background before placing a harsh slap to my ass, sending me into the air as it was so unexpected.

“you gonna be good for me?” he smooths over where he slapped, secretly wishing it will make a bruise.

“yes, yes i’ll be good.” i beg, wanting literally anything.

as his fingers move closer towards my wetness, he suddenly moves away quickly before getting up and searching the room.

i look up and frown, “what the fuck are you doing?” i whisper a little, upset that he looks like he’s about to leave.

he doesn’t say anything but pauses once he gets to the drawer in the closet and laughs before turning around to reveal a belt.

“what are you doing? this isn’t even your room.” i say, relaxing yet still confused.

he walks over to me and forces my chin up at him, “keep speaking in that bratty fucking tone and i will leave you high and dry”

“well you won’t even let me get high so what effect is that gonna have-“ before i could finish my sentence he covers my mouth with one hand and uses the other to turn me around so my head is shoved into the pillows of the bed. he scrambles to grab my hands, pushing them against my back and fiddling with the belt.

“just you fucking wait and see, little angel.” he twists them around my wrists and tightens them so i can’t get out without any help.

his hands letting going of mine before i feel them suddenly exactly where i need them. a singular finger pressing down onto my bundle of nerves and my whole body jumps with just a simple touch, a pornographic moan leaving my mouth.

“does that feel good baby” i whimper back a desperate ‘yes’ and wriggle against the pad of his finger wanting him to move oh, so badly.

“want me to move my hand, darling?” i nod my head frantically hoping he can see me which i gather he can considering the low laugh that leaves his mouth and the sudden movement of his finger dragging down slowly through my folds.

“you want me here?”

“yes, yes. i want you there. i want you to move.”

“you want me to move?”

“please.”

“there it is.” and with that, the gentle movements turned into quick, hard thrusts. his two fingers sliding through my hole at an insane pace, not letting me readjust for one second, making my whole body lift from the bed, my hands shaking in the belt he tied me up in.

the cold metal of his rings mixing with the warm wetness coating his fingers, the sensation was immense. all before he flips me over and presses his mouth onto my clip sending me into fucking sub space.

“oh my fucking god! matt-“

he licks and kisses at my clit at a gentle pace all while his fingers strum in and out of my hole at an alarming speed, it’s a wonder he doesn’t have arm cramp even after one minute.

my ass doesn’t stay on the bed and my whole body is jittering at the sudden overwhelming sensation. the flicks of his tongue and the curving of his fingers making sure he hits my sweet spots makes the bundle in my stomach tighten up.

“please matt, i’m gonna cum!”

he carries on, his feasting at my pussy getting progressively more intense, like a starved man. he enters another finger into my hole, stretching me perfectly so that i am shaped for him.

he breathes against my heat, “let go, baby.”

and with that, i did. sweat running from my back and forehead, my tied hands desperately grabbing onto the leather and my toes clenching over his shoulders.

he licks me clean, pressing one last kiss to my clit which makes me jolt as he laughs a little to himself seeing my messy figure on the bed.

“you did so well, baby.” i smile at him, his head coming close to mine to kiss my lips.

“now you gonna help me out sweetheart?”

i nod and he turns me around to take me out of the tied belts and he kisses the red marks from where i pulled against the restraint. “you liked these?” i shake my head and he laughs.

i pull myself up from the bed and onto matt’s lap to face him, i latch my lips onto his and hook my hands around his neck pulling him closer to me. my naked body fitting perfectly around his warm body.

he moves his hands down my body, caressing my curves and humming against our kiss as i pull away and look down to stroke his dick to which he kisses and pulls himself into my neck.

i move myself up his body to push myself down onto his hard shaft, as he winces and throws his head backwards, moaning my name.

i pull at his hairs and rock my hips against him and watch his demeanour change as his hips desperately rutt against mine and i forcefully push my hands onto his thighs so that he’s restricted.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he groans as my grinding against him slows.

“taking control.” his eyes widen and i push myself up further so that i can plunge further onto his dick. my nails digging into his thighs as i watch his breathing get faster and moans leave his mouth.

“that’s not - ngh- how it works.” he argues with me which doesn’t last for long when i start to kiss his neck and suck on the lobes of ears in which his thrusts up into me become more persistent.

“i’m gonna cum-“

“not until i cum.” i say, chasing my high with him as i hear him whine into my ear, panting a little too.

“please, just let me.” he hugs me closer, my boobs crushed against his chest as he begins to rocks back and forth with me, moaning and groaning with his head in the air. so much for tough guy, huh?

“cum with me.” i bounce up and down as he thrusts up into me for the last time before releasing his cum, painting my walls as it oozes out of me as i collapse onto the bed next to us.

our heavy breathing and hearts beating is the only thing that can be heard.

matt’s hand slowly moves to bring me closer to him, i smile as i look up at his tired state.

“you changed quickly, mr tough guy to oh please! please, let me cum! “ he shakes his head and covers my mouth.

“shut up, you wouldn’t fucking let me .”

i laugh at him and he picks me up to squeeze me, so much for being enemies, huh?

“so-“

“you’re mine now right? like for real?” he’s not looking at me, rather picking at his nails.

i giggle and press my head against his forehead and nod, “of course.”

hope you all liked !! too many fucking words :)

tags: @wisteral @evieolo @ev3rgreenxtrees @estelleswrld @recklessmatt @recklesssturniolo @realuvrrr @urfavstromboli @obscurechris @poopydroopt @plasticferal @lilasturns @lovingmattysposts @m4ttslvr @mattandmilds @muwapsturniolo @mattsgirlfriendlol @kirby0strombolli @kvtie2 @kikisturnioloo @kqyslyho3 @klarasmith @sturnioloshacker @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @sturniolosstar @sturniolossmut @mattslolita @zooweemamas @chrattenthusiast @chrissgirlsstuff @bernardsbendystraws @ducksturniolo @dsturniolo @deatthmatch @fruitglazed @hearts4sturniolo @hawaiihasmyheart @heartsforchrisandmatt @hoesformatt @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @inlovewchris @ihateeveryone357474 @ilovemattsturn @nicksmainbitch @noellesturniolo @yurtrrrr @mattsgirlfriendlol @mattsfaked

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seeingivy · 5 months ago

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casual

suguru geto x f!reader

**loosely based on casual by my beloved chappell roan

—

in the three months that you spend with suguru geto, he leaves a sour taste in your mouth and it’s not only because he tastes like black coffee. and in the two months that follow, before your deeply unfortunate circumstantial reunion, the last five words that you uttered to him, the sentiment behind them, only seems to grow.

you can go to hell.

and it’s all you can think when he shows up to the emergency room – a pinkish sunburn across his nose, his hair messily tied back – and eyes dripping in a concern that fills you with a rage. and it’s a deep sigh that he gives you, before reaching for your hand.

“what happened to you, peach?”

the general education class that you choose to satisfy your values and ethics inquiry is the sociology of religion. counting all the stakes – a stellar review on rate my professors, a night class at the start of the week, and minimal homework – it makes for the most ideal choice.

“so what’s your major?”

the downside? the midterm and final project are group assignments. and on any other occasion, you would have appreciated it – getting to split the work, taking some of the load off and sharing the work with someone, except for the fact that you didn’t know anyone in the class – and for the most part, you were expecting some half-brained idiot that would make you do all the work.

you suppose it’s at least fair that he’s not horrible to look at. in the dimmed lights of your apartment, there’s something almost off putting about your partner, suguru geto. you count seven piercings across his ears – dangling silver pieces almost shining in the glint of the light – and the smallest rim of purple around his eyes. harsh cheekbones, a hard jaw, and wrinkles by his eyes.

“educational studies. what’s yours?” you state.

“computer science.”

you hum in response, filling the two glasses with water and snatching one of the peaches from its container before taking your seat across from him, noting that he has a dimple on the left side when he smiles in response to your gesture.

“did you want some?” you ask, holding the peach in between the two of you.

he shakes his head, slumping against the counter in what seems an almost unnatural pose – his long limbs spreading into the space underneath your chair. you wonder if he always had an unusual way of taking up space.

and it seems that as time goes on, he gets more and more unusual. quietly working through the portions that you split up, except for a few deep breaths here and there, though he would stop once in a while and would almost ask for approval of what he had written, waiting for some confirmation from you that it was okay with you.

“you’re comparing adam and eve to…orpheus? i’m not really familiar with that.” you state.

suguru nods, before turning towards you to explain. his eyes waver in the slightest as he turns over to you, his gaze flitting down to your lips, before looking back up at you.

“you don’t have to be polite. you really can have some if you want, it’s really sweet.” you state.

suguru smiles.

“maybe later.”

you shrug.

“so orpheus…”

“it’s a really old greek myth. orpheus and eurydice. to kind boil it down, eurydice is in the underworld with hades. and orpheus is trying to convince hades to let her return to the mortal world, with him.”

he scoots his chair a little bit closer to you and you’re able to note one thing – that there’s a resonance in his voice, that it hums in his chest when he talks.

“hades tells him that he’ll let him take eurydice with him, but on one condition. she has to walk behind him.”

“that’s not that hard.”

suguru grins.

“isn’t it?” he asks.

you pause.

“you’re being told by this big, all powerful god, that she’s walking behind you. but you can’t look. you wouldn’t even consider the fact that you were being fooled? that maybe she had decided not to follow?”

“i mean, i guess. i don’t think it would really cross my mind, i…i think i’d just follow out all the way til the end because i’d kind of have faith if that’s what i was promised. and that she’d want to come with me too.”

suguru pauses, like he’s almost taking in what you’ve said – like it’s the first time he’s heard it – and responds rather slowly.

“you’re rather trusting, aren’t you?”

you roll your eyes.

“is that such a bad thing? what do you think about it?”

suguru shrugs.

“it was a worthless pursuit in the first place. there was no way that he wouldn’t have turned around and looked back.”

“what do you mean?”

“it’s simple. he loves her. if he hears something that deceives him – like the sound of her tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back. if he thinks that she isn’t there, he won’t be able to get over it and he’ll turn around.”

you pause, mulling the thought over. and you suppose it’s true – that if you really did love something, it would be almost impossible not to check for the promise of their presence.

“i guess. so what? she goes back to the underworld?”

“yeah. it’s one of the most tragic love stories.”

“i guess it’s kind of romantic. that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

and in the split second that the two of you stare at each other, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, with the strong taste of coffee lingering on his lips.

you’ve kissed three people before in your life – the boy you sat next to in the seventh grade, your date to the prom, and now suguru geto.

the first was overwhelming. a quick locking of the lips, that at the time, made you nearly erupt into a puddle of butterflies. the second was lackluster. waxy from too much chapstick, abrupt from the fact that he was quick to shove his tongue in your mouth.

and the third was indescribable. only because you could feel it – something lingering under his demeanor that you couldn’t exactly place. there wasn’t a word for the feeling it gave you – though there was one that was close enough.

curiosity. about what that feeling is, about who suguru geto was, and why he felt so inclined to kiss you upon your third meeting.

you wanted more of it.

“you’re right, you know?” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips.

“about being trusting?”

he laughs.

“no. about the peach. it really is sweet.”

he leans back, eyes fixed on the reading in front of the two of you again, as you reach up to touch your lips, the sticky sweetness of the fruit gone from your skin.

suguru comes around often after the fact. always here and there, an almost abrupt and concise text testing the waters.

[suguru]: is your roommate home?

[you]: nope. she’s at the district.

[suguru]: can i keep you company?

[you]: okay!

and he always arrives promptly twenty minutes after the fact, to the point where you wondered if he lingered around just to get there as fast as he could. and never empty handed – with dinner, dessert, or a flower that he plucked out of the cement in his hands.

that was the thing that confused you about him.

after the very first time you kissed, he had made one thing very clear.

no attachments. you’re not together.

but yet, he’d show up sometimes and do nothing but kiss your forehead and sleep in your bed next to you. or make you do something entirely mundane – like watch toy story three with a sheet of cookies in your oven – or watch you study.

and in the two weeks you had known him, you knew better than to question. your curiosity never stopped you, but you found that you were always left with more questions than the vague answers that he gave you.

“hey peach?”

“yeah?”

“your mom is calling.”

you widen your eyes, immediately snatching the phone from him, and giving him a weary smile. and you side shuffle into the walkway between the laundry and your bedroom, pressing the phone to your ear and murmuring under your breath.

“hi mom.”

“hi doll. how are classes?”

you pick at the loose thread of your sweater, nearly breaking the seams of the sleeve, noting suguru’s curious eyes – that he’s very poignantly trying to hide – from the kitchen.

“they’re good, ma. what’s up?”

“right. i’m so sorry to do this to you, my sweet, but i won’t be home when you get back.”

“what?”

“we’re going on a trip to see sheila in new york. and well, her vacation is only during those dates and we want to spend as much time with her as we can.”

you sigh, the frustration tempering in yoru chest.

“i already paid for the tickets. i saved up for a month trying to buy a flight back.”

“darling, i know. i’m really sorry, but you know how it is. she just gets so stressed out that we just wanted to go out there and make her holiday nice.”

“and what about my holiday? you don’t want me to have a nice christmas with my family?”

you can feel it burning in your cheeks – that embarrassing feeling that’s been simmering in your chest since you were kid. a mix of an insurmountable amount of envy and dejection, from trying to vie for attention from the second that you realized you never had it.

“don’t try to make me feel guilty.” she scolds

“i’m not trying to make you feel guilty! i just wished you would have thought about me too.”

you hear an irritated sigh on the end of the line, which is your first sign that you had made a mistake. because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was push your mom’s buttons.

you wonder if it’s because she sees herself in you – and that utter hatred that she has for herself was now placed on you instead.

“do you always have to be so curt with me?”

“i’m not being curt, i just…”

“maybe when i die, you’ll think back and wished that you had appreciated me more. been more understanding that i’m not just your mother, i am someone’s friend too. that i have my own life. and that at the very least, my friends like to call me here and there. acknowledge me while you do god knows what wherever you are.”

“okay, well, i –”

“enjoy your christmas. we’ll see you in the spring.” she states.

there’s a static on the other end of the line and you drop your phone, staring at the dark screen in your hands for the few seconds that follow. and you must have been standing there for too long, because a few minutes later quiet footsteps accompany you in the dimly lit hallway, suguru’s head obscuring the light from the bulb.

“hi peach.”

“did you hear all of that?”

“no.” he responds.

you look up at him and glare. and he reaches forward, hands soft on your cheek wiping away the wetness that you hadn’t noticed. you’re not sure when you started crying.

he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“you’re a liar. if you’re one thing, it’s nosy.” you respond.

he smiles.

“maybe when it comes to you. what happened, pretty girl?”

you shake your head, his grabby hands coming around your waist as he presses you closer to his chest. you can hear his heart thumping against your ear, the metal of his necklace cold on your cheek, as you heave a sigh.

“nothing.”

“oh, come on, peach.”

you look up at him, expectant and full brown eyes waiting for an answer, as you give in.

“i just thought i would be going home next week for break. but i think i’m just going to stay here.”

“because your parents are going to…”

“see their friends in new york.”

suguru frowns. you can’t tell if it’s pity in his eyes.

“it’s not a big deal. i just was expecting to go home, that’s all. and it’s not that big of a deal that i’m going to stay here, the weather is nice and it’s probably frigid cold there.”

suguru pauses.

“you’re going to be here alone?”

“yeah. my roommate is from the east coast.”

“you should come home with me, for break.”

you look up at him, eyes wide.

“what?”

“s’not that far from here, i usually just make the drive. there’s a nice coffee shop on the way that i always stop at for some energy. and my mom is really nice.”

you shake your head, almost too violently.

“i can’t just go home with you. i wouldn’t want to impose.”

suguru pulls back, his fingers fast on the screen, as he murmurs under his breath, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“you’re not an imposition to me, peach. i can’t leave my baby here alone.”

“sure. but to your parents, and…and staying rent free in your house.”

suguru grins, handing over the phone to you, as you read the texts on the screen.

[suguru]: can my friend come home with me for break? her name is y/n.

[mom]: YES!!!!!

[mom]: A GIRL!

[suguru]: not like that

[suguru]: but she’s sweet

[mom]: I’M GETTING EVERYTHING READY

you look down at the phone, noting the sweet heart emoji that he has near her contact name, the contact photo a picture of the two of them when he was considerably younger, hugging cheek to cheek.

“and i stay rent free in your apartment all the time.”

“suguru, this is…weird. i can’t just come home with you, that’s…that’s too much.”

he shakes his head.

“it’s casual. we’re just friends, you’re just coming home with me for break so you won’t be here alone.”

right. you’d almost be inclined to believe him – if it wasn’t for the fact that the time you spent around him, the more curious you got.

the more that feeling festered in you, wanting to know anything and everything about him, wanting to crawl deep into his skin and memorize everything and make sense of why he was the way he was.

“you promise?”

“for sure.”

“you’re a loser.”

mei mei is never one to mince her words. and you’re grateful for it – because it’s something that you need when you return from your two weeks stay in long beach with suguru over the break.

because despite the words that he told you, the ones that you didn’t really believe anyway, you come back in a worse state than you expected.

you think you love him.

because in the days of uninterrupted time that you spend together, you let your mind wander too far. because in the quiet moments that the two of you had – knee deep in the passenger seat outside the stupid coffee shop you stopped at, giggling in the bathroom when you went to dinner, and tangled in the bed sheets with him every night – you let yourself taste too much.

let your mind run a little too wild. thinking about meeting his friends at the pier he showed you, of living together in an apartment in the following year.

and the two of you teeter a dangerous line. putting each other as emergency contacts, swapping your wardrobe in between your flats, and showering together every morning – his soft hands massaging the shampoo into the roots of your hair.

“don’t be mean.” you state.

“i’m not being mean, i’m just saying that…”

mei mei sighs, cheeks in her hand, with an almost irritating look in her eyes – wholeheartedly judgemental. she just didn’t get it.

“look, he’s friends with todo. that guy i know from the finance club? and i asked around about him, apparently he loves to brag about how he gets girls off all the time. now either he’s talking about you – clearly not the way you talk about him – or he’s talking to someone else.”

you sigh. because you can’t even put it past him. because in the months you had known him, he was impossible to understand. a futile effort to read. impossible to touch.

“look, i’ll just ask him later.”

and when he comes around your apartment, well after mei mei has left, he brings a slice of peach cobbler that his coworker insisted that he take home with him.

“peach cobbler for my peach!”

you wince.

“that was corny. even for you.”

“i saw an opportunity and i took it.” suguru responds, shrugging as he loops his arms around your waist, chin resting against the top of your head as he eyes the pot of boiling ramen on your stove.

and you bite the bullet as fast as you can.

“do you see other girls?” you ask.

“huh?”

you swallow hard, dry patch in your throat, as you feel the sweat tickling the top of your forehead. it’s from the heat of the stove.

“do you see other girls? or guys?”

“no. do you?”

you shake your head. and you’re unsure how to word the next question – because there was something humiliating, too bare about having to admit that you want more to him – when things were so sweet as they were.

perhaps you should have known better. coffee was always bitter at the end.

“why do you ask?”

you shrug.

“dunno. was just thinking about us. and how we spent break together and all that.”

suguru presses a kiss to your hairline.

“yeah? did you have fun?”

you hum in response.

