#Me at the start: I have barely thought about these two in this way.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Spanish is in italics

The night Alexia ended your relationship replayed in your mind more often than you cared to admit. It was supposed to be an ordinary evening, the two of you curled up on the sofa after her training session. But Alexia had been distant, her responses clipped and her gaze avoiding yours. Then she finally said it, her voice steady but her words shaking your entire world: she couldn’t do this anymore.

Her reasons were all logical, rational even. She was too busy, her schedule too demanding, and she felt it wasn’t fair to you. But as much as her reasoning made sense, it didn’t make it hurt any less. Two years of love and memories had been stripped away in a matter of minutes. You’d begged her to reconsider, told her you didn’t need perfection, that you’d wait for her no matter how busy her life got. But Alexia, stubborn and unrelenting, had stood her ground. And just like that, it was over.

The first few weeks were unbearable. You threw yourself into work, trying to ignore the aching hole in your chest. Nights were the hardest. The bed felt too big, the silence too loud, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out for her in the dark.

Eventually, you started to put yourself back together, piece by piece. You weren’t healed, not even close, but you refused to let Alexia’s decision consume you. When a friend suggested setting you up on a date, you hesitated at first but eventually agreed. You told yourself it wasn’t about moving on—just an evening out, a distraction from the endless loop of memories that haunted you.

The restaurant was intimate, dimly lit with soft jazz playing in the background. Your date was perfectly nice—kind, funny, and clearly interested in you. But as charming as she was, you couldn’t fully focus. Everything she said or did reminded you of Alexia. The way she brushed her hair behind her ear wasn’t as graceful. Her laugh didn’t have the same warmth. You hated yourself for comparing, but it was impossible not to.

Unbeknownst to you, Mapi and Ingrid were seated a few tables away. Mapi had been mid-conversation with Ingrid when she spotted you. At first, she thought she was mistaken, but the sight of you leaning slightly across the table, smiling at someone who wasn’t Alexia, confirmed it. She froze, her sharp brown eyes narrowing as she tried to process what she was seeing.

By the time the meal was over and you’d stepped outside the restaurant, Mapi was waiting, her posture stiff and her expression thunderous. She barely gave you a chance to react before she stormed up to you.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

You blinked, startled by her sudden appearance and the hostility in her tone. “Mapi? What are you—?”

“With her?!” Mapi gestured wildly in the direction of the restaurant. “You’re with someone else? What about Alexia?”

Her words stung, a sharp reminder of everything you were trying to move past. Your initial confusion gave way to defensiveness, and you crossed your arms, meeting her glare head-on. “She broke up with me, Mapi. Over a month ago. You didn’t know?”

Mapi’s anger faltered, her brows knitting together as the realisation sank in. “What?” she asked, her voice quieter now, laced with disbelief.

“She ended it,” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly. “She said she didn’t have time for a relationship. She said it wasn’t fair to me. So, yeah, I’m on a date because she decided I wasn’t worth it.”

Mapi’s jaw tightened, her anger now directed elsewhere. “She didn’t tell me. She never said anything.”

You shrugged, your shoulders sagging. “Well, now you know. Can I go now? I’d really rather not have this conversation in the middle of the street.”

Mapi didn’t respond immediately. She was too busy trying to piece together everything you’d just told her. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

You nodded stiffly, brushing past her without another word.

Mapi didn’t waste any time confronting Alexia. When she showed up at Alexia’s apartment later that night, she didn’t bother knocking—she stormed right in, finding Alexia on the sofa with her head in her hands. She looked up in surprise, her eyes wide as Mapi launched into a tirade.

“How could you not tell me?” Mapi demanded, her voice sharp. “You broke up with her and didn’t think to mention it? I just yelled at her in the middle of the street!”

Alexia’s face crumpled. “I couldn’t,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was too hard to even think about it, let alone talk about it.”

Mapi’s anger softened slightly, but her frustration remained. “You need to fix this, Alexia. Do you know where I saw her tonight? Where I yelled at her? On a date. With someone else.”

Alexia’s breath hitched, vision swimming with tears as her hands grip the edge of the sofa. “She was… on a date?”

“Yes,” Mapi confirmed. “And you have no one to blame but yourself. You pushed her away, and now she’s moving on.”

Alexia buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Mapi’s tone softened, but her words were firm. “You love her, don’t you?”

Alexia nodded, her voice breaking as she said, “More than anything.”

“Then fight for her,” Mapi said simply.

*

When Alexia finally showed up at your door, she looked nothing like the composed, confident woman the world knew. Her hair was dishevelled, hidden under a baseball cap. Her eyes were red-rimmed from both the tears and lack of sleep, and she was clutching a bouquet of your favourite flowers like it was her last lifeline.

When you opened the door and saw her standing there, your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Alexia broke the silence, her voice trembling as she said, “I made a mistake.”

You wanted to slam the door in her face, to protect yourself from the pain of letting her back in. But the vulnerability in her eyes held you in place.

“I was scared,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I thought…I could not give you what you deserve, that I only hurt you by keeping you in my life. But I was wrong. I know it. Please…I want to explain.”

Without a word, you stepped aside, letting her in.

Her movements were hesitant, her eyes scanning the space she hadn’t seen in over a month, yet still felt so much like hers. She stood near the door, awkward and unsure, her fingers fiddling the flowers in her grasp, her thumb rubbing over the plastic wrapping in a nervous rhythm.

You closed the door behind her, your back leaning against it for support. It was hard to reconcile the Alexia who had walked away from you with the one now standing in your living room, looking so lost. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but she faltered, exhaling sharply as she looked down at her feet.

“Sit,” you said, your voice low and firm. You gestured to the sofa. She nodded, grateful for the direction, and slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the cushion, setting the flowers down onto the coffee table. She didn’t sink back like she once would have, her posture remaining stiff, as though the act of relaxing was too much to allow herself.

You stayed standing, arms crossed, creating a physical barrier between the two of you. “Say what you came here to say,” you said, keeping your tone steady even though your chest ached.

Alexia’s eyes darted up to meet yours, wide and glassy. “I…” She paused, frustration flashing across her face as she struggled to find the right words in English. “Lo siento,” she said finally, voice thick with emotion. “I—sorry. Sorry por todo.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your voice laced with disbelief. “You break my heart, disappear for weeks, and now you just say sorry?”

Her jaw tightened, and she shook her head quickly. “No, no! Not just…sorry.” She pressed her hand to her chest as if trying to pull the words from her heart. “I need…to explain. To tell you. But my English…”

“Try,” you said sharply, your arms dropping to your sides. “You didn’t care about your English when you decided to leave me. So try now.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded her head. “I…I was scared,” she began haltingly, her accent heavier than usual. “Of…failing you. Of hurting you.” She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. “My life is…busy. Always. Football, travel, media…no time for you. I think…you deserve more.”

“More?” you prompted, your tone softening slightly.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. More. Someone who…who is here. Always. Not…far. Not…missing things.” She rubbed her temple, groaning softly in frustration. “I can’t say it…right.”

“You’re saying it fine,” you replied. “You thought you weren’t enough for me?”

Alexia’s head snapped up, her eyes locking onto yours, shiny with tears. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not enough. Never enough. And I was…scared. So I think…leave you before…you hate me.”

You stared at her for a second before shaking your head. “You didn’t even give me a choice,” you said, your voice cracking. “You decided for me, Alexia. You took away my say in our relationship.”

Her face crumpled, and she pressed her hands to her temples, visibly frustrated with herself. “I know. I know,” she said, slipping back into Spanish as the words tumbled out faster than she could control. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t think about you, about how you would feel. I only thought about my own fear, my own insecurity. And now... now I’m here, begging you, because I can’t lose you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined not to break so easily. “If you’re so afraid of losing me,” you said, your voice quieter now, “why did it take you so long to come back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she admitted. “Coward. I think…maybe you are better without me. But then… Mapi…she tell me…you are on a date.” Her voice wavered, and her hands dropped to her lap as she looked at you with so much raw vulnerability it was almost unbearable. “And I know…I can’t. I can’t let you go. Even if I don’t deserve you, I need you.”

The room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. You moved closer, your feet carrying you to the edge of the coffee table. “Do you know what it’s been like for me?” you asked, not wanting to further the obvious guilt she was feeling, but needing her to know just what her actions had caused. “Trying to move on when I still love you? Trying to convince myself that I’ll be okay when all I want is you?”

Her eyes filled with tears, one slipping free and tracing a line down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I want to try. Please…let me try.”

You sank down onto the coffee table, your knees brushing hers. “I don’t know if I can trust you not to leave again,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, her hand trembling as she gently took yours. Her touch was warm, grounding, and so achingly familiar. “I will not leave,” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto yours. “Never again. I promise. I swear…siempre.”

Siempre. Always. It was the word you’d whispered to each other late at night, the promise you’d clung to when things were hard. And now, here she was, offering it back to you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. “I don’t know if I can go through this again.”

Alexia’s grip on your hand tightened, her other hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I’m scared too,” she said, her voice shaking but resolute. “But I will do everything to show you. To prove… you can trust me. I love you. More than anything. More than anything.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch as your tears fell onto her hand. She tenderly wiped them away with her thumb. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft hitch of your breaths until slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting her gaze.

“You broke my heart,” you said, your voice wavering. “But I still love you.”

A quiet sob escaped her lips as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I will fix it,” she choked out. “I will fix us.”

It wasn’t a promise you believed easily, but in that moment, you knew you wanted to give her the chance to try. Always.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[keigh0e]

Touch ↬ Caleb

Summary: You have been dating Caleb for quite a while now and you’ve had enough of him not touching you with his metal arm, so you give some not-so-gentle encouragement

Word Count: 5.9k

Triggers: smutty smut and the usual language you can always expect from me

Author Note: Meowdy .₊̣̇.ಇ/ᐠˬ ͜   ˬ ᐟ\∫.₊̣̇. Hope you’re all doing well! I finished the new stories for Love and Deepspace last night and now I’ve got Caleb brainrot, so you must suffer with me I’m afraid. This hasn’t been checked so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I’d appreciate any feedback!

You were an open book to Caleb and had been for years. 

Every twitch in your lips was a poem to him, every laugh his new favourite song, every tear a sonnet that pressed more weight on his soul than his evol ever could. 

He’d do anything for you. No, the man was determined, he would do everything for you. Everything, it seemed, but touch you with his metal arm. There would be accidental grazes here and there, but he made a vow to himself the first night he held you after returning, that he wouldn’t let his darkness touch you.

That arm was the physical manifestation of everything wrong with him. Even though it had been years and he’d learnt how to make use of the mechanism, learnt how to make it one of his greatest weapons in battle, that’s all it could ever be to him. He wouldn’t put a knife against your throat, so he wouldn’t dare even try to hold your hand with the very thing that had taken him away from you in the first place. Now you were back with him, back in his arms.

Now he was back with you, back in the light, he refused to let the shadows of his past consume anymore than they had.

Caleb thought he was pretty good at hiding things from you. He didn’t enjoy lying to you and made an avid effort to avoid creating any more after all the Farfleet drama that had originally reunited you, then torn you apart again. 

This sweet man didn’t think you carried his same brand of obsession. He didn’t know that you watched him just as intensely, noting every smile, every wince, every breath.

There was a reason you two were so perfect for each other, after all.

He had no idea that you’d caught on pretty quickly to the fact that he’d constantly do things so as to avoid touching you with his right arm. 

It hadn’t been obvious at first, not until you’d caught him reprogramming the faulty appendage one night. He’d been so raw that night. Maybe it was because he was so tired and recovering, but you’d seen it clear as day, the kind of look that didn’t belong on a man like Caleb, shame.

It had broken your heart all over again.

You’d done everything you could think of to wipe that look off his face that night, you’d made him hold you, you’d taken his hand, pressed a thousand kisses to each fingertip and you would have pressed a thousand more if he’d let you. But as per usual, Caleb had pushed his own feelings aside to concentrate on yours, he’d started making lightheaded jokes the second he saw tears appear in the corner of your eyes.

Though it didn't sit right with you, you let him change the subject, thinking maybe that was what he needed. But as time passed, you began to realise how big of a mistake you’d made by allowing him to shove the topic under the metaphorical rug. 

To an outsider they might not notice how he favours you walking on his left side so he can hold your hand with his. If you ever stand on the right side, the most touch you’ll get from him is his arm wrapped around your shoulder. You’d barely be able to feel the weight of him, like a layer was over you, keeping him from actually touching you with his metal arm.

He’d make you sit on his left side whenever you cuddled up on the couch, or ate together at a table. As though he was trying to keep you as far away as possible. 

He was sly about it, as was Caleb’s way. If you ever touched his right arm, he’d smoothly grab your hand with his left, bringing the hand to his lips and distracting you in all the ways he knew how because, as mentioned previously, the man knew every chapter in your book. Specifically the ‘how to arouse them with one look’ chapter. He’d clearly revised over that one many many times.

Last night was the final straw for you.

He’d been showering when you arrived at his home and you didn’t think twice about getting in the shower with him. 

To your shock, his arm was uncovered, not hidden under fake skin so no one but you and him knew about his little secret. He had a couple of scratches over his chest so you guessed he must have gotten hurt and had to fix his arm again.

You let out a titter, hating the idea of Caleb taking care of his own wounds, sitting alone in the dark like that last time. He’d never let you do that, so it was unfair he expected you to leave him like that as well.

Feeling your heart swell, you reached out, dragging your fingers down his arm. The usual cold steel was warm beneath the stream of water from the showerhead. You heard Caleb suck in a harsh breath, one that told you he was uncomfortable, but it just pushed you more.

You pressed a lip against his metal shoulder before nuzzling at it with your cheek. Perhaps it was too much, but you wanted him to see what you really thought of this limb Caleb seemed to be too scared to touch you with. You wanted him to know you did not share that same fear, therefore he shouldn’t either.

His head turned towards you and your eyes connected, you were stunned at the emotions in his violet gaze. The pain tore at your insides and the shame gouged out your insides. He was so beautiful, so whole, but in that moment, you saw how he truly felt. 

You saw the hatred. Not at you. He could never hate you. So you knew that was all aimed at himself, at the appendage you were currently hugging to your body, practically holding it hostage.

“Caleb,” you whispered, having to swallow as tidal waves of words tried to spill out. You wanted to call him stupid for thinking you could ever fear him, even just one small part of him. You wanted to tell him he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, that he had always been the pinnacle of attractiveness for you, you’d come to this realisation as a hormonal teenager and that hadn’t changed now that you were both adults, that hadn’t changed now that one particular part of him had been replaced. 

You wanted to demand he touch you back, to grip your breasts in those cold steel hands, to pull on your nipples with his fingers, to strum at your clit and play your body anyway he wanted because you trusted him, all of him.

But before any of those words could come out, Caleb had blinked away his shame. He shook his head before gently tugging at his arm. You tightened your grip on instinct.

Reaching out, he pressed his other hand against your cheek, stroking your skin with his, ever-so-brave with that touch whilst his other arm layed like dead weight in your hold. “I was just finishing up, you finish your shower and I’ll go cook us some food.” 

He wasn’t even going to talk about it, was just going to move on, just acted like everything was normal.

With a press of his lips against your forehead, he pulled his arm out of your hold and exited the shower, leaving you all alone with your thoughts, with your sadness, with your rage.

Caleb always told you that were his, always made sure you knew that every part of your body belonged to him. Why was this not the same for you?

Why did he get to keep a certain part of himself away from you?

For your protection? No, that was ridiculous, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Caleb’s arms were the safest place in the world for you. 

As you finished your shower, scoffing every ten seconds at the nerve of your boyfriend, a plot began to load up inside your mind. 

You’d play the dutiful girlfriend tonight, the innocent friend who didn’t push too far, who laughed and smiled, who gave and didn’t demand too much. That was clearly what Caleb needed tonight and you wouldn’t push him more than he’d already been pushed by whatever fight he’d had.

But after that, you were through with this game.

Morning light slipped through the cracks in the blind, illuminating your partner who was spread out like a starfish on the bed with you on top of him, his left arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest like you were his favourite stuffie.

You’d woken up a few seconds ago and had just watched him, your plan that you’d prepared for the night before helping get you wide awake as the excitement began to gurgle at the bottom of your stomach. 

After double checking that he was definitely asleep, you reached out towards your bedside table, sliding out the top drawer so you could reach in and retrieve the handcuffs you’d snuck in there last night when Caleb had been getting in his pajamas.

You kept your movements slow, not wanting to jar your partner awake. 

Reaching out, you wrapped one of the hand cuffs around the headboard. That was step one of your plan complete.

Looking down at Caleb, a sleeping beauty in his very own right, you couldn’t help but reach out and smooth a finger between his eyebrows. Even asleep, he seemed to be worried about something. 

Leaning you down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then his cheek. Then his lips.

As you sprinkled these little kisses, you felt something nudge against your thigh. Step two had been achieved and it was just as easy as you’d thought it would be. Even without Caleb fully awake, you could always count on one part of hiM being wide awake for you whenever you needed it.

“What are you up to, pip-squeak?” Your boyfriend grumbled, his voice all sorts of rough from sleep that your thighs automatically pressed together in reaction. You pressed another kiss to his lips, pleased when you felt him pressed back.

Reaching down with one hand, you began to rub at his dick through his boxers. Damn, you really hadn’t been wrong about him always being wide awake for you down there at least. He was already hard, the heat melting through the fabric into your hand. It was enough to make you dizzy. Luckily, you were a trainer hunter, so even the very tempting prize between his legs wouldn’t be able to pull you away from your plan of action.

Satisfaction rolled through you as he gasped at your unsuspecting touch, his hips canting slightly, trying to force more pressure from your hand onto him. 

“I just wanted to wish you a good morning,” you whispered as you moved your lips over to his ear, letting your tongue trace his jawline before tugging gently on his earlobe with your teeth. All the while you slipped your hands under his boxers, touching flesh to flesh, which had him letting out the dirtiest moan.

You almost moaned back yourself. It wasn’t often you had Caleb this out of control, this raw. It was a heady feeling you could get addicted to. 

And exactly what you’d been hoping for. He began to move his hips more, desperate to get a feel of your hand which you kept just above his cock, not making the move to grab it more firmly just yet. 

Whilst his focus was completely taken with trying to achieve that satisfaction only you could give him, you slid your other hand down his left arm, joining your hands together and then easily moving his arm above his head. He didn’t seem to care what you were doing, his only thoughts on getting you to touch him more firmly.

You did notice that his right arm, his metal arm, was still away from you. His fingers were curled up in the mattress, and you couldn’t tell if he was gripping it because of the feelings you were gifting him, or because he was doing all he could to keep from gripping you.

The sight of his metal arm stretched out away from you cemented the plan in your mind and kept you from getting distracted, even as the most delicious whine escaped him.

You pulled your hand out of his boxers and locked the handcuff around his arm as quickly as possible, your partner didn’t seem to even notice until the click echoed in the room, still bucking his hips slightly. 

His eyes finally opened, though they remained half-lidded, revealing violet rings wrapped around blown pupils. “What are you doing?” He asked, panting.

“I want to play a game, baby,” you explained in your most playful voice whilst positioning yourself better around him. “Won’t you play with me?”

You’d moved so you were laid on top of him, your hips above his crotch. The covers had been pushed back revealing his solid, naked, chest whilst you were still wearing your silk nightgown. You’d purposely worn his favourite, just to add another level of resistance. Plus, the shoulder straps might as well have been paid actors as they slipped down your arms on accident, allowing the tops of your breasts to be revealed.

He’d certainly noticed as his eyes went to your globes first, then they went down to your crotch which hovered just above his, the barest of space keeping you from settling down on his cock. Then, eventually, his eyes flicked up to glance at the handcuff you’d wrapped around his wrist. He gave a tug, as though to confirm that, yes, they really were handcuffs. Then after no time at all, his eyes returned to you, carrying with them a glare that had your playful nature purring even more. 

“What’s the game?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.

Caleb was always in control, so you weren’t surprised to see him trying to grasp it back under his control even whilst you were holding him hostage. It was kind of hot, but no, you needed to stay strong and continue on with the plan.

One look at his arm which he’d somehow stretched even further away from you after you’d moved cemented this even further in your mind.

Gently, you laid more of your wait on top of him, pressing your slit against the hotness in his underwear. Satisfaction shivered up your body as you rolled your hips ever so gently, your clit pulsing in time with your movements. 

He reacted exactly as you wanted to, barely able to hold onto his control, just like you. His lips parted and his eyes shut again, his head bent further into the pillow and it took everything in you not to go back down to bite at his neck. 

Never one to make you do all the work, Caleb met your rolling hips with assertive thrusts of his own, working a gasp out of you as he followed your teasing movements with his demands. “The game, baby, what is it?”

“I need you to touch me,” you revealed in a gasp. Feeling drunk on power, you reached out with both hands, pressing them on the peaks of his chest. His nipples fell between your fingers and you couldn’t help but close them, pinching at his nips, earning an unexpected response as he growled.