“yeah. i really liked the city. and your mom and your sister. it was really sweet of you to take me.”

you pause, wincing as you decide to be as blunt as possible.

“and i like you.”

he laughs.

“well, i like you too.”

“no, no, i like you. well, i more than like you, but i…i can’t say those words.”

there’s a silence. and his arms feel like loose limp noodles around you. and you realize now, that you made the wrong choice. you turn around, only to find hollow brown eyes staring at you, the makings of a frown on his face.

“suguru?”

he winces.

“i can’t.” he whispers.

“why not?”

and you’re not sure what it is, but it throws him into a panic. with his facial features scrunched up, eyes hollow, and nervous hands running through his hair.

“i just can’t.”

you cross your hands over your chest, the bitter contempt of rejection blooming in your chest, as you look down, picking at the scab on the inside of your palms as you ask again.

“i said i didn’t want any attachments.” he adds.

“i know. but can you blame me for being confused? you took me home to see your family.”

“as a friend.”

“you didn’t act like my friend while we were there.”

suguru groans.

“and that’s my fault, i know that but –”

that one stings. admitting that he regrets it.

“okay, well. that’s alright. maybe you should leave now, then.” you state.

“wait peach, no. i don’t want to leave, i just..”

you scoff.

“you don’t want to leave?”

“no?”

it comes out meek, almost timid when he utters it. a question. like he can’t even admit it fully – that he wants to stay. and it fills you with anger, searing red hot anger on the heels of being cast aside so nonchalantly, that it comes to a head then and there.

“do you really think so little of me?”

“what?

“i’m not good enough to be your girlfriend. but whatever else you want, that’s fine. i…i thought you thought of me better than some girl you just fuck around with.”

suguru sighs.

“you’re not some girl i just fuck around with.”

“am i not, though?”

suguru shuts his eyes, the look on his face is so pained – so miserable – that it irritates you.

“you’ve made it abundantly clear. that you like me a decent amount, but not enough to care about whether or not you’ll lose me.”

you bite down so hard on your lip that the taste of metallic blood fills your mouth, coupled with warm tears in your eyes.

“and for that, you can go to hell.”

“what happened to you, peach?”

you scoff, curling your nose at the old nickname, as he yanks the closest stool – his legs still too long to even be comfortable on the thing as he leans forward, noting the dried blood on your forehead.

“a car accident. you can leave now.”

suguru frowns, almost resembling a kicked dog, as he shakes his head. there’s something softer about his expressions now – something you’re sure is a byproduct of the time you spent apart or the fact that you have a broken rib – and you choose to ignore it for the time being.

“i can’t just leave.” he whispers.

“and why not?”

suguru shakes his head.

“you have a broken rib. and a deep cut on your forehead. forgive me if i’m concerned about you.”

“i can’t. knowing you, you’ll casually linger around here for a few days, and when you figure it’s appropriate to leave, you’ll be gone with the wind.”

the two of you sit there in silence, the harshness of the words hanging in the air between the two of you.

and yet again, suguru geto leaves you with a never ending pit of curiosity. about what he was doing here, to ask how he is – to make it a note to him that his cheeks look fuller, that his eyes aren’t rimmed red anymore, and that he looks good.

that you like the new hairstyle. that it killed you when he wasn’t around anymore. that you still want him to go to hell.

suguru twists the silver ring on his pointer finger a few times – a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth – before you break the silence, your curiosity getting the best of you another time.

“why are you here?”

“they called me. i’m your emergency contact still.”

“no, i gathered that. why are you here?”

suguru pauses, swallowing hard before responding.

“if orpheus hears something that deceives him – like the sound of eurydice tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back.” suguru states.

you scoff. vague again.

“right.”

“no, really. i got the call. and i didn’t think and just showed up. i just…just had to see you.” suguru states.

he pauses.

“it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

you turn to glare at him, at the audacity of him repeating your own stupid words back to you.

“is it? because his carelessness left her in hell with hades.”

suguru scoffs.

“i never did tell you the end of the story, did i?”

you roll your eyes.

“orpheus becomes so distraught that he uses his lyre to charm death – just so that he can return to the underworld to be with her. and people debate how it happens, him being ripped apart by irate women or getting killed by the menades, but it does happen. he dies and goes to the underworld. and in some versions, people think that he reunites with her in the underworld. and she forgives him.”

“and why would she do that?” you ask.

“because he tried his best to do right by her. he was asked to do one thing – to stay away. and that’s what he did, because…because i know you’re right. because you do deserve better, i do think the world of you and think you deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you, the way that you want.”

suguru pauses.

“it’s not my fault that i can’t help but look back. i can’t do anything about the fact that i love you.”

you swallow hard, an embarrassing amount of regret – mixed in with that deep longing that he left in your chest – searing through you.

“in the casual way, right?” you respond, sarcastically.

he groans.

“it’s not casual at all. it wasn’t casual when i leaned forward to taste the sweetness of the peach on your lips – especially when i fucking hate peaches. and it wasn’t casual when i took you home with me, it was…i just couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone. and it’s not fucking casual that i drove three hours when i was supposed to be home this weekend just because i the thought of you sitting in this room alone, in pain, was driving me crazy.”

you wince, turning to look at him. and it seems that in the mere acknowledgement of his presence by locking his eyes, it seems to fill him with something – something that puts the whisper of a smile on his face.

“what?”

“i turned around for you. i didn’t know i would, but now that i have, i…i realize that i probably always would have.”

“okay?” you whisper.

“are you going to forgive me for it? not doing it earlier, for…for not getting it right the first time?” he asks.

you pause, mulling the thought over. and the silence, he takes it as an invitation to plead his case.

“i’ll beg. i’ll get on my hands and knees if that’ll do something to make it better.”

you turn to look at him.

“you…you’re special. i haven’t forgotten about you and…and i know we had something. just let me fix it? i’ll get you a hundred gifts, i’ll tell you a hundred times and i’ll - oh!’

he reaches into his bag, shoving his arms into the depths of the pockets, before yanking out a little napkin and reaching forward, opening your hand and placing it in your palm.

“a tissue?”

“open it.”

and you oblige, unfolding the tissue to see four little gummy peach rings in the napkin, before turning back to him.

“peach rings?”

“for my peach! i eat them all the time now, even though i fucking hate peaches. i only had a few left so i grabbed what i had left when i ran out. and i ate some on the way on accident because i was nervous, worried about you and all..”

you look down, the sugary crystals on the candy almost sparking in the light, as you look back at him. and he's wholeheartedly different - not the cool, cold guy you left behind, but a weird mess of awkwardness and jitters, and maybe even the tiniest hint of desperation.

he seems wholeheartedly more touchable this way.

“you make no sense.” you state.

suguru frowns.

“i know. but i’m trying.” he responds.

and you sigh, wiping your hands at your side, before eating one of the candies. bitter at first, but sweet at the end.

“suppose that’s my problem then. i’ll have to figure you out.” you respond.

suguru’s face splits into a smile, his motions so eager as he leans over the railing of the bed, the angle entirely off as he leans forward to kiss you. and it’s entirely different from every other time you’ve kissed him – full and whole, a warm and tender promise behind it.

“you’re wrong, you know?” you whisper.

“about what?” he murmurs.

“the peaches. they taste good.”

he laughs.

“is that right?” he whispers, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, as he wavers his eyes up again, to the cut on your forehead.

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bandages, before pulling back, lips lingering over yours.

“i think i need one more to decide.”

an: idk.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

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loveinhawkins · 2 years ago

Text

For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.

Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.

Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.

One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”

She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.

Claudia opens the door quietly.

It’s not Max who’s in the bed.

She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.

And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.

Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.

He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

She takes one step forward.

Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.

Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”

Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.

And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.

She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.

She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.

“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.

Dustin blinks, so unsure.

She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.

“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.

He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking. Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.

Eddie stares at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”

It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.

But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?

“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.

Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”

His hand is shaking again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”

Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.

Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”

When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.

“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”

Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.

“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know.”

It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.

And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.

The door abruptly slams open.

Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.

But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…

And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.

Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.

Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.

She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”

She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”

“As long as you do one thing for me.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”

Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”

Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.

“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”

“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”

The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…

Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.

“How did you know that?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”

“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”

“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”

She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”

They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.

Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.

Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”

“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”

“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”

“Yes, Dusty?”

“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”

“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”

Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dustin makes an uncertain noise.

“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.

“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”

Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”

“Great. Thank you, honey.”

Dustin’s already asleep.

Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.

Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.

But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.

#one line from my current Dustin fic wouldn’t leave me alone & then this happened ❤️#claudia henderson fic #eddie and dustin #dustin and claudia henderson #henderfam #steve and dustin #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie #eddie and claudia #steve and claudia #claudia henderson #dustin henderson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months ago

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Yelling at Cops

Part 2 of Flirting with Cops

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: After you are injured, your fiancé Tim yells at you and treats you like a boot. When Wade and Nyla find out, they tell him what really happened.

Warnings: canon typical danger and action, explosion, r is injured and goes to the hospital, yelling/arguments, fluff, teasing

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Bradford,” Nyla whispers from the other side of the shop. “Tell me this-“

“Do I have to?” you ask.

“Yes, because I am your TO. I’m, like, a goddess in this shop. I have the power to-“

“Have me fired or make me a rookie forever,” you finish with a chuckle. “I know, ma’am.”

“Tell me this,” Nyla begins again. “Does Bradford call you boot?”

“No.”

“Never? Not even when he gets upset?”

“He hasn’t gotten super upset with me yet. Raised his voice once because I almost got hurt, but nothing serious. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did at some point, though.”

“7-Adam-19, there’s a reported 215 and 245 at Olympic and Burnside Avenue,” control alerts.

“7-Adam-19, show us responding,” Nyla radios.

“Carjacking and assault with a deadly weapon?”

“Welcome to Los Angeles,” Nyla jokes.

As you approach the intersection, you see a man with a large automatic rifle ducking behind a car. There are civilians on the other side of the road and an injured man on the driver’s side of the car.

“Control, 7-Adam-19 requesting backup. One armed, one injured,” Nyla informs. “Block this lane.”

You pull around with your side of the shop toward the gunman. The car is facing you, so he can’t escape unless it’s on foot. Nyla opens her door and slides out before staying low to go around the back of the shop. You watch the man beside you, and when he turns quickly, you lower your window and pull your gun from your holster. He has a different weapon when he twists toward you, and when he aims it toward the back tire, you know he’s going to hurt Nyla. You don’t think before acting, not like you should, at least.

You throw the door open and begin firing as you move back toward Nyla. She yells at you to get down, but you turn toward her instead.

“Run!” you yell.

As you run behind Nyla, trying to get away from the shop, the man shoots the new weapon, and the shop explodes behind you. You fall to the asphalt, and Nyla stumbles ahead of you. Ignoring the pain in your leg, you push yourself up and rush behind a parked car. Nyla’s eyes widen when she sees you, and she pushes up to look through the windows of the car to locate the man.

“Control, this is Harper. Where’s my backup?” she yells into the radio.

“ETA two minutes,” control responds.

“What do we do?” you ask. “He’ll run.”

“You don’t do anything,” Nyla snaps. “Control, send a R/A to my location.”

“Harper, he’s moving again,” you say.

“Not your concern,” she replies.

You look toward her, and she’s looking between your leg and the car across the street. What’s left of the shop is aflame in the middle of Olympic Boulevard, blocking part of the man’s location from view. When Nyla turns toward you, you finally look at your leg. Your pants are darkened with blood, and when you bend your knee, you hiss in pain.

“Don’t move,” Nyla demands.

You don’t listen and gently push your fingers against the side of your thigh. “It’s just a bunch of glass.”

“Shrapnel in your body is not just anything!”

“Harper, we have to do something or he’s going to hurt the other people.”

Nyla exhales deeply before nodding. “Bradford is going to kill me,” she murmurs.

“He’ll come for me first,” you say with a small smile.

“Alright. You go around the shop and I’ll come up from behind. If you have a shot, take it.”

As you limp around the far side of the intersection, you raise your weapon and look for the shooter. Nyla’s gun fires before you see him, and you rush out to cover her. When the man sees you, he drops the rifle in his hands and raises them.

“Nice work,” Nyla tells you. “Now sit down and wait for your ambulance.”

On cue, the ambulance pulls up and two paramedics rush to your side.

“I’ll alert Sergeant Bradford,” someone says.

“No!” you and Harper yell together.

“This is related to his case,” the officer argues.

Wade slams the door of his car and cuts off the rest of his sentence. “I’ll fill in Bradford,” he states. “You, though,” he says to you, “have a lot more to explain.”

“You’re going to tell him?” you ask him.

“Would you rather he find out over the radio?”

You shake your head, and the paramedics move your gurney into the ambulance.

“I’ll try to calm him down, but… good luck, kid. I’ll be by in a few.”

“Thank you. You too, Harper.”

“You saved my life. Sorry I yelled at you,” she offers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve just been moved to a private room after a painful hour of having shrapnel removed from your leg when Tim’s voice echoes through the hallways. He yells your name before his footsteps near your room. When he stops at the door, his chest is heaving, and his nostrils are flared.

“Are you out of your mind?” Tim demands loudly. “Harper should have you fired for that little stunt. I would! You are not here to be a hero, boot, and endangering lives – including yours – is not what being a cop is about!”

“Sergeant Bradford,” Wade says from behind Tim. “A word?”

“With me?” Tim asks. “Why don’t you remind the rookie in here about a little thing called procedure!”

“Tim,” Wade interjects. “Hallway. Now.”

Your eyes drop to your hands as they leave. Tim has never yelled at you like this before, and his insults and threats to have you fired do little to calm your nerves. Harper seemed mad when she first noticed your injury, but that was nothing compared to Tim’s reaction. You wait nervously for Tim, or at least Wade, to return from the hallway.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim begins to speak, but Wade raises a hand. He takes a deep breath to calm down before explaining everything he knows to Tim.

“I-“ Tim begins.

“No!” Wade says. “You don’t get to make an excuse about not knowing. You have known from the beginning, I told you from the beginning. When you came to me and said you were dating a rookie, I made an exception for you on one condition. I told you that if anything happened to her, it was on you. Not because you’re her superior, but because she is yours. This situation is unique, but you led me to believe you could handle it. Now, I’ll be honest, I did that hoping you’d back out and decide to wait to start a relationship, but once I saw the two of you together, my concerns became about what would happen if the two of you were separated by something or injured. That speech I just heard makes me think you’re just here as a cop. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll listen.”

“Why us?” Tim asks angrily. “Why are we worth the special treatment and personal attention?”

Somewhere along the way, Wade became like a father figure to you. When he agreed to let Tim continue seeing you without alerting IA, he threatened to demote, fire, or kill him if he did anything to jeopardize your career, life, or relationship.

“Because I care, Bradford. Is that so hard to believe? And right now, I’m wondering if you should go back to patrol or find a new station?”

“You can’t fire me for hurting her delicate little feelings, Wade!”

“And how would your feelings be if you were going to her funeral?” Wade snaps. Tim’s face drops and Wade adds, “Harper just filed her official statement. Their backup was two minutes away, and she would have been dead if your rookie hadn’t stepped in. They would both be dead, and I don’t know about you, but I think some glass shards to the leg is a whole lot better than a funeral.”

Tim’s eyes drop as he nods. “I messed up.”

“You did. Now do something about it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You look up immediately when the door opens. Tim walks in first, but Wade is close behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Tim begins. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you or threatened to have you fired, especially when I didn’t know as much as I thought I did. Are you okay?”

You nod, but Wade jumps in before you can say anything.

“I’m sorry, too. I went behind your back to keep Tim in line, or so I thought, from the very beginning. I should have been open with both of you, but I’ll do better now.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper, looking at Tim. You turn toward Wade to add, “And thank you for whatever it is you’ve done already.”

Wade nods and smiles before stepping back toward the door. Tim goes in the opposite direction and stops beside your bed.

“You’re really okay?” he asks as he takes your hand.

“Just sore. And I have to buy new pants.”

Tim sighs and pulls you into a hug, bending over to pull you close. You smile against him and rub his back. He’s tenser than you are, and he wasn’t even blown up.

You know that your relationship with Tim will never be easy, but it will always be worth the time and effort. Plus, your friends understand what you are going through and are there for you every step of the way.

“Visitor,” Wade alerts.

Tim steps back as Nyla walks in with a bag of your favorite snacks. Despite her original tough act, she does like you as a cop and as a friend.

“I heard someone yelled at you,” she says with a quick look toward Tim.

“He apologized. Didn’t bring me snacks though. Thank you!” you reply.

“He better keep apologizing,” Nyla adds, talking directly to Tim.

“I will,” he promises. “Glad you’re both okay.”

“Wait, does this mean I can’t help with the Metro case that I almost died for?” you interject.

“Not for a while,” Tim answers. “Gotta heal, first.”

“What was it you said? ‘Just some glass’, then walk it off,” Nyla says with a shrug.

“I wanted to ride with TO Bradford, the scariest in station history.”

You pout, and Tim shakes his head while Nyla laughs. Wade thinks about you and Tim riding together and wonders if you’d manage to get anything done.

“One cop is more than enough in my relationship,” Wade sighs. “I don’t know how you two do it.”

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader #tim bradford fluff

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igotanidea · 7 months ago

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Different lives: dad!Jason Todd x wife!reader

Request: Family au, I believe that Jason Todd is a family man and he would totally have 2 older boys like 15-13 a five year old daughter who has him like wrapped around his finger and the wife and Jason get like a call from the school saying there was a fight and Jason is all like hey no no we don't do that but then asks who won

***

It seemed like they were dancing at Dick and Babs’ wedding only five minutes ago.

Holding onto each other for dear life, like they knew that that person in their arms were the one. Like this little celebration, that was not really little, and not even theirs, made them think about future much more seriously.

And for the first time ever, Jason actually believed that maybe there was something more for him in this life. Something more than rejection, pain, fear and constant loneliness.

Of course, given the fact that he and Y/N had been together for a while, he knew that before. But at that moment, in the middle of the giant dancefloor, surrounded by other couples and guest and yet – having eyes only for her – he knew.

Two different things.

***

When he came back home from his work (he had regular work now! That scrawny kid and rebellious young adult turned into a responsible head of the family, though the moment of change somehow skipped them both) Y/N was on the phone with a concerned face expression.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. I’ll be there right away. Yes. Yes, absolutely.” She turned to Jay and send him a smile, tired if not exhausted, but a smile regardless.

He let her talk, instead focusing on his little princess daughter playing on the blanket next to her mother’s feet. That little being totally had him wrapped around her finger and all it took was a sight of her pretty eyes that looked so much like her mother’s and he was dropping everything and rushing to the girl’s side.

“What happened?” He asked taking Leah on his knees and settling on the couch next to Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulders trying to relieve the obvious tension. He had his girls therefore he had everything and there was not a single thing he wouldn’t do for them.

“It’s Liam and Dylan.” Y/N sighed pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, right” Jason smirked at the thought of his two older sons. 15 and 13 now, looking and acting just like him at this age. Causing troubles wherever they showed, not taking anyone’s bullshit, but with a deeply hidden heart of gold. He was so proud of them, even if saying that out loud was a rare occurrence. “What did they do this time?” he chuckled, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Jason!”

“What?”

“This is not funny!”