You saw in your periphery as he lifted his metal arm, moving closer towards you before he seemed to tighten his fist and rested it back down on the bed. 

Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?

You took one hand off his chest, leaving one to continue playing with his nipples, and reached back into his underwear. You pulled out his cock, feeling the weight of it, hot and thick, resting in the palm of your hand as you pressed it to the very centre of your clothed slit.

You moaned out and bent your head back. That wasn’t part of the game, you just couldn’t help your reaction to him, not when he was so close. 

“If you want me to touch you, then you have to take off the handcuffs, baby.” You could hear his teeth grinding whilst he spoke, and you knew in that moment he’d caught on, especially when he made a point to drag the metal arm back from where it had instinctively gone to.

You stopped all movement, still keeping his dick pressed against you, letting it twitch torturously against your clit. “You know that’s not the rules, touch me with your right arm Caleb.” He shook his head again. “Do it, baby, please.”

“Can’t.” He grunted out, tugging uselessly with his left arm. He was proving you right, you knew he couldn’t resist touching you, the same way you couldn’t resist touching him. He was just being stubborn, letting whatever silly worries he has control him. You just needed to push him more out of control.

You let go of his dick, watching it slap against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum that you wouldn’t have minded licking up. Maybe later.

“Look at me,” you ordered as you slowly pushed up the silky nightgown revealing inch after inch of skin. You might not have been the most confident of people, but you were at least confident of Caleb’s feelings about your body. You weren’t disappointed when his eyes followed every movement, mouth agape and eyes drunk with lust. Once the outfit was off, you reached out to touch your breasts, shoving them together and pulling on your nipples. The pulsing between your legs was an earthquake, demanding you slip onto his cock and take what was yours, but you couldn’t do that yet. Not yet. “Please touch me Caleb, I need you, so badly.”

Another grunt came out of him as he tugged harder on his arm, more beast than man in that moment. He managed to sit up, managed to get his mouth so close to the peak of your breast but you pulled away at the last second, leaving mere inches between your tip and his lips. You felt his hot breath lavish your skin and a moan crested out of your mouth unbidden. This might have been your mission, but you were just on edge as he was.

Reaching out you wrapped your hand into his hair, tugging on the strands slightly until he raised his head and met your eyes once more. “Touch me with your hand Caleb.”

“You handcuffed it, baby.”

“You have two hands,” you countered teasingly, but the mere mention of his metal arm had his expression shutting down and his head shaking once again. “Please, you won’t hurt me.” You’d abandoned the husky voice you’d been using beforehand, matching his honesty with your own pleading version. “You won’t.”

His head fell onto your chest but there was nothing sexual about the touch, not with his shoulders sagging. “I wouldn’t, not on purpose, but-”

“But nothing,” you cut him off whilst running your fingers through his hair. “It is physically impossible for you to cause me physical harm, nothing I wouldn’t want anyway.”

He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think he was ignoring you. It was clear as day that he was going through a battle, and as his partner, you needed to join this fight. Tentatively you reached out for his metal arm that was still throttling the quilt in a tight grip, the moment your fingers pressed on the back of his hand those fingers opened up. 

He wasn’t pulling away immediately, that was progress.

“If I lost my arm and got a prosthetic, would you think differently of me?” 

“Of course not,” he lifted his head up immediately, abhorring the thought that you might ever doubt how much he cares for you.

“Would you not let me touch you with that arm? Would you fear it?” Your fingers snaked in his and you brought the hand closer until it was resting between your stomach and his chest. Again, he just shook his head. You could see his jaw working, teeth clenching. He saw your argument, and he couldn’t exactly refute that you were making sense. You brought the hand further up, beginning to press your fingers between each knuckle. “I do not think differently of you because of your prosthetic. I will let you touch me, wherever, with your hands. I do not fear you, I love you, every inch inside and out.”

Like an animal bearing its neck to a predator, you unravelled his fingers before placing his palm around your throat.

His eyes watched every movement intensely, spellbound, and you watched second by second as that doubt grew dimmer and dimmer. Something else began to sparkle in his eyes, something familiar, the same something that was pulsing between your legs.

“My baby needs me to touch her?” He spoke so softly, you felt yourself melt a little bit more. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. “Show me where, baby, show me where and let me take care of you.”

Your skin was practically vibrating, his gentle dominance petting you into submission, a place only Caleb could get you to fall into. Because you only trusted Caleb to this extent. Trusted all of him.

Grabbing his hand once more, you lowered it down, letting his fingers trail over your breasts. Whilst that felt good, you needed him somewhere else far more. You let him give your nipple one small tug before pushing his arm back down further, as you got to the spot between your legs, you released him, showing him that you trusted him to take care of you exactly the way you needed.

He didn’t disappoint. His metal things were cold, the change in temperature a sharp change to the heat coming from your body, you couldn’t help but coo as he slipped them further into your wetness.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he hummed, “so wet and needy for me, I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“It’s okay.” Your hips moved forward automatically as the tips of his fingers pressed against your clit, touching you exactly where you needed to feed that demanding pulse between your legs. He went slow at first, beginning to speed up as he leant forward once more and captured your nipples in his mouth. You hadn’t even realised you’d moved closer to him. You moaned out again, the satisfaction of his touch only making your body demanding for more. “Please.”

“You want to cum baby?” His fingers moved with expert precision, his thumb taking the place of his fingers as they went exploring. One finger slipped inside of you, stealing all air from you before a second one joined it, air gasping out of you with your moans. “You want to cum for me, yeah?” He asked again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted out as his fingers plunged deeper into you, reaching a spot that had lights dancing behind your closed eyelids. Then, he froze, his fingers still inside of you.

Opening your eyes, you were met with your boyfriend wearing an expression that was oh-so-deliciously Caleb. His eyes were alight with mischief, a smirk on his lips that you wanted to kiss over and over again. Gone was the man afraid to touch you with his hand. 

“Prove it,” he whispered out huskily, “make a mess on my fingers, pretty girl.”

He was asking you to prove a lot more than how much you wanted to cum on his fingers, which was a lot. Thankfully, you were up for the challenge. You began to move your hips, using his hand to get yourself off. All the while, you maintained eye contact. Letting him see how you fell apart at his touch.

“Keep going,” he encouraged, leaning forward once more to press kisses against your breast. When you fell even closer against him, desperate to feel all of him, he used this as an advantage to lick across your collarbone before biting down on the spot where your neck and shoulder met. “Good girl, keep going. Make a mess for me.” He groaned out.

“Do you hear that?” He whispered, not wanting to speak out the schlick that escaped every time you pushed his fingers back in your body. You were definitely soaking the bed, but you found it hard to care about anything other than just how good he felt. “So lewd, baby, but you just can’t help yourself can you?”

You shook your head, whining as you struggled to get out a word. 

“Can’t help yourself, need all of me, my dirty girl,” his breath was coming out with pants, his eyes laser focused now on where his fingers pushed into you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m yours baby, all fucking yours.” With those last couple of words he gave you everything, pushing his fingers in and out of you at a rabid pace, satisfaction rolling through him like a tsunami as he watched your wetness coat his entire hand, falling onto his lap where his cock stood at attention, hard and twitching, waiting for a chance to get in your hole.

“Fuck, Caleb!” You held onto his shoulders, worried you’d collapse on him as your hip thrusts became messy. All sensuality was lost, just an all-consuming need to cum. Caleb would provide, he always would. He’d always give you everything you needed. 

Every kiss against your neck, every growl that escaped him, was his solid vow that that would never change. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, give me what’s mine, give me it.” He hadn’t even finished before you were coming apart on his fingers. Your moans were cut off as a wave of pleasure rocked your body so harshly that you collapsed fully on top of him, body shaking with the aftershocks of the glorious orgasm he’d just gifted you. 

Caleb watched unblinkingly, taking in every shudder, every breath you made. Taking note of everything so he could never forget this moment, could never forget how easily he’d played with your body, with the one part of his he’d never believed could be used for such soft things. 

He pulled his arm out, wrapping his arm around your waist so he could keep you close. He saw his arm, witnessed his fingers splayed out on your back, so large they took up the entire middle and then some. He might not be able to feel you from his fingers, but he wasn’t scared, for the first time since he’d gotten that forsaken arm, he wasn’t afraid. He knew how you felt, how soft and how strong your body was against his. 

A giggle broke out of you after a few more seconds of heavy breathing, your mind catching up with what you’d done, and what Caleb had finally done. 

You lifted your head up, looking into his violet eyes with the biggest smile on your face. “I told you, you could never hurt me.” You said each word with such utter confidence that Caleb was left speechless. Instinct was running the show for him, and for the first time ever, he wasn’t forcing himself to play safe. You were right, he could never hurt you, his instinct was only ever to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you happy.

And he was only halfway through with that last part.

He pulled his metal hand back from around your waist, slipping the fingers into his mouth and sucking on each digit that had been inside you. 

Once he was done, he brought the fingers up to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and like the good girl you were, you did as he said. You let him push his cold metal fingers into your mouth, let him explore the inside of your mouth with those digits.

“Is this what you wanted all along, baby girl?” He asked. “Wanted to unravel me?”

He took his fingers out of your mouth, letting you answer his question. “I wanted you to see you the way I see you.”

He cocked his head to the side, “and how’s that?”

You leaned forward, letting your lips rest against his as you spoke your next words. “Completely and utterly mine.”

The next couple of things that happened, occured within the blink of an eye.

His metal hand reached up to the handcuff, snapping it with ease and releasing his other hand. Both hands wrapped around your body as he spun the two of you around until he was on top, his waist pressing against the apex of your thighs. His cock rutting once, twice, against your clit which in turn had your hip stuttering with the overstimulation. His left hand, warm and soft, pressed down on your hip, keeping you in place, whilst his other rested against your throat, the fingers curling and pressing down on your pulse points. Not hard enough to cut off air, just hard enough for you to be incapable of ignoring their presence.

Despite the rough way he’d handled you, he followed up these actions by pressing three gentle kisses against your lips. “Always.” Another kiss. Far more demanding, teeth grazing. “Always have been.” His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing across yours before he sucked it into his mouth. Another barely contained growl escaped him as he rutted against you more.

You just couldn’t help yourself. You’d got him to the very edge of control, and you wanted to see him lose it. 

Pulling back you bit down hard on his lip, gathering what little attention he had left which wasn’t completely taken by the wet warmth cradling his cock. 

“Prove it.” A demand, no, a challenge. The final stab at his control that pulled forth the beast.

Both hands moved beneath your thighs, pushing them against your chest so your pussy was completely open to him. Glistening under the few rays of sunlight that peaked into the room, as though trying to glimpse at the display of ravenous lust you were putting on. Caleb could understand why, you’d never looked so beautiful to him, spread open and soaking down your thighs, your hole twitching as though begging to be filled.

His poor baby. You didn’t need to beg anymore.

With ease he placed his dick against your hole, slipping in with barely any force because of how slick you were. 

Home. That’s what your pussy felt like to him.

The both of you groaned out, a cacophony of moans that he could listen to for days on end without ever growing sick of the tune. 

“I’ll prove it to you, pretty girl.” His voice was rough and hoarse as it fell from his lips, though he wasn’t sure anymore if it was from being tired, or because of all the moans he’d let escape. “You’ll never doubt me again, never doubt that your mine.” Each word was followed with a deep thrust, his cock reaching places you never knew existed until he’d explored them. 

He fell on top of you, surrounding you. You couldn’t see anything but him. Feel anything but him. Hear, smell, taste anything but him. 

His thrusts turned harder, quicker, every stab of his cock a lightning bolt to your senses.

You lost yourself, mouth opening with silent cries as your eyes stared unfocused on his face. Any time you closed them, he’d respond with a harsher, sharper, thrust of his hips. Even without words, he was in complete control of you.

“You need this, need me,” he told you in between grunts. You could only nod. Too drunk on the pleasure to tell him that he needed you too. He knew. He knew he needed you more, that’s why he was never going to let you go. “You need to cum all over this cock, need to make a mess, give it to me, pretty girl.” 

Your legs were pressed so deep into your chest you weren’t sure if you were breathing, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was his thick cock dragging in and out of your pussy. Pulling pleasure from you with each thrust.

“Give it to me, and I’ll give you my cum.” He promised, and oh, your pussy clenched tightly around him, liking the sound of that far too much. An almost sinister laugh came from your boyfriend as he felt it too. “Oh,” he hummed, apparently just as surprised as you were by that reaction. His thrusts slowed, but they seemed to turn longer, somehow going deeper than ever before. “You want my cum baby? Want me to fill you up until your overflowing with my seed?”

When you moaned in response, he knew he had his answer.

“Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to give you all my cummies? Fill you up? Give you my babies?” Another clench had him slamming down into you. “Want that too pretty girl. Want to see you full of me, knowing you’re filled with me, knowing everything who sees you will know what I did to your dirty little pussy.”

“Fuck.” Both hands wrapped around your thighs tightened to the point of bruising, but that was exactly what he wanted, to mark you in every possible way. And he could, because he was in control. “Fucking take it, pretty girl. Fuck, good girl. Good fucking girl.” 

His words were drowned out by each slam of his hips against yours. You knew you’d be hurting later but you were past the point of caring, you wanted every single thing he’d just promised you. 

Through heaving breaths, you managed to squeak out a hoarse ‘please’ and that was his undoing. His thrusts stuttered until he pressed as far into you as possible and then you felt your insides being flooded. 

It almost felt unreal, there was so much. You felt every corner of your insides being covered and then the knot inside you released with him, your pussy tightening almost instinctively around him, trying to keep his essence inside of you.

“Good girl,” he continued to praise, throwing out little phrases of admiration as you both rode out your orgasms.

Then, when the final wave crested and fled, he released your legs from his hold. His hands stayed steady, controlling how they fell around him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly just in case. His fingers caressed your soft skin, massaging at your thighs where most of the strain had been.

He moved so most of his weight wasn’t on you but he was still hovering over you. Pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he left his lips to rest there as he mumbled out an almost reverent, “thank you.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I’ve been thinking about doing a part two where Caleb gets revenge and handcuffs the reader, let me know if you’d be interested.

[dadvans]

without a base, without a trace

bucktommy (9-1-1) :: 5 medical emergencies buck has after breaking up with tommy + 1 he has when they get back together

slightly based on this post by @epiphainie. for @rcmclachlan. art by @wortwood. verging on crack fic. this is the dumbest thing i have ever written.

ONE.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

It’s a rare day that Josh is working the lines, not that he cares. It’s important to not get rusty in a job like this. And if he’s being a little too honest with himself, the rush he gets on certain calls make his shift fly by way quicker than when he’s supervising or working breaks.

“Josh?”

This is close to his thirtieth call of the day, so it takes him a second to place the familiar vocal fry on the other end of call.

“Buck?”

“Shit,” Buck says, “well, this is embarrassing. Uh, hey. Can you not tell my sister about this?”

“Your sister who is sitting across from me?” Josh glances up, catching Maddie’s attention. Her eyes double in size when he mouths Buck to her and gestures to his own headset.

“Yeah, please, I—Josh—“

“Hey, hey, of course, don’t worry, Buck, I’m still a professional.” He rolls his eyes as Maddie peers over her monitor, and he mouths again I’ll tell you later, before returning his attention to the line. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Buck sighs on the other end. “I have a Coke can stuck up my ass.”

Josh almost chokes. This wouldn’t even be the first call this week where someone “tripped and landed on something wrong,” but the mental image of one of those calls being Buck practically knocks the wind out of him.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that.”

“Coke can,” Buck repeats, and there’s something to be said that his bitchy tone could be genetic the way he sounds so much like Maddie on her last nerve, “stuck up my ass.”

“Oka-a-a-y,” Josh says slowly, logging rectal foreign body and Coke can appropriately. “Can I ask how this happened?”

“How do you think, Josh? My boyfriend broke up with me, I missed him, and Tommy was—he was big, you know?”

“Sure,” Josh replies, trying to keep his tone neutral as possible. “Have you ever heard the adage ‘without a base, without a trace?’ Without a flared base, nearly ten times out of ten you’re bound to—“

“Look, I know, okay? I’ve responded to plenty of these calls myself, I just thought I had a good grip and was feeling desperate, and with all the lube, it slipped, and—“

“You know what, I think I get the picture. Are you at your home address?”

He hears another sad sigh from Buck’s end of the line.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, I’m dispatching paramedics to your location, okay? And for future reference”—he lowers his voice—“there are plenty of places online, or The Pleasure Chest off of Santa Monica that can provide you with a more appropriate, uh, instrument to help you with your needs, got it?”

He hangs up shortly after, and Maddie immediately rounds their desks to sit on the lip of his. “So?”

“Let me just tell you that you don’t want to know,” Josh says, shaking his head. “But if you piss me off someday, I might tell you.”

TWO

It’s barely a week after Josh takes Buck’s call that another one comes in. Josh is the supervisor on shift when he hears Maddie’s tone go from a measured neutral to thin and tight in seconds.

“Buck?” She says. “Buck, are you okay?”

There’s no possible way, Josh thinks. But just in case, on a hunch, he pulls up a chair and connects himself to her line.

“Buck, this is Josh, I’m acting shift lead.”

Maddie gives him a weird look that he ignores, but Buck says, “Oh, thank God. Maddie, can you let Josh just take this?”

“Um, n-no, no. This doesn’t work like that. What’s going on, Evan?”

“Maddie,” Buck groans, “please?”

“Please, sir, I need you to state your emergency,” Maddie continues, voice settling. Her hands, which had been starting to shake, still on her keyboard.

“It’s an eggplant,” Buck says. “I have… an eggplant.”

“An eggplant?” Maddie repeats.

Josh chokes past a cough so he doesn’t laugh out loud. Real fucking amateur hour. “Buck, what did I tell you last week? Did you completely ignore my advice?”

Maddie turns to him, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Your brother has an eggplant lodged in his ass,” Josh replies, shaking his head. “Am I right, Buck?”

“Look, I did take your advice, or I thought I did. I thought if I started at the smaller side, the other end would act naturally as a flared base, but I got uh, carried away.”

Josh closes his eyes, listening, and counts to three. Maddie may have stopped breathing next to him. “And Buck, uh, what kind of eggplant was it? I’m assuming—“

“Italian,” Buck confirms, “the big kind.”

Damn. Josh is kind of impressed. Buck sure isn’t doing things by halves.

“This time it may require, uh,” Buck continues, “surgical assistance. It feels really deep.”

“Buck, I can’t assure you of anything, but you’d be surprised what the human body is capable of. Just stay calm, and we’re dispatching help to your area. Are you still at home?” Josh asks.

“Yeah,” Buck admits. Josh has had years of faceless conversations across a wide range of disasters, emergencies, human experiences. Someone else, even Maddie, would probably say he sounds embarrassed, but Josh knows sadness when he hears it.

He doesn’t call any attention to it, just nods. “Okay, thank you. Help is on the way.”

When the call disconnects, Maddie turns to him, face distressed. “What did he mean, ‘This time?’”

THREE

Josh is supervising a new trainee’s line when Buck’s third call comes in. It’s been maybe a week and a half, and the first to come so late, almost three in the morning. Josh has just come back from a break, having closed his eyes in the back for forty-five minutes, and is wondering if he’s still dreaming when Buck’s unmistakable voice cracks over the line. Unlike the first two calls, he slurs from the first word and Josh is pretty sure he’s been crying.

Josh rolls his eyes and unmutes his side of the line. “Hi, Buck.”

His trainee almost jumps a foot when he does it. He covers his mic with his palm and turns to her.

“Repeat callers, you’ll get used to them. This one is kind of my regular,” he assures her, hoping she doesn’t work with Maddie anytime soon.

Buck hiccups on the other end of the line and moans. “Josh, I did something stupid.”

“Wait, what was that? Buck, can you tell me what’s going on? Are you safe?”

“I dunno. Did something stupid. Dumb,” he repeats. “Wine bottle.”

Jesus Christ. “Wine bottle?”

“Wine bottle. With wine in it. Neck not big enough. Stuck. Wine is—izza—fillin’ me up but is, it’s, doesn’t feel right.” Half of his words are slurred together. It sounds like he’s saying Dozen-fee-ruh. He says, “Mucus membranes. I looked it up. Too much.”

“Got it, got it, you home, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck admits softly. “Alone.”

“I’m sending help to your location.” Josh takes over his trainee’s dashboards and dispatches a team accordingly.

“Not the one-eighteen though, right?” Buck asks. But with the way he sounds, it takes a second for Josh to decipher.

“No, not the one-eighteen,” he says, then sighs. “But Buck, I can’t guarantee that they won’t be dispatched to you next time. And if it’s me on the call, that’s who I’m definitely sending. I don’t expect you to remember me saying this, but if this happens again, you might force my hand if that’s what gets you to stop.”

“Okay, okay. Just miss him. Miss him so much. The way he filled me up—“

Josh abruptly ends the call. Which isn’t great. Help has already been sent out, but still.

“What just happened?” She asks.

“Something,” Josh says on an exhale, “totally normal in the broad scheme of things. But for my sake? Please pretend this call never did.”

FOUR.

Josh was supposed to be off tonight, but dispatch has been busy, busy, busy since a low five-point-something and several aftershocks slammed everything sideways from Puente Hills. Sue called him in hours ago, and the only thing that’s keeping him alert through the hours-long queue of anxious callers is the promise of that sweet, sweet, time and a half overtime pay.

He’s ready to lose it by the time the calls start to finally die down only to have Buck end up on his line.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he sighs. He pulls

Buck, on the other end, grumbles what sounds like There have to be more than five dispatchers in all of Los Angeles, right? away from the receiver, before he says closer and direct across the line, “I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean, ’stuck?’” Josh asks, fingers flying over the keyboard. He hasn’t heard of any infrastructure damage near Glendale, but maybe he’s making assumptions. “Are you trapped?”

“No, I’m—not exactly.”

“‘Not exactly,” Josh repeats. “Buck, where are you?”

“My apartment.” Buck doesn’t sound scared, or even urgently in danger. He sounds resigned. “I got a toy, by the way. Like you suggested. Flared base. Suction end, even, so I wouldn’t have any more accidents.”

Josh stopped believing in God a few decades ago, but he finds himself sending out a quiet prayer anyway that none of his calls with Buck have randomly hit the auditor’s desk. “Is that relevant to the call, sir?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t—shit. I was riding it when the earthquake hit.”

“Okay,” Josh says, when Buck doesn’t elaborate. “And?”

“I had it suctioned to my coffee table. And I’d been riding it for a while, so my legs were already shaky and I slipped—you know what, not important. What’s important is that I’ve been glued to my coffee table with a dick in my ass since noon. I can’t get up without the table—everything pulls, I can’t feel where the silicone ends and wood begins.”

“Jesus,” Josh says. Again, he really hopes this call doesn’t get audited.

There aren’t enough first responders to get to Buck right away. Josh lets him know that, in between asking a series of invasive questions where he learns that Buck is also somehow upside down, struggling to reach the poppers bottle he wants to swat out of the line of sight when someone inevitably rescues him.

“We’re experiencing a high volume of emergency calls at the moment, but I’ll get someone to you as soon as I can. But Buck,” Josh continues, “you have my number. Let me know when you’re okay. And then we can talk. Because I never, ever want to get one of these calls again.”

FIVE.

Josh watches as Maddie suspiciously sidles up to him in the locker bay several days later. She’s half-dancing, hips swaying and arms circling in a sad attempt at salsa.

“Do you have bedbugs? Did Howie give you bedbugs?” He asks her. “Because if you have bedbugs and you give them to the rest of us, I swear to God, Maddie.”

“No!” She says. Even when she doesn’t laugh out loud, she laughs with her eyes sometimes, wide and alive and catching all sorts of life. Had he been straight in another life, he would have been in so much trouble. “Okay, remember how we discussed Evan’s, uh, recent maladaptive coping strategies?”

“If by ‘discussed’ you mean ‘completely evaded the subject,’ and I gave him the number of a man whose penis defies God—“

“Yes, yes, anyway. They’re on a date!” She whips out her phone to show Josh the text message confirmation from Buck that not only had he’d reached out to Josh’s friend a few days ago, but was also now on his way to a dinner and movie. “Look!”

Josh’s eyes close with relief. “Oh, thank God. I can finally rest easy for a shift and not worry your brother is going to end up on my line with something stuck up his ass.”

Maddie’s smile fades and her shoulders slump. “Tell me about it. I’d do anything to go back to a time where he was just baking too much and I didn’t have to worry about where all the candles in his apartment went.”

“Stop.” He closes his eyes and throws his head back. “End of conversation. Even if I’m happy you told me, so I won’t have to spend the next twelve hours worried your brother is going to finally puncture his colon and die. Because the past few weeks have been so much.”

“Well, maybe your Prince Charming is the one who will finally break the curse,” Maddie replies, squeezing his shoulder.

Josh really hopes so. He needs Big Dick Eric (the guy’s Christian name, according to how Josh had saved him in his phone after a slightly overwhelming Grindr hookup) to seal the deal with Buck tonight. It doesn’t have to be forever, just as long as it takes for Buck to stop trying to fill the hole in his heart with dick. For Josh’s own mental health.

He wants to be optimistic.

The first two hours of his shift are as normal as normal can be for a seven-to-seven night shift. He handles an ugly domestic call, several drunk teenagers, a broken skate park ankle, and multiple people reporting the same car alarm going off at their apartment complex. His heart rate picks up when a new homeowner calls to report a squatter in her attic, but it just turns out to be a bat infestation.

And then, as if even thinking the word “quiet” is a thought crime that welcomes chaos, Josh takes his next call and is greeted with screaming.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” He asks, voice slightly elevated to challenge the screams warping the call.

He’ll give Buck credit later: when the emergency isn’t necessarily specific to his own bad decisions, the guy is effectively, professionally cool in a crisis, to a degree that Josh doesn’t immediately recognize him.

He requests an ambulance immediately to a residential address for a single adult man who he believes has fractured his penis.

“Can you tell me what happened that has lead you to believe this man has fractured his penis?” Josh asks, trying to discourage his own balls from shrinking back up inside him.

“We were, uh, in flagrante,” the guy on the other end responds, and that’s when Josh knows it’s Buck, because the pitchy, worried waver in his voice haunts Josh’s dreams. “We were—well—there was a popping noise while he was still inside me, and everything got hot and wet different from lube, you know, and I looked down and there was blood everywhere. And then he started screaming.”

Yeah, that sounds pretty fractured. Poor Big Dick Eric.

“Oh-kay, sir,” Josh replies, “Well, I am dispatching help to you right now. While you wait, you should try to treat the afflicted area with ice—“

“—Already on it,” Buck replies, harried, and Josh can hear him roughly digging ice out of a freezer, he thinks.

“Great. Help will be there soon, Buck,” Josh confirms, and then the shoveling sound stops briefly.

“Josh?”

“Yup,” Josh replies.

“Of course, God—hey, please don’t tell Maddie about this one, please? I’ve already traumatized her so much.”

Josh sighs, and professionalism be damned, he can’t stop himself from saying, “Buck, I won’t tell Maddie, but I’m absolutely telling all of Gay Los Angeles to steer clear from you until whatever sex curse you’re dealing with is fixed”

Buck hums sadly. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Josh listens to him return to Big Dick Eric’s side, equal parts miserable and beguiled at the soft, direct way Buck offers a baggie of ice to a wailing Big Dick Eric. He finds himself feeling bad, though he’s not sure who for. All parties involved, maybe. Himself especially.

Despite all his years as a dispatcher, he still ends the call with a migraine.

PLUS ONE

“I think,” Maddie had said between several sips of decaf, halfway through their shift, tone light and bubbly, “that they might get back together. They’ve been talking.”

“‘Talking,’ huh?” Josh had replied, shutting his locker. “God, I hope so. Spare the rest of Los Angeles from whatever in the Grey’s Anatomy that’s become your brother’s life.

The look Maddie had given him, six months pregnant, patience thin, emotionally volatile and absolutely not amused, shut him up immediately.

That was hours ago. Seventeen calls ago. Their shift ends as the sun starts rising outside their windowless floor. Josh shrugs his jacket on thinking about the Egg McMuffin he’s going to get before he returns home and passes out in a sodium coma for approximately seven hours. Maybe he’ll dig through the graveyard of Trader Joe’s meals in his freezer to get the frozen bottle of Absolut that sits in back and make himself a Screwdriver to wash it down with.

“Plans for the rest of your day?” He turns to Maddie, only to find her distracted and scrolling through her phone.

“Sorry, I—I have like, several texts and five voicemails from Evan and I’m trying to read the transcripts first,” she says, brow knitting together with worrying familiarity. “Let’s see, it sounds like—oh. Oh. Oh wow.”

Josh commendably does not scream. “What now?”

She turns the phone to him, expanding the first message.

Hi Maddie, it’s Tommy. We’re—me and Evan—are headed to the ER. Nothing huge, just thought you should know, he said you had plans tomorrow. He kind of got carried away tonight, and, you know what? Doesn’t matter. Not a big deal. He’s having a little trouble speaking right now, but wanted me to call you so you don’t worry.

“What,” Josh says.

She thumbs open the transcript for the next voicemail.

Hey, Maddie. Tommy again. Buck’s voice is still out of commission. He, uh. It sounds like he ruptured his airway. He’s being given the good drugs, but will not be able to meet you tomorrow, and is definitely going to be on a text-only basis for at least a week. At the very least it isn’t bad enough for him to need surgery, so we’re getting discharged soon. I’ve got him for now, and I’ll keep an eye on him for the next couple of days while we’re off. Feel free to give me a call or swing by if you have any questions.

“Did he really—?”

“Yup, yes he did,” Maddie says, swiping over to her texts to open up a selfie from Buck, looking smug and high as a kite while reclining in a hospital bed.

“Jesus, how big is Tommy,” Josh says, before he can stop himself.

“At a certain point it just has to be uncomfortable for everyone involved, right?” Maddie frowns down at the picture of Buck grinning back up at her from her phone.

Josh sighs. “They really found love in a hopeless place. I think this is one of those situations where two people belong together, if only for the public safety of everyone else.”

“I just hope it sticks this time.”

“If it doesn’t, I might just have to quit my job,” Josh says. “Anyway, tell them congratulations for me. I’m going to go drink celebratory screwdrivers until I pass out.”

Maddie’s nose wrinkles and she turns her pout on him, one hand moving to her stomach. “You’re a cruel man, Josh Russo.”

His looks down at the phone she still holds with the other pointedly. “I think you and I both know I could be much, much worse.”

[jayparked]

congrats & thanks for doing this event! can i req 75+84 with sunghoon? ty!

WARNINGS: semi public sex, slightly mean dom hoon, sunghoon makes y/n answer the phone while they fuck!, possessive hoon, language, bulge pushing, fingering, hoon's kind of a manhandler idk, creampie

WC: 761

"th-there are people outside this door-!" your words are quickly muffled by sunghoon's hand, his palm warm against your lips.

"well, this isn't about them, is it? they're out here shopping and it's just you and me in here. now stay quiet and take it."

your muffled moans only encourage sunghoon more, his fingers quickening against your clit while molding his body against yours. every twitch of your body has you unintentionally grinding against his growing erection. it's driving him crazy seeing how quickly you come undone in his grasp. but what he loves most is that no matter where or when, if sunghoon wanted you, you'd let him have you.

your phone that's resting on the dressing room seat lights up and your body stiffens at the displayed contact name.

"hm? i thought you cut him off? thought i was the only one you were messing with now?"

you don't answer right away, eliciting a harsh flick from sunghoon's fingers onto your clit.

"i did! you are!"

"i don't believe you." sunghoon grunts as his fingers easily enter your sopping hole. he doesn't even bother prepping you or trying to stretch you out properly, already inserting three fingers knuckle deep, scissoring as a relentlessly brutal pace.

"but you think about me when they're fucking you, don't you?"

"i...that's not true." who are you kidding? there's really no comparison between the two. in every category sunghoon wins; size, pacing, ex

"oh? you really think you can lie to me right now? with the position i have you in? i don't you need me to remind you who's cock you cry out for every night. if he really was a good fuck it would be him here with you, but no. you chose me. now pick up the phone and tell him you're done with him"

"n-now?"

"no, next tuesday- yes, fucking right now. answer the damn phone. i want him to hear this."

you quickly lean forward and grab your phone, sunghoon's hands never leaving your body. not even giving yourself a chance to back down, you answer the call.

"helLO?" you gasp, looking behind you to see the wide smirk on sunghoon's face as he pushes his cock past your folds, guiding your hips back until he's fully sheathed inside you.

"y/n? are you okay? i haven't heard from you in a while and i miss you-"

sunghoon presses his hand against your stomach as he thrusts deeply into you. barely catching the small scream bubbling in your throat, you clamp a hand over your mouth and breathe heavily through your nose, feeling the way sunghoon's large hand presses against his own bulge inside you.

guiding your hand away from your face, sunghoon quickly grabs the phone and presses the speaker button and places it back on the bench. he silently presses a hand between your shoulder blades and bends you down slightly before grabbing both of your wrists and moving them behind your back. satisfied with the position he has you in, sunghoon starts thrusting deep and vigorously. he loves the sound your bodies makes together, the slapping of skin on skin and the squelching of your arousal coating his cock. it's something he'll never get tired of and he's soaring with pride at the way the sounds echo in the small fitting room, surely being picked up on your phone for your previous toy to hear.

"uhhh...y/n do i need to call you back?"

"don't bother," sunghoon chuckles, "she doesn't need you anymore." sunghoon ruts his hips into you in a way that forces a moan from you, one you can't hold in any longer no matter how hard you try. three faint beeps sound from your phone as the other boy hangs up, leaving you completely at sunghoon's mercy.

even with the competition successfully removed from the picture, sunghoon does not let up. he releases your hands, letting you stumble forward until you're able to brace yourself against the mirror, his pace never faultering. sunghoon leans down and bites at the back of your shoulder, teeth sinking deep enough to bruise. meanwhile, his pace quickens, clearly chasing his release while still feeling the high of successfully claiming you in front of his opponent. without warning, sunghoon releases inside you, softly groaning your name as he slowly uses you to milk every last drop of his load out of him.

he stills in your for a moment, panting softly before placing a swift kiss to your shoulder as he removes himself from you. "that'll show him."

♡ for part of my 1k follower celebration ♡ masterlist

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ When in Rome ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter One)

Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Death (gladiator fight)

Summary: After years you returned to Rome to visit your father, General Marcus Acacius, to celebrate his recent victory. However, when the Emperors Caracalla and Geta get you in their sights, they will not let you go so easily.

Word count: 3.3k

Your fathers victory stretched far and wide, as did the people's love for him. This provided you with an opportunity, a chance to leave one of your fathers estate’s and visit him in Rome after all these years. You were fairly young when your mother died of the horrible antonine plague. It had struck many and even your noble family was not safe. 

It took years for your father to overcome his grief, little by little he started to show pieces of his old self again. And it was Lucilla ‘the mother of Rome’ who fully healed him, you hadn’t spent that much time with her but you knew she was a good woman. You were happy for your father even though after your mothers death he had sent you away for your own safety.

The Aurelian Estate was grand and well protected, it was lonely too. Your mothers death left a gaping hole in your heart, and with your father being the general, he was needed elsewhere. The estate had made you grow bored and even though Rome was still unsafe with the twin emperors in power, you longed to see your father.

Knowing well he would refuse your visit, you lied to the household guard. You informed them how you were to visit your father and attend the games with him at the colosseum, all to celebrate his victory in Numidia. They were hesitant as they had not received orders from the general himself, but agreed after your promises. 

The road to Rome was long but durable, the stench of the city came closer and it made your face contort in disgust. Beggars were divided on each side of the road you were travelling and it made you uneasy. Your father had told you many times why Rome was grand but fragile as well, it was ridden with disease and plots, as well as two emperors who were as unpredictable as they were mad. 

Still, it intrigued you, the last time you were in Rome, you were young and you barely remembered it. The walls of the Aurelian Estate being carved into your mind deeper, while Rome eroded. One of your servants handed you a cloth on which she had poured some lavender oil, she gestured to hold it to your nose. 

You thanked her and glanced out of the carriage again to notice the Capitoline wolf upon the gate of Rome. Your fathers voice echoed through your mind upon recalling the legend that was behind the statue. Soon after passing it, Praetorian guards halted the carriage, demanding to know who you were.

When your name left the lips of Edas, your personal guard, the Praetorian muttered an apology and barked around to make way for the carriage. You had almost forgotten how respected your father was and kept in mind how useful it could be, being his daughter. 

You had, however, not thought about what your father would say or do upon your sudden arrival. It was safe to say he was not pleased that you lied to the household guard and travelled all the way to the most dangerous city without his knowledge. Lucilla however was a bit more enthusiastic, giving you a warm welcome. 

Standing in the inner courtyard of their estate in Rome was like a dream, even though you were born there, it didn’t seem real to you. To be back after all these years. Lucilla guided you to a table where fruit and wine was spread out, while your father continued lecturing you. 

“You know how many times I have warned you of this place, it is not safe! Especially not now these mad-” Marcus stopped himself when he noticed one of the servants being a little too interested in what he was about to say next. 

“You should not have come.” He said now calmer. “Father, I have not seen you in three years. How could you blame me for seeking you out? I miss you.” His expression softened at your words, Lucilla gave your hand a squeeze on the table and smiled at you. “She will be safe here, with me. Nobody would dare lay a hand on my daughter.” 

It was still a bit weird to hear her say that, but you had gotten more used to it a long time ago. You returned her smile and your father seemed to come to terms with your arrival. “I- I’m just afraid of losing my only child, it’s safer for you outside of Rome, protected by thick estate walls and our own men.” 

Lucilla offered him a sympathetic smile, understanding all too well after having lost her own son. “She is here now, safe in our estate. If she stays here, nothing will happen to her.” Marcus gave in and let one of the servants show you to a guest bed chamber. After your servants had unpacked your belongings, you finally got to get some rest.

The next morning you woke up feeling happier than you had in a long time. The dangers of Rome did not seem too much of a concern to you. No, being reunited with your father was what you needed to regain your spirit. 

Lucilla made you realise how much you missed your mother but she made sure you had a maternal figure in her, as she showed you the whole of the estate the next day. You shared stories, meals and laughs with her as you regained your energy from your travels, when evening fell, that peace was shattered. 

A messenger came, announcing during supper how Marcus was commanded to be present at the games in the colosseum on the morrow, alongside his wife… and child. Your father was furious, abandoning his food to isolate himself with his anger. How did the emperors find out you were in Rome?

You had only been ‘home’ for two days, nobody except for the household guard and your fathers own men knew you were here. In truth you were excited to see the colosseum and witness the well loved gladiator battles. “I do not understand how they know, and why they want you there. Oh sweet child, it is not entertainment for a young lady such as yourself.” Lucilla expressed.

You wondered why it was so bad for you to go, of course you knew of the stories surrounding the two ‘mad’ emperors but you were sure that with your fathers station they would not harm you. Your title as step-daughter of a princess and daughter of a loved general made you already liked by the people, you were untouchable, right? 

Sleep evaded you that night, you were excited yet afraid. What Lucilla said haunted you, were gladiator battles really that gruesome? And she was right, why did the emperors want you there? Lucilla told you it was probably in retribution of your fathers ‘rude’ request of taking leave to see his family, but how would they know your father didn’t want you there? 

You were awake early, only having caught some hours of sleep. And so you had already eaten and bathed before your parents were ready. When Marcus and Lucilla at last emerged to leave, the dreadful ride to the colosseum began. Your father didn’t speak a word the entire way. You knew exactly what he was thinking, that it was your fault, if you hadn’t come, you wouldn't be about to be face to face with the sick men that ruled Rome. 

Upon your arrival at the colosseum, your father left the carriage first, helping Lucilla out before he helped you. The ginormous building was riddled with praetorians and onlookers, to your surprise they not only chanted your fathers name but also yours and Lucilla’s. The grand entrance took your breath away, before you were grounded when your father pulled you towards him.

You hadn’t even noticed the man that had walked up to your father and Lucilla. “Daughter, you were asked a question.” Marcus said. The man in front of you looked at you expectantly, he almost looked royal himself, although you did not recognise him at all. “Forgive me, I was distracted by the grandeur of the colosseum, it has been so long since I’ve been in Rome.” 

“Do not worry Lady, I do not fault you. I merely wished to know how your travel had been, no complications I hope?” You shook your head. “No, it was fairly smooth. I am sorry, what was your name?” The man smiled at you and took your hand before kissing the back of it. “Macrinus my lady. Again, no need for apologies.” 

You felt Lucilla’s hand on your back and you were suddenly grateful for her presence, the man seemed kind but your intuition was telling you otherwise. “Thank you, Macrinus, for your warm welcome.” He gave you yet another smile. “Shall I escort you to your seats? The emperors are already there, I’ve heard they are- eager to meet your daughter General.” 

Your fathers lips thinned at Macrinus’ words but before he could snap back the man gestured you to follow him, Lucilla’s hand never left your back, your father keeping a fierce grip around your shoulder. Macrinus led you through the guarded halls and stairs of the colosseum until you noticed the light atop the last staircase. 

It was the emperor's box, nerves suddenly overcame you but you felt the reassuring and protecting grip of your father on your shoulder. As you reached the top, Macrinus greeted the emperors before moving out of the way, so you were face to face with them. 