“Of course it is! They are boys, they are allowed to-“

“I’m warning you, do not finish this sentence!” she placed both hands on Leah’s ears “I don’t want my baby girl anywhere near trouble.”

“You know she’s got our blood in her veins, so that gives her a lot of genetic burden in the troublemaker area?”

“Jason!”

“What?” he shrugged casually “It’s true and you know it.”

“Mhm. Yeah, we’ll see how you act when he grew up on causing troubles with boys-“

“WHAT?!” Jason jumped off the couch, holding Leah’s little body close to his chest, his grip on a girl tightening significantly. “Over my dead body! That’s my little girl! No one is taking her away and-“

Y/N only laughed observing the jealous dad display and fairly enjoying the show of care. It was heartwarming, seeing Jason put so much care into someone. And him having it reciprocated as Leah nuzzled into his body with multiple happy chuckles playing with the fabric of his shirt, fisting and twisting it mercilessly.

“Daddy…” she chuckled enjoying his embrace. Even as a child she was always calmer when he was holding her.

“Shhh, shh baby. Daddy’s gotta have a word with mummy.” He caressed Leah’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “Stop laughing at me Y/N, this is serious shit! I need to start planning my predicaments for boys who might want to steal her heart and-“

“She’s five Jason!” Y/N laughed even more “I think you have a little bit of time.”

“This is serious!” he perked up.

“Of course. The same way it’s serious with Dylan and Liam.”

Jason grunted in annoyance seeing how she tricked him.

“Dammit Y/N…” he grinned immediately flinching inside at the thought Leah heard the cussing. “Sorry, pumpkin…” the little kiss planted on girl’s forehead did not stop her from repeating the word however.

“Dammit!” Leah cried out the word on the top of her lungs happily.

And that was how Jason knew he was up to a serious conversation with his wife.

***

An hour later, all the family was sitting in the car, Jason driving, Y/N shotgun and the kids on the backseat, with Leah in the middle being simultaneously entertained by both her older brothers. Under any other circumstances Y/N would probably let her motherly instincts come to the fore, but this time was different.

“Liam, Dylan, stop using my soft spots and family love for your own purposes.” She warned “you may love your sister, but you’re still in trouble.”

“We didn’t do anything!”

“Liam Thomas Todd!” she almost turned around ‘you got into a fight at school.”

“But it was not our fault mom!” the other son, immediately came to his brother rescue, having his back, which – again – awakened her motherly pride. A feeling she was not going to subdue to. Those boys needed a little reaming out regardless of siblings’ solidarity. “That guy just came at us and –“

“Dylan Roy Todd. Violence is not an answer and-” She said, with conviction at first but then stopping, having realized that those kids did in fact have Jason’s and hers blood and those words were a hypocrisy in purest form. Fuck. She hissed to herself, hesitating in the middle of the sentence. A mistake Jason was more than willing to jump at.

“A fight huh?” he smirked looking into the rearview mirror to sneak a glance at his sons. Liam with already bruising eye and Dylan with a swollen nose, clutching it tightly to prevent any blood stains on upholstery. “So, did you use those blows and punches I’ve been teaching you?”

“WHAT!?” Y/N turned from facing her sons to facing her husband so fast that something snapped loudly in her neck. “JASON PETER TODD!”

“Y/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N” Jason grinned in response, not paying her that much attention too curious of his offsprings response “Who won?”

“You should have seen the other guy” his boys smirked in the same way he was, and his fatherly heart could not be bigger at that moment.

Even if he knew Y/N was already planning her revenge on them all.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd au #jason todd fluff #dad jason todd

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umnitsa · 5 months ago

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Still a dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs. Well, we all have needs.

A/N: Ok, so. Look, I'm gonna be honest: life kicked my ass, I just got into college (again eeee), god knows how this is gonna go, but here, I heard you all: I wanted more and there is more. I can't help myself, I want this man in dirty, horrible ways. Thanks @romanarose, for the pair of eyes and as always, thanks for everyone who asked for more and cheered me with this. Really, I can't thank you enough.

(I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, specially with the way life is going now. Although part of me wants to get to three thousand sex scenes, I need to be honest: not even I know if this will continue. Don't wanna give y'all false promises.)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, me trying dirty talk and failing miserably, a handjob, very much predator/prey dynamics

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

Joel behaved as if nothing happened, and so did you.

Things were somewhat tense though. Not for Joel, no. The man just smirked everytime he saw you then lowered his head and chuckled, as if he knew something you didn’t know.

You had to admit it bothered you.

Cocky bastard.

You moved into the kitchen, needing some water. You could hear the faint sounds of tv in the living room, so Joel was sitting down on his recliner, watching some late night sports.

You wondered if Joel would want a snack before sleep, as you filled your cup distractedly. You took a drink, considering the options in the fridge, when a loud cheering sound comes from the living room. You startled, the glass shatters on the floor with a loud noise and your yelp.

“What happened?” Joel yelled from the living room, concern clear in his voice.

“I just dropped a glass, Joel! You don’t need to worry, I’m gonna clean it.” You said, getting on your knees carefully. You placed your hands on the floor and lowered your face to see better. Glass was tricky to see.

You checked the floor, picking the pieces of glass and piling them together; you thought of getting a bag, or some paper to wrap them on after making sure all the glass was retrieved.

“Mmmm…” you heard, and you turned your head back. Joel was at the kitchen door, looking down intensely at your ass. “Such a heavenly view… Makes me wanna get on my knees… Worship your asshole and your pretty pussy with my tongue.” Joel licked his lips and you blushed.

“Joel!” You said, sternly.

“What?” He asked, no shame whatsoever.

“Come on.” You complained, picking the rest of the shattered glass as quickly as you could. As you move angrily you felt a sharp sting of pain. “Fuck!”

Joel quickly wobbled by your side and watched your bleeding finger.

“Here, honey… Leave it. We can clean it later.” He offered you his broad hand, suddenly overflowing with gentleness. “Lemme see your hand.”

You stood up, mesmerized by his eyes, and show you his hand. He held it between his calloused, big, bony ones and slowly leaned to suckle on the tip of your finger.

You were so mesmerized by his deep brown eyes focused on yours, glinting with mischief, that you only realize what he is doing with the first gentle swipe of his tongue against your skin. He gently swirled his tongue around your fingertip, suckling softly; he was showing you what he can do with your clit.

He smirked when you moaned, still holding your wrist with one hand, the other moving down out of your sight.

Joel sighed deeply, in relief, and you realized he opened his pants and took his cock out. He massaged the shaft slowly and you could only watch, dumbrounded, your mouth half open.

“He always wakes up for you, honey.” Joel chuckled. “I thought we were retired, but there he is. Since you came into the house my pants got way too tight. I keep thinking of making you my three-hole-wonder, honey.” He licked his lips and smirked. “Maybe you should give him a little kiss, at least to calm him down.”

The old man looked down, pouting and doe eyed, then back to your face. You found it hard to resist him, when he looked at you like that.

“We can’t do this, Joel.” You swallowed your saliva, considering his cock. It was long, and thick, from tip to base, the head an angry purple that made you want to suck on it. You considered the pain and the stretch he would give you, and the more you thought, the more you wanted to just give in. “I’m supposed to care for your needs.” You said, distractedly.

Your mouth watered and you licked your lips.

“We are both adults.” His eyebrows raised, and he cocked his head. “This is clearly a need. And only you can care for this one.” He smirked again, proudly. His hand kept moving, in this slow, hypnotizing pace.

“So you don’t do this to the day nurse?” You scoffed.

“She’s not my type.” Joel shrugged, a playful expression in his eyes. “Way too young and way too thin.” After a moment of silence, Joel steps forward and holds your hand. He watched your reactions carefully, sliding his calloused thumb over the back of your hand.

You didn’t move.

Joel raised your hand to his face and spit on your palm. You jumped, startled; another chuckle came from him, filling the space between you. Gently, he wrapped your hand around his cock. His big, bony fingers engulfed yours, guiding you into his rhythm.

His cock felt a bit soft at first, but it still got bigger and harder in your hand.

“Mmmmm… Haven’t felt this good in decades.” He muttered, his voice low, eyes closed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whispered, more a reminder to yourself than a refusal.

“Not standing in the kitchen, we shouldn’t.” Joel growled. “But you didn’t give me much choice… You keep running, bunny. I’d rather taste you, but I take what I can get.”

“I… I…” You lost your words as you look into his eyes. He watched you intensely, his eyes locked into yours. You felt like he was drinking every single one of your reactions, a hawk-eyed creature looming over you, ready to devour you whole.

“Give in, honey.” His voice was gentle, soft, in contrast with the hunger in his expression. “It will make our nights much more fun.”

You whined, leaning forward, your eyes closed. You felt Joel’s lips against yours, one big hand cupping the back of your head, pulling you closer. He growled into the kiss. Your whole body tensed; you squeeze him, the meaning of what you’re doing suddenly very real.

Joel’s fingers clenched, tugging on your hair tightly. Your head moved back; you gasped as Joel’s slips slid down your jaw, towards your ear.

“Wanna run, bunny?” He whispered, his voice suddenly soft. “Don’t run. Just wanna ruin you a little bit.”

His hand squeezed yours; you followed his move, squeezing his cock. Joel moaned, cock twitching in your hand. He moaned loudly, hips thrusting forward. Grunting, he came; some of it transferring to your hand, some splashing against your thigh.

Joel stepped back, releasing you, a smug satisfied smile on his lips.

“See? Just a little bit.” He chuckled, pulling himself into his pants.

“Joel, we shouldn’t…”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to keep trying, you would have told me. Or Sarah.” Joel huffed, interrupting you impatiently. “She would have killed me by now.”

“How do you know… You could lie to her and she would believe you.”

“I raised her right. And hell if she doesn’t know exactly the kind of man I am.” Joel chuckled, looking at you with a warm, appreciative smile. He shrugged. “You keep saying we shouldn’t, we can’t… You just don’t say we won’t.”

You bristled, puffing your chest and placing your hands on your hips, glaring at him. Your mouth half open, a thousand million tiny things you could say bubble in your throat.

“Go on. Just say: Joel, I won’t play this game with you. Stop right now.” Joel stood in front of you, watching your expression carefully.

The silence extended between you both.

You considered saying it, but you knew it would not be true. Deep inside you wanted him to hunt and ruin you. His smile broadened slowly, as the silent seconds went by. You blushed, lowering your head. You shook it gently.

“That’s what I thought.” He stepped closer to you, even his voice smug. “It’s ok, honey.” Joel caressed your hair, burying his fingers into the strands. He pulled your hair, making you look at him. “Nothing wrong with wanting this.”

Joel kissed you, hungry, impatient, devouring.

Then he left, informing you he would have an early night with a wink.

#maycore #mayb writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #dirty old man joel #peepaw can fuck #with some help #but he really can #peepaw will fuck #I see you all and we are one #I wanna break his hip (affectionate)#i need some dirty dirty talk classes #I can't bring my own image to reality and it's sad

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xzaddyzanakinx · 5 months ago

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seventeen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation no smut this chapter sorryyyy

Info: the boy is going through it. [diary entries from Ani {dates are odd but I promise it’ll make sense later}] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

September 9th, 11:53 pm

Anakin immediately reacted to your sudden, startled jolt. The gasp you’d inhaled had him momentarily concerned you may have hurt yourself in some way, it sounded pained and although he wasn’t sure what it could’ve been, that didn’t mean he could dismiss the idea entirely.

”You okay babydoll? What happened?” He asked, setting aside his Xbox controller to give you his full attention.

”Yeah!” You squeaked, nodding your head quickly, though your movements were perceived as slow by you. “Yeah, just uh, one of those weird ‘almost asleep but suddenly I’m falling’ things.”

”Oh…” He nodded, relaxing a little bit. “Do you need me to get you some water or something? That kind of thing is stress induced you know.”

”Yes.” You swallowed hard, fighting a lump in your throat that just refused to diminish. “I know, uh I think maybe I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

“Well, alright.” He said, giving you a critical once-over before waving you off and returning to his game.

Scurrying off to the bathroom in the most awkward way you possibly could, you shut the door with a bit more strength than anticipated, causing Anakin to call out and check on you. One forced ‘all good’ later, you were sitting on the closed toilet lid with your head in your hands. The initial panic was beginning to fade now that you’d removed yourself from the situation, making room for fear to frost over your skin and halt your critical thinking.

Ghost could be anyone, logically you know that. So there is no reason to fly off the handle and accuse someone you care deeply about of committing many, many crimes. There isn’t any way for you to peacefully have such a conversation without it feeling like an attack. In the event you are wrong, such an assumption would no doubt spell the end of the one and only stable, loving relationship you’ve ever had.

If you’re right… well.

But you’re not. Of course you’re not, how could Anakin be capable of some of the things, any of the things Ghost has done? He’s a gentle giant, the guy who would rather scoop up spider in his bare hands to set it outside instead of squashing it. He makes you feel special and adored, your moments with him are calm and caring. He’s practically the polar opposite of Ghost.

Ghost has his moments, few and far between, where he is more than the mask. The moments when he’s less grey and more moral. Less animal and more man. He’s what you’d expect a jar of licorice would be like personified. The candy no one likes, the one that gets over looked and outright hated on. But the people who actually like licorice, they defend it until their dying breath and it seems like you’ve become quite fond of the bitter sweetness and the tough to chew exterior. Once you get past it, it’s really not so bad. Just like Ghost.

you shook yourself out of the stupor you were in, standing up to turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, hoping to startle some sense back into yourself. After patting the sensitive skin dry, you pulled out your phone and promptly brought up your own contact info, dialing the number to call Ghost. It rang, once, twice, three times before disconnecting. He had hung up on you.

He had never hung up on you before this moment. While you knew he had every right to ignore you, perhaps never even speak to you again… you couldn’t let this go. So you tried again and again and-

‘What do you want?’ The text chimed through just before you could hit the call button one last time.

‘I think we should talk soon.’

’Why the fuck do you want that? You’re calling me this late for that? You should be groveling for forgiveness.’

‘This is me groveling?’ You audibly huffed at his response, waiting for him to send a follow up or not.

‘You can do better than that. I’ve seen you beg for cock, you know how to grovel.’ He responded.

‘Does it matter?’

’yes.’ Was the simple reply, short and sweet and read in his voice he uses when he snaps at you.

‘Nevermind.’

’fuck off.’

’Really?’ Outwardly scoffing at the text when it popped up on your screen.

‘Oh no, did I hurt the baby’s feelings?’

‘I should be meaner.’

‘But I won’t.’

Three texts in a row, three texts all containing completely different tones. Sarcastic, irritated, and ‘pissed but i still love you’. You thought about replying, started typing out a message but erased it, only to do it again. Finally you decided against replying at all, turning off your sound and putting the phone back into your pocket, flushing the toilet for appearances sake and running the water again.

You planned to head back to the living room, but saw that Anakin was cleaning up… sloppily, but still. He was straightening out the throw pillows and blankets, returning his controller to its spot beside the tv and pushing all the stuff on the coffee to one side, then calling it finished.

“Anakin. Are you alright?” You asked, standing in the entryway to the very short hall.

“Yes.” The word short and clipped.

“You sure?” Your voice was meek, timid, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to sound… nit-picky or anything; it’s just that your cleaning habits seem to have changed and I know how you are about having a clean space.”

“The first thing you say to me after coming back from the worlds longest piss is ‘hey why’s your house messy?’ Really?” He scoffed, his eyes flickering down to your hands, your pockets.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together in a show of frustration. “I’m just worried that’s all, you never leave stuff like this, especially before bed.”

“No, no.” Anakin waved your half-apology off like he didn’t care to hear anymore from you. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get right on it.”

“Hey, it’s late. Don’t-“

“Shut up alright? Just… just go to bed.” Anakin snapped, shooting a glare over his shoulder at you.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” You asked quietly, your face morphing into something resembling disappointment. He’d said that to you jokingly plenty of times, but this time, you knew without a doubt he meant it. The way it was delivered spoke volumes to how he was feeling.

Anakin sighed, turning around to run both hands through his hair and ruffle it up frustratedly. His arms crossing over his chest tightly, clenching his fists with his jaw set firmly, the muscle rolling beneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

“I am sorry.” He said enunciated every syllable, almost looking through you rather than at you.

“Is it because of the pill?” You asked, meaning only to understand the situation better, though causing it to worsen.

“What an astute observation baby!” Anakin sneered, throwing his hands up frustratedly. “Wow. Now if only you could poke your cute little head a bit farther out of your ass. Yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Questioning him didn’t seem like the best option currently, but what else were you supposed to do?

“It… it really doesn’t matter.” He grumbled, spinning away from you to walk toward his kitchenette. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel better if I clean up. I’ve just been so stressed.” He hissed the last word, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Can- will you let me help at least? It’ll get done quicker.” You offered, trying to be helpful might distract him and you from everything else.

“No.” He sighed, his hands laced behind his head, his shirt riding up just a bit as he leaned backward to stretch. “No, I want to do it. Just go to bed. Please?”

“Kisses?” You asked quietly, clasping your hands in front of you awkwardly.

“Yeah, yes of course.” Anakin softened, coming toward you with open arms and an odd expression on his face.

Pretty, clear, sapphire eyes rake over your visibly anxious body. He seemed stuck between barreling past you to lock himself in the bedroom, scooping you up to hold and console you, maybe even smacking you if you spoke a few more tart words.

He did none of those. Instead he gingerly touched your face and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his expression unchanging in an uncomfortable way. His gaze piercing straight through you, burning upon entry and icing over at the exit. The muscles all relaxed save for the few pulling the corners of his mouth downward in a subtle frown. You hated it when he went blank like this, his emotions were completely unreadable, his skin taking on the properties of stone to stay cemented in place. A physical example of someone taking brick and mortar to their heart and mind.

“C’mon. I’ll put you to bed.” He said softly, nodding toward the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open, he led you into the cozy space that you were so hesitant to enter earlier. You braced yourself to have your fear confirmed, thinking you may find a hair band that didn’t belong to you, a false eyelash, the scent of someone new on your pillowcase. But as you walked to your side of the bed, stepping over a few stray clothes in the floor, you surveyed the nightstands, his was uncharacteristically crowded with cups and a collection of gum wrappers, yours was just the way you left it.

Technically, your ‘nightstand’ was really just half of his dresser. What wasn’t occupied by his large and ever growing hoard of shiny chains and oversized jewelry, rings, belts, wrist cuffs and the like; was home to a few of your things. It was mostly just for convenience sake, you did live just across the hall. All you really needed here was a little pink basket with your name sharpied on it that he’d bought for you containing all your ‘girlish possessions’.

Hair bands, bobbi pins, a scrunchie and a large hair clip tucked away in a small, clear plastic case that lay at the bottom of the basket. He even got your brand of mascara, concealer, foundation, blush and lipgloss in a cute heart shaped makeup bag. Among the other items he’d gotten for you were a hair brush, perfume, deodorant, a phone charger, your very own reusable water bottle (so you’d stop crawling over him and chugging his water at 2:00am), and a pink shark plushie that only slept in his bed when you were there.

You’d added your own items of course, your favorite shirt of his, some clean underwear and a pair of shorts and socks. Sometimes you just can’t be bothered to walk across the hall for such trivial things. It’d be nice to have a drawer like he has at your place, but the poor boy has so many clothes the things hardly close at all. So your basket serves you just fine.

After grabbing the charger and scrunchie you climbed in bed, already in pajamas. Already in pajamas. You moved from the mattress like you’d been burned, searing, scorching guilt licking at your palms to make them sweat. Anakin had been to distracted by picking up his dirty clothes and tossing them in the laundry basket tucked inside his closet to notice your knee-jerk reaction to the reminder that you were still in the clothes, still in the panties, that Ghost had lovingly peeled off your lustful flesh.

The panties that still had a little wet spot in the crotch, the ones he’d taken off just before your confession. The ones he threw at you in grieving anguish as he left you behind for the night. Thank the gods for those extra clothes, you grabbed them and swiftly went across the hall, passing a befuddled Anakin who watched you as you walked with purpose to the bathroom.

You couldn’t sleep next to him in that sinned in fabric. Even if he was being a complete ass, he didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. So you freshened up and changed clothes, rolling the dirty ones into a tight ball as if it’d squeeze out some of the shame before you tossed it in his laundry basket. Tying up your hair loosely to keep it out of your face, you brushed your teeth and then returned to the bedroom, opening the closet and dropping the clothes into the laundry basket without a second glance.

Anakin was laying face down across the foot of the bed with his arms limp at his sides, lifting his head to rest his chin on the blankets when he felt your weight subtly pushing down against the soft memory foam. His eyes flickered a shade lighter than before at the sight of you, though they quickly returned to the flat, unfeeling eyes you rarely saw.

“Why’d you change?” He asked, his voice rumbling tiredly in his chest.

“Just… wanted to feel clean before bed I guess.” You answered, looking down at your lap where your hands rested palms up.

“Clean.” He scoffed, nodding his head. “Okay.”

“What?” You snapped at him, irritated by his tone or perhaps feeling a bit agitated by being questioned on such a sensitive topic.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He sighed, giving you a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

You didn’t verbally respond, not pleased with his response or the way it was delivered. Simply pulling up the covers to your chin while Anakin situated himself atop the blankets with an arm tossed over you, groaning because he realized the lamp was still on. So he rolled to his side of the bed, reaching out with his right arm to pull the chain. He audibly hissed as though the movement hurt him, turning your head to watch as he rolled back over with a scowl on his face. Not one of anger, but one of swallowed pain.

“You okay?” You asked softly, shifting to face him as his left hand snuck under the blanket to lace his fingers with yours. There was just enough light filtering through the open bedroom door for you to see the annoyance flash over his features.

“I’m sore.” His tone flat again. “Pulled a muscle or something I think.”

“I can rub your back if you want?” You offered quietly, reaching out to gently feather your fingers over the fabric of his tshirt.

“Appreciate the thought darlin’ but I don’t think it’d help. It hurts to touch.” He said, a genuine appreciation in his voice. It was nice to hear some real emotion from him, it relaxed you, knowing he might be coming out of whatever emotional episode he’d fell into.

“I’ve been putting Arnica on it.” He added, scrunching and wiggling his nose like it itched.

“Arnica? Like the stuff for bruises?” You asked confusedly.

“No.” He said sharply, rolling his eyes. “I mean, yes but no. It helps with swelling too.”

“Oh,” You nodded, taking his word for it to avoid anymore upset. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can’t.” He said. You didn’t take it as a jab, although the words fell hard from his lips, you knew he probably just meant it as a matter of fact statement, so you nodded in acceptance.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over his forearm.

“Once I get everything picked up.” He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Listen… today has been a train wreck, I have been a train wreck. I really am sorry.” He whispered, true emotion finally shining through in both his words and his expression.

“It’s okay. It’s just a bad day. Everyone has bad days.” You said softly, looking at him with sympathy. “I haven’t helped the situation I know.”

“I could’ve handled it better.” He sighed.

You shrugged. “Let’s not play the blame game. No one wins that one.”

“True.” He gave you a small but meaningful smile accompanied by a squeeze of your hand.

“Will you wake me when you come back?” You asked, your eyelids getting heavy after Anakin’s release of emotion, it calmed you, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed upset.

“Sure, why?” His eyebrows knitted together as he smoothed out a loop in your loose ponytail.

“Just cause.” You said quietly, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “I want to know you’re here.”

“Cute.” His voice affectionate as he let out a little chuckle. “I love you too.” He whispered.

“I know.” You nodded, still unable to say it.

You just couldn’t. You couldn’t before, you definitely can’t now. You’d already confessed it to someone else, someone who you probably should’ve ran from, got a restraining order against and begged until they locked him away. But that’s just love isn’t it? It makes you do crazy things.

Crazy things like betraying your dutiful and loyal partner with lustful trysts that should’ve never happened. Wild things like getting railed more times than a two dollar whore in the span of 24 hours by two separate men, one of whom being completely anonymous. Your sister would be appalled if she ever discovered that you were fucked with so little respect that you’d been sliced open and loved every second of it. In actuality, you wouldn’t mind doing it again.

All the things love tricked you into doing, you continued to allow and you would do so until the idolatry buried you alive.

Insanely deranged things like killing a man. Your panicked shooting indirectly causing another’s death by your lover’s hands. Perplexing things like the remorse fading in less than a day, the grief of extracting a human’s soul like that should’ve haunted you for life. But if it weren’t for your fear of being caught, you might’ve forgotten it by now.

Even if you could let those words slip through your soldered lips, you’re not sure that the barbs on your tongue would stop you from confessing more than just your love.

Or is it even that?

What if it’s not love and simply security and a devotion to the stability Anakin provides? What if you’re taking advantage of his kindness and trust in you, using him for the best of his qualities and his unwavering faith in you? Could you be so cruel and callous, is it possible you may feel indebted to him in some way and your heart is misinterpreting that for love?

Maybe it’s your subconscious, your self-preservation trying to crack through the deliberately placed cage in your mind. The dank corner of your mind where you squirrel away unmentionables, undesirables and guilessly horrid thoughts and memories. These days it’s getting fuller and fuller, the barrage of incoming files seemed never ending. The curator inside must be struggling, grasping at the iron bars in hopes to come out with only a few paper cuts. If just one of those bars bend, a flood may come running out and you’re positive that sort of unloading might turn you toward madness.

Diary Entry: September 9th

You’re finally asleep. God I wish I knew about your sleeping pills. Then I could’ve just popped one between those soft lips and you’d have went to sleep so much faster but you haven’t told Anakin you take them. I felt like I had to wait for hours, staring at your pretty face. I loved the view of course, however I didn’t love the way your lip kept twitching like you were upset as you were falling asleep. You’re still upset.

You’re just going to have to get over it. I won’t do it again. It was a moment of weakness and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t take it back anymore than I can’t make the memory of it go away. One pill. That’s all. Forget it.

I cleaned everything up. I even scrubbed the kitchen floor just to get some tension out. I’ve ruined my scrub brush, the bristles are all bent out of shape now.

When I went to check the bathroom and see if anything needed tidied up, I noticed my drawer hadn’t been closed properly, I know I didn’t open it. So it must’ve been you. Nosy bitch.

Well. I need a new hiding spot. Or maybe it’s just time to let that shit go. It’s not like I need twelve pair of panties and the other little trinkets I’ve stolen from you. I can take things and not have to hide it anymore.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 9th continued

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I never knew what i was doing but now i just feel like I’m paddling through shit creek with my bare hands and a wooden barrel for a boat.

My world is falling apart and I have no one to pray to because my goddess is just as rudderless as I am. How did i fuck up so badly and how the hell am I supposed to fix it when I just keep making it worse? I feel like I’m losing it, actually, truly losing it. I need guidance and the one person who has always been able to give me that is more lost than I am. I’m not meant to be a leader.

How can I bring you back from the dark when you are my light?

Is it even possible to atone for the things I’ve done or should I do worse and hope it cancels it out? Obviously I won’t try that because you can’t really get much worse than what I’ve done without doing some truly heinous things. See? I am capable of listening to the voice of reasoning I so often ignore.

You ignore yours too. I know you do or else we never would’ve made it this far. I used to think it was because you’re just a fucking idiot. I’ve come to the understanding that you are willfully ignorant.

I can’t even blame you. I can’t, not when I’m the one who set us up for this. It’s my fault and I’m just waiting for the window of your soul to chop me in half like a guillotine the next time I try to crawl through. You gave me such a slim opening and I was barely able to wrench myself away in time to only lose a few metaphorical fingers. The me inside my mind has yet to staunch the flow from the loss.

I know now why you won’t say it. Because you did say it. Just not to me, not to the me I made for you. I don’t know how to feel… relieved maybe, but I can’t help imagine it’s a bit unhealthy. For you I mean. I’m perfectly fine being the way I am, though I never meant to share the worst parts of me with you. Despite knowing, witnessing, participating in such a thing; you still chose to tell Ghost you loved him before you told Anakin.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

Then, you went and confused me even farther and denied me the only organic opportunity to tell you who I am. I’ve already shown you. That was the whole point of continuing all this. I could’ve stopped when we started dating but I didn’t because I didn’t want to. I realize now, you didn’t want me to either. You’ve seen the me I curated and molded into perfection. The me that you deserve. You’ve always had the option to take him and leave the rest behind but you still haven’t and I can’t foresee a future where you will.

Do you love Ghost because he is real? Is he real? Am I?

Have I always been him and never Anakin? Sometimes I think yes. Others I wholeheartedly believe I made them both just for you. Deep down i know its not true, I know who I am. I am an undeserving man. It doesn’t matter what way you spin it,. It doesn’t matter how many me’s I create, I will never be good enough for you. You know that, don’t you?

Can you tell that it’s a half-truth? Is that why you can’t tell me you love me? You know there’s something missing, it’s an incomplete file. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve known all along that I’m a fraud. You’re the only one. Other than my mother of course and don’t you dare make some sort of Freudian joke, that’s just clichè.

You are the only person I haven’t been able to fool. Further proof you are who I believe you to be. A goddess. They have some sort of ‘all knowing’ ability, yes? I’ve compared you to the Greek’s Artemis and her sister-goddess Diana from Rome, Goddess of the hunt. And hunt you have, even on those wobbly legs of a fawn. You hunted, hungry to learn and grow until you’ve turned into the beautiful, powerful doe I knew you were destined to be. My Doe. My Goddess.

You wanted to see me and you did. So why wouldn’t you let me tell you?

Are you afraid? I am.

I’m so afraid I tried to numb myself. Though like the savior you’ve become so good at being, you saved me from myself again. How is it that you can appear at just the right moment? I would’ve taken that second pill had you not come out to stop me. I might’ve even taken all your sleeping pills. Because I am afraid, and what do cowards do when they are afraid? They take the coward’s way out, it’s called that for a reason.

Diary Entry: September 10th

I hate lying to you. I hate hiding things from you.

I hate myself for doing that. I know I didn’t have to but I felt like I did.

I hate myself.

Diary Entry: September 13th

God I’m so fucking frustrated. Why are you being like this!? I don’t deserve this. You tell me you love me, you stop me from showing you my face, and I got pissed so I left. I gave myself blue balls but I’m going to blame you for it because it’s your fault after all.

We’ve kissed, we’ve touched, you’ve straddled my hips and rubbed your warm, wet panties all over my boxers but you won’t let me fuck you. You won’t let me make love to you. You won’t even let me get a finger beneath those pretty panties that I paid for.

There’s only so much my hand is capable of.

What are you afraid of? Telling me you love me? Probably. Last time you fucked someone it slipped right out. What a shame it would be for you to say it to me again.

Date

September 15th

You scrubbed at yourself in the shower, contemplating the man troubles that have plagued you ever since that night you finally made up with Anakin. He’s been grumpy, overly asshole-ish and so unbearably stubborn for the past few days that he’s on thin ice, holding a heat gun over the weak spot. Nothing you say seems to help but it also doesn’t seem to hurt, so you’ve been in a perpetual game of hot potato. As long as you keep going around the circle you won’t get burned.

Ghost hasn’t spoken to you in over a week and you’re beginning to think he may never make an appearance again. He hasn’t left a message, a note, a gift. He hasn’t even been inside your apartment. Ghost had never ever been so neglectful. It’s to the point that you might call and report him missing if you were certain of who he was.

The cameras in your home had been so well hidden that you didn’t think you’d ever find them, turns out they’re pretty easy to spot when theyre low on battery and the damn thing flashes red while you’re trying to sleep. You had always assumed he had a camera in your room, but to have it confirmed and see that it’s directly above your bed… was one of the more uncomfortable aspects of the odd relationship between you.

It was so tiny you couldn’t believe that it actually functioned as a camera. You plucked it from the hiding spot on your ceiling fan and put it in your jewelry box along with all the other things that Ghost had left for you. It was kind of entertaining, like a weird game of eye-spy to see if you could find the others now that you knew what to expect. You hadn’t found them yet, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for the rest of them to need charging too.

Oddly enough, it made you a little sad to think that he might’ve stopped watching. You always imagined that when or if Ghost ever left your life that you’d be relieved. If you would’ve told the terrified mouse who’d woken up to a stranger with a knife all those months ago… that she’d be sitting in the shower floor mourning the loss, well, she’d send you to the fifth floor without hesitation.

You’d wracked your brain over and over again, grasping at any idea that seemed remotely plausible in hopes that you’d conjure up some elaborate plan to fix everything. No grand scheme had revealed itself yet, aside from faking your death and moving out of the country, but Luke would hold a grudge against your faux corpse. You had promised that he would be allowed to die first because he couldn’t bare the idea he might outlive you.

Luke.

Maybe it was time to tell Luke. You wouldn’t have to share all of it, you could even lie a little, make it less rapey and more romantic. Sans murder and add a dash of sweetness. It’s not like you’ve lived a single day of your life for the past few months without telling a handful of lies a day. What’s a few more?

Maybe you should threaten warn Ghost first. As a courtesy of course. He should know if you’re planning on spilling your guts to your best friend, it’s only fair. What’s Ghost going to do? Roll up to Luke’s apartment and duct tape your mouth shut? No.

You sighed, stepping out of the shower, half expecting to see Ghost sitting on the sink again, unfortunately he was not. Unfortunately.

You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time to mope about, you’re a girl with a job that you neglected for days on end and they were kind enough not to fire you. So long as you were okay with being on probation; you were of course. Finding another stable job in a city like this on such short notice would be nightmarish. Thank the gods you’re their best waitress.

Ever since you returned to work, Sara has forced you to wear a ‘trainee’ badge and all your regulars have bullied you endlessly for it. Those little old men may seem sweet and harmless but the moment they find something to poke fun at they turn into a pack of jackals. Today you’d be back to serving them coffee sans the trainee badge of shame. Unless of course you are late.

Hurriedly dressing in your uniform and fixing yourself up enough to be presentable, you sprinted out the door and down the steps, quick walking to your car. You’d be late if you leisurely walked to The Bluebird like you normally did. You’d made a habit of parking right next to Anakin’s vehicle, so you had to walk past it everytime you climbed in to yours. You’ve not used your car since you returned from your weekend getaway and Anakin’s car hadn’t been there when you arrived.

You hardly glanced at it anymore, being so used to seeing it there. It always looked the same. He always parked it the same, always backing it in to the spot. So you weren’t expecting anything different when you bent down to pick up the quarter next to his driver side door. It must’ve fallen out of the overflowing change cup he kept in the door pocket.

You smiled, seeing it was face up, taking it as a good luck sign. You needed some good luck, so you picked it up. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something different about Anakin’s car. The tire.

Dirt. Real dirt. Not the city street gunk or the sand and gravel mixture in the back parking lot of The Cerulean. It was dark earth and grass, trapped in the grooves of the rubber. Where had he gone that he might’ve needed to drive over actual dirt?

——————————————————————————

“Hey doll.” Anakin’s deep voice appeared suddenly to your left, his hand on your back as he walked past you to take a seat at the counter while you finished up taking your table’s order.

You gave him a smile and trudged off to the kitchen, clipping the order slip to the line above the stovetop. As you came back out of the kitchen, you shoved your pad and pen back into your apron pocket, surveying your tables to make sure everything was as it should be before you stopped to talk with Anakin.

“What’s up Ani?” You asked, leaning on your elbows against the counter.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows, tonguing his labret piercing distractedly while he picked at his nail polish. “Oh, uh I just wanted to come say ‘hi’ before I had to go to work.” He said, giving you a little smile, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

“What’ve you been up to today?” You asked, turning around to get him a Pepsi, watching the liquid pour out and bubble up in the cup.

“What’ve you been doing?” He countered, taking the glass from you hesitantly, looking you over like he was searching for something.

“Just been at home and here.” You frowned, unwrapping a straw and popping it in his drink for him.

“Got plans or anything after work?” He asked, taking a sip through the straw.

“No? Sh-should I? Did I forget something?” You asked worriedly.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head, eyes flicking down to his drink and back up to you. “No I just want you to stay at my place tonight.” He said quietly.

“But you work tonight.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m aware.” He said with a snort, looking at you with a flat affect.

“I- I mean I’ll definitely stay.” You nodded. “I just guess I’m surprised.”

“Why?” He asked, curling up his top lip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at your place when you’ve been at work before.” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“You haven’t.” He confirmed, unfolding a napkin in front of him and laying it flat, ripping off tiny pieces.

“Well, first time for everything then huh?” You smiled, hoping to break him from the reeking attitude he was carrying around with him.

“Come out to my car with me.” Anakin wasn’t asking, not even instructing. He was demanding.

“Oh-okay just a second.” You nodded, walking toward the kitchen doorway. “Vigo! Anakin is here, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Yeah sure.” Vigo waved you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder before he flipped on the tap and began washing his hands.

You turned on your heel and expected to see Anakin sitting at the counter where you left him. Though as you untied your apron and tossed it under the counter, you scanned the diner and saw him nowhere. Instead, he was already heading out to his car, the ‘Open’ sign on the glass door of the restaurant swinging back and forth just proved he pulled it open with more force than necessary.

Peering through the glass as you approached the door, hand out to push it open, you spotted him leaned against his car with his arms crossed. His head down, staring at the blacktop beneath him until he jerked to the side, sensing your presence growing nearer.

“Get in.” Anakin opened the drivers side back door for you and gently ushered you inside. A big contrast to the gruff tone he spoke with.

“Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes, speaking sarcastically. It didn’t seem like Anakin thought it was just a good natured jab. Rather, he reacted like it was a personal attack.

He firmly grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it as he climbed into the back seat behind you. He let go just as quickly as he gripped it, wordlessly splaying his fingers across your scalp to apologetically massage your scalp.

“What the hell was that for?” You scowled, batting his hand away from your head.

“We haven’t fucked since you came back,” he said, ignoring your question. “I want you to fuck me.”

Your jaw dropped through the floorboard of the car and shattered on the pavement beneath. Watching him unbutton and unzip his jeans, more comfortably spreading his legs and leaning back, his hands laced behind his head with a grunt. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting expectantly for you to make your move, but you were simply speechless, frozen in place.

“Hello?” He snapped his fingers in front of your face to get your attention. “If you’re gonna sit there with your mouth open at least put it to work.” He scoffed, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, pulling out his already hard cock with the other.