Your father greeted them first. “Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla.” He said as he bowed, letting go of you for but a short moment before his protective grip returned. However the emperors barely paid attention to him or Lucilla as their eyes burned into yours. 

You were speechless for a moment before Lucilla placed her hand on your lower back, recentering you. “Your Majesties.” You spoke while curtsying. Everyone had always spoken of their madness, their ruthlessness, but no one told you of their beauty. You were taken aback by how handsome they were, though they had a mad look in their eye.

Emperor Geta spoke first. “General, you have quite the beauty at your side. Where have you kept her all these years?” You almost winced as your fathers grip tightened. “After Aurelia’s death, I sent her to a safe estate that was built in honor of her mothers memory. Rome was such a dangerous place to be at the time, your Majesty.” Geta hummed in response and Caracalla simply laughed.

“Mm, of course, what a delight that she has come to visit you then. No doubt wanting to join the celebrations, am I right Lady?” Caracalla spoke, both their voices made your heart thump louder in your chest. “Yes Caesar, that is right.” You answered respectfully, lowering your gaze. 

“Tell me, have you ever witnessed a gladiator battle before Lady?” Geta then asked. “No your Majesty, I have not.” He smiled at your answer and you were relieved that you seemed to please them so far. No one could tell what they would do if you failed. It was then that a tiny monkey appeared on Caracalla’s shoulder, holding on to his hair. 

You smiled brightly at the sight, never had you seen an excotic creature like that before. The only ‘creatures’ at your estate were horses, hounds and birds. Caracalla noticed your sudden change in demeanor. “Have you also never ‘witnessed’ a monkey before Lady?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, they must think you were stupid with how they spoke.

“No, your Majesty.” Caracalla giggled at that and guided the monkey into his arms. Geta’s piercing gaze never left you as Caracalla came closer. It was only then you noticed the weird scratches on his face. “Would you like to meet Dondas?” He giggled. “It would be an honor Caesar.” Your father reluctantly let go of you, as did Lucilla.

You caught Macrinus watching in the corner of your eye. Caracalla then led Dondas into your arms, you couldn’t help the big smile on your lips as the monkey made some adorable noises before holding onto the expensive fabric of your toga. Dondas inspected your necklace for a bit before he climbed around your shoulders and back into the Emperor's arms. 

“He likes you!” Caracalla exclaimed excitedly, followed by a fit of giggles you already secretly found adorable. You smiled at him. “Well I like him too your Majesty, you have a very sweet monkey.” He grinned widely and his golden tooth met your eyes, why did it suit him so well? 

“Since you have never witnessed a battle such as this before, Lady, why don’t you sit at the front, with us?” Geta spoke, although he rather commanded it then asked. You looked to your side at your father, who tried not to show his fury, Lucilla looked down. It seemed you had no choice, even though that did not bother you as much as it probably should.

“Of course Caesar, how thoughtful of you, thank you.” You answered politely, and relief washed over you once more when he smiled brightly. He commanded servants to move one of the large luxurious chairs to the front, between the thrones of the emperors. Then he gave the signal that the speaker could announce their arrival and that of your father.

“Emperor Caracalla! Emperor Geta! Citizens of Rome!” The speaker's voice echoed through the colosseum as the emperors now stood all the way up front of the box, in clear view of the audience. “These sacred games are in honor of General Acacius’ victory in Numidia!” Loud cheers and applause came from the audience. 

“Acacius.” “General.” The twins gestured for your father to join them so the citizens could see him. He raised his hand and loud cheers filled your ears once more. “Speak to them.” You could faintly hear Geta say. Your fathers words faded in your mind as you took in the colosseum. 

When he returned to go to his seat, he gave your shoulder a loving squeeze before taking his place. Lucilla was then announced and she too was welcomed with a loud applause and cheers from the crowd. Then both the emperors gestured for you to come forward, as you stood between them, the speaker's loud voice boomed through the colosseum again. 

“In attendance today is the beloved daughter of General Acacius himself!” Your brows furrowed as people chanted your name. It confused you, they did not know you. Nor had you conquered lands or won battles like your father. It showed you how much your parentage could mean. 

Lucilla had already taken her seat and after you too had raised your hand to the crowd, you took your seat just like the emperors on either side. The speaker then announced the gladiators, the slaves from Numidia, before announcing the gladiator of Geta and Caracalla themselves. 

The gladiators had taken their place in the low arena of the colosseum before a giant gate opened. Your mouth parted at the sight, an animal you had never seen before with the gladiator standing on his back entered the arena. You didn’t even notice both the emperors grinning at your reaction. Neither did you notice the sharp gaze of your father.

You leaned forward a bit and watched as the big animal came closer. It then stopped before the gladiator greeted the emperors. “Heil Caesars!” He roared, his low voice sent a shiver down your spine, he looked terrifying and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the ‘slaves’ from Numidia. 

Geta and Caracalla raised their hands in response before their gladiator made his first charge, the arena beneath you seemed to shake with the animal's heavy strides. The gladiators jumped out of the way at the last moment, except for one, who was launched into a nearby pillar and died upon impact. 

Your eyes widened at the scene, you were slightly frightened but also intrigued. Maybe you understand now why people like the games. Both Geta and Caracalla clapped beside you, feeling victorious through their warrior. You were on the edge of your seat as you watched how the large animal and its rider turned back around.

One of the gladiators caught your attention as he stuck his sword in the ground before clasping his hands together to cup some sand. He then waited for the animal to charge, let it come closer, before releasing the sand into the air, creating a dust cloud. When it seemed he would get hit by the animal's large horn, he jumped out of the way, causing the animal to crash into the wall. 

The audience as well as the emperors jumped from their seat, the animal was injured badly and the gladiator had been launched from his seat. You joined the emperors to see how the gladiator got up to fight the slave from Numidia. 

It only took a little while before the gladiator had taken the sword from the Numidian and already raised his arms to excite the crowd. You moved back to your seat before Geta spoke. “Brother, it’s that poet is it not?” You had no idea what Geta was talking about. “I can’t remember, that night was a blur.” Caracalla responded before taking his seat as well. 

“The gates of hell… are… open night and day- smooth- I forget-” Your brows furrowed, you knew that poem, Lucilla had once read it to you the night after their wedding, as she wanted to bond with her new daughter. “Smooth is the descent, easy is the way.” You answered. 

Geta looked at you and seemed pleased, thank the gods. The slave had gotten up again in the meantime and fought back against the gladiator with a shield, they fought back and forth until the gladiator had picked up the Numidian and launched him over his shoulder, causing his back to collide hard with the ground. 

The gladiator pointed his sword and looked up expectantly at Geta, the crowd chanted ‘mercy’. It seemed the emperors got to make the decision on who eventually got killed in the arena. Geta looked at Caracalla who almost immediately said ‘blood’. “My Lady, shall we show mercy?” You did not expect Geta to ask your opinion.

You did not want the poor Numidian to die at your hands. “Mercy.” You nodded, Geta smiled before turning to the crowd to raise his hand. While lowering it he balled it into a fist with his thumb out, before pointing it up. “No mercy!” The Numidian yelled. “Your life has been spared by the gods-” 

“I would rather face your blade than accept Roman mercy!” You almost cringed at his words, he was clearly stupid to ignore such a presence as Emperor Geta. He then rolled over to grab a blade from the sand before launching it into the gladiator's chest. It was then he looked at the emperors expectantly instead, to which Geta gave the crowd what they wanted by pointing his thumb down.

The Numidian slave then beheaded the gladiator, leaving the emperor's champion defeated. Caracalla stood and clapped his hands loudly while Geta, on the other hand, stormed out. You turned in your seat to look at your father, who gestured that it was time to go. You stood, and curtseyed to Emperor Caracalla, “Your Majesty.” He gave you a nod, and you joined your father and Lucilla towards the exit.  

When you had gotten back to the estate, your father retired to his rooms, not saying a word the entire way back either. You were relaxing in the garden with Lucilla, when that man, Macrinus, from the colosseum arrived. To your disappointment Lucilla requested you take a bath after all that happened and you left the two alone. The whole time you were bathing you couldn’t get the emperors out of your mind, neither the man that had won that day.

[pinkyqily]

JUJU WATKINS X USC WBB TEAMMATES

── contains : swearing,

── authors note: Some headcannos of juju x in a relationship with teammates reader if you wanna see any of these scenario as a fic let me know, also taking headcannos request so feel free to let me know which player you want one for 💕

● you both have a really crazy dynamics because you we're the freshman that could barely make the team while she was everyone's outgoing player, you always thought of her as some show off because of that you could never really liked her which she knew but always kept thing casual between you two, until one practice night both of you were the only ones left at the gym and you guys hit it off from a deep conversation and she wasn't has bad as you thought.

● she always finds ways to be all over you but claims to be nonchalant.

● both of you are arguely the best duo when you step on that court.

● you're both banned from doing press conference together because y'all play a lot and don't be answering them questions.

● when it comes to media day the whole team knows that you and juju gonna end up partnering together there's no hope for them( juju threatens anyone who tries to be your partner that isn't her).

● when you get injured she's the first person to come to you knowing how badly you get irritated getting surrounded by others.

● you both send silly snaps to each other even though the other person is not that far away.

● loves to make you laugh did I mention how touchy she is because she's extremely touchy, infact she hate when other ppl that isn't her or your teammates touching or giving you hugs because she's the only one allowed to.

● whenever an opponent is flirting with you on the courts she makes sure to show out and score on them sending a really clear message.

● is hella touchy any moment she gets to touch you oh she doing it public or private she doesn't care.

● very straightforward to you whenever you have a bad games because she wants the best for you.

● the team started getting suspicious about you both the moment you guys got closer and when juju can barely keep your name out her mouth.

● late night practices with her are always something else.

● swears she's a better dancer than you (no she's not).

● both of you are always defending each other from snapping reporters and fans.

● she's not that active on social media but you are so sometimes she makes what the team call it "special appearances" because no one else gets that treatment only a story mentions that all.

● you both did "two bestfriend in a room they might kiss trend" and when the sound cut off she actually kissed you.

● always sharing clothes that one game you both accidentally worse each other's jersey to a game and it went viral the team did not stop teasing you both about it Ray had a field day with it.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

“Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the major war, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[crxlrei-888]

LOVE AND DEEP SPACE HAREM

@crxlrei-888

art not mine

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 nsfw/18+

ᯓᡣ𐭩 violence

❛ i dont mind being shared.. ❜

❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆❀⋆

In the quiet evening of Linkon City, the air had the scent of blooming lilies, and the soft hum of distant crickets provided the only music. Inside Gran's quaint cottage, the gentle tick-tock of the grandfather clock echoed through the hallways, a rhythmic lullaby for the night.

Gran, with her silver hair and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, dozed peacefully in her favorite rocking chair, the steady creak a testament to years of comfort it had brought her.

Caleb, tall and fit, his black hair styled in a way that made his purple eyes pop, had just returned from his long journey. Farspace had left him with a newfound sense of adventure, but also an unexpected craving for the familiar. He stepped into the house, his heart racing with excitement to see you - his childhood friend. He had thought about you often during his travels, and the anticipation of your reunion had fueled many a lonely night.

You on the other hand, had been busy preparing dinner. You had always been a good cook, and tonight you wanted to make something special.

"You sure you don't need any help there, (Y/N)?" Grandma Josephine asked peering at the oven, " I see you're going all out."

"It's been so long," You blushed, putting the stove on. Finally you put the last curry to be prepared and all that's left to do is tidying up, "I want to show him I prepared all this on my own."

"Ah I see..." Grandma pouted, " You don't want me to take any credit at all... as if I don't exist."

"Oh Gran!" You laughed, kissing her forehead, "Don't think like that."

"Mhm," Gran smiled, "I'll at least help you clean up. Is that fine?"

You nod with a blush.

"Good. I was going to help you anyway." Gran starts wiping the dishes, "Have you given Caleb a hint of what you wanted to tell him all these years?"

Your thoughts swirled around an oath you had made to yourself before Caleb had left for work at the Deepspace Aviation Administration — to confess your love to Caleb when he returned. But you had no idea how he'd react. Would he feel the same way? Would it be awkward? You hoped not. You missed him alot. Probably too much you could handle.

You've both grown up seeing each other's flaws and strengths. Nothing was unfamiliar to the two of you. You grew up together as two adopted kids for Gran, living under the same roof and all.

He worried about you alot. Wayyy too much. Even if you guys weren't dating or anything official- everyone else would think otherwise. Gran would even tease the two of you - she was like your number one shipper from the start. Caleb never left you alone and you'd always follow him.

But what if things changed now? What if he changed after working? It's possible maybe he found someone he likes at work?

Someone he didn't need to take care of?

Suddenly the door opened and a familiar voice snapped you out of your daze and your heart skipped a beat.

"Pipsqueak! Gran! Guess whose back!?"

You dump the soap filled dishes back in the sink and jolted out the kitchen startling Gran who laughed at your instictive reaction. Your legs didn't stop until you reached the open door where the purple eyes young man stood gripping unto several gift bags.You launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his torso which caused him to step back as you tackled yourself in a hug.

"Hey Hey hey! You'll break the gifts!" Caleb panicked, his fingers barely holding all the gift bag handles as he held his posture to stand. He smiles as you snuggle into his chest.

"Shut up." I mumbled into his shirt, "Are you saying the gifts are more important than me?"

"Of course not." Caleb laughed, wrapping his arms around you, gifts still in his hands, "But my ribcages are. You're squeezing the air outta me pipsqueak!"

"Hmph!" You shove him aside and fold your arms. By the time, Gran had already entered the room as she pinched his and your cheeks.

"You two never change will you?"

"Nope." You both say in unison but his eyes locks on your (E/C) eyes and you smile at each other for no odd reason.

The dinner was a delightful affair, filled with laughter and Caleb's experience at work. Gran listened with rapt attention, her eyes gleaming with pride as you listened attentively, inspecting each word that left his mouth - you know... in case he let a slip of word of a possible girl he likes back at work.

"Gideon forgot to get his girl some gifts" Caleb explained while chewing a piece of pork chops, "So we went shopping."

"Aw~" You smiled. The thought that Gideon's girlfriend getting spoilt was sweet. She was a nice girl. You only met her once.

Back at Caleb's and Gideon's graduation. She was really pretty and had an adorable and childlike personality. Caleb points to gifts on the couch, "Got a bunch of things for you and Gran, pipsqueak. You haven't even opened one yet."

"I'll open it after dinner."

"You open gifts when you receive it! Maybe you should've opened it when I arrived! There's a bunch of cool pretty stuff!"

"Sorry."

"Haha- But seriously, you better check it out before bed. I took a loooong time hand picking everything for you."

Gran smiled as she watched the two of you. Two of you stared at each other, longingness and comfort in each other's presence. Soon however you realised you were too focused on his lips moving that you weren't listening to a thing.

"Hey (Y/N) ? You good?" He blinked, waving his arm at your face.

"Yeah!" You say flustered and hastily look at the empty plates on the table, "I'll clean up!"

Gran's eyelids grew heavy, she excused herself to bed. Caleb offered to help clean up, his eyes never leaving you.

The moment the door to Gran's bedroom clicked shut, the air in the kitchen changed. The tension between you grew palpable, a silent symphony of desire. Caleb's gaze traveled down your body, taking in your figure and the way the soft light kissed your skin. He had always found you attractive, but tonight you looked absolutely irresistible.

Feeling his gaze sharply runs a tingling sensation up your back as you stood at the sink. You wore a tube top with your mini pajama pants that flared out just bellow your butt. You wore this plenty of times, however, something made you a little nervous about wearing it today.

"That pj... is looking quiet small pipsqueak?" Caleb raised his eyebrow, setting down the bowls, "You better get bigger sizes next time."

"Are you telling me my size is a problem?" You flushed pouting.

"You did gain a bit of weight...pfft" Caleb tried to hold in his laugh which pissed you off. Immediately you grab hold of the washer pipe of the kitchen sink and spray water in his direction. Swiftly he raised his hands causing the water to stay mid air. This annoyed you even more - he was using his gravitational evol!

"Nice try." Caleb smirks. You start chasing him around the kitchen counter while the splashes of water remained mid air.

"You're mean!" You hissed annoyed glaring at Caleb who grinned cheekily.

"How's it my fault you're gaining weight!?"

"I haven't gained weight!"

"Your Hunter uniform probably squeezed everything to perfect shape but that mini pj's ain't cutting pipsqueak. I can clearly see your panties."

"Liar."

"Your (F/C) is flashing for me." He teases, raising his brows amused.

You flushed a shade of red embarrassed. He wasn't lying. You consciously tug at your hem of your pj pants, it was still failing to cover your panties.

"Look at you all conscious now." Caleb teased, "I've seen your panties before. Matter of fact they used to be in the laundry - I remember drying them too."

"CALEB!"

"Hey shush!" Caleb meekly put a finger on his lips, "Grans sleeping."

"Hmph!" You folded your arms defiantly causing him to gush at your cute reaction.

Cheekily, he deactivated his power, causing the water that was in the air to fall on you. Your drenched (H/c) clasped onto your face, as you felt the icy water rush along your skin as you gasped for air at the sudden splash.

His laughter filled the kitchen, your own following soon after. His chest heaved as he calmed down and throws a towel on your head. Casually, like back in your childhood, his fingers massaged into your scalp. The towel tangling strands of your (H/C) hair and he pats your back.

"Let's go to the lounge. I'll dry it off like the good ol' days."

"I'm not a kid anymore." You whined but Caleb was already shoving you towards the lounge.

You huffed in defiance, sinking into the soft sofa and allowed him to continue as he stood behind the sofa.

"Not a kid anymore but you got an attitude like one. Why don' you open the gifts now"

You held your tongue from retorting anything and decided to open it anywhere.

As (Y/N) picked up each gift, your heart raced. What could they be? The anticipation grew with every box she uncovered.

First gift was a novel book - Kitten by S.

"Oooo," You raised an eyebrow, turning the pages, "Have you read the book?"

"Nope." Caleb chimed, "Apparently it's the latest romance novel in Linkon. Author remains anonymous yet owns the biggest library in Linkon. Heard no one's ever seen him."

As I flipped the pages, the breeze smelled faintly of distant lands. I lay it down and dig into the next gift. A stuffed animal that seemed to hold a secret life of its own.

"Awww this is a cutie!" You hold out a mini penguin over your head and Caleb laughs.

"Just like you! " Caleb cheers and puts the towel over his shoulder, "Check the last gift. You're gonna love it!"

Your hand reached out and grabbed a box.

Your cheeks burn embarassed. A sleek, black device, nestled in velvet, that could only be one thing. The room grew still, the only sound the crackle of the fire. You looked up at him, her eyes wide and unsure. Caleb's smile faltered.

"Oh crap-" he said cursing himself as his ears turned red.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 8

Source for pic

Trouble 8

Word Count: 5093

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I am DYING to write the next chapter... just you wait...! Now I need to know each and every one of your thoughts on this, please!

Masterlist

“Roronoa.”

“Cap.” Zoro matches his long strides with Mihawk’s. The hospital beeps sound faintly from the rooms they pass, and nurses hasten their steps to answer some wailing woman two rooms down. 

Mihawk stops abruptly in front of a room, and his amber gaze pierces Zoro's eye. “I know you just got back and barely had any time to rest, but I thought you might want to be present when we interrogate him.”

Zoro nods. It's another one. Another man has shown up with missing limbs and a note. A crime of passion seems far-fetched now. This case and Lucci’s are definitely related. They're too similar to be a coincidence. 

Besides, Zoro doesn't really believe in coincidences. 

“Has someone talked to him already?” Zoro asks as Mihawk’s hand sets on the handle. 

“The doctors haven't let anyone near him yet. And they say he's heavily sedated, so we might not get much out of him for now.” Mihawk is directly involved now, and that alone tells Zoro they are about to treat this case with the level of respect it demands. 

“After you, Cap.”

The door swings back as Mihawk pushes it, and both men stand near the hospital bed. Zoro recognizes the man immediately. He's the store clerk of the grocery shop he usually goes to. 

“Hello. I'm Captain Dracule Mihawk, and this is Officer Roronoa. The nurses told you we were coming, right?” 

The man nods, his eyes glazed over and out of focus. Then he raises his arm as if he’s going to run his fingers through his hair, but groans when his stump hits his forehead instead. 

“I have nothing to say.” He sounds slightly frightened as his voice wavers, with shaky breaths escaping his lips. 

Mihawk ignores him, a scowl forming on his lips. “What do you remember about the person who did this to you?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Any detail is important. Height, build, voice, distinctive features–”

“I have nothing to say!”

Mihawk inhales deeply. Zoro knows his Captain is a very patient man. If he were the one doing the interrogating, he would be shaking the man by his collar right now. Couldn't the man see they were trying to help him? 

“So you were threatened.” It's not a question. It's a mere statement. The man's eyes fill with tears as his chin trembles slightly. 

“What am I supposed to do now? My hands were my job. I can't do my job without my hands!” He sobs, his shoulders sagging. “Not just my job… How am I supposed to live like this? He ruined everything.”

Mihawk places one hand on his shoulder, his hawk-like gaze losing a bit of its edge for a moment. “It's not all lost. You're alive, and that's more than many people can say. We're trying to help you. We want to catch the bastard who did this before they can hurt somebody else. But we need your help to do it.”

The man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he starts talking. He says that it was a man who did this - massive, bulky and really tall. He had a mask covering his face, a hoodie and gloves on, so any detailed description is off the table. He also had a rough voice and immediately threatened him if he shared the details of what happened with the cops. 

“After he… when he… he said to never touch what's his again. I didn't understand what he meant. I was in shock, I guess.” He sighs, his head falling back. “Can you call the nurse? I can't take this pain anymore.”

Mihawk nods, and Zoro turns, ready to leave, but the man isn't done yet. “He had maniacal red eyes and seemed amused by my suffering.” 

The clap of the notebook his Captain had been scribbling on signals they’re done, so Zoro takes another step towards the door while Mihawk thanks the man for his help. But when they’re halfway through the door, he speaks again. 

“I should've listened to her. She said someone was coming for me.”

Her?

“Who are you talking about?” Zoro speaks for the first time, his stomach churning with unease. 

The man shrugs and shakes his head, his chin trembling again as, most likely, the threats the criminal spewed fill his mind. “It's nothing. Nothing. Forget it.”

“Who is she?”

“I said fucking forget it. Leave me alone, I'm done!” 

Zoro grits his teeth, his instincts driving him towards the hospital bed, ready to drill the man with more questions until they get what they came for. But Mihawk’s firm grasp on his shoulder stops him. 

“We'll leave. Rest. Thank you.” They both leave the room, and Zoro growls as soon as the door clicks behind him. 

“He knows more!”

“And you should know when to stop. Let him rest. We'll try again another day.” Mihawk starts walking, and Zoro follows, staying silent when his Captain asks the nurses to check on the man. “I have a feeling this case is just getting started, anyway.”

Mihawk’s foreboding words echo in Zoro's brain all the way back to his car. The creep who's doing this is leaving him uneasy. A feeling of dread tightens his stomach and constricts his heart. 

All he can think about is keeping you safe, and he can't exactly pinpoint why. 

Though it's quite a coincidence that Rob Lucci ogles you and gets his eyes removed, and the store clerk hits on you and gets his hands chopped. Quite a coincidence indeed. 

And Zoro doesn't fucking believe in coincidences. 

-*-

You take your car to Robin's, even though Nami offered to pick you up, knowing how unreliable your old car can be sometimes, because you want to avoid having Zoro bring you home. And, gosh, you want nothing more than to spend time with Zoro, but if you can help it, you'll do whatever’s in your power to keep him from touching you. 

No matter how hard that might be. 

You don't even know how you’re going to get into the right mood to party with your friends. They all have so much energy, and you… don't. At least not right now. 

Briefly, you wonder how many times you’re going to use the ‘I'm just tired’ excuse today, but a buzz from your phone distracts your thoughts. 

Unknown: Remember, Kitten, no one touches what's mine.  Unknown: Behave, be a good girl for me, and I won't be upset.  Unknown: I'm always watching. 

You stuff your phone into your pocket before forcing a fake smile onto your lips and buzzing the doorbell of Robin's apartment. She opens the door with a smile that quickly turns into a frown upon setting her eyes on you. 

Not even all the makeup in the world can disguise the massive bags beneath your eyes, the redness in them, or the frayed look. And even if it could, Robin is your most perceptive friend. 

Still, she doesn't address the matter directly. She simply gives you a tighter hug than usual and whispers in your ear: “You need anything, honey? I won't ask questions, even if it's murder.”

The laugh that bubbles up in your throat is completely genuine, and you feel a little lighter. “Oh, trust me, Robin, I know you're the one to ask! But I'm okay, just tired, I guess.”

That's one. 

“Are you sure? You know I know ways to get rid of a body without getting caught…”

“Nico, I'm right here. I have no qualms about taking your ass to jail, you know?”

He's teasing Robin, but his piercing eye is set on you and you have to bite your lower lip to stifle a sob. Zoro's mere presence exudes safety and all you want to do is rush into his arms and forget everything. Forget about feeling scared, trapped, helpless and useless. 

He's right there. 

“Hey, Troublemaker, making trouble?” Robin smirks, shoves Zoro playfully, and returns to her home, leaving you two alone in the doorway, where Zoro leans casually. You notice his piercing gaze assessing the dishevelled state of your hair, the lack of care with your chosen outfit, the way your hands fidget with the hem of your jacket, and surely the way your lip trembles. 

“Hi. Not today, Zo.” You give him a soft smile along with your chill greeting, but the slight buzz in your pocket alerts you, and reminds you not to push it, so you quickly erase it from your face. 

Zoro's eye widens, and he crosses his arms as his brows scrunch. “Is everything–”

“I'm just tired.”

Two.

“See you inside, I’ve got to go greet our friends.” You try to get past him, but he stretches his arm across the doorway and blocks your path. You inhale a quick breath and are inundated with the smell of steel and his musky scent. Safety. Protection. 

… Home…

“Hey. Talk to me.” He mumbles, reaching and tilting your chin slightly so he can look into your eyes. “You look like you haven't slept in days.”

Bzzzz.

You shake your head both as an answer to his question and to deflect his touch. A quick step away brings your back against the doorway, his arm right next to your face and he leans in, seeing you're trapped. 

“Yeah, I know. Too much farm work, I guess. I'm just–”

“Tired?” That's three. 

You nod. Bzzzz. Then you flinch, and Zoro arches his eyebrow. 

“Talk inside, okay?” And before he says anything else, or does anything else - because it's starting to prove impossible to stay away from him - you duck beneath his arm and scurry inside. 

-*-

What the royal fuck? 

Tired? That's not tired. That's exhausted. You look like you've been through hell and back and, apparently, you don't want to tell him why. 

What's going on? 

Zoro follows you inside and closes the door behind him. He watches as you force a smile on your usually cheery face and greet the rest of your friends. Then he watches as Luffy hugs you tighter than usual - probably noticing your frayed state - and watches you push him away, your hand flying to your pocket. 

You stare at your phone, eyes darting back and forth - reading - then you close them shut with an almost imperceptible shudder, and put the phone back in your pocket. 

What is going on? 

He watches you when you think nobody's watching, and he sees the way your hands tremble as you reach for a sandwich you only nibble on, giving the rest to Luffy. He sees the way your eyes dart around the room and the way you avoid windows, preferring to sit in the middle of the living room and on the floor. 

He's especially interested in whoever is texting you, because you can't seem to let go of your phone. Though the texts don't make you happy. They seem to upset you. 

He also sees the way you avoid the Cook and all his flamboyant attention. He realises that your actions are so thought out, so careful, that you're not even your clumsy self. He sees you struggle, trying to smile and to engage. 

To pretend. 

But mostly, he watches as you actively avoid him all night. 

Something is definitely going on. And he's going to find out what. 

-*-

Unknown: The Vinsmoke is too flirty. Get away from him.  Unknown: You're doing so well, Kitten.  Unknown: Avoiding the cop all night. Look how well-behaved you are. 

The hundredth involuntary shudder assaults you. You're trying. By all that is sacred, you really are trying to be good. 

But you feel watched. Not that usual uneasiness that comes from the creep watching you, no. Sadly, you're already getting used to that dreadful feeling. What you're feeling right now is the piercing gaze of Zoro. He's watching your every move. And all you want to do is gravitate towards him. 

He's right there. 

With a heavy sigh, you collect the empty plate of the food you never touched - thank God for Luffy's unending appetite - and go to the kitchen to set it in the sink. 

“Need help?” Fuck. You just saw Zoro snoozing on the couch. Does he have superpowers or something? Now you're both alone. 

Your heart starts hammering away in your chest as you rinse the plate and set it aside. With a deep, steadying breath, you turn, holding a dish towel in your hands as you dry them. “Thanks, Zoro, I'm all done.”

The smile plastered on your lips feels as fake as the little plastic birds Robin has adorning her windowsill. But you try to sell it as you drop the dish towel and start to move to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“So you're running from me again?”

Shit. 

“What are you talking about, Zo? I'm just heading back, you can come too if you want.” But he doesn't move. And he's blocking the door. 

“Stop lying to me, Trouble. You've been avoiding me all night.” Does he actually sound hurt? “What's going on?”

“I'm just–”

“Don't even think about giving me that crap about being tired. You're not tired. You look like hell.”

Bzzzz.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk.” You try to make light of the matter and get past him to go to the living room, but he grabs your shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

You flinch and shudder, your eyes closing with a gasp. 

“Stop. Talk to me.” You sigh and close your eyes. You want to tell him everything. “Are you still getting those weird gifts? Is that what this is?”

Yes! And so much more! “No, Zoro. The gifts stopped, the person must have given up.” You sigh, the lies coming easier than you would’ve liked them to. “I'm tired. I hate being alone in that big house, and I miss my dad. That's all.” Some truth mixed with the lies might just help you sell them. 

He nods, and his hands squeeze tighter. “I get that. But that doesn't explain why you're running from me.” Bzzzz. You flinch again and roll your shoulders, trying to evade Zoro's touch because you know that's what the texts are sure to be about. “See? Why are you avoiding my touch, Trouble?”

Shit! 

“I'm not.” Wow. That lie wouldn't fool a child. 

“Prove it.” What? You raise your brow, lips curling into a dumbfounded expression. “Let’s finish what we started. Let me kiss you.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

No. God, no. 

You want to. You want this nightmare to come to an end. You want Zoro to kiss you, and to hold you, but mostly, you want him to protect you. To help you crawl out of this miserable rut you got yourself into. 

But you can't. Because you know the texts that await you are all threats to his safety, and you can't risk him. You just can't. 

“I… Zo… I'm not feeling well, another time, maybe.”

You can't bear the hurt in his eyes so you look down, but he doesn't relent. “I thought… I thought we had something. I thought you wanted…” His hands cup your cheeks and he forces you to look at him.  “This.”

You do. God you want all of it. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Zoro leans slowly. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Your throat feels dry, your phone doesn't stop vibrating and there's not enough air in the world to fill your lungs. 

“I did. Before.” You leave it at that and he's so surprised by your answer that you take advantage and slip past him, trying to hold back sobs as you quickly make up an excuse to your friends and leave. 

You shouldn't have come. This was a mistake. You just managed to hurt Zoro. 

Fuck. 

-*-

You don't quite know how you made it home, but you did. Tears kept streaming down your face, and you blinked them away furiously, but reaching home and locking the door behind you doesn't bring the sense of safety it used to. 

Everything is tainted. You don't feel safe anywhere. 

The phone burns a hole in your pocket with its incessant buzzing. Someone called you on your way over, and you bet it was Zoro. You don't dare to look, as you already know there are dozens of texts from your interactions with Zoro tonight. 

He almost kissed you, and he was so adamant in trying to find out what’s wrong with you. Your friends noticed something was up, but the tired excuse worked perfectly with them, whereas with Zoro… 

He didn't buy it for an instant. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“God, just stop!” You screech, your hand clawing at your pocket as you take the device out and turn it off without even glimpsing at any text. You place it with force against the kitchen table and slump in the chair, holding your head tight as sobs claw up your throat. 

You're tired, you are. But it's not just physical. What he's doing to you is much worse. It's torture, and it’s bringing you closer and closer to despair. 

A melodic sound comes from your phone, and you hold your breath, removing your hands from your face as you stare at the bright screen. It turned itself on. 

What? 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: Kitten, don't shut me out. You don't want to anger me any more than you already have. 

You stand up abruptly and widen your eyes, a hand pressing against your mouth as a way to trap the whimper that threatens to escape. Then you turn off the phone again, setting it back down on the table as if the thing were on fire. 

You can count the time passing by the accelerated thrums of your heart hammering against your chest.

The melodic sound chimes again, and you freeze as the screen lights up once more. Its obnoxious light fills up the room as the harbinger of doom itself. 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: That’s strike two, and I’m not amused. Don’t shut me out. I’m not–

This time you turn it off and shove it inside the kitchen junk drawer, amidst corks and can openers, hoping against all hope that this nightmare comes to an end, because how can it continue if you push it out of your sight?

Your stare burns a hole in the drawer, but you don’t hear the melodic jingle of the phone turning on, nor any buzzing. Is it… over?

The sounds of the old house seem amplified as you train your ears on any noise.

Can it actually be this simple?

BANG!

Your scream comes as unannounced as the loud bang that rattled the front door. Grasping the edge of the table with all your might, since your legs gave out from under you, you stare in the direction of the front door.

Then you hear it, clear as day, loud as if it were right next to you: footsteps. Heavy footsteps thump on the porch in a slow, taunting march. It’s him. It has to be him. You feel all your limbs locking up, constricting your breaths.

BANG! 

This time, you press both your hands against your mouth and stifle your cry. He’s right there. Your breath comes out of your nose in loud, rapid bursts, and your head feels light. It’s over. He’s come for you and there’s no escape. 

The footsteps cease, and you take a deep breath as tears drip down your face. Did he give up? 

You're not quite sure how you get the courage to do it, but you approach the front door with very light steps, avoiding the creaking boards of the floor and standing on your tiptoes to try and see through the peephole, even though you’re already dreading what you’ll find once you press your eye against it.

Darkness.

You can’t see anything. Should you turn the porch light on?

BANG!

This time, you can’t contain your loud cry as you fall to the floor. The door rattled right against your touch and your stomach tightens at the thought that there’s just a door separating you from whoever is out there. 

You crawl backwards, deranged sobs leaving you as you curse and plead, not quite sure what to do.

And then, as your back hits the kitchen counter, you know what he wants.

Getting up on shaky legs, you can still hear the pacing outside the door. You’re terrified. Fear makes your limbs congeal, and you shake your hands to try and stop them from trembling. Your fingers fumble with the drawer, and you have to clasp your phone with both hands as you turn it on. 

The melodic ring resounds all around the kitchen, and, as soon as the phone is connected, it buzzes.

Unknown: Good girl.

-*-

Another restless, sleepless night. 

You can’t shake away the fear that he left behind, no matter how much he assured you over texts that he would never hurt you, he just needed to make you learn. You’re a fast learner, he said. You can be good, he added. You just need to be reminded of this now and again.

He kept calling you his, kept saying you’d learn to love him, to call for him, to need him. 

You were so shaken up from the whole ordeal that you threw up whatever meager food you had managed to eat at Robin’s. Then, you locked yourself in your room again, trying to drown out any thoughts of heavy footsteps or threats. 

There was no rest or sleep.

Just paralysing fear and helplessness. You can’t see a way out of this hell. Maybe there really is no escape.

-*-

Saturday comes and goes, and though your friends call, you ignore them. 

Except Zoro doesn’t relent. He calls, and you don’t pick up, so he calls again, and again, and again until you do. 

“I was about to march in there and see if you were alive.” He’s growling, but he still sounds a bit hurt, and you grimace, making yourself smaller against your couch. You’re sitting on the floor, somehow it seems more secluded, safer.

“I’m fine, I’m just sick. I think I caught a cold.” You cough a bit, trying to sell the lie, but at this point, you doubt Zoro actually believes anything you say.

“Right. So, you’re not coming with us to the movies today?”

“Not today.” You sound defeated, exhausted, shaken, and scared. You hope he just thinks you’re as sick as you claim to be. 

“What if I go to you and we watch a movie at your house? I can get the Cook to make you some soup.”

A whimper almost leaves your lips, and you have to take a few extra seconds to compose yourself before answering. 

“It’s okay, Zo. I’m fine. I just need some rest, okay? See you soon.”

And you hang up on him, like the coward you are. 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Kitten, that’s enough indulging the cop. You don’t get to answer any more of his calls. He needs to know you don’t want anything to do with him.

You read the text and drop the phone on the floor next to you, your head falling against your knees as you hug them tighter. You’re numb to all of this now. He controls you, he owns you, and there’s no escape. 

You’re trapped in your own home, cornered in your own life. 

You’re barely surviving. You’re just existing.

And it’s painful as hell.

-*-

The week goes by, and you fall into a numb routine. You get up, throw away whatever gift is waiting for you - sometimes they’re fresh flowers or candy, other times there are dead animals or crumpled flowers - you feed the farm animals, then try to eat something.

The afternoon is spent cowering in fear until you do the rest of the chores. Then, you try to eat something else for dinner after you lock up every inch of the house. You curl into bed in your locked bedroom, cry yourself to exhaustion, and start all over again the next day.

The stalker’s texts are relentless. He praises you and your beauty, your behaviour, and how good you are to him. Then, sometimes, he says you still need to learn, to accept that you’re his, and to understand you will love him back eventually.

And then, there’s Zoro.

He calls, he texts, and he comes knocking at your door. Every single day.

You pretend not to be home when he comes, even though he says he knows you’re home, but you don’t open the door or say anything. And then, he always gets a call from the station, something urgent that comes up, and he needs to go.

You know it’s him orchestrating Zoro’s life as well as yours. And the noose tightens around your neck. 

-*-

Friday comes, and you’re not even strong enough to get out of bed. You’re drained. You ask Ace to help with the animals and stay curled up in bed for the majority of the day. Your phone is strangely silent.

No Zoro.

No stalker.

You fall asleep. A restless sleep born from weariness and depression. Then, you wake up drenched in sweat. It’s almost dark outside, and an ominous feeling grips you in its hold. You try to listen, to hear if there’s anything out of place, any foreign sound that doesn’t belong, but all is quiet.

You check your phone, and there’s nothing there.

Everything feels peculiar and unusual. 

You get up on light feet and have to take an extra minute to steady yourself because your head feels light, and you feel faint from not eating all day. Then, you slowly make your way downstairs. It’s too quiet. Too eerie. 

Something is definitely wrong.

It takes you an extra minute to notice, but when you do, all the breath is knocked out of your lungs. 

There’s a huge, beautiful bouquet of fresh roses in the middle of the kitchen table.

He was inside your home. 

He was inside while you were asleep and vulnerable. He could have been in your room, he could have touched you, he–

Heavy gasps disturb the eerie silence of your home as fat droplets of tears stream down your face. You can’t take this, you can’t. It’s too much, and you’re not strong enough. There’s no way you’ll be able to survive this alone.

You grab your phone and press Zoro’s name, placing the phone against your ear with trembling hands. It’s time to tell him everything.

Except the call doesn’t go through.

“Come on!” You whine, your legs giving out as you fall to the floor, the red from the roses still burning your retinas. You try again. And the call doesn’t go through.

It’s his doing. 

The police. You dial the number and press the phone against your ear, but it disconnects before even ringing. 

“No!” You scream and throw the phone to the floor, getting up hastily and bumping against a chair before your trembling fingers grasp the landline phone. Sobs and hiccups leave your lips, and you don’t even care, You’re so tired, you just want this nightmare to end.

The line’s dead.

A broken, desperate scream climbs up your throat, and you lose track of time as you curl up into a ball and cry some more. 

There’s still someone who can help. Even though asking for his help is the last thing you want to do, maybe it’s exactly what you need to get out of this.

Ichiji.

Determination and a newfound purpose seem to stop your tears from flowing freely, and you grab your phone again, taking a seat on the couch this time, not wanting to stare at the roses anymore and not daring to touch them yet.

The call goes through, and you sigh in relief.

Two rings, and a familiar voice churns your insides. “Well, hello, Doll. This is… unexpected.”

“Ichiji, I need your help.” There’s no use beating around the bush. “I need you to spare me one of your bodyguards.”

The idea hit you like a truck. Ichiji has tons of bodyguards, he can be persuaded to share one, you’re sure of it. Even if you have to owe him something - and you know he’s going to collect - it’s much better than living in this constant fear.

The silence prolongs for a while before he sighs heavily into the phone. When he speaks again, his voice is clipped and monotone. “I would love to help, Doll.” Somehow, you doubt that very much. “But I’m a bit understaffed at the moment.”

“Cut the crap, Ichiji. You have dozens of bodyguards. Each one is better than the last.” It’s true. They’re all elite. Might as well just say he doesn’t want to help you, that you can understand.

“Had.” Another heavy sigh. “I had dozens of the best bodyguards. My best one left around the same time you left me. And half of them followed him out.” He chuckles dryly as the information sets into your tired brain. His best bodyguard?

You remember him vaguely, though the name eludes you, you talked to him on several occasions. Ichiji’s events were boring and dragged on, so you made small talk. He seemed to like what he did and was the best at it. 

“Do you see the chaos you left with your departure, Doll?” This time, you’re the one that sighs. 

“I just need one, Ichiji, please.” How low have you stooped, to be begging the asshole who broke your heart? 

“I can’t. What I’ve got left are mediocre soldiers and a footlong list of threats. I barely feel safe leaving the house. But if you feel so unsafe, maybe you can crawl back to me, Doll, I’m sure I can make arrangements.”