There was a split second of hesitation on his part, pausing like he realized what he was doing, suddenly coming back to consciousness after being possessed.

“Princess… I’m so sorry, y-you don’t have to do anything.” He turned his head to you revealing his paling cheeks as he quickly released the back of your neck from his rough hold, only to be shocked by the lustful gaze staring back into his worried eyes.

“Th-that was hot.” You squeaked out, melting into submission.

“Wait- really?” He asked, eyebrows pinching together in shameful hope. His hand hovering over the nape of your neck as if waiting for permission.

“Y-yeah, yes.” Swallowing thickly, cautiously sliding off the backseat and onto the carpeted floor to kneel in front of him.

“Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, a mask of remorse passing over his features. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Anakin.” You said quietly, “please shut up.”

“O-okay.” He nodded quickly, suddenly timid, so unlike that man from just seconds earlier.

You lowered your head without another glance up at him, moving to swirl your tongue and suck on the silver ball of his jewelry to slight push and pull the metal through the piercing before taking his cockhead between your lips.

You were too busy to notice the absolutely wicked, deriding, straight up unsettlingly evil grin eat away at the faux timidity he’d painted on his pretty face.

Diary Entry: September 17th

Is there a word for when you kind of feel bad about something because you know that you should, but you don’t actually feel bad about it? If there is one I’d like to know it. It’d be perfect for this. It’s exactly how I feel.

I don’t think I’m obligated to actually feel any sort of ‘remorse’ in this situation though because it’s not really my fault. Even if it is… it’s only indirectly. After all the excitement life has finally slowed down enough for me to notice I’m out of my meds. Have been like for a few days.

So, apologies for being a total jerk, but also no I’m not apologizing because I don’t believe you mind it. I think you just don’t like it. You don’t like facing what you already know to be true. Kind of like when you rearrange the magnets on the fridge. You get so used to seeing it one way that you hardly pay attention. But the moment you move ‘em around its like you’re looking at a brand new fridge every time you walk past it. It just jumps out at you.

Same fridge, same magnets. Same me, more Ghost, less Anakin.

Diary Entry: September 20th

Why does life have to kick me in the ass, why won’t it just pucker up and kiss it? I have a nice ass. You’ve said so.

I can list a hundred things that I would rather be doing this week, a thousand if I tried really hard. I would prefer to shove my hand in a manual meat grinder than go back to that stupid fucking doctor.

My mother makes her weekly FaceTime call and turns it into a game of twenty questions.

I know exactly what she was trying to do, fishing for information, trying to see how much I knew. She did the same thing when that murder on campus happened. It wasn’t me. The guy who did it was caught and locked up, it was a senseless crime. The poor kid didn’t do anything but stand in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Just because I live near the campus, doesn’t mean I’m involved. Except for this time.

I don’t do senseless crime. I’m not stupid.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a call from your doctor honey. Did you take me off the information release? You know you can’t do that Anakin, it’s mandatory.’

‘Your prescription hasn’t been filled, you haven’t taken it in over a week! Don’t lie to me!’

Fucking fine. Alright. I love the woman but Christ alive she gets on my goddamn nerves. Now I have to go back to the shrink because I didn’t call and request my meds to be refilled and I didn’t try to pick them up when they were ready. Apparently if you’re three days late to the CVS pharmacy they put your crazy pills back and hold them hostage. Some policy shit about controlled substances.

My mom watched the news and thought to herself ‘hmm, it’s been alittle while since I’ve questioned my son’s sanity.’

Have I not done enough to prove I’m capable of being a functioning member of society? The state says I have. Why can’t she do the same? Officials have signed off on my ability to be normal and surprise! I have ‘maintained mental stability’ and ‘reintegrated into society’.

They’re over it. Why can’t she be?

I mean for fucks sake, she was used to it. Those doctors and nurses who loved to sedate me while I was in that state school weren’t and they forgave me a million times quicker than mom did. I would’ve gotten grounded for months if she had been the one to find out I was stealing meds and reselling them. It’s not my fault they padlocked it with a big clunky thing from the 90’s. A toddler could’ve picked that lock with a spoon, but they trusted a school of delinquents not to capitalize on it? All they did was give me a time out in the bad boy box for a week. It was like a vacation, no classes, no people, no gym.

They expected me to be upset about that? Please.

The only thing I didn’t think I was going to get away with there was the whole therapy-chicken fiasco. My refusal to apologize definitely didn’t help. But when you live in the suburbs majority of your life you aren’t exactly accustomed to a fucking rooster thinking the sun is coming up at 4:00 am. I already had to deal with sharing a room with a chronic masturbator who snored and grease-trap McGee who thought axe body spray could substitute for a shower.

Adding chickens into a coop directly outside my window was the tipping point. A state official who believed caring for animals could be therapeutic almost cost me my graduation. Out of all the animals they could’ve chosen, they picked chickens.

They only lasted a week before I got fed up and wrung their necks like a washcloth.

But I’m an adult now. I’m a big boy, making big boy choices and one of those choices was to stop seeing my doctor. I would’ve kept up with my pills, however, I was busy following my girlfriend to the lake when I got the ‘prescription ready for pickup’ text.

I probably don’t even need them anymore anyway. I’m fine. But now if I don’t get my ass in there for an appointment with Dr. Bullshit I’ll have to get reevaluated through the court and have to see that little bitch ass man-boy I hit with a table. I can’t have that. Not when everything is perfect in my life.

Except for the stuff that’s really horribly terrible.

Appointment: date: September 28th 3:30pm

September 15th 8:23pm

Seconds after unlocking your front door, you flopped down face first onto the couch. Dropping your belongings onto the floor below you with a thud, you had no intention of moving until absolutely necessary. You just wanted to rot. Not because you wanted to die per say… its just that you wouldn’t mind feigning dead for a while and if you just so happened to perish while playing the part of a corpse; well it wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be way easier than living the life that you’ve found yourself in.

Everything had been so undeniably awful lately that the joy had been sucked out of even the smallest things that made you happy before. Like the nice old lady who gets coffee and a slice of cake for lunch, she’s so cute and small and she always leaves a peppermint as part of your tip. It always made you smile, always gave you a warm feeling in your chest, but today was different. Today the gesture made you feel hollow.

Since he left, it’s all you can think of.

——————————————————————————

9:52pm

After peeling yourself away from the comfort of your couch, you showered and ate a dinner fit for royalty: microwave stir fry rice. Then you dragged yourself across the hallway to Anakin’s. For reasons yet to be revealed you were dreading your time inside his place alone. The air felt heavy and stale as you walked through the space, into his living room. It was always like this when he was gone, like the apartment never fully ‘wakes up’ until he steps inside.

It’s odd, feeling like the room you’re in is in a state of dormancy. Yet, it’s not the cause of your hesitancy to stay here tonight, while he’s away. No, you’re hesitant because Ghost he usually visits on nights Anakin is at work. What if he shows up and you’re not there? Will he make an appearance here? Will he think it’s your way of saying you don’t care if you see him or not?

Worse still, could the hesitancy stem from that little voice trapped deep in the recesses of your mind? The one you’ve ignored every time it’s been able to rip the gag from it’s mouth?

The rope of dread wraps tighter and tighter around your neck each moment you’re here alone. No amount of distraction has been able to cure the itch, the burning, nagging itch to get up and search. Is that what he wants? What if he’s been here?

Are there cameras here too? That’s something you’ve never even considered before and the thought makes you feel ill. It’s one thing to have your own privacy breached, but Anakin’s… that’s unfair to him and it’s already gone past ‘innocent’ watching. The camera in your bedroom has surely caught things no one else should’ve seen and that knowledge has begun to haunt you.

He’d been watching you have sex. With him. With Anakin. He had hours of footage, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind at the realization. But only a few were significant enough to take note of. If he’s been monitoring your bedroom activity… why was he only upset about the time you and Anakin had sex in the living room? He was so angry about it, so angry he wanted to roleplay stabbing you. He cut you while he pounded you from behind.

Why hadn’t he been that jealous about every other time? Probably to spare you the embarrassment of knowing the camera was right over your bed. It would be stupid of him to reveal that sort of information, then he wouldn’t have all those videos, perfect for blackmail, presumably great amateur porn. He wouldn’t… would he? He killed a man.

Men?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he might’ve been saving all that up in case he needed it. He did say he’d send those pictures to Anakin if you didn’t behave. That’s blackmail. That’s a threat.

Or maybe, he’d done something even worse. Ghost… could he have…? No. He’s too possessive. He wouldn’t try to make money off of you like that. Would he? Despite laughing off the thought, your phone suddenly appeared in your hand, thumbs working of their own accord to check any and every explicit website you could find using the tags ‘ghostface’ ‘masks’ ‘hidden camera’ ‘blindfold’ ‘gagged’ ‘knife’ and anything else you thought it might’ve been labeled under. Scroll after scroll you squinted your way through countless video thumbnails, all the big sites were clean as far as you could tell.

OnlyFans? Maybe. He’d make way more on a site like that than he would on a larger porn site. Right? Wouldn’t it be considered… niche content? So you searched there, preview and profile pictures of so many people popped up. Maybe it’s not as niche as you thought. The idea that others may be interested in something like that was slightly comforting and only a tad infuriating.

These people might not be your Ghost; but they shared his face. And, they had hundreds if not thousands of people watching them.

It shouldn’t bother you as badly as it does, but you can’t help it. Maybe his own possessiveness has started to rub off on you, because the thought of someone else watching a man in the same mask as Ghost… almost felt like cheating.

Realistically, he could be any of these men.

You could be looking at him right now along with whoever else is online and you’d never even know it unless you saw yourself pop up on the page. But then you’d have to subscribe to **every single one** of these profiles. You might waste your time scrolling through videos and never finding what you were looking for.

Because… realistically he probably isn’t one of these men.

“Enough.” You groaned, fisting your hair on both sides of your head, then pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Finally you got up and made popcorn, sitting yourself in front of the living room tv for a bit of a wind-down before bed. It would be hours before Anakin got home, X-Files was calling and you just had to answer. So you restarted it and settled in for a binge. The familiar theme washing over you in a nostalgic sort of way, late nights passing by on the projector of your memories.

Luke and you in his twin bed, comforter bundled around you as you sat huddled together, crosslegged in the soft glow of the tv and his small spaceship nightlight. Too old for ‘kid shows’ and too young for horror movies, so you found the next best thing: Goosebumps for grown ups.

His parents were fancy enough to have a DVR to record shows, allowing the two of you to rewatch your favorite episodes whenever you pleased. So long as his father didn’t record over them to catch the newest episode of American Idol.

Isn’t it odd how we so often return to the comfort of childhood in times of uncertainty? Clinging onto the old things that were stable even in the forever changing world you grew up in. Every night without fail, re-run after re-run of X-Files would play on channel 72. All night long.

Now you didn’t have to wait until 8:30pm. You could watch it whenever you wanted, or needed. The latter was true in this case. You want to believe. Just like Mulder. But, Scully is reasonable and you needed to be reasonable. An inkling isn’t proof, a feeling isn’t fact. Cold, hard evidence doesn’t lie. But your mind, your heart, your eyes and ears… are not as trustworthy as you might like to think.

You only got through two episodes before you stood up and sat your bowl of neglected popcorn aside.

“Skeptics are often the best detectives.” You mumbled to yourself, a very paraphrased quote from the show.

You’d come here to snoop once already and had found nothing. No evidence. But now you wondered if you may have been searching for the wrong things, in the wrong places.

“What would Scully do?” You thought.

You found yourself slipping into the role you once loved to play alongside Luke. You’d be the voice of reason to his fantasy world of the paranormal, when he’d come up with ‘cases’ for the two of you to solve. Only this time you would be playing both parts.

You’d started off toward Anakin’s bedroom when your phone buzzed, pausing just before passing the threshold into the space, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw a text waiting to be read.

‘Do you miss me that bad?’

Ghost.

Unsure of whether to answer or not you freeze in place, staring down at the screen. He’d ignored you for what felt like eternity, now he was returning with a snarky comment about your internet searches. He can monitor your search history but he can’t say ‘hello’ for a week?

Your thumbs poised over the keyboard, a million jumbled words fighting for their chance to make an appearance in your quick witted, equally snarky, sarcastic-

‘Yes.’

‘Liar.’ The response came through the very second your phone showed that your message had delivered.

Your face heated up, how dare he call you a liar? After everything you would’ve thought he might know better. You chose not to entertain the comment, knowing it would only make Ghost think he’d successfully gotten under your skin. Even though he had, he wasn’t entitled to that information.

‘Your cameras are dying.’

‘I don’t need them anymore.’ The text finally appeared after several bouts of typing, erasing and retyping occurred on Ghost’s side of the conversation.

He doesn’t need them. At least he didn’t say he didn’t want them anymore, because that would imply that he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you hoped it meant he had something else planned, not simply that he had lost interest in watching your day to day activities.

It was a sobering concept; the idea that you may be losing his attention. Is it worth it to even try to find out? Will the answer just hurt you more than the not knowing? You suspect it might.

So you turned off your phone. No more googling, no more texting. Just searching. With X-Files to keep you company, you walked around the living room to carefully lift every item in the room. Each little trinket inspected and every backing to his picture frames removed, the couch cushions lifted, unzipped and felt up. Scooting every piece of moveable furniture away from the walls and pushing it carefully back into place. Anakin was peculiar about his things, if you misplaced something by even a centimeter, he would notice.

If you weren’t so angry at Ghost, you might’ve thanked him for the ‘take a reference picture’ before moving someone else’s things trick. It was no wonder you didn’t notice him being inside your house for so long. He really was good at what he did.

But you were angry. Angry at him, at yourself, at Anakin. But you were furious at the invisible wall that kept you from searching Anakin’s room. Every time you approached it, your mind thought up some excuse for why you weren’t finished looking elsewhere. There’s only so many logical hiding places and you were suddenly determined to find them all before moving open to the more… illogical ones.

Cereal boxes. Ice cube tray. Dishwasher and the dishwasher pac container. The fabric along the bottom of the couch. Behind the mounted tv. In the trash cans beneath the trash bag. The water tank of the coffee pot. His shoes.

You even re-checked the bathroom after remembering you never found out what was keeping that drawer from being fully opened. Turns out Anakin beat you to it and got it out of the way, so when you opened it, you removed the drawer completely to find that there was nothing there and never had been. If there’s nothing there, there must be nothing in his room either.

And suddenly, that invisible barrier dissolved.

“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin�� joking.” Anakin laughed humorlessly, seeing his text deliver green. He tossed his phone onto the crate beside him, annoyedly pulling the cigarette from between his lips with pinched fingers and flicking the ash on the ground.

”What?” Trevor asked, pressing his back to the brick wall, enjoying a slow sip of whiskey.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Anakin grumbled, raking a hand through his hair.

“Oh come on now don’t give me that shit.” Trevor scoffed, scuffing his shoe against Anakin’s. “I’d like to think I know you well enough to know when you’re royally ticked off.”

”Trev. You don’t ever wanna see me royally ticked off.” He chuckled, deep and gravely from the back of his throat. “I’m just… irritated.”

”You’ve been barreling around the bar for the last week like a bull in a china shop.” Trevor said pointedly, taking a gulp of his whiskey. “I didn’t think anyone would ever beat April’s broken glass record but you’ve fuckin’ smashed it.” Trevor snickered at his own joke, clearing his throat anxiously when Anakin didn’t laugh along with him.

”Seriously man, I’ll help you out if I can. Just say the word.” Trevor shrugged, feeling an awkward silence that he hadn’t shared with Anakin in quite some time.

”This isn’t something you can help with.” Anakin sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his palms over his jeans, smacking his knees before standing up and tossing his cigarette butt into the designated coffee can.

”Girl trouble?” Trevor guessed putting both his hand palm up in front of him.

”When isn’t it girl trouble?” Anakin groaned, rubbing his face. “My girl, my mom, the fucking cat. Even the damn cat is being weird with me.”

“Well, what’d you do?” Trevor asked curiously, not trying to pry to hard.

”Oh you know.” Anakin shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Went on a murderous rampage, girlfriend caught me snorting some special K, didn’t give the cat a treat, told my mom off over the phone.”

”Shit, anything else?” Trevor laughed, standing up as well to follow Anakin inside.

”Beat up a middle aged man, mugged a gas station attendant, robbed said gas station, stole a motorcycle, spray painted a few buildings, busted up a change jar, fucked your mom.” Anakin listed off on his hand, turning around with a grin on his face after the last ‘transgression’ left his lips.

”I should’ve seen that one coming.” Trevor huffed shaking his head. “Tell your mother I said ‘nice tits’.”

”Oh fuck right the hell off.” Anakin snorted, shoulder checking Trevor into the wall as they re-entered the bar.

”Yessir,” Trevor tipped his imaginary hat and spun on his heel. “Next time i see you, I’ll be calling you son.”

”Just don’t ask me to call you daddy.” Anakin shook his head, faking a right and smacking his left cheek lightly before running off behind the bar.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:13am

Anakin left the bar after his shift that night, feeling a little bit lighter. His mind a little less foggy and a little more organized. He jogged up the steps to his apartment and almost walked in, his hand on the door knob in preparation to unlock it.

It was as if the other side of the hall was calling to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. That same strong urge that had lured him into your life in the first place, he knew you were waiting for him, but it couldn’t hurt to make you wait just a tad longer, right?

Slowly he turned and switched keys, unlocking your door and stepping inside he flipped on the light switch and went about collecting the rest of the cameras he had so painstakingly set up all that time ago. Lining them up on the dresser in front of your bed just before taking all the little things he’d left, all the notes, and lining them up in chronological order from one edge of the dresser to the next, ending the sequence by taking off his centipede ring and placing the bullet he’d carved for you in the center of it.

He carefully plucked your hairpin from the jewelry box and held it for a moment in the palm of his hand, tracing over the delicately carved lines. He’d looked for so long, searched everywhere just to find it and you’d never worn it. He understood of course, he could understand the reasoning behind not wearing it. But keeping it tucked away in your jewelry box seemed like a waste of it’s beauty, a waste of what it represented for him. So, just like he stole it from that antique shop, he stole it back from you.

Anakin stood back as he slipped the hair pin into his pocket, looking down at his handiwork. It was satisfying to see it all laid out like that in front of him. Like a nice little history exhibit of your time together. It brought a small smile to his lips, a happy one, one that was real and genuine, proud.

He hadn’t planned this, he used to plan everything so carefully, so far in advance. He’d been running on instinct and the free feeling he got when he decided something on the spot for a while now. It felt nice to break from the mold he’d created for himself when it came to you, not so much when it involved murder. Anakin wasn’t a man who would admit to be scared about just any old thing. Scared of losing you? Absolutely he would admit to that. But scared of prison? No, he’s too tough for that.

Which is why he was blaming his tears on you and you alone. Despite his happy smile, he sniffed back salty droplets that graced his cheeks, unaware he was even crying until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the dresser.

He was well aware that he’d been sloppy. There were so many things that didn’t make sense at that crime scene and he was hoping that the police were stupid enough to believe it was all due to that poor kid’s hysteria. Anakin was smart enough to know that the police wouldn’t share any information that was valuable, if they had suspicions anyone else was involved. They’d wait and bide their time, gathering evidence and luring the suspect into a false sense of security.