“Goodbye.” You exclaim dryly into the phone before turning off the call. 

A bodyguard was your last hope. The small flicker of light that had turned on. And now you are truly alone. No Zoro, no police. Just you and the stalker.

You turn your head back into the kitchen where the bouquet stands, taunting you with its beauty. He was inside once. He’ll be inside again. 

How long before he hurts you?

You don’t even know when the tears started to flood again, but soon enough, your face is completely wet, and your shoulders shake with every ragged sob. You have never felt this helpless.

You’re trapped.

There’s no way out.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

And he’s come for you.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

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[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise, ch. 1

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2.2k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

a/n: hello! i’m back, i accidentally deleted my blog :( but!!! i am gonna try and repost all the fics i have so if you see any fic that seems familiar it might be mine lol 🫶

next | masterlist

“christ, going to visit my parents was your idea in the first place, don’t put this on me” your boyfriend lamented, sighing and folding his arms across his chest like a child. 

your hands gripped the steering wheel with an audible squeak from the leather along with you gritting your teeth to avoid a number of profanities from slipping out. your boyfriend, nathan, had complained for months that you were never interested in his life, or that you hadn’t seemed as invested in the relationship as he was. never mind the fact that you would plan every date, or that he forgot your birthday and went out with friends instead, leaving you alone at home with a pint of ice cream. 

being the good girlfriend you were, you suggested a road trip to go visit his parents, something you supposed you both wanted. you were dead wrong, apparently. the moment you brought it up, he seemed more ambivalent than happy about it and come the day of the trip, he dragged his feet all the way. 

so now here you were, driving your car along the english countryside, because his was too nice to drive on all these dirt roads. 

“nathan, i was trying to do something nice, for the both of us, and all i asked was that you some snacks for the way.” 

he rolled his eyes, huffing with contempt, “yeah. and i did, for me. i figured you were getting your own stuff.” 

you looked up to the roof of the car, muttering a silent prayer to whatever gods could hear. “fine, it’s fine. i don’t even care anymore, i.. i guess i should have clarified, i’m sorry.” 

he just muttered some incoherent complaints and looked out the window. you sighed slightly and took the silence to allow yourself to admire the countryside rolling by in peace. the hills covered in lush, green grass, cows dotting the landscape. you could almost imagine living here, waking up to the sound of birds chirping for once instead of someone shouting bloody murder outside your flat’s window. 

you smiled softly at the idea of walking outside onto the dewy lawn with your bare feet and not having to worry about some junkie leaving behind a used syringe. the daydream was interrupted by your boyfriend shouting your name. the front of the car had started smoking, plumes of grey billowing out from under the hood. 

“shit!” you cried out, braking suddenly and jolting the two of you slightly in your seats. 

“the hell is wrong with your car?” nathan asked, looking over at you with a glare. 

“i- i don’t know. it was perfectly fine yesterday and i took it to the shops a couple of months ago for a checkup. do you mind checking under the hood?” you looked over at him. 

he looked slightly taken aback at that, “me? i don’t know about cars, besides, it’s not my car that’s gone and killed itself. why don’t you go check?” 

you supposed you couldn’t argue with his logic, it was your car after all, but you still scowled slightly as you put the car in park and popped the hood. you opened the door and stepped out, looking at nathan in the passenger seat, who took about .5 seconds of worrying before looking at his phone again. 

you let out a frustrated grunt and stomped over to the front of the car, pulling up the hood. the smoke immediately rose up to meet your face and you waved it away, coughing and grimacing. after a moment of wafting away the smoke, you were finally able to look over your engine and.. all of that other stuff. 

yeah, you knew nothing about cars. 

you thought that maybe talking a look under the hood would automatically make you a mechanic, but apparently that’s not true. pulling out your phone, you tried to look up on google something along the lines of “my car is smoking. what do i do?” but you had not a singular bar. 

groaning slightly, you shut your phone off and began to shut the hood and give up when you heard the crunch of gravel behind you. turning to look, you saw a beat-up old truck heading your way, stopping at the edge of the grass where you had pulled off the road. 

you looked between the truck and your car where your boyfriend sat in the front seat, not even looking up from his phone, probably too busy playing clash of clans or some dumb shit like that. 

what if whoever was in the truck was a serial killer or something and your boyfriend was too busy playing subway surfers to even notice you getting kidnapped? 

you swallowed nervously as the door of the truck swung open with a loud squeak. out stepped a man that made you swallow for an entirely different reason. 

he had dark brown hair and a thick, well-maintained beard. his bright blue eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled warmly at you, something so easy about the way he smiled that had your knees buckling. and if they did, then he could easily catch you with his arms, tanned and muscular, the arms of a man who spent his life working in some kind of physical labor. 

“engine trouble?” he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling thing that made your brain go fuzzy. 

“oh.. uh, yeah, maybe? i don’t know for sure. the car just started smoking so i pulled over to look at it” you said, finding it hard to talk with your mouth having gone dry. the sound of a car door opening and the sight of your boyfriend stepping out made your face fall slightly. 

you have a boyfriend, right. almost forgot because you were too busy imagining those arms wrapped around- nathan speaking broke you out of your thoughts. 

“who are you?” he asked, in a tone that made you wince. looking over at the stranger though, it didn’t even seem like he flinched at nathan puffing up his feathers. 

“i’m john, nice to meet you,” john put out his hand for nathan to take. which he did, hesitantly, grimacing slightly at the force john used. 

“right, i’m nathan.” he eyes flicked over to you, “not gonna introduce your bird?” 

your cheeks flushed, “oh, uh, yeah” you stuttered uselessly before telling him your name. 

“beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he winked at you. your mouth fell agape slightly  and nathan inhaled a sharp breath, “what do you want, man? we got this handled.” when john’s eyes flicked back to nathan they hardened ever so slightly, even though he still sported a grin on his face. 

“just thought i’d offer my help, i mean, it doesn’t seem like you know what you’re doing if you’re making your girl do all the work.” 

at that, nathan’s face contorted with rage and he took a step towards john, whose grin only widened at that. after a second to process what happened, you immediately stepped in front of nathan, pressing your hands to his chest, “babe, stop. he’s- he’s just joking, right?” you looked pointedly to john, waiting for him to back you up. you knew it would only end badly if nathan wasn’t calmed down, not because nathan was going to hurt the stranger but because you definitely knew nathan wouldn’t stand a chance against him. 

glancing between you and your boyfriend, john relented, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to offend you. i was just joking.” looking back to nathan, you noticed his nostrils flare slightly in discontent but he backed down. 

“yeah, well, don’t do it again,” nathan huffed. you relaxed slightly, letting your hands slip down from his chest to by your sides again. 

“look, i’ll make it up to you. i can tow your car to the nearest mechanic. i happen to know the guy and he can give you a friends and family discount” john said, eyes glancing between you and your boyfriend. 

nathan eyed him suspiciously for a second but then nodded, “alright, fine.” john then looked to you and it took a moment before you realized he was waiting for your input. “oh! i didn’t realize you were asking me too. yes, of course, thank you, that’d be wonderful” you said hurriedly. nathan shot you a dirty look when john turned around to go grab some equipment from his truck, 

“what the hell was that?” he hissed. “was what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant. “you, practically starry-eyed, looking at him. acting as if your boyfriend wasn’t standing right there” he glared at you. “i.. i wasn’t starry-eyed” you said softly, it was a weak defense but you couldn’t help but think he was right. a random man off the road looks at you for more than five seconds and you’re already on your back with your belly up for scratches. “whatever, we can talk about this after the car gets fixed.” 

after john secured the straps between the cars he admitted that he only had so much seat space in his truck and that one person was going to have to stay in your car for the ride there. suffice to say, nathan wasn’t happy about that. 

“can’t we both sit in the car?” he practically whined. 

john shrugged, “i guess so, but there’s no use in adding any more weight to the amount i’m towing, takes unnecessary risk, right?” 

nathan’s lip twitched in annoyance but he couldn’t really find a reason to argue with him, “fine, i’ll sit in the truck with you.” 

john looked amused at that, “making your girl sit in the car all by herself? it’s really none of my business but-“”fine! she can sit up front with you, then. jesus,” nathan said, throwing up his arms and practically stomping his way over to the car. 

you winced as he slammed the car door shut and looked apologetically over at john, 

“sorry, he’s just.. stressed.” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “stressed, right.” 

you bit the inside of your cheek at john’s obvious lack of belief but said nothing else to persuade him, it wouldn’t do any good. the truck door squeaked open as john opened the passenger side for you, gesturing with his other hand, “in you get, sweetheart.” 

you blushed slightly at his casual use of pet names, muttering a small thank you as you got in. john shut the door and then got in on his side, sliding across the worn leather bench, his warm thighs practically pressing against yours. he wasn’t lying, the seating in here was limited and you couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if nathan had tried to ride up here with the two of you. 

you’re honestly surprised he didn’t. something about john made you want to listen to him, and you could guess that even though nathan was stubborn, he subconsciously felt the same way. 

“so, where were you headed? doesn’t seem like you’re from around here” he broke the silence. 

“oh, uh, nathan’s parents’ house, he hasn’t seen them in a while, and we figured it was time for me to meet them since we’re coming up on our third anniversary,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap. 

“ah, the in-laws” he chuckled lightly. 

“oh, me and nathan we’re not- i mean, we’re just dating right now. not engaged or anything.” 

“three years and he hasn’t put a ring on that pretty finger? hm.” john frowned. 

“nathan wants to take it slow. he doesn’t want to rush into anything,” you said, but it felt more like an automated response than something you actually agreed with. sure, there was nothing wrong with taking your time but anytime you brought up marriage or anything like that, nathan would get all defensive. it happened enough that you just stopped bringing it up altogether, and you hadn’t realized until now how much that had hurt you. 

“sorry, i overstepped, didnt’t i? laswell’s always telling me i need to stop interrogating people, but old habits die hard.” 

“you were in the military, then?” in hindsight you should have guessed something like that, from the way he stood with perfect posture or how he spoke from a place of authority, was likely an officer of some kind. 

“yes ma’am, special forces. i served my time, but now i’m retired and trying to put it all behind me.” 

you nodded along, “but old habits die hard” you said the words he left hanging in the air. 

“exactly” he smiled over at you, making you melt into the seat. 

collecting yourself, you cleared your throat then asked, “so what do you do now?” 

“ah, inherited a bit of land from my grandad on my mum’s side. decided that when i retired, i would move to the countryside and start a farm.” 

you laughed to yourself imagining him chasing around an escaped chicken but quickly stifled it behind your hand. he furrowed his eyebrows but looked at you more quizzically than the scalding expression nathan would have given you, 

“and what’s so funny about that, miss?” 

you shook your head, “nothing, really. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh at you.” 

“no need to apologize, i like seeing you laugh” he said, something that slipped so casually from his lips it almost startled you. 

“thank you” you murmured, looking out the window to hide your flushed cheeks. just in time to save your embarrassment, john slowed the truck to a stop outside a small mechanic shop that read ‘tav and riley repairs.’

taglist: (sorry for tagging you guys again but i just wanted to lyk what’s up with the fic, i won’t tag you again til ch 5 is up)

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@skeletonsucker

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ synopsis: you’ve been visiting doctor nanami regularly under the pretense of needing treatment, but your lingering presence in his office starts to shift into something more. as flirtation deepens into real connection, nanami struggles to keep his distance, even though he can’t deny the pull he feels toward you.

₊˚ෆ teddy’s notes: GUYSSS ITS FINALLY HEREE!!! ive been working on this for a while now, thus is a love letter to nanami from me because ugh he is a dream. its just that ive been practicing in hospitals a lot and there was not enough beautiful male doctors so ive been daydreaming about doctor nanami and started writing it about 2 months ago. it took a long time because i was having a hard time writing, honestly. anyways! enjoyyy <33

₊˚ෆ contains: 4697 words, doctor! nanami, gender neutral reader, minor descriptions of injuries, a lot of nanami’s thoughts and internal conflicts, and maybe slow burn-ish? dunno, its just a silly one shot. artist credited in the banner!!

the hospital was quieter than usual. the hum of fluorescent lights above, the distant chatter of the staff—everything seemed muted as nanami kento walked down the sterile corridor. he had long learned to appreciate the calm of late-night shifts. in his world, filled with chaos and unpredictability, the silence was a reprieve.

when he walked into the examination room, clipboard in hand, he didn’t expect anything unusual. it was supposed to be just another routine visit, another night spent stitching up cuts or treating minor injuries. he hadn’t expected to be confronted with you.

you were sitting on the examination table, your hand bandaged up, looking like you had a thousand other places you’d rather be. nanami’s eyes immediately flicked to the injury. a small, superficial cut. barely worth a second glance. but there was something about you—something that felt out of place in the typical ebb and flow of hospital life.

when your eyes met his, nanami didn’t know why he lingered on your face. there was a softness in your gaze, an energy that seemed to pull him in. it wasn’t just the usual patient—uninjured, pretending to be hurt. no, you were different. he could see it in the way you carried yourself, in the subtle way your lips curved upward when he spoke.

“i understand you’ve injured yourself?” he asked, his voice steady and professional, but there was an edge to it. he was trying to suppress whatever curiosity had sparked in him the moment he laid eyes on you.

you didn’t seem fazed by the sterile setting, or his no-nonsense demeanor. instead, you smiled faintly, a little sheepish as you held out your hand, showing him the tiny cut that barely needed attention.

“it’s nothing, really. just a scrape,” you said, and he raised an eyebrow, assessing the injury once more. it was minor—nothing to worry about—but your insistence made it seem like something else was going on.

“hmm.” he bent closer, his fingers brushing against your hand as he cleaned the wound with a swift and practiced motion. his eyes flickered over the bandage, then met yours again. “it’s not serious. but we’ll clean it up anyway.”

he didn’t expect it to happen, but he felt a small ripple of something within him as he worked. it wasn’t just the touch, though that was part of it. it was something in the way you were watching him, your gaze unwavering, full of quiet intensity. he almost forgot for a moment why he was here. he could hear your breath, slow and steady, almost like the air around you had shifted.

when he finished, he didn’t say much—just the usual instructions, the reminder to keep it clean, change the bandage. but there was something in the air between the two of you that lingered after he stepped back.

you were still looking at him, a faint smile on your lips, like there was something unspoken. something that made his heart skip just a little.

“thanks.” you said, your voice soft. too soft.

nanami couldn’t explain it, but as you spoke those words, he couldn’t help the thought that had started to form in his mind: why did you feel familiar? it was a strange thought, one he quickly dismissed.

before he could say anything, you were gone, slipping out of the room without another word, leaving nanami to stare after you. there was a lingering feeling, something unidentifiable, that stayed with him long after you had left the room.

—

he’d spent the last few years working here, and by now, he was used to the quiet rhythm of night shifts. routine was something he had long ago embraced, finding comfort in the predictable flow of patients and paperwork. but then came you—the one anomaly in his perfectly balanced life.

the first time you returned, nanami had thought little of it. patients came and went, most of them with complaints so trivial that it barely warranted attention. but when you stepped through the door again, with that same half-apologetic smile, that same determined gleam in your eyes, something in him shifted. he wasn’t sure what it was yet, but there was a curiosity brewing inside him that he couldn’t shake.

“back again, i see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. he glanced at the bandage on your hand from the previous week. the sight of it reminded him of how gentle he had been with you—how soft his touch had felt compared to the usual brusque motions he used with patients.

this time, you were a little more direct. “well, you know me,” you said, holding your arm out like it was offering up some tragic tale. “i can’t seem to keep my balance lately. bumped into the corner of a table.” you made a show of wincing as though it was a severe injury, but the way your eyes gleamed suggested otherwise.

nanami raised an eyebrow. another injury? he couldn’t help but feel a small, skeptical tug in his chest. but, as always, he hid it behind the professionalism he was known for. his gaze dropped to your arm, and as his fingers gently pressed against the bruise, he felt the subtle tension that always seemed to be there when you were around. it wasn’t just the touch—though that was certainly part of it. it was the way you looked at him. your eyes always lingered just a little longer than necessary, and nanami couldn’t ignore how it made his heart flutter.

he adjusted his glasses, his fingers still lightly brushing over the bruise. “it’s minor,” he said, his voice a little less dismissive than usual. “you’re fine. just take it easy for a couple of days.”

you were clearly enjoying the attention, despite the trivial nature of the injury. “i suppose i’ll just have to rest,” you said, a playful lilt in your voice. “though, i don’t know how i’m going to manage without your expert care.”

the compliment wasn’t lost on him. it wasn’t that nanami couldn’t handle the flirtation—it was that it made him feel something he wasn’t used to. something soft. he let out a quiet sigh and gave you a side glance. “you’re impossible.”

but the words didn’t have their usual bite. instead, there was a trace of amusement in his tone, an unexpected crack in his professional armor. and you noticed it. of course, you did.

—

the next week, you were back again. this time, with a slightly more elaborate tale about twisting your ankle while jogging. he didn’t even bother asking if it was true—he already knew. it was another excuse. another reason for you to seek him out.

but, as usual, nanami couldn’t bring himself to push you away. he couldn’t explain it. there was something magnetic about you—something that kept drawing him in no matter how many times you made up some new injury. maybe it was the way you looked at him when you walked into the room, like you were waiting for him to see through the act. maybe it was how you teased him so effortlessly, as though you knew exactly what buttons to push to get under his skin.

this time, you’d pulled a muscle in your leg. the bruise on your ankle wasn’t as bad as you claimed, but you made sure to exaggerate the tenderness as you sat down on the exam table.

“do you need help getting up?” nanami asked, though he had already seen you walk in with ease, so he knew it wasn’t as bad as you made it sound.

you tilted your head, your smile a little more mischievous. “only if you’ll carry me.”

nanami blinked, the words catching him off guard. but he couldn’t hide the slight shift in his expression—just a subtle tightening around his jaw, an almost imperceptible flush in his cheeks.

you were relentless, weren’t you?

he cleared his throat. “i’m not in the habit of carrying patients,” he said, though even to his own ears, his voice lacked the usual firmness.

“i bet you’d make an exception for me,” you replied, your smile only deepening as you leaned back, clearly enjoying the effect your words had on him. there was a glint of something playful—and yet, something deeper—in your gaze.

for a moment, nanami didn’t know how to respond. he wasn’t accustomed to this. you weren’t just another flirtatious patient; you were different. you’d burrowed your way into his thoughts, disrupted his routine in a way he couldn’t explain.

with a soft sigh, nanami knelt in front of you, his hands firm but gentle as he took your ankle in his grip. you met his gaze directly, not backing down. and why should you?

he started to work, massaging the muscle in your leg, his movements slow and methodical. but even as his hands worked, a part of him was aware of the connection that had formed between the two of you. it wasn’t just the act of caring for you—it was something deeper. something unspoken, but there, just under the surface.

“i’m not going to keep letting you get away with this,” he muttered under his breath. but you heard it, of course, and it made you smile.

“you’re not supposed to keep me out of here,” you said teasingly, leaning back slightly, still watching him with that knowing look. “i think you secretly enjoy our time together.”

nanami stopped for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, something flickering between you. he let out a quiet breath, resisting the pull you had on him. “you’re a handful,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice now, something he hadn’t intended to let slip.

—

over the weeks, it became harder to ignore the tension that had grown between you two. nanami’s professional mask remained intact most of the time, but he couldn’t help but let it slip more often when you were around. your teasing had evolved into something deeper—flirtation wrapped in softness, words said with intention. you began to linger a little longer after your so-called “injuries” had been treated, finding ways to stay near him, just to be in the same space.

one evening, as he was finishing up his shift, nanami found himself unexpectedly drawn to your presence in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. you were sitting in his office, your legs crossed, looking completely at ease as though you belonged there.

“you’re here again,” he said, though there was no surprise in his voice anymore. he had come to expect it.

you glanced up from your phone, meeting his gaze with that easy smile that never failed to catch him off guard. “can’t stay away from you.”

he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, a sound that surprised even him. you really are impossible, he thought. but damn if you don’t make things interesting.

you didn’t say anything else, but your presence was enough. the room felt charged, like something was hanging in the air between you both. nanami shifted slightly, adjusting his glasses. he wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from his shift or the way you made him feel, but tonight, he felt something he hadn’t before—a pull toward you that he couldn’t deny.

when you stood to leave, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm just for a moment. the touch was light, but it sent a ripple through him. his breath caught in his throat as he glanced at you. your face was serious, no longer playful.

“i’ll be back next week,” you said, your voice steady, almost as if it was a promise.

before he could respond, you were gone.

—

the days between your visits had always felt like routine to nanami—filled with the usual responsibilities, patients, paperwork, and the monotony of hospital life. but ever since you’d entered his world, there was a subtle shift in his thoughts. your presence had become a part of his daily rhythm, even when you weren’t physically there.

he found himself wondering, during his quiet moments between patients, about your smile, the way you always seemed to know how to tease him just right, how you made him feel something he hadn’t experienced in a long time: disarmed. even now, in the midst of yet another late-night shift, he couldn’t stop thinking about the touch of your hand on his arm—the warmth of it lingering long after you’d left.

and that was when he realized something. he didn’t want you to stop coming. there, he’d said it to himself, even if he wasn’t willing to say it out loud just yet.

—

nanami was still processing his thoughts from the last time you’d left, still unsure of how much of it was just you—and how much was his own reaction to you. but when he saw you walk through the door the next week, with a familiar glint in your eye and that same teasing smile, he knew exactly what was happening.

you didn’t waste time this time—there was no exaggerated tale of injury. instead, you came straight to the point, your eyes mischievous as you stood before him. “i didn’t want to be too dramatic today, but…”

nanami glanced up from his paperwork, his brows furrowing slightly. “but?”

you didn’t say anything for a moment. instead, you stepped closer, placing your hand on his desk—just close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin. “i was hoping you might have time for me,” you said softly, voice quiet and seductive, a slight catch to it as if you weren’t entirely sure of his response. it was almost vulnerable in a way that took him by surprise.

for a heartbeat, nanami couldn’t say anything. his heart pounded in his chest as you stood there, so close to him that he could smell the soft fragrance of your perfume, feel the heat coming off your skin. he knew you weren’t here for an injury this time—not really. you had found your way back to him in a way that felt almost too intimate.

he cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses nervously. “i’m not sure what you expect from me, but if you’re here for another injury…”

you shook your head, a teasing smile spreading across your face. “no injuries today, dr. nanami. just… a little company.”

the quiet weight of your words hung between you two. you were persistent, and while nanami had originally assumed it was some harmless flirtation, something had shifted. he couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing you, spending time with you, had become something he secretly looked forward to.

he sighed, leaning back in his chair, and studied you for a long moment. he couldn’t quite put into words the feeling he had when you were around. maybe it was the way you made him feel seen, or the way you slowly peeled away his layers with every encounter. whatever it was, nanami knew he was walking a dangerous line, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“alright,” he said, voice low and resigned, but there was a soft undercurrent to it. “i’ll make time for you, then.”

you smiled, that playful glint in your eyes flickering with satisfaction. “thank you, kento,” you whispered, the softness in your voice almost like a secret only the two of you shared.

—

over the following weeks, the line between patient and something more blurred further. the flirtation, once lighthearted and innocent, had evolved into something more serious, something more significant. you found reasons to spend time with nanami not just for medical attention but for the connection between the two of you that had been quietly simmering under the surface.

sometimes, you’d linger in his office after your injuries had been treated, talking about your day, your life, or just sharing a quiet moment together. the conversations started to stretch longer, more intimate, and nanami noticed that he began to enjoy the sound of your voice. he began to learn little things about you—things that made his heart stir. your laugh, the way you crinkled your nose when something amused you, the soft hum you made when you were thinking.

he learned that you were always too hard on yourself, that you’d been through a lot in your life, but never let it show. he noticed the vulnerability in the way you’d look at him sometimes, as though you were waiting for him to notice. and for once, nanami didn’t feel the need to maintain his distance. he didn’t want to push you away.

but every time you flirted with him, he remained cautiously reserved, not quite allowing himself to fully lean into it. there was always a part of him that held back—the part that reminded him this wasn’t a good idea. he wasn’t supposed to fall for patients. but damn it, you made it impossible not to.

one evening, you came in as usual, this time with a strained smile on your face. “no injuries today,” you said, as though that was a small victory. “i just wanted to talk. if you have the time, of course.”

nanami glanced up from the paperwork he was working on. for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel frustrated by the interruption. he felt… relieved, even. you weren’t here for an injury. you were just here to be with him.

“of course,” he said quietly, setting his papers aside. his gaze softened as he met your eyes. this is what i’ve been waiting for, he realized—this unspoken connection, these moments where it wasn’t about injuries or excuses. it was about the two of you.

you took a seat in the chair across from him, your gaze unwavering as you leaned forward slightly, the intensity in your eyes making his pulse quicken. “you know, i’ve been thinking about something.”

nanami raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what about?”

your lips curved into a small, secretive smile, and you didn’t immediately answer. instead, you simply reached out, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead in an unexpectedly intimate gesture.

“you’re always so serious, nanami,” you said softly, the tenderness in your voice disarming him. “i think you should smile more.”

the simplicity of your words struck him in a way he hadn’t expected. he didn’t know why, but hearing you say that made something inside him shift. the tension he’d been carrying for weeks—the anxiety about getting too close to you—began to loosen.

nanami didn’t know how to respond at first. he was always so reserved, so careful about everything, but when he met your eyes again, there was an openness there that hadn’t been there before. he allowed himself a small smile, just for you.

“i’ll try,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

you leaned forward a little, your eyes bright. “good. because i’d like to see it more often.”

and with that, nanami realized the truth. he wanted to see more of you, too. more than just a patient. more than just the soft teasing and gentle flirtation. he wanted something real, something that neither of you had admitted yet, but that was undeniably there.

—

the surgery had been long and exhausting—hours spent under harsh, fluorescent lights, his focus sharp as he assisted the lead surgeon with meticulous care. it was the kind of work nanami was used to—demanding, grueling, but also strangely satisfying in its precision. his hands ached, his body was stiff, and his mind begged for rest as he made his way back to his office in the quiet hours of the night.

he wasn’t expecting much. just the usual—silence, paperwork he didn’t want to deal with, and perhaps, if he were lucky, a cup of tea from the breakroom. what he wasn’t expecting was you.

at first, he didn’t notice you. his office was dimly lit, the desk lamp casting soft shadows across the room. he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of his chair, and ran a hand through his hair, loosening his tie. his mind was already moving ahead—thinking of the report he needed to finish and the notes he had to add to the patient’s chart.

then he heard it: the soft, steady sound of breathing. his movements stilled. slowly, he turned toward the examination table, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. and there you were, lying curled up on the table, your chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm, your head resting on your folded arms.

for a moment, nanami simply stood there, frozen in the doorway. his heart gave a strange, unfamiliar lurch in his chest, an ache spreading through him that he couldn’t quite name.

you waited for me.

the thought startled him. he wasn’t sure if it was disbelief or something deeper, something warmer, that coursed through him at the realization. he knew you were bold—your shameless flirting over the past few weeks had proven that—but this? waiting for him after hours, in his office, without even an excuse of an injury to justify your presence? it was reckless, but also… endearing.

his steps were quiet as he approached you, his gaze softening despite himself. you looked so peaceful in sleep, the sharpness of your wit replaced by a vulnerability he wasn’t used to seeing. his fingers twitched at his side, tempted to brush away the strand of hair that had fallen across your face. he resisted, though the thought lingered.

he stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. his rational mind told him to wake you gently, to send you on your way, to maintain the boundaries he’d worked so hard to uphold. but something inside him—the part he’d been suppressing for weeks—kept him rooted in place.

it wasn’t just your presence that struck him. it was what it represented. you stayed. for me.

nanami finally allowed himself to exhale, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. he leaned forward, resting a hand lightly on the edge of the table, and called your name softly.

your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused at first. when they landed on him, a slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips.

“nanami…” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness.

his chest tightened at the sound of his name on your lips. he cleared his throat, forcing himself to adopt his usual professional tone. “what are you doing here? you shouldn’t be—”

“i waited for you,” you interrupted, sitting up slowly. you stretched your arms, blinking as if trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “i just… wanted to see you.”

your words hit him harder than they should have. he didn’t respond right away, his mind caught between the rational urge to lecture you and the growing warmth spreading through his chest.

“you shouldn’t have waited,” he said finally, his tone softer than he intended. “it’s late, and you should be resting.”

you smiled again, this time wider, the teasing glint he’d grown used to returning to your eyes. “i couldn’t rest. not until i saw you.”

nanami felt his resolve cracking, the careful walls he’d built around himself beginning to crumble under your gaze. he tried to focus on the clinical details—the faint redness in your cheeks from sleeping on your arm, the way your fingers fidgeted slightly against the edge of the table. but all of it only made you more real, more tangible, and it was becoming harder to maintain the distance he’d fought so hard to keep.

“you…” he hesitated, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“why not?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “it’s the truth. i like being around you, nanami. is that so bad?”

his breath hitched. he wanted to say yes—that it was bad, that it was unprofessional, that it was crossing a line he wasn’t supposed to cross. but the words wouldn’t come.

instead, he found himself stepping closer, the space between you shrinking until he could see every detail of your face—the way your eyes searched his, the way your lips parted slightly as if waiting for him to speak.

“it’s not bad,” he said finally, his voice low, almost like he was admitting something to himself. “but… it’s complicated.”

you smiled softly, undeterred. “complicated doesn’t scare me.”

nanami exhaled, his gaze dropping for a moment as though weighing his next words carefully. “it should,” he murmured, the faintest crack of vulnerability slipping into his tone. “i don’t know if i can give you what you’re looking for.”

you didn’t hesitate. “what if i’m not looking for anything specific? what if i just… want you?”

the words struck him like a blow, harder than he anticipated. his breath hitched as he raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for the usual teasing glint in your gaze. but there was none this time—no hint of mischief or lighthearted charm. only sincerity.

he swallowed hard. you made it sound so simple, so easy, as if he weren’t a man weighed down by his own doubts, his own careful walls. he’d spent weeks trying to convince himself that this was a passing infatuation, something fleeting on your part. but now, faced with the raw honesty in your voice, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

“i…” he started, his voice faltering. he looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried to collect himself. “you don’t understand how difficult i can be. i’m set in my ways. i work late hours. i’m not the type of man to make grand gestures or say the right things.”

“i don’t need grand gestures,” you said, your tone quiet but firm. “and i like the way you are—your quiet, your seriousness, your care.” you hesitated for a moment, your expression softening as you added, ���nanami, i know what i’m saying. i’m not scared of who you are.”

something inside him gave way, the weight of your words pressing against the walls he’d built around his heart. for the first time in years, he felt seen—not just for what he could do, not just for the roles he fulfilled, but for the man beneath it all.

his hand moved almost unconsciously, reaching out to yours. when his fingers brushed against yours, he felt the faintest tremor in his chest, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“i don’t deserve this,” he said softly, almost as if to himself.

your fingers curled around his, steady and sure. “you do.”

and that was it. the last thread of resistance snapped. he stepped closer, his free hand rising to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“i’m not good at this,” he warned, his voice low, rough with emotion.

“then let me show you how,” you whispered, your voice a promise and a plea all at once.

before he could second-guess himself, nanami closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deliberate and slow, but no less fervent. his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer as if he were afraid you might slip away.

you kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands clutching at his shirt as if to anchor yourself. the quiet of the room was broken only by the sound of your breathing, the world narrowing down to the press of his lips against yours and the warmth of his touch.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. “this… this scares me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw. “then let’s be scared together.”

a quiet laugh escaped him, a rare, unguarded sound that softened the lines of his face. and for the first time in what felt like forever, nanami allowed himself to let go of the doubt, the fear, and the weight of his own expectations.

because in this moment, with you in his arms, it didn’t feel so complicated after all.

thank you for reading this! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[keyaho]

Okay! So here is what I've thought of!

First, its a fluff and smut type request. Very domesticated scene, getting ready for work together with healthy banter and then the heavy making out starts and heavy - and I mean HEAVY - groping or petting…i don't really know the proper term LOL. After that, Terry gives her a cute little tap and on the ass and he tells his girl, “ go kill em” or something like that. Like leaves her hot and bothered the rest of the day😂

Second, is Terry in a relationship with a girl who's never lost her virginity, cause same, and him being the gentle giant he is, talks about it with her and they get it on. There is no representation for us virgins out here 😂. Idk if you can write that in 3k - 4k words tho I'll literally accept anything lol.

Goodnight!♥️

Let's Do It

.summary: While getting ready for work Michelle gets into a make-out with her boyfriend Terry. .paring: virgin!reader x Terry Richmond

Clingy. 

Terry Richmond was clingy. Especially when he was off work. Michelle was trying to step into her pants when Terry walked up on her; sweat low on his hips, hand tucked under his shirt as he rubbed his stomach. His tongue had darted out to lick his thick lips, distracting Michelle long enough to not realize how close he was until he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She looked at him in the mirror. Standing by the foyer she was about ten minutes from walking out the side door to her car in their covered garage. 

"Just because you're off doesn't mean you can make me late,' she smiled, turning her head to look at him. 

She had heard him call out ten minutes ago. He was probably one of the best instructors at the dojo he taught jiu jitsu at. It was very rare he took days off considering the price people were paying him to teach their children. 

"You sure?" He says before turning her around. 

His lips found hers and what she thought was a quick kiss so she could be out the door turned into her panting and clinging to him as he backed her against the wall.  His hands were rough; yanking and pulling one her clothes like he wanted to talk them off. She breathed in and he attacked her mouth with his tongue, plunged it across her until she was a whimpering and wet mess. He'd never kissed her this way before. Michelle wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her nails scratched at the back of his head. 

"You're right,' he said while pulling away. 

Swollen lips parted as he picked up her lunch bag and keys. He passed them to her and led her to the door, his hand rubbing down her back as he kissed the side of her head. 

"You can not just do that,' she replied breathlessly, "just kiss me and send me off." 

Terry chuckled, walking her barefoot to her car. He opened her door and as she was sliding in, his hand graced her ass with a few love taps. 

"Have a good day, baby." He closed the door whale Michelle sat in the drivers seat with her arms folded and a pout on her glossed lips. She rubbed her thighs together and looked up at him as she felt the damp panties rubbing against her sex. His fault. His brow raised and she  quickly started the car, pulling out of the garage as Terry watched, giving her a small wave and smirk.

She arrived at work fifteen minutes later with a text from Terry.

[ big ears ] :: I can't wait 'til you get home so I can tear that cherry out

She was barely back home when Terry hoisted her up over his shoulder and carried her to their bedroom.

"Take out is coming in about two hours,' he says, plopping her down on the bed. "So, I have about an hour and a half for my appetizer."

Michelle whimpered out a soft please. Another orgasm rippled through her arched body as Terry sucked on her swollen clit. His arms were heavy on her thighs as he held her open. At his mercy she could only grab the sheets with one hand and the back of his head with the other. He pulled away and flicked his tongue against the swollen flesh surrounding her clit. Puffy, he hummed against her supple flesh while finding fun in pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers. 

He had given her a ten minute massage before his mouth was sucking bruises into her back and shoulders, marking her in places only he got to see. Terry played her body like an instrument, strumming her clit like strings on a guitar, using his fingers like a pick against her nipples until her mouth let out the most melodic of moans. His own symphony he got to conduct. His wet lips smacked against pliable flesh as Michelle pressed against his head for relief. 

“Wait,’ she said, ‘oh……fuck, Terry.”

He pulled her clit into his mouth again and sucked. The pressure was building and she began to rock her hips back and forth on his mouth. 

“That’s it pretty girl,” he hummed. “You’re made a big mess.” 

She watched him thumb her clit. Her body jolted as her back arched upwards. Tears spring from her eyes as her fourth orgasm stole the wind from her body. She was a warm, wet, heap of whimpers and pleading about how good it felt. Overstimulated, she tapped on his shoulder when he began to lick around her swollen fruit again. 

He kissed up her body. Proud of making her feel so good he kissed her lips and sucked them slowly. His tongue pushed past hers and made itself home in her mouth. His kiss was nasty, sloppy, and wet as he played with her mouth the same way he played with her pussy. Michelle reached between them and tugged the band of his sweats down. She needed to keep her hands busy and what better way than touching him? Her hand crept along his pelvis and she swallowed some of his moans as they kissed. Michelle felt his body twitching beneath her finger tips, the slight shudder in his breath as he looked down at her, and the way his hands trembled as he held himself up above her. He wanted to stop her, take things slow. He had driven her insane with his mouth and he wasn’t so sure he could control himself if things went further. 

Terry spared her a glance through his own foggy thoughts and hooded eyes. Her naked body was trapped under his and had been at his mercy for the past hour. Pliant, needy, she was tugging at a part of him that wanted to wreck her. 

“Tell me you want to stop.” Terry said as her hands slipped into his sweats. 

Michelle was still riding cloud nine and only the sounds came out her mouth as she tried to speak. She looked up at him and pushed her hands lower, fingertips brushing over the base of his dick, thick and leaking precum. Her hand wrapped around the base of his dick. He was rigid and stiff in her hands. 

They both knew this was the point of no return. Instead of replying, Michelle reached over to him and pushed down his sweats, his thick dick springing free and slapping up against his stomach before hanging between them, resting against her stomach. They had planned this night two months ago. And since that moment, Terry had been teaching her new things to do in the bed. He fingered her in front of her floor length mirror, making her watch. Michelle learned to suck his dick and perfected it so quickly he took her shopping as a thank you. His mind was blown as how quickly she learned and wanted to learn.

"I'm so ready for you, Terry,' she hummed, legs falling apart as his eyes dropped to her dripping sex.

“Oh, don’t talk to me like that," he mumbled, dropping one knee to the bed so he could balance better. 

Michelle pushed his sweats down his hips, his dick springing up and slapping his stomach before resting between their bodies. A w e l l endowed man. 

“It’s been two months,’ she noted, “I don’t want to wait anymore.” 

Terry looked down between their bodies as her hand wrapped around his thick length. The tips of her peach tinted acrylic nails faintly dragged across the sensitive skin. His mouth dropped open, tongue damn near out his mouth, as she ran her thumb over his tip, smearing his pre-cum around her fingers and palm. Michelle’s other hand found his balls and squeezed. Between her stroking and squeezing so gently Terry groaned loudly. His hips started to rock into her hand, creating a friction that had been festering for weeks.

Terry leaned down, hovering over her naked body with his own. His lips found hers as the tip of his dick rubbed between her slit. He rolled his hips, side to side, teasing her. He grabbed her hands, pushing them above her head as he slowly sank into her pussy. He watched her face for discomfort only continuing when she relaxed. She was tight, warm, gripping and he grit his teeth to anchor himself. He wanted to ruin her, but tonight was about taking it soft and slow.

"Make love to me, Terry,' she whimpered. "I know you won't hurt me."

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites  @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove  @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo  @virgomess  @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @megamindsecretlair 

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch

Insertcatchynamerighthere writingsbytee pocketsizedpanther

[auraisereigh]

"Shadows and sparks"

Oneshot

Xaden Riorson x reader

Request + Blurb: Could I request first year reader constantly getting on Xaden's nerves and pushing his buttons until the reader sees Violet and Xaden making out one night and suddenly reader stops interacting with Xaden, which drives him crazy? wc: 5.7 ☆ NO SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. No specific pronous used, i think.

My first request! thank you so, so much lovely! <3

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

It had been weeks of trying to get my sword swing right. With daggers, I was skilled—extremely skilled—but swords were a different story. They were heavier, harder to handle. So, I’d started asking Xaden for help.

For the last few weeks, Xaden had been working with me, but it never seemed like he actually wanted to. That thought alone filled me with insecurity.

Today, I had one of those rare moments as a first year where I had nothing on my schedule. I saw it as the perfect opportunity to get in some extra training.

But for that, I needed Xaden.

Lucky me, he just happened to be in the training room, his friend Garrick not far off. Both of them were clearly caught up in their own routines.

I hesitated for a moment before slowly making my way over to him, sword in hand. I always doubted myself when asking for his help. Sure, he did help, but it never felt like he actually enjoyed it. Maybe he only did it because I’m a marked one.

“Hey…” I said quietly, my voice barely audible. I swallowed hard, steeling myself before trying again. “Would you mind helping me with that swing? I think I almost have it.” I tried to sound casual, throwing in a touch of friendliness for good measure.

He stopped mid-movement and turned toward me, his cold eyes locking onto mine. Yep, definitely annoyed.

I sucked in a deep breath. “Just a moment…please?” I tried again, my tone softer this time.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before letting it fall to his side. He dropped his sword. “Just a moment,” he said, his voice as sharp and cutting as the blade in my hand.

Xaden was always the same when he gave instructions—sharp, and to the point. Even after the session ended and he stepped off the mat, he didn’t soften. No goodbye, no comment on what I should work on. It was strange—he always had something to say, some correction to offer for next time.

Not today. Today, I had officially pushed all his buttons and that made me feel horrible.

Later that night, about an hour before curfew, I wandered through the massive halls of the Riders Quadrant. With the freezing months settling in, a nice hot drink seemed like a good idea.

I turned toward the courtyard when I heard voices—two of them. A man and a woman.

“We’ll both regret it,” the man said, his tone low and laced with frustration.

No…wait. That’s Xaden’s voice.

“Naturally,” the woman replied, her voice calm and familiar. Violet Sorrengail.