He was paranoid, so, so, paranoid. Rightfully so.

None of the boys he’d left alive turned up that way, which in all reality made it a little easier for him. There’d be no witnesses and no one to point the finger at a real life Ghostface. Two of the boys had bled out, the other died from a stress induced seizure and choked on his own tongue. Anakin supposed that might be a reasonable reaction to being zip tied to two dead guys that had fallen over on top of you. He knew he should feel bad, he did, just not for what he knew he was supposed to.

He felt bad for himself.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:46am

You were on your hands and knees, using your phone flashlight to search under all the furniture in Anakin’s room. You even lifted the mattress, took out all the drawers in the dressers and nightstand, even checked the pockets of the clothes hanging in his closet. The suitcase at the top of his closet and the shoes at the bottom.

You gave up searching after you picked up a candle and turned it over, why in the world would you be checking a candle for anything suspicious? You were beginning to believe you were just horribly paranoid, rightfully so, you’d just aided and abetted and murdered not too long ago.

So you cozied up in Anakin’s bed and started watching the X-Files that you’d switched over into his room’s tv for background noise. Now Scully and Mulder had your full attention.

It was a good episode, a string of strange unsolved murders. Mulder had a theory that would connect these murders to ones that had happened several decades before. He was convinced they were committed by the same man despite the time passed between them. He even found matching finger prints to prove his theory, yet Scully was still unconvinced. That was until the culprit came after her, breaching her home’s defenses by squeezing through the air vents.

You jolted upright so quickly it made your brain feel as though it spun on an axis. With your phone in hand you went about the apartment, checking each air vent. It would be a perfect hiding place for anything really. You would’ve never even considered it had it not been for the X-Files. Your palms sweat with anxious anticipation, each one you checked meant you were one closer to finding, or not finding whatever it was the Anakin may or may not be hiding.

You saved the one in Anakin’s room for last, assuming if he were to have hidden anything it would probably be there. You were just about to shine your light through the slats of the vent when you heard the front door open, in a moment of panic you shot upright to your feet, your phone gripped tightly in your fingers. Your face the picture of guilt as Anakin rounded the corner, his face twisting from surprise to confusion.

”What’re you still doing up doll?” He asked, looking at his watch, “It’s almost four.”

”I couldn’t sleep.” You said quickly, realizing the phone flashlight was still on, you tapped the button the turn it off but your fingers were so sweaty you had to wipe them on your shirt before you could properly use the touchscreen.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, walking forward as he watched you struggle, “Looking for something?”

”No! Why- what makes you think that?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted in concern.

”Uh,” He pointed to the phone in your hand and watched as you tried and failed to feign a gasp of realization.

”Oh! Right, I could’ve sworn I heard a mouse in here, I was just about to look.” You said, gesturing to the air vent. Anakin took the phone from your hand and flicked the flashlight back on. Kneeling on the ground to look for you.

”Are you that afraid of mice?” He asked with a slight laugh, looking over his shoulder at your pink cheeks.

”No, not really.” You shook your head, “I- you just startled me when you came in I think.”

”Well I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to. I thought you’d be asleep.” He said, coming up off the ground and handling you your phone back. “If there was a mouse, he’s gone now.”

“Oh well that’s good then.” You sighed, nodding as you looked down at the vent again. He would’ve acted strangely if he had something down there… wouldn’t he have?

“Whatcha watching?” He asked, nodding toward the tv where a new episode had begun.

“Oh, it’s the X-Files.” You said with a slight smile, crawling back up into the bed. “You’ve never watched it?”

“Yeah I have, It’s been a long time though.” He said, leaning on the door frame and looking you over, taking his time as though he were looking for something. He was giving you a smile that seemed almost wistful, like he was sad about something.

“C’Mere babydoll. I don’t wanna get bar germs in the bed.” He pushed off the door frame with his foot, sauntering over to you, placing his hands on the side of the bed. Waiting patiently for you to come closer, his eyes seemingly soaking up every square inch of skin on your body. He smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold your face lightly and gaze down at you before moving in for a slow and loving kiss.

When he pulled away, he scratched the top of your head with his large hands, raking his fingertips through your hair. Guiding your closer again by the back of your head so that he could place a kiss to your forehead and pat your cheek.

”I’m gonna get clean.” He said, walking to his closet and stripping himself bare, tossing his clothes in his laundry basket. He turned to wink at you, biting the tip of his tongue with a big grin.

It made you blush, seeing him standing there so confidently and so comfortable in front of you. But the thing that made you bite your lip was the way his cock twitched, growing harder right before your eyes just because he was naked in front of you. He could see the lust, the admiration for him and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t an ego boost. He’d also be lying if he denied how much it flattened his heart when you looked away, not shyly. Purposefully. Anakin hid his small frown well, looking down to the side and ruffling up his hair with a tight lipped expression as he turned two the dresser to get a clean pair of boxers.

”Oh my god!” You gasped loudly, the sheets and blankets rustling as you made your way over to Anakin from where you sat on the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin at your exclamation, turning around with wide eyes.

”What?” He asked looking around and down at himself in search of whatever had made you react so strongly.

”What the hell is this?” You asked, roughly grabbing him by his upper arm to spin him around and inspect his shoulder and back. He’d told you he had hurt himself, but he never let on like it was this bad. This was absolutely no pulled muscle.

“God this looks awful Ani!” You ran your fingers over the tender and multi-colored bruise on his right shoulder. “What happened?”

”Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pointer finger and thumb of one hand. “It wasn’t a pulled muscle.”

”No shit? Really? I had no idea.” You said sarcastically, gesturing to the obviously painful bruise.

”Don’t.” He turned around, finger pointed at your face while his eyes stared down at you with darkened eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. He took a breath, closing his eyes again and when he opened them, a little bit of the light you’d grown accustomed to seeing shown through once more.

”I got in a fight.” He said simply, swallowing hard as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Just a scuffle at the bar, trying to break up an arguement. Just didn’t want to worry you princess.”

”I don’t appreciate being lied to over something so minuscule.” You scowled.

”You don’t? Oh, I had no idea.” He sneered, his voice sharp and clipped. “Sorry for trying to be mindful of you and your feelings. I didn’t think it would help our situation any, you know because you locked yourself away for a few days?”

You stepped back, the scowl fading slightly into something more sensitive. It was obvious you’d upset him, abundantly clear actually. The way he responded not only made you feel guilty for not considering the reasoning behind his lie, but also dredged up the guilt from the irony of your own words.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I should’ve reacted better, I was just- it worried me.” You admitted, walking over to pull him in for a comforting hug.

”It… It’s alright.” He sighed softly, nuzzling the top of your head to inhale your scent. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

”I understand.” You nodded, even though you didn’t really. He’d been acting so unpredictably as of late that it was starting to worry you in more ways than one.

“Do you?” He asked, the tone of his voice making it sound less like a question and more like a tease, though his eyes suggested it was serious.

”I think maybe you’re just really stressed or… or maybe something’s bothering you?” You ventured carefully not wanting to upset him again. “You’ve been acting different.”

”You haven’t spoken to my mom. Have you?” He asked, his eyebrow shooting up as he spoken.

”What?” You asked with a bit of a confused laugh. “No, I haven’t.”

He studied your face, searching for deception hidden beneath you confident denial and he was pleased to find none. He monitored your phone, he could hear you conversations, but you were aware of that and he was worried you might’ve found a way to bypass all his precautions.

”Okay.” He nodded. “Sweetheart, I’ve got- I need to… you know what? I think we should probably have this conversation after I put some pants on.” He said stepping back and giving you a smirk at the blush on your cheeks.

”R-right, I forgot.” You said, biting your bottom lip and allowing him to leave the room to shower. The second he closed the bathroom door you moved so quickly to the vent along the baseboard of the wall that you thought you might’ve given yourself rug burn on your knees when you dropped down to check it for yourself.

Empty.

Part Eighteen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

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dyaz-stories · 11 months ago

Text

you took the words right out of my mouth || Kim Yeong-Hu x Reader

word count: 1k

warnings & tags: mostly sweet and fluffy, implied sex but nothing explicit, just harmless flirtation

A/N: For @neohumanmonster's Born in Blood prompt! I don't know if I'll post the other prompts right away because I don't want to burn myself out, so I hope you'll enjoy that one in the meantime!

“You do realize that there are two doctors in here, right?” you ask as you enter the room, not bothering to greet the man sitting on the examination table.

Sergeant Kim Young Hu’s eyes follow you as you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Around his bicep, a makeshift bandage seeped with red. By the looks of it, it isn’t the worst state you’ve seen him in.

“I’m not letting that lunatic touch me,” he answers, his voice calm, as it usually is, and you roll your eyes.

You’d be lying if you said you were a fan of Dr. Lim. You already had your issues with the man when you both worked for the government, before this all started. Once the Outbreak had begun, it had taken you forty-eight hours as his assistant before you had requested to start working out in the field. You’re well-aware of his shortcomings.

Unfortunately, and it stings to admit it, he’s one of the most competent doctors you’ve ever met. He’d be more than able to take care of the Sergeant.

“You do realize I have other things to do, right?”

“And I am deeply sorry to have taken you away from your fifth grade biology lessons.”

…Okay, he has a point. Finally done with your thorough handwashing — it’s not nearly as sanitizing as you’d like it to be, but it’s not like there’s a lot more you can do —, you come to stand in front of him.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask as you start undoing the bandage. At least working with the military means that the men all know what they’re doing in terms of first-aid.

“Could be worse. I think I just need stitches.”

You’d trust him, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve heard him say that about injuries that could have been fatal, had you not been there. In this case, though, you’re relieved to see it does look mostly fine. Whatever attacked him slashed through him, deep enough to be concerning but without actually damaging the muscle or hitting an important artery.

“What happened here?”

“One of the guys tried to take something from a monster,” the Sergeant Kim replies flatly. “I intervened.”

“Oh, it’s good it didn’t turn out worse, then?”

“Not really,” he says with a shrug. “The monster wasn’t violent until disturbed. This could have easily been avoided.”

“Sounds like your boys need a stern talking-to.”

While talking, you go fetch what you need. At least you’ve got everything required for something like stitching someone up, which you can’t say about most other ailments.

“I’ll handle that,” the Sergeant answers from behind you, and you smile. He exudes this quiet strength that you cannot help but be impressed by. His men would follow him to the end of the world and back, if he asked, and you can see why.

“Alright, well, you know the drill,” you tell him, coming back in front of him. “Think you’ll be okay?”

It’s silly to ask, with how often you’ve had to patch him or his men up. You’re well aware of his resistance to pain. Nonetheless, your training requires you ask, even if it’s no surprise when he nods in answer.

“Just go for it.”

You make quick and easy work of the wound. You focus on being fast and efficient rather than on lessening the pain, which you know is for the best with him. It’s not long before you’re setting your tools back down, done with your work. There are a few seconds during which the Sergeant takes the time to relax his jaw, to breathe in a couple of times, and then he nods at you.

“All done?” he asks.

“You’ll need to come back here so I can check on it,” you say. “And try not to put any strain yourself with that arm for a couple days, alright?”

He nods, but you don’t put much faith in that. As a soldier, you’d think he’d be good at following orders and, to be fair, you’ve heard he did an outstanding job most of the time. Unfortunately, your recommendations seemed to fall into deaf ears more often than not.

“Is that all?”

“Sure,” you say, even if his nonchalance exhausts you. “Hope I don’t see you here again for a good while.”

This, at least, brings a smile to his lips, and you try your best to suppress your shiver. He gets up from the table, and stands up, just inches from you. He’s so close, his torso almost brushes against your chest.

“Is that so, Doc?”

Damn that man.

“You know, if you keep this up, I’ll end up thinking you’re landing yourself in here on purpose,” you say.

The smile turns more amused.

“I would never endanger myself on purpose,” he tells you with disarming honesty. “But I’d be lying if I said I minded this kind of flesh wounds all that much these days.”

And before you can tell him just what you think of that, of course, he leans in to capture your lips. It’s not the first time. It doesn’t look like it will be the last time. And you’re in one of the very few rooms in the stadium that can actually lock.

Fuck it, you decide, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter why the two of you play that game together, the people you shared a past with and that are long gone, the fact that this relationship was built on blood. What matters is that in his arms, for however long you get to have him, you forget that the world is doomed.

If him coming back for more over and over again is any indication, so does he.

hope you liked this, it's a little sillier than what i've written for the fandom so far, so that was fun to play with. i don't know if i'll write for other soldiers because most of them... didn't leave me much of an impression as far as their personality goes, but i tried something for sergeant kim ^-^ please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you're enjoying my writing, interactions are what keep me motivated to write for a fandom!

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home netflix #sweet home 2 #sweet home season 2 #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #kim yeong hu #kim yeong hu x reader #my writing

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pitchsidestories · 5 months ago

Text

searching for hope II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 3426

a/n: hi, it's inspired by this request here, we hope you like it despite the heavy topic.

warnings: career ending injury, sadness, but with a fluffy ending

Suddenly, the whole Estadi Johan Cruyff fell silent when they heard your scream echoing against the walls of the Barca femeni’s home. Everyone who saw you sink to the ground after a bad tackle from your opponent turned pale.

Yes, the tackle from the other player was bad, but what was more unnerving in their eyes was the way you hold on to your knee. This was always a bad sign and something people who followed women’s football grew all too familiar with over the past years. It sends a shiver down the spine of the home fans and your beloved teammates.

It has been an ordinary league game so far, it wasn’t an important one, your team was already leading with three goals and yet you found yourself laying on the pitch. The pain your body was in felt almost unbearable.

“Hey! Don’t move!”, Lucy yelled, looking deeply worried at you while she knelt beside you, taking a hand of yours in hers. Your girlfriend normally tried to keep your relationship as private as possible, but her concern for you threw the normal behaviour out of the window.

“Lucy?”, you mumbled, the tears streaming down your face made your vision turn blurry, but you would always recognize your lover’s voice.

“They’re getting the stretcher.”, Lucy informed you calmy, from the outside the English woman might still look like her professional, tough self, but inside she was falling apart. Seeing you in this state of agony broke her heart.

“Lucy, you need to let her go, the medics are taking care of her now.”, Alexia smiled empathetically at the older player.

“I’ll come and check on you later, okay?”, your girlfriend whispered into your ear before releasing her protective grip from you with a heavy heart.

Instead of speaking you just nodded, signalizing that you heard her, as the medical staff was taking you off the pitch. Even though you closed your eyes you could feel Lucys gaze lingering on you until you were inside the ambulance. The sound of clapping hands from your team and the fans warmed your heart.

“That was bad. She was white as a ghost.”, the defender whispered, the shock of your terrible injury was written all over her.

“Don’t think about it right now, focus on the game, Lucy.”, Keira responded.

“I’m focused.”, Lucy shrugged it off.

Looking at the time, she added:” It’s only ten more minutes anyway.”

Turned out, these were the longest ten minutes in her whole career.

She never felt more relieved when the referee blew the final whistle. As fast as the English woman could she packed her things to travel to your hospital bed.

“Hey, how are you?”, Lucy asked you still out of breath.

“It hurts so much, Lucy.”, you replied in an honest tone, you hated how you sounded, so weak, normally you were known to be a woman who could handle her pain.

“I know. But it will get better.“, Lucy promised as she sat down on the side of your bed.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head: “No, they said it might end my career…“

Lucy shook her head determinedly: “They can’t know that yet! We don’t even know what it is!“

“It’s my knee.“, you said, your voice choked with tears. You took a deep breath to gather yourself before you added: “Isn’t it weird? We already worried about your knee and here we are…“

If you were not as overwhelmed with the situation, you might have laughed about the irony. You girlfriends knee had been troubling her for some time now so you had prepared for the event that she would have to retire.

What you had failed to include in your plans was the fact that injuries could happen at any time and football careers could be cut short by them.

“We’re not at the point for this conversation yet.“, Lucy replied with stubborn hopefulness.

You sighed: “I know… but I have a bad feeling…“

Lucy took your hand in hers, squeezing encouragingly: “That doesn’t have to mean anything.“

It took days of different tests and scans until you finally had your diagnosis. You had been able to tell what would follow from the look on the doctors face before he even said a word.

It got too real too fast. You were suddenly faced with the fact that your life would never be the same again, the dream that you had spend years working so hard for turned to ash right in front of you on a random Tuesday afternoon.

“Luce, could you please leave me alone for a moment?“, you begged. There were no tears yet, just emptiness.

Your girlfriend rubbed circles on your healthy knee with her thumb: “Y/n, please…“

“We just got told that I can never play again. Go!“, you shouted at her.

Lucy only frowned at you: “We can find another doctor. There’s always a way.“

“Not right now. Leave!“, you instructed her once more, this time as collected as you were capable of.

Reluctantly she got up and left the room without another word.

Only then your tears began to fall and realization set in.

Outside of your hospital room, your teammates were impatiently waiting for any news.

“What did the doctor say, Lucy?“, Mapi asked as soon as English defender stepped out. The heads of the other players snapped up immediately.

Lucy looked at Fridolina, Aitana, Ingrid and Alexia and shook her head. “He pretty much told her that her career is over. She didn’t even have the surgery yet!“

Ingrid blinked down at the bouquet of lilies in her hands, her lip trembling: “And all we got her are her favourite flowers…“

“She’ll still appreciate them.”, your girlfriend reassured her with a sad smile on her lips.

“Yes, but we didn’t thought this could be a career ending injury-“, the team captain explained, but even she was at a loss for words, nothing what the midfielder could say felt appropriate, you weren’t that old yet, and the thought of you never playing for Barca Femeni again was terrible to her.

Alexia could feel a lump in her throat as she was thinking about you, normally you’d have so many years left in the beautiful game.

“Her scream will haunt me in my dreams, it was awful.”, Fridolina confessed, biting her lip.

“This will be a hard time for her.”, Aitana whispered, visibly moved by the news about your injury as the Swede hugged her.

“As well as for Lucia.”, Mapi predicted.

“I’m fine.”, Lucy tried to comfort her teammates with her reply.

“No, we’re here for you both.”, Alexia clarified.

Your teammates stayed true to their words, whenever one of you had a bad day, they made sure that someone was there for you or Lucy.

A day before the surgery your girlfriend made sure she was at home. The defender and you were laying on the sofa, her strong arms were wrapped around you, making you feel very safe and comforted despite the rising nervousness.

“Are you ready for it, love?”, Lucy asked you attentively.

“I am ready.”, you nodded, while she was running a hand through your open hair which you knew she loved a lot.

“Maybe things will change once it’s healed.”, the older woman thought out loud, her voice full of optimism.

“Yes, maybe. But you know what we need right now?”, you changed the subject to something more light-hearted.

Smiling your girlfriend watched you while you were making two cappuccinos for both of you, with a sprinkle of hot chocolate powder on top of it. The delicious scent filled your whole living room, mirroring the peaceful atmosphere of this afternoon.

“Did you perfect your latte art while I was in training.”, Lucy rose an eyebrow in amusement.

“Possible. Narla loved it because she got a lot of milk foam in the process.”, you winked at her laughing, as the dark-haired player took a few sips from the hot drink, closing her eyes with relish.

“At least it had something positive for one of us.”, the defender smirked, meanwhile the West Highland Terrier has been taking your place, so she received her daily dose of cuddles. You could never get tired of the sight of these two, which had a huge place in your heart.

“And you got a delicious cup of coffee at the end too.”, you reminded her. More serious you added:” Missed me at training?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s asking how you are.”, Lucy cleared her throat.

“I miss them too.“, you admitted. “They’re more than teammates, you know?“

Your girlfriend nodded slowly, in quiet understanding: “I know.“

“Of course you do. Sorry.“ Your gaze shifted towards the contents of your cup.

Lucys hand appeared on your healthy knee, rubbing light circles with her thumb. “No, I appreciate them for their support.“

You looked back and managed a slight smile: “Me too, them and you.“

The defender shrugged casually: “That’s the least thing I can do for you.“

Before you could assure her that she already did more than necessary, Narla jumped on your lap and started to lick your face.

Giggling, you pulled back: “Oh, apologies, Narla. You’re doing a great job too.“

You rewarded the little dog with some pets while Lucy laughed: “Don’t forget your biggest supporter.��

“Never,“

“I’m sure she will take good care of you after the surgery.“, Lucy joked.

You pushed any thought about the surgery away. For now, you just wanted to enjoy the calm afternoon with your two favourites.

You did not remember much about your surgery day until you woke up from anaesthesia. You were confused and tired and you heard people talking all around you. It took you a while to recognize the familiar voices.

“Luce, it’s going to be alright.“ That was Mariona.

“I can only hope so.“, you heard your girlfriend say, her voice was full of worry.

“She’s a fighter.“, Mapis voice promised in the darkness.

“She is.“

“See?“

You finally found the energy to open your eyes. Your teammates all stared back at you. Slowly blinking, you had to clear your throat. It felt disgustingly dry.

“Girls? Hi…“, you managed to say hoarsely.

Mapi smiled: “Hi.“

“Love, you’ve done it.“ Lucy carefully took your hand in hers, studying your face closely.

You frowned: “I didn’t do anything.“

“Yes, you did.“, Lucy remained stubborn.

“The doctors were working.“

You were too tired for an argument so you were grateful when Ingrid changed the subject: “How do you feel? Are you thirsty? We got water and some snacks for you.“

“I’m okay. Water sounds great right now…“, you replied truthfully and were immediately handed a glass of water by the Norwegian.

“Here you go.“

You took a sip. Your throat already felt so much better. “Thanks, Ingrid.“

“You’re welcome.“

“They didn’t say anything, right? If the surgery went well and stuff?“, Lucy interrupted. You just blinked at your girlfriend in confusion. Hadn't she just been watching you wake up?

“I’ve not spoken to them yet…“, you replied.

“That’s okay. I can do that for you. You need to rest now.“

It was only when your teammates had left and you had time to recover why Lucy was so nervous about the outcome of the surgery.

But both of your hopes were crushed several hours later in the same hospital room by a stern looking doctor. He confirmed that the recovery process would be hard and your injury would very likely end your professional career.

“Love?”, Lucy started gently.

“Yes?”, you looked up, still too shocked by the recent confirmation.

“Maybe we should let a second doctor check your knee.”, she suggested cautiously.

“Okay.”, you agreed, too exhausted to say anything more than that, while the defender kissed your hand lightly.

“Maybe there’s still a chance.”, your girlfriend more optimistically than she actually felt. But Lucy wanted to be strong for you even though the news saddened her almost as much as you.

It was after the third time you tried another doctor who was only repeating the diagnosis you heart right from the start that you exploded in front of her:” I had enough, Lucy. No more doctor visits because of it, I can’t do this anymore.”

You could see the shock on the English woman’s face. It was so unlike you to go after her like this.

“Maybe there is one out there that can fix your knee.”, your girlfriend mumbled, still too stunned about the way you reacted.

“Are you even listening to me?”, you yelled frustrated at her unshaken optimism despite the bad news.

“I am. But I’m not ready for you to end your career yet.”, Lucy declared stubbornly.

Her belief was something which ignited a little spark of hope inside you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said what you did next:” The recovery just begun, so maybe we should take it one step at a time.”

“Okay, fine.”, the defender agreed.

But rehab turned out to be physically and mentally tough for you and the people who loved you. On an especially hard day in the gym, you begged Mapi who was there as well to not call Lucy to pick you up. Simply because your girlfriend was already doing so much for you in everyday life.

“Why not? She can just pick you up.”, the Spaniard shrugged.

“No, she can’t see me like this.”, you frantically shook your head.

The face of your teammate softened. She paused for a moment before asking you.

“Do you really think she cares?”

“All she cares about is my comeback, Mapi. What if the doctors are right, do you think Luce would break up?”, it suddenly broke out of you, the fears which had a hold on you since the recovery started, were put into words for the first time. Before they only lived in your head.

“No. There’s no way.”, Mapi promptly answered without a second thought.

“Like whom am I when this ends?”, you continued, a sad smile appeared on your lips.

The defender stroke your back empathetically: “You’re still you. You’re more than a football player. Always remember that.”

The darkness you had felt earlier was feeling a little lighter through the kind words of your friend. It was like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, you could almost reach it with your hand.

You gently placed your hand on Mapis thigh and forced yourself to look at her: “We need to meet up for a coffee soon. I need to see something else than the gym…“

“Tell me when and where.“, your teammate replied, giving you an encouraging smile.

“I’ll.“, you said with genuine anticipation.

Excitedly, Mapi suggested: “I can bring Ingrid.“

“Sounds great.“

“We’re happy to distract you.“

You just smiled at the defender. Even though this phase of your life was not the easiest, the love and compassion you got from your teammates made it bearable.

When you got home, Lucy was already waiting for you impatiently. The expression on her face already told you everything, you needed to know. You suppressed a sigh.

“Mapi told me what you said to her earlier…“, Lucy began.

“Did she?“ It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes.“

“We were just talking.“, you tried your best to calm Lucys worries.

“You should have asked me to pick you up.“, Lucy insisted, anger mixing into her voice.

You had no energy to fight now. “It was fine. You already do so much, I don’t want to be a burden to you.“

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes: “Oh, please.“

“What?“

“Stop being like that. You know I want to help you.“

“I just told you that you’re already helping!“ You sighed with annoyance.

Lucys voice went quieter as she said: “Not in the important moments…“

“Luce…“ You bridged the gap between the two of you, unsure of what to do next.

“Just call me next time.“

“I’ll.“, you promised.

“Thanks.“

Carefully, you wrapped your arms around Lucy. She leaned into the hug, the crease between her eyebrows softening. You locked eyes with her: “I love you.“

Lucys lips moved in an attempt to reply but she was interrupted by a high-pitched whimper.

You both looked down to see Narla sitting at your feet.

“And you too of course, Narla.“, you laughed.

Lucys features finally relaxed: “Let me make you some dinner. Maybe that can save your day.“

“Yours definitely does.“, you grinned, only then realizing how hungry you were.

With a wink, your girlfriend pulled out of the hug: “I’ll make your fav.“

“Thank you.“ You kissed her cheek, full of gratefulness.

As promised, you met Mapi and Ingrid at a small café the next morning. You were chatting about your recovery and the latest team news. Ingrid was in the middle of explaining how Martas shoes had disappeared from the changing room when Mapi took a sip of coffee and started coughing.

Ingrid looked at her girlfriend in concern, stopping herself mid-setence.

“Oh my god. That coffee is awful, y/n. The one you make is so much better.“, Mapi grimaced.

“Mapi, be quiet!“, Ingrid told her girlfriend quickly. She looked around the café sheepishly in hopes that no one had heard her girlfriend slandering their coffee.

Mapi shrugged: “But it’s true.“

“Uhm thanks, I guess?”, you replied smiling amused at the Spaniards dramatics.

“She’s not wrong to be honest.”, the Norwegian admitted blushing.

“Actually, I’ve always dreamed about opening my own café, someday where Lucy could have her bar alongside.”, you confessed, your eyes looked dreamily at no one in particular.

Behind them you were daydreaming about it, you could see the welcoming, modern space, the coffee machine which everyone would spot at first sight when they entered the café, with cute different coffee cups, waiting to be filled. In the day it would serve all kinds of hot and iced drinks while in the evening your girlfriend would serve drinks.

“Oh my god, you should!”, Mapi clapped her hands excitedly. The defender was your ultimate hype woman since the injury.

“Yes, we’d never go anywhere else.”, Ingrid added grinning.

“Please! Everyone can be a coach or a pundit after retirement.”, her girlfriend basically begged you.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”, you asked them.

“Okay.”, the older woman nodded.

Step by step your daydream turned into reality over the upcoming months. As your body recovered from the big injury, the café came slowly together too. While your physical and mental wounds started to heal you felt more comfortable each day in your new role as former football player and current small business owner.

Obviously, it still hurt a little when you saw your girlfriend and teammates play, but on your private opening celebration with them you felt an inner calmness about it. You were ready for your next chapter which was still unwritten.

“Are you ready for your first customers?”, Lucy’s question took you back to the present.

“I’m ready.”, you answered, a nervous smile flitted across your face.

She pressed an encouraging kiss on your cheek, before remarking:” There they are.”

“Hi, come on in, girls.”, you waved at the entering guests cheerfully.

“Hi, this turned out so cute girls.”, Mapi noted with approval while taking everything in.

“Yes, this is so you, I love it.”, Ingrid marvelled at her surroundings.

“Thank you, I assume that you guys want two flat whites?”, hearing them praise your new project made your face lit up.

“Don’t you worry, later we’ll have some drinks to celebrate the opening properly.”, Lucy told her teammates with a cocky smile on her lips.

“We’ll stay for both. Coffee and drinks.”, the Spaniard responded happily.

“Perfect.”, you were just starting to make their coffees as slowly but surely the rest of your team was getting inside the café.

They tried to show you that their support didn’t stop because your football career has been cut short, it was still there and today you could feel it especially.

Late at night, your girlfriend and you had done the cleaning of the mess the celebration had caused. In the background slow music was playing and Lucy danced with you in the dim lit room, whispering into your ear:” I love this little life we created together.”

So did you, you searched for hope after the injury and you found it in the encouraging smiles of your friends and right here in the arms of the defender who you loved a little bit more with every passing day.

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso one shot #woso oneshot #barca femeni #woso angst #alexia putellas #mapi leon #ingrid engen

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nadvs · 5 months ago

Note

Can you dive more into how HBD Rafe supports reader during the birth of their babies? How soft and supportive he is with her and how scared he is but excited at the same time and wishing he could do more ...please 🩵

aw aw yes for sure!! 🥰

set in the home before dark universe

after she started dating rafe, it didn’t take a long time for her to see that he’s actually a really anxious person. it manifested through rage and escapism before he let her in, but since he doesn’t have a fraction of the temper he has with other people when it comes to her, she sees his anxiety come through his desperation to do well at everything and to be validated for it.

the longer she’s with him, the clearer she can see how much he struggles with low self-worth and paranoia, so when she wakes him up in the middle of the night almost nine months into her first pregnancy, feeling sharp contractions, she immediately recognizes his anxiety with the way he rushes them out of the house and speeds to the hospital. but still, he tries to calm her down even though he’s more worried than she is, mumbling it’ll be okay and i know you’ll do amazing.

the moment they’re there, she has actually never seen rafe be as polite and talkative as he is with the doctors and nurses, surely trying to get into their good graces so they treat his wife well. when they’re left alone in the room for a moment, she teases him a bit, asking what happened to her husband, and he offers her a small, worried smile, asking her what he can get for her, kissing her forehead a bunch of times, fearing he’s inadequate, that he won’t be able to help the way he needs to.

they get sent home that night because the contractions were false labor pains. each night until she actually goes into labor, he wakes up every hour with his mind racing, checking up on her, watching her breathe deeply in her sleep, feeling his pulse lower when he sees her.

when it’s time, he’s holding her hand as she lies in the hospital bed, looking at her with concern as she breathes through the pain, wishing he could do something to make it easier for her.

“squeeze my hand as hard as you need to,” he tells her, rubbing her fingers with his hand. “you’re doing so good.”

she looks at him through her grimace, finding peace in his eyes, telling herself it’ll all be worth it. when they hear their daughter’s first cries, rafe presses his head against his wife’s hand, starting to weep from the fear and love and excitement he’s feeling.

he’s terrified but so so so happy to start this new chapter, and when he holds his child for the first time, he finds a love in his heart that must have always been there but he hadn’t felt until now. he looks at his wife, knowing he’ll never be able to repay her for giving this to him.

when the second baby comes, rafe hopes he won’t be such a mess through the process again, but complications arise and he’s even more scared. the baby’s not turned correctly and rafe helplessly paces behind the doctor and nurse who are leaning over you in the bed.

they push against you at one point, making you wince in pain, and rafe huffs behind them.

“be careful,” he mutters.

“would it be best for you to step out for a moment?” he nurse says, trying to be sympathetic, clearly aware of how worried he is.

“i’m not leaving her,” rafe says with a shake of his head, looking at you with pain in his heart.

thankfully, they’re able to get the baby in the right position, and just like last time, rafe doesn’t leave your side through the process, his hand in yours, telling you how well you’re doing.

later, when you’re lying in bed holding your son, rafe comes in with water and ice chips for what feels like the hundredth time that day, asking how you are.

“can’t be that bad when i have you,” you answer, taking a sip of your water.

“i was a wreck,” he says with a disappointed sigh, “again.”

“you weren’t,” you say. you’re so used to him being hard on himself, thinking he doesn’t measure up. “you’re a great dad and a great husband.”

rafe nods, settling beside you. he feels guilty for talking about himself. this moment isn’t about him.

“you did so great,” he says. “i’m so proud of you.”

he’s always been in awe of your strength and bravery, ever since you tumbled into each other’s lives years ago and he watched you deal with something many people wouldn’t be able to handle.

your parents knock on the door with your daughter. your toddler rushes into the room and rafe scoops her up before she can try to jump onto the bed.

“be gentle with mommy,” he tells his daughter. “i’ll hold you so you can say hi to your brother, okay?”

it’s a daydreamlike moment, the three of you looking down at the newborn who has changed the dynamic of your little family in a second.

as your daughter beams at her sibling, you and rafe meet eyes, sharing a smile full of love and hope for the future. and you can see that there’s not a shred of anxiety in him right now. he looks like he feels that he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. because he does.

#ask #home #homeblurb

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starogeorgina · 1 year ago

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x reader

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. “Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Y/N,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Y/N, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and I do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Y/n! Y/n, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Princess…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

“When father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen/you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii fic #ghosts in the sky #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader

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jjunieworld · 11 months ago

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18. in the clouds ⸝ ˚⋆

↳ half written, half texts. word count: 1.4k

— SOOBIN’S POV —

soobin’s hands shook as he clutched his phone. he was sitting in the library of the parking lot reading his messages with taehyun over and over again. how did he know? how could he be so careless?

get a grip, soobin tried telling himself. it didn’t work.

he loved his friends deeply, he did. he didn’t know where he would be without them. but he also knew that if they found that he was actually in love with y/n, all hell would break loose. soobin already had to bite his tongue when they even mentioned her. it made his skin crawl the way they talked about her.

soobin wasn’t embarrassed by y/n, not in the slightest. if he could shout from the rooftops how much he loved her he would without hesitation. if he could spread it all throughout the internet for everyone to see, he wouldn’t think twice. in fact, he has already been trying.

a part of him was relieved that taehyun knew. it was one less person he didn’t have to pretend with.

soobin took a deep breath before making his way towards the door of the library. when he entered, he scanned the room for taehyun and found him tucked in the corner of the library. soobin sat in the seat across from him and said nothing. taehyun was busy writing something down in his notebook. he had multiple textbooks open and scattered across the table.

after a moment, taehyun looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. soobin furrowed his eyebrows. “so you still aren’t gonna admit it?” taehyun asked.

“like you said,” soobin replied, “it was obvious.” he sank down in his seat a little. he felt like his dominos were falling down one by one.

“so tell me about how it happened.”

soobin hesitated to answer. he really wanted to keep as many details about y/n to himself.

taehyun must’ve sensed his hesitation because he then added, “i’m not gonna tell the others. what you do in your love life isn’t my concern.”

soobin couldn’t help his glare. he bit on his tongue and looked away. underneath the table, he gripped the end of the jacket he was wearing. taehyun raised his eyebrows.

“that wasn’t a dig at her. i actually think she’s really nice.” taehyun spoke. “real pretty too, actually.”

soobin’s eyes snapped back to taehyun’s. if looks could kill, he was sure taehyun would be dead by now. taehyun laughed at him.

“so i’ve essentially been lying about her this whole time,” soobin finally said. taehyun nodded, motioning for him to continue. “she’s really amazing, and that date was the best date i’ve ever had.”

soobin went on and on until he realized he was talking too much. he looked up to see taehyun staring at him with a smile on his face, his head resting in his hands. his cheeks heated up and he was sure he was blushing now.

“i just really love her,” soobin concluded. he started playing with the zipper of his jacket.

“have you told her all this yet?” taehyun asked. soobin shook his head.

“i was gonna tell her on her birthday, but that may be too cheesy.” he had it all planned out too before sakura ruined his plans, once again. soobin sighed to himself. he’ll have to make the party work.

how does he even bring up the fact that he loves y/n? he couldn’t just bring it up in normal conversation. but it also couldn’t be some big display of affection in front of the whole party. soobin wanted it to be private, intimate, just between the two of them. he wasn’t worried about her not saying it back. she’s already been dropping subtle hints that she loves him too.

soobin’s cheeks heated even more as he thought about it. she loves him. she actually loves him. soobin had to keep himself from smiling at the fact.

“and what about the bet?” taehyun asked. soobin was suddenly and harshly brought back to reality. it felt like he got slammed into a brick wall. “and what about it?”

“you can’t keep it a secret forever,” taehyun said. “she’s gonna find out sooner or later. especially if she keeps hanging out around our friends. even if they do warm up to her, someone is gonna let it slip.”

soobin stared taehyun down. what was he insinuating? was he saying that if soobin didn’t tell y/n about that damn bet that he will? or that he’d make sure someone else would? soobin’s heart raced at the thought.

“what are you saying?” soobin demanded. taehyun raised his hands a little and sat back in his chair.

“i’m not saying that i’m gonna tell y/n. i’m saying that you’re in the clouds right now and sooner or later you’re gonna get hit and fall.”

soobin left the library as fast as he could like the devil himself was on his heels. he couldn’t think straight. his heart was racing and his hands shook so bad he had to clench them into fists.

he didn’t even realize he was at your door until after he started knocking.

you barely got to open the door before he pushed it open and his lips were on yours. soobin kissed you like you were the oxygen he desperately needed. like you were the hunger he was trying to satiate.

“what happened?” you barely got out before his lips were on you again. he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. but it wasn’t close enough.

“soobin…” you said, and pushed him away a little. you were both breathing heavily. soobin put his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed. “i really missed you.” he just then realized how tightly he was holding on to you. soobin exhaled and loosened his hold on you.

soobin gave you another kiss before he pulled back completely. you were in pajamas and it was clear you had just woken up from a nap. your shirt rode up from the exchange.

y/n pulled soobin into her dorm and made him sit down on her bed. he saw the remnants of the uno game he left in the middle of. he wonder who won. he made a mental note to check your twitter later.

she stood in front of him, her arms crossed, as she waited for an answer to her previous question. he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer until she was standing between his legs. soobin looked up at her.

“i told you, i really really missed you.” y/n raised an eyebrow, but he could see her softening as her arms were already making their way around his neck. “mhm,” she mumbled as she leaned down. she brought her lips to soobin’s cheek and he felt the area heat up after they left.

soobin turned his head so the next kiss would be on his lips instead. you giggled at the sudden change before deepening the kiss. it took everything in him to not pull you closer and into his lap.

he was so close to it, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping your hips, until the door to your dorm room swung open. jake and hueningkai walked in with snacks in hand, took a good look at the position the two of you were in, and stood in shock for a moment with wide eyes.

“oh my god!” hueningkai finally said as he snatched jake’s arm and slammed the door shut.

soobin looked back at his girlfriend and saw the embarrassed expression on her face. he was too focused on you to even think about what just happened with your friends. he was sure once it processed his face would be bright red.

he squeezed your hips slightly so you would look back at him. you gave him a sheepish smile and buried your face in his neck. soobin started placing feather-light kisses on the side of your neck.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he smiled against your neck as he tried not to laugh.

“it’s not funny!” you exclaimed, burying your face deeper.

masterlist.

summary: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n… not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can’t get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they’re a hopeless romantic.

A/N: tell y/n to get in line

taglist: @imagineyour-kpopboy @gothgyuu @carengene @spooksh0wbabe (if your name is bold it wouldn’t let me tag you!)

— kipo <3

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fairy-writes · 2 months ago

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Uuuu i just saw the new event, im soo excited for it!!! Can i ask for “Can you please come and get me?” with Narumi Gen please?

COME AND GET ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “Can you please come and get me?”

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Narumi Gen x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Angst, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Drugs, Hospitals

Notes: I love writing Narumi's serious side, so that’s my excuse if this is OOC.

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR NON-CONSENSUAL DRUG USE* (the reader gets roofied)

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF RAPE AS WELL*

__________________________________________________________________________

Narumi Gen got the call somewhere around midnight.

He had been gaming (because, of course, he was), waiting for you to return home from a night out with your division. You had just been promoted to platoon leader in your division, so a celebratory night out with your teammates and comrades was in order.

At least, that was the plan.

Gen’s phone ringing caught him off guard. With a frown, he scooped up the device and cradled it between his shoulder and his ear as he continued to play. He didn’t even look at who was calling.

“Hello?” He grumbled into the receiver and heard a sniffle.

That gets him to sit up straight. He knew this sound. Because while it hurt him deeply, he had made you cry before. It wasn’t a sound that he’d forget easily.

He says your name once, twice, and is halfway through your name a third time when you speak.

“Can you please come and get me?” You all but whimper, and he drops his controller onto the coffee table, slipping his shoes on at the front door before you speak again. He ignores the “GAME OVER” call from the television and barely remembers his keys to lock the front door before shutting it.

“Where are you?” He asks and can hear that something is wrong as you try to reply.

He can’t make any sense of what you’re saying. It’s slurred, and the end of your sentences trail off as you try and explain where you are.

However, eventually, Gen can hear one of your team members take over.

“Captain Narumi?” The voice is young, much like you. And if he had to guess, this was your team member, Miu. Her voice is light like a feather, but he can hear the concern colored thick in her voice.

“Where are they?” He demands and can practically hear Miu flinch.

“Tokyo General Hospital.” She says quickly, and despite every kaiju he’s ever faced, this is what gets his body to go cold.

“Why?”

“I think they were drugged.”

It was then that his heart felt like it stopped.

Gen makes it to Tokyo General Hospital in record time. Breaking a few traffic laws here and there, but that didn’t matter.

But when he finally makes it to your hospital room, he’s met by a police officer.

“Captian Narumi! What brings you here?” The officer asks, clearly confused to see the First Division captain. Gen scowls and peeks his gaze into where you’re waiting. He can see you dressed in a hospital gown and hooked up to an IV.

“I’m their partner. What happened?” He says, and the officer hooks his thumbs in the loops of his belt.

“We believe they were drugged. Officer Miu called the emergency line after your partner passed out in the bar restroom. We’re still waiting on a blood test to see what drugs specifically are in their system. We’re checking video footage, but it’ll take time.”

Quick.

To the point.

Cold.

Gen grinds his teeth and hunches his shoulders.

“Were they raped?” The words are hot on his tongue, and he fights to keep his temper under control. The officer shrugs,

“The sexual assault nurse examiner did a rape test. Nothing has been ruled out as of yet.”

It’s then that Miu steps out of the hospital room and spots Gen. She’s dressed in all black, glitter decorating her cheekbones, and her eye makeup is all dramatic. But her mascara is smudged, and her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. She wiped a tear away and made her way over.

“Captain Narumi.” She says but clearly doesn’t have it in her to salute. Gen doesn’t care either way.

“How are they?” He asks, his voice cracking in the middle. Miu dabs at her makeup with a handkerchief.

“Better now that they’re getting fluids. They—They’re pretty shaken up.” She says quietly and clenches her fists. “I’m sorry. For not being there. I left them alone for two seconds and—”

“Oi.” He cuts her off, and she looks up, shocked. He rubs his forehead, eventually pinching the bridge of his nose where a headache is starting to form.

“Sir?” Miu asks, and he lets out a sigh.

“Don’t blame yourself. You called emergency services and got them help. That’s all I could ask of you.” He says, and before she can break down in tears (probably for the umpteenth time that night), steps inside your hospital room.

Your eyes meet his within milliseconds.

“Gen. You came.” You whimper, and he feels the dam inside him crack.

Why hadn’t he gone with you?

How could he have been so stupid?

“‘Course I did. How are you feeling?” He says, slumping into the chair beside your bed. You’re sat cross-legged, picking at the IV in your hand, avoiding his gaze.

“Really stupid. Violated.” You say, and he frowns.

“Why stupid?” He asks, and you explode.

“Because I let this happen to me! I’m supposed to be strong and brave, and I’m neither of those things!” You shout, and he winces at the sudden noise. Your face instantly falls in shame, and you look away again. “Sorry.” You mumble, and he huffs,

“Don’t be. It’s good to get it out of your system rather than bottle it up.” He says, but you don’t say anything until the nurse comes in.

“Can I go home?” You ask him when the nurse is finished and about to leave. He nods.

“If that’s what you want.” He replies, and you nod vigorously before wiping your nose.

“I want to get out of here.” You whisper, and he can’t help but feel like you are still too shaken to be taken home. But he knows the alternative is you argue until he relents.

So he takes you home.

#narumi gen x reader #narumi gen x you #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi x you #gen narumi x y/n #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #kn8 x y/n #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #fairy writes #fairy1.6kfollowers

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

Text

At the Last Possible Minute | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @acewritesfics

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Shocked by Tommy's decision to go fight in France, (Y/N) holds all of her emotions in until the last possible minute.

Warnings: mentions of going to fight in war

Word Count: 3068

A/N: I’m sorry it took super long for me to write this, Ace, but here is the original idea that I had for the story that then became ‘The Good I’ll Do’. I used the prompt ‘what’s going on in that head of yours?’ from the list you shared ages ago … I guess this came in perfect time for your one year anniversary of your account - thank you for all of the amazing fics you’ve blessed us with. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"I'm sorry I'm late, I...goodness, what's the occasion?" (Y/N) stopped her initial apology to comment on the number of people inhabiting the living room of the Shelby family's Watery Lane home. Almost every seat in the room was full, and if (Y/N) hadn't noticed their solemn expressions, she would have thought that there was a celebration happening. "Has something happened?" she asked, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

No one said anything outright, instead exchanging glances at one another. The silence was making (Y/N)'s heart rate quicken by the second. And then she saw Tommy. He was wearing an expression that she'd only seen a handful of times over the several years that she'd been friends with him, the last being when he told her of his mother's passing. Seeing it made her stomach drop.

"You should be the one to tell her, Tom," Arthur mumbled privately to his brother, but (Y/N) was able to hear him due to the quietness in the room.

"Tell me what?" she couldn't help but ask, her worry rising by the second.

Tommy looked at (Y/N), his mind reeling as he tried to think of a way to break the news to her. He watched her expression become even more dire with each second that passed. It was breaking his heart. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke: "come with me, (Y/N)," he said to her, extending his hand in her direction as he approached her.

"To where?" (Y/N) asked another question as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the stairs. "Tommy...what's going on?" she asked as they walked down the small hallway of the second floor, confusion now present in her words.

"I wanted to tell you in private," he began, opening the door to his bedroom and leading her over to the bed that sat tucked in the corner so that they could both sit on it.

"Tell me what?" she continued to try to pull answers out of him, hating that it was taking him so long to tell her what so clearly was serious news.

Tommy inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a moment as he tried to collect himself. He exhaled it slowly before he took her hands into his. "I love you, (Y/N)..."

(Y/N)'s heart dropped at the sound of his voice, and she immediately thought the worst. "What's going on, Tommy? Please stop beating around the bush and just tell me," she urged him. She figured that if he was going to break her heart, might as well rip off the bandage.

"Me brothers and I have signed up to fight in France," he told her, his eyes not straying from hers as he spoke.

(Y/N)'s mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to collect her thoughts. She was well aware that she probably looked like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, but she could care less. In a way it did feel like she was gasping for breath.

"Can you say something?" Tommy asked her after a few moments - that felt like decades - had passed, his voice filled with concern.

"I...I can't think of anything to say," she decided to state the obvious, her mind still reeling from his previous statement.

Tommy sighed as he looked to the opposite wall of the room. He didn't know what type of response he was expecting from (Y/N), but getting no sort of specific reaction outright was really messing with him. He loved her more than anyone in the world, and having her be at a loss of words made him want to question if he made the wrong choice in enlisting. It was too late now...their papers had been turned in, and they would be shipping out to France by the end of the week.

"When do you leave?" she broke the silence with a quiet question, her words making his eyes snap over to meet hers again.

"The end of the week," he answered her, watching intently for her response; hoping that she'd say more than a five word sentence.

It was (Y/N)'s turn to look away when his response hit her ears. To say her mind was reeling was an understatement. She couldn't even begin to think of something to say, and it pained her because she knew that Tommy was looking for her to put what was going on in her mind into words. The problem was that she had no words for it...there were no words to explain what she was feeling at the moment.

"You're going alongside John and Arthur?" she asked another question. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to get a word out. "I'm sorry for asking all of these questions, Tommy, I just..." she cut into his response before trailing off and letting out a sound of exasperation, becoming slightly frustrated at the fact that she couldn't even think of a place to start with her thoughts.

"It's ok, (Y/N)," he told her, squeezing her hand that she'd just realized he was still holding, "this wasn't an easy decision to make."

"Then why did you make it?" she was quick to ask, the words coming out before she could think them over.

Tommy just about flinched at the pain that was present in her words. "Because we didn't want to have it made for us. They were going to draft us anyway. If we enlist, it's on our terms," he gave an explanation as to why they'd made the decision.

"You may not have gotten drafted this early though...we could have had more time together," (Y/N) pointed out, her voice becoming shakier with each word she said.

"We'll have more time together," he assured her.

"That can't be promised," she reminded him. There was never any certainty when it came to war...the both of them knew that.

"We'll have the rest of this week," he pointed out, trying to look on the bright side of things.

"Yeah," she agreed with him, trying to put a smile on her face. She was able to, but it quickly faltered, and Tommy said nothing but instead sent her a sympathetic look in response. He began to open his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by (Y/N) before he could get a word out. "Why don't I help you pack now? So that you're not overwhelmed with work as the time gets closer," she blurted out an idea, and immediately felt dumb for having suggested it. You're in the middle of a deep conversation...would he really want to get started on packing? Come on, (Y/N)! she yelled at herself, mentally facepalming. What a way to make things go from bad to worse!

Tommy searched her face for a moment, trying to pick up on any possible cues. (Y/N) held her breath as she watched him do this, hoping that he wouldn't want to continue prying into her thoughts on the news he'd given her. He finally nodded his head after a few moments passed. "Yeah, we can do that," he reluctantly added, finally dropping her hands from his hold.

An awkward silence entered the room as they stood from the bed to move over to where his wardrobe was. Nothing much else was said between the two as (Y/N) got the few outfits that Tommy owned out of his wardrobe and folded them so that they'd fit in the compact suitcase. Tommy didn't do much to help. He instead stood back and racked his brain as he watched (Y/N) go through the motions; trying to think of some way to continue the conversation they'd abruptly ended on the bed. Her answers weren't sitting right with him, it was obvious that she was hesitant about it all - who wouldn't be? - but he needed to know if she herself was ok. It was one thing to be upset about the situation, but another completely to be upset in general. He didn't want the latter for her.

But nothing else was said between the two for the entire time they spent in the bedroom. (Y/N) felt the weight lay heavy on her chest as she followed Tommy back downstairs. The living room had cleared out a bit, and sympathetic looks were given from those who stayed as the couple entered the room again. Everyone knew exactly what had happened in the room. Polly decided that she was going to get started on dinner, and (Y/N) agreed to stay around and join the family for the meal. The topic weighing on everyone's mind wasn't discussed for the remainder of the evening as each person tried hard to think of other things to speak about...the elephant in the room didn't go unnoticed though, you could see what each person was thinking about clearly from the look on their face.

This was going to be a long week.

——

Tommy's promise of he and (Y/N) having the rest of the week to spend together didn't quite turn out the way either of them wanted to. Both barely spoke to each other or spent much time together as they practically threw themselves into their work to try to avoid the inevitable.

Tommy was working hard to make sure that Polly had everything she needed in order to continue the family business when the brothers went away.

(Y/N) took up longer hours at the clothing shop she was hired at, knowing that spending too much time with Tommy and the rest of the Shelbys would make her heart hurt in ways that she wasn't ready for. It was hard not to think about what was awaiting them at the end of the week when they were together.

As much as they didn't want it to, the weekend finally came. Polly made the boys join her at church one last time so that she could pray for their safety and well-being. After that, she and Ada prepared one last meal for the family to have together before the brothers were due at the train station. One person's absence was duly noted though...(Y/N) hadn't showed up at the Watery Lane household despite Tommy inviting her over. His worry grew more and more as it got closer to the time he would be leaving, and he wondered if he'd be seeing his love before he got shipped off to hell.

(Y/N) couldn't bring herself to leave her bed. She knew what Tommy was doing today; knew that he wanted her to be there when it was time, but no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't get herself up and moving.

It wasn't until the clock struck four that she finally managed to bring herself to a sitting position. There was only one hour left until Tommy's train would leave the station. She didn't leave the bed though, and instead just stared at the clock on the wall as it ticked away slowly, taking away the minutes that she could be spending with her love. Why hadn't she left the bed yet?! Why couldn't she bring herself to?!

Something awakened inside of her when the clock struck 4:30. She threw the covers to the side and rushed to put some decent clothes on. Caring less if they looked orderly, or even matched, she grabbed a pair of shoes from the corner of her room before quickly working to make sure her hair looked decent. She didn't want to make it that obvious that she'd just rolled out of bed to run to the train station.

Thankfully the station was close to her family's home. She took off running the second her feet hit the pavement, and she didn't stop until the crowds of people saying goodbye to their loved ones came into view. Her chest started to hurt as she got closer to the station, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was getting closer to what she'd essentially been avoiding for the entire week, or if it was because she'd just sprinted over here.

She slowed down once she hit the edge of the crowd, and she began the process of slowly walking through the throngs of people and looking everywhere for the man she wanted to speak to one last time. It was a tedious process, but it proved successful the moment she spotted a dress she couldn't miss anywhere.

It was one that she made for Polly for her birthday a few years back; when she was just getting started with her career as a seamstress' apprentice. It was made of a darker, floral pattern, and as the years passed, (Y/N) told Polly several times that she didn't need to wear the outfit, but the older woman ignored her and continued wearing it.

To (Y/N)'s relief, Ada, Finn, and their three older brothers - who were now dressed in their uniforms - were standing beside Polly. She wasn't too late. "Tommy!" she called out, hoping that he'd hear her over the buzzing of the crowd as her feet quickly took her in his direction.

He did hear her though...he would hear her anywhere, and in a second, he was turning around to look in the direction of her voice. As much as (Y/N) wanted to freeze and marvel at how his hair looked now (he'd only wore it without it being styled a handful of times, no matter how much she pestered him and told him that it made him look even more irresistible) she resisted the urge and continued walking until she was able to hook her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. He responded to her embrace by holding onto her waist, feeling like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders now that he was able to see her before he left.

"Look at your hair, Tom," she whispered once she stepped out of the embrace, her hands going up to run through his locks, "I've told you that you look so good with it like this," she continued, smiling as she tried to keep her tears in and not address what was happening around them.

"I didn't do anything to it because we're going to get it cut when we reach the front," he told her, his response bringing her back to the reality of it all. Her smile faltered a little when she heard it, and her eyes searched over his face so that she could commit it to memory and be able to remember it as she went for days without him. "Hey...what's going on in that head of yours, love?" he asked her, bringing her out of her head and back into the world around them, looking at him properly to see that his eyes were locked onto hers as he waited intently for her answer.

"I..." she paused for a moment. Come on, (Y/N), you can't go back to this now! she yelled at herself as she stood with her mouth parted slightly, watching as the light left his eyes more with each second that passed. Say something! "I...I'm proud of you, Tommy. I'm proud of you and I'm proud of what you're doing," she finally got out, her eyes hooked onto his as she spoke. "And I'm sorry that it took me so many days to come to terms with that...I was just so scared at first of what was going to happen with us and with everything, but I'm so, so proud of you," she added, every word she said coming straight from her heart. The slightest smile formed on Tommy's face as he heard what she had to say.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said to her before he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her with a passion that almost swept her off of her feet.

"Last call for the five o'clock train! Boarding will end shortly!" the ticket-taker announced as the couple broke away from each other, their chests heaving for air as they came down from the high they were just wrapped up in.

"That's me," Tommy whispered against her lips, his eyes searching hers.

"I love you, soldier," she breathed, smiling at him as she ran her hand down his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin one last time. "Stay safe for me," a somber smile graced her lips as she ended speaking.

"I will, love. I promise," he assured her, pulling her into a final hug before he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and kiss her one last time.

(Y/N) wanted to hold onto him forever, but she knew she couldn't, and she slid her hands down his forearms before dropping them to her sides as they pulled away. She then took a step back then to fall in beside Polly, who immediately wrapped her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "I love you," she mouthed to him, watching as he held eye contact for a moment longer before bending to pick up the duffel bags he'd be bringing with him.

He made his way over to the ticket-taker then, having his ticket punched just as the conductor called out 'all aboard' and blew the train's whistle.

(Y/N) watched him as he glanced over his shoulder one last time before ascending the stairs into the traincar and vanishing from sight. She swiped away the tears and held onto Polly tightly as everything was cleared from close by the tracks so that the train could embark on its journey to France. She tried to smile as the engine fired up and began pulling the cars, but it quickly faltered as all of her emotions came crashing down on her.

These next few days, weeks, months, were going to be tough, and she knew that there'd be no getting around that. She was happy, though, that she was able to see Tommy one last time before he left to fight, and that she was able to tell him how she felt...even if she waited until the last possible minute to do so.

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