As quietly as I could, I moved toward the edge of the wall. I peeked around the corner, but I immediately wished I hadn’t.

Violet and Xaden. Kissing.

I bit my lip. No, it wasn’t just kissing—she was practically climbing him.

I stepped back from the wall, sucking in a shaky breath to stop myself from trembling.

I never felt anything romantic for Xaden—or at least that’s what I told myself. He was helpful, even when he never seemed to want to be. But seeing them together…it hurt more than I expected.

It's probably better this way. If i don't talk to him, i won't have to face the humuliation of knowing he chose someone else.

The urge to look again, to confirm what I’d seen, was huge. But I knew what I saw. No need to make it worse.

♤

It had been five days since I last spoke to Xaden—or more accurately, since I started avoiding him. The ache in my chest hadn’t eased, no matter how much I tried to bury it.

I spent most of my free time practicing. Training felt like the only way to get him out of my head, though it never worked completely.

It was nearly dark, the training room clearing out as the hours ticked by. I swung my sword again, harder this time, pouring my frustration into each movement.

“Use that much force, and you’ll cut your own head off.”

I froze at the sharp voice behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face Xaden. You can do this, I told myself.

“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” I said, keeping my tone neutral as I buried my emotions.

He raised a brow, the scarred one. “You asked me to teach you,” he argued, his voice just as sharp.

“Do you think I don’t notice you slipping out of every room I walk into? Avoiding me like I’ve done something wrong?” He steps closer, his voice low and cutting. “Tell me what I did.”

I scoffed and turned back toward my mat, but before I could pick up my sword, his hand wrapped around my wrist.

“Let go,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to pull away.

“No,” he said firmly. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me. And don’t lie—we both know you have.”

His grip didn’t loosen, but his tone softened slightly, the sharp edge still unmistakable.

“I don’t get involved in relationship drama,” I replied sarcastically, giving him a pointed look.

His frown deepened. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You and Violet,” I said, raising a brow. “I’m not getting between that mess.”

His grip finally loosened, and he stepped back, confusion flickering across his face.

“Violet and I are not…that is not—we’re not together,” he said sharply.

“She climbed you like a tree five nights ago,” I deadpanned, meeting his gaze head-on.

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then, to my shock, a grin spread across his face—wider than I’d ever seen.

“You’re jealous,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“Excuse me?” I shot back, taken aback. “I assure you, I am not jealous. I just refuse to be part of a mess.”

He stepped closer, and I instinctively backed into the wall. His hands came up, caging me in.

“I assure you,” he said softly, his voice dropping lower, “there’s nothing between Violet and me. What you saw was her first time experiencing the mating bond between our dragons.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he beat me to it.

“Surprisingly, I only have eyes for you.”

My breath hitched, his words catching me completely off guard. “You don’t show it,” I managed to say after a moment. "All you’ve ever done is push me away.”

His brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face. “Because I can’t think straight when you’re around. You’re stubborn, infuriating, and you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

He sighed, the softness in his expression almost foreign. “It’s difficult to teach you when all I want to do is kiss you.”

Excuse me? There is no way that this man just admitted that. The usual cold, emotionless man that I had been stupidly falling for did not just admit to want to kiss me.

"what?" I whisper out, not trusting my voice to talk any louder or say anything else.

One of his hands cup my face and I can feel my cheeks flush. "All I want to do is kiss you." He repeats, his voice is just as confident as before.

I think for a moment before I speak again. "Then why don't you?" The question is soft and I can barely even finish it as his mouth crashes on mine.

The kiss is rough, just as I expected from this man. His hand on my face tightens and his other hand goes to my waist. He squeezes my waist softly as the kiss deepens.

Gods, this man.

After a few more seconds he pulls away, leaving my breathless as I lean against the wall.

"That was..." I start breathless. "Perfect," he finishes for me. A smile creeps up my face, I can feel my body heat up more every second.

"yeah....yeah, it was perfect," I repeat and I lift my eyes to his. He seems to be feeling the heat to.

"we can finish what we started in my room." He proposes and my eyes widen slightly-- not in fear, no, in anticipation.

I nod my face quickly. "Yeah sounds amazing. Sounds perfect." I say with a smile. He gives me a grin.

"Let's go then." He says grabbing my hand.

♤

[midnightdahlias]

Bait for a Broken Heart

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summery - Sam tries to protect you from harm, but you end up hurt either way word count - 3.5k cws - fem!reader, kinda fluff and angst (ig), typical supernatural violence and gore, mild language, mentions of injury, unrequited love (not rlly), lmk if i missed anything a/n - can you tell i'm a Sam girl? this one took hoursss to write, but i quite like how it turned out, comments and rebloggs are always appreciated. also feel frre to send requests and thanks for the love on the others. happy reading !

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Even the best of hunters get hurt.

It’s part of the job description, sure. You know the risks. You take them anyway, so others don’t have to. So you can help those who can’t help themselves.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. That doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying.

Demons are nasty creatures. Shocking, right? They’re violent, cruel, relentless. And today, you got to experience firsthand just how twisted they can be.

You’d only gone for a walk to clear your head when a pair of demons with a vendetta against the Winchesters jumped you. You didn’t even hear them coming, too wrapped up in your thoughts from your argument with Sam. Then, darkness. A swift blow to the back of your head, and you were out cold.

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You’d known Sam and Dean for years now, worked so many hunts with them, spent so much time together. It had started as just another job, but somewhere along the way, you’d grown close. Very close.

Although you seemed to find yourself with one of the brothers consitently dancing around your mind, whether you were together or apart. Sam.

Sam was different. He was sweet, gentle—much more laid-back than his brother. You liked how soft he was, how deeply he cared for people, for you. You and Sam were friends, but there was something about him that pulled you in deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. And, truth be told, you cared for him. More than you should.

But lately? Sam had been distant, his usual warmth replaced with something cold and guarded. It was subtle at first, just a shift. But you felt it. And it hurt more than you cared to admit. It made your stomach twist in knots, leaving you wondering if you’d done something wrong. If he was starting to pull away from you.

And the worst part? He wasn’t saying anything about it. It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk. You’d hoped, at least, you were friends—he’d talk to you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

····································

When you woke, your head was spinning. You were slumped against some wooden beam, your arms and legs bound by thick ropes. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from your scalp.

The room around you was pitch black, save for a sliver of moonlight creeping through a small window. You tried to move, but the ropes were too tight. You always kept a hidden blade or two, but of course, whoever captured you had already found them

Then, the door slammed open. A dark figure stepped inside, barely visible at first. But then the light flicked on.

“Who the hell are you?” you spat.

“Name’s Damian.” He stepped closer, and that’s when you saw it, a distinct featute that you’d grown to know all to well. His eyes were black as coal. He was a demon.

‘’What do you want with me?” You sneered.

“Other than the fact that you’re a nuisance? Nothing,” he said. Then, his lips curled into something ugly. “It’s the Winchesters we want. You’re just bait.”

His words sent a chill down your spine.

"Go to hell," you snapped, and before he could say anything, you spat directly in his face.

He wiped it off, a dark sneer curling on his lips. “Bitch,” he hissed before punching you square in the face.

····································

“What’s wrong?” you asked, frustration seeping into your voice as you sat across from Sam in the motel room.

He barely looked up from his laptop. “What?”

“You’ve barely said three words to me in two weeks. What’s going on?” You couldn’t keep the edge out of your tone. It was exhausting being ignored.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sam mumbled dismissively.

“Seriously?” You raised your voice, growing more frustrated by the second. “If I’ve done something, just tell me!”

“I’m just tired, okay? I need space, just… drop it” he snapped.

You blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in his voice. But then, your stubbornness kicked in, and you couldn’t let it go.

“Yeah, you look real tired, especially when you’re joking around with Dean. Fine. You want space? Fine I’ll give you space,” you shot back, grabbing your coat and storming out without giving him a chance to respond.

····································

It had been almost an hour since your walk, and as much as you didn’t want Sam and Dean walking into a trap, part of you wondered if they even realized you were gone, or worse, if they cared.

Your body was bruised and battered, blood oozing from the cuts and scrapes. The demons hadn’t cared that you weren’t their real target; you were just a hunter they could use to hurt the Winchesters

The door swung open again, and a second demon stepped in, motioning for Damian to follow. He looked back at you with a venomous smile.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” Damian said before leaving.

Now was your chance. Your mind raced as you scanned the room for anything sharp—anything you could use to cut the ropes. Then, you spotted a shard of glass within reach.

You worked quickly, sawing at the thick ropes, every motion desperate and frantic, praying it was sharp enough to work. Your eyes flickered constantly to the door, watching for any sign of the demon coming back. Whatever had pulled him away seemed to be keeping him busy, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Then, you felt it, the ropes finally giving way with a satisfying snap. Without hesitation, you left the frayed remnants of the bindings on your wrists and went straight for your ankles, cutting through those with the same urgency. You couldn’t afford to waste another second.

As you cut through the final rope, your mind raced. Getting past the door wasn’t an option. You had no idea how many demons were on the other side, and rushing in blind would be a death wish.

Then, your eyes landed on the window. If you could just get it open, maybe, just maybe, you could slip through. You pushed yourself to your feet, wincing at the pain, but adrenaline kept you steady.

You hobbled over to the window, praying it wasn’t locked, and gave it a tentative push. The creak of the frame made your heart race, but it slid open with just enough space to fit. With a surge of determination, you pushed yourself up, forcing your body through the narrow gap. The sharp edges of the frame scraped against your skin, but you barely registered the pain.

A moment later, you hit the ground hard. You didn’t have time to savor the freedom. They’d notice you were gone soon enough. So after a second of your feet hitting the ground, you took off running as fast as your body would allow. You had no idea where you were going but you’d figure that out after, because anywhere was better than right here.

····································

Sam was furious with himself. He should’ve stopped you. He knew it. But if he had, it would have forced him to face the truth; something he wasn’t ready to admit, not even to himself.

But now that didn’t matter. Because you were missing, and he couldn’t shake the guilt. He should’ve stopped you.

His mind drifted back to when you two first met. He remembered thinking you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d never said anything, of course—he couldn’t. Being around you had always been intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of you, of your laugh, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited. Everything about you made his heart race.

But the more he was around you, the harder it got to push down the feelings that were growing inside him. He tried to ignore it, tried to bury it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk losing you, not like that. Sam had never had it easy with love—everyone he’d ever cared about always seemed to get hurt. He couldn’t do that to you. In his eyes, you were too good, too pure for someone like him. He was afraid his darkness would taint you.

So he distanced himself. He thought it would make things easier, but it didn’t. It hurt more than he could ever have imagined. When you’d argued in the motel room, when you’d walked out, it took everything in him not to run after you, not to wrap you up in his arms and never let go. But he couldn’t. He acted cold. Uncaring.

And when he saw the hurt in your eyes, when he saw you trying to mask your pain under anger and frustration, it shattered him. He’d tried to protect you, to keep you safe. But in the end, he only ended up hurting you more.

····································

You kept running, your body aching with every step. Blood dripped from your wounds, the pain relentless, but you knew one thing—if you stopped now, the demons would catch you. You didn’t have a choice. So you pushed on, drawing from every last bit of strength, every ounce of adrenaline left in your system. The trees started to thin out, and you saw the break in the forest, the familiar silhouette of the road ahead.

You stumbled out from the trees. The only sound to be heard was your ragged breathing, and the only light was the dim glow from distant streetlamps. You had no idea where you were, but there was no time to think about it. And that’s when you saw it, the headlights of a car, bright and blinding in the dark.

You froze, not sure if you could get out of the way in time. The car skidded to a halt just a few feet from you, the tires screeching in the silence of the night. Before you could even react, the doors swung open, and footsteps rushed toward you.

You barely had time to process what was happening before you heard a familiar voice call out your name.

“Sam…”

Your voice was barely a whisper, rough and strained from the screams you’d held back in that hellhole. His name escaped your lips in a breathless murmur, but you couldn’t stop the world from spinning. You were fading fast.

“Hey, hey, what happened to you?” Sam’s voice was a mix of panic and disbelief, his hands steadying you as your knees buckled. He was there. He was really there. But it didn’t matter. The exhaustion, the pain, the adrenaline, it all crashed down at once.

Before you could answer him, the world around you went black, and you slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing you felt was Sam’s arms catching you, holding you close as everything slipped away.

····································

Sam's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with guilt and fear. He couldn’t believe he had let you walk out of that room. Every part of him screamed that he should have stopped you, that he should’ve said something. Now, here you were, unconscious in his arms, and all he could do was curse himself for his letting you go.

Thirty minutes had passed since you left, and the slowly increasing worry had turned into full-blown panic. Just as Sam was about to run out the door to find you, the motel door creaked open. His breath caught in his throat, but the moment he turned around, his hope shattered. It wasn’t you.

“Sammy? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Dean’s voice cut through his thoughts, full of concern. Sam didn’t even look up. He couldn’t. Not when the weight of everything was crashing down on him.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene. He noticed the absence of you right away. His concern deepened. Sam could barely make sense of the words spilling from his mouth, his thoughts too scattered, his heart too heavy. He tried to explain what had happened, the argument, the way you had left, but his words were a jumble. All he could focus on was the sickening feeling in his gut. Something was wrong. He knew it.

The brothers didn’t waste any time. They searched the motel, asking the front desk clerk if anyone had seen you. But the answer was always the same: no. With no other choice, they hopped in the Impala and started driving, stopping at every place still open, hoping for a clue, hoping someone had seen you. But nothing. No one had seen you. The knot in Sam’s stomach tightened with each passing minute.

Just when he thought he might lose his mind, he saw movement in the distance. Someone running into the road, a dark figure weaving between the streetlights. His heart stuttered when he realized who it was, even from this far away. You.

But as he rushed to get closer, dread gripped him. You weren’t just running aimlessly, you were running from something. You were covered in blood, your clothes torn and stained, bruises blooming across your skin. The ropes that had bound you were still hanging from your wrists and ankles, making Sam feel sick to his stomach from the sight.

“Hey! Hey!” Sam called out, his voice breaking with desperation. You didn’t seem to hear him, your movements uncoordinated, like you were lost in a daze. Sam’s chest tightened. "What happened to you?”

He took a step toward you, his voice shaking as he gently reached out for you. But before you could even answer, your body went limp, your legs giving way beneath you. Sam’s heart skipped a beat as he rushed forward, catching your unconscious form before it could hit the ground. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you tight, but inside, his panic was overwhelming.

"God," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "I’m so sorry”

····································

When you regained consciousness, you were back in the motel room, lying on a somewhat comfortable mattress. You tried to move, but a sharp pain in your abdomen made you hiss.

“Hey, hey, careful. Careful,” a soft voice came from beside you—Sam’s voice.

A wave of relief washed over you as you felt his familiar hands helping you sit up against the headboard. The simple act of his touch, grounding and steadying you, settled the panic that had been brewing in your chest.

As your senses fully returned, you noticed that the ropes that had bound you were no longer around your limbs. You also observed that someone, presumably Sam, had attempted to patch you up. His hands were still gentle on you: one holding a cold compress to your forehead, the other resting on your back from when he helped you sit.

The warmth of his touch made your stomach flutter.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, his voice still thick with concern.

“Sore, but alive,” you said with a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to hang heavily in the room. But even that small movement made you hiss in pain, and you could see the worry flicker across Sam’s face.

Sam’s expression was unreadable, his eyes distant as if he were trying to process everything. You didn’t know what he was thinking or what he might say, but you definitely didn’t expect the apology that came next.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Sam blurted, his voice tinged with guilt. “I should never have let you leave like that. I was being a dick, and now you’re hurt because of me.”

His words struck deep, breaking your heart. You reached for his hand, trying to calm him. “Sam, this wasn’t your fault. It was demons... you didn’t do this.”

But he shook his head, the guilt swallowing him whole. “It is my fault. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t let you leave. If I hadn’t been a jerk... If I hadn’t pushed you away. I was only trying to protect you.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brow at his words.

Sam hesitated, like he was weighing whether to go on. His eyes flickered to yours, and in that moment, all his walls came down. He couldn’t hide anymore.

“I thought... if I pushed you away, you’d be safer. Everyone around me gets hurt. I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. You mean so much to me, and the idea of losing you, of you being hurt because of me, it’s too much. But I couldn’t protect you... and you still got hurt.” He stammered through the words, his voice trembling, tt was like he was… nervous?

His confession left you stunned. It made your heart flutter, you knew exactly what he was saying. But you needed him to say it.

“What are you trying to say, Sam?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, urging him to go on.

He looked at you, really looked at you. This time, his gaze was soft and vulnerable, like he was laying his heart bare for you to see. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to lose the words, his breath hitching in his chest.

Then, without a word, he leaned forward, and before you knew it, his lips met yours. The kiss was slow, tender, and gentle, but it carried something deeper, an unspoken desperation, a fierce love that he hadn’t known how to express until now.

For a moment, the world disappeared. It was just the two of you, tangled together in a fragile, perfect moment.

When Sam pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, hisbreath shaky as he whispered, “I love you.”

In that moment, time stood still. Neither of you noticed that Dean had returned from his demon hunt, ensuring that the bastards who’d hurt you would never get the chance to do it again.

As he stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him, he muttered with a grin, “Took you two long enough.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

[sturnlsstuff]

https://www.tumblr.com/sturnlsstuff/773326019056877568/what-is-ghostfacechris-doing-rn

can you please please make a fan fiction about this!

GHOSTFACE!CHRIS HAS WAYS TO GET YOU TO TELL HIM ABOUT YOUR DAY...

chris leaned back against the headboard, the smoke from his joint curling lazily in the air, catching the dim light from the lamp. his eyes flickered over you—half amused, half calculating, as he took another drag, his lips twitching into a lazy smirk. there was no rush in his movements as he keeps circling your clit, just enough to make you flinch before his fingers slid lower.

"so? gonna tell me 'bout your day?" he asks again, his eyes stayed locked on yours, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze as he took another drag from the joint. his voice thick with the kind of lazy confidence that only someone like him could pull off. it was a request that wasn’t really a request at all— an order wrapped in the guise of a question.

you shivered, caught between the primal pull of him and the sharp realization that if you don't comply, he’ll stop. you were so desperate for more friction, his fingers slowly moving in and out of your dripping pussy, making your pulse race and feeling powerless.

“chris... please—” you whine, but his fingers push deeper, moving in a slow, almost deliberate motion, but at the same time brushing against your g-spot just right.

"no beggin'," he said, his voice sharper now. "just do what i said and tell me 'bout your fuckin' day, or i'll stop. your choice."

"i-i don't know—" you mumble, shifting uncomfortably, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind was completely blank. the words catch in your throat as chris's finger speed up, sending waves of warmth through you, the wet squelching mixed with your moans fill the room. "don't stop—"

"i will," he replies, puffing out another cloud of smoke. "unless you tell me what'd you do today."

"i— i just..."

"c'mon, talk to me," he insisted. his smirk only grows as you try to lift your hips, urging him to give you more— which only makes him to stop.

"no!" your hand tightens on his shirt as you give him pleading eyes. "please, don't stop, i will— i was just... i was, uh, studying most of the day—" a moan of relief leaves your lips as he starts moving his fingers again, your walls clenching around him.

"keep goin'," he mutters.

"i was just doing my thing, talking to people and....please—"

chris exhaled another cloud of smoke, his expression unreadable. “not good enough,” he said, the casualness of his tone making it sound more like a verdict than a suggestion.

you couldn’t focus, the room felt like it was spinning, the tension between you two thick, like you were being pulled in two directions—toward him, toward the control he held over you, and away from it, trying to grasp onto some shred of yourself. the harder you tried, the less you could remember.

“i...had lunch,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “with some friends. we just… talked. and, o-oh—" your eyes roll back as he finally adds a third finger and speeds up his pace slightly. "i w-went shopping with emma—"

“shopping?” he repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. “and what'd you got, huh?"

you keep trying to focus, but it was like trying to hold onto water. the more you tried to form a coherent thought, the more it slipped away. “uh, actually some— red lingerie—"

now his attention was drawn back to you, his hand stops halway to take another puff. "oh, yeah? and you tellin' me about this now?"

there's only whimpers leaving your mouth as you feel his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. "looook how much she likes that game— drippin' all over my hand... wanna cum? then you gotta tell me more..."

"i don't— don't know--"

"don't worry, we have all night," he smirks and curls his fingers perfectly to hit that sweet spot inside you. "gonna show me that lingerie later, yeah? thought ya can gatekeep, hm? that's rude, princess. so rude..."

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter I

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 7.267 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Likes, asks, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. This is my first wip in a while, so its a little janky, but I hope you like it! Thank you in advance for reading <3

He’d been gone for almost a year now.

You and your father were never really close. Truthfully, the two of you were never much of anything to each other.

Since you could remember, he’d treated you like some pet his ex had left at his house after a break-up: no warmth, no harshness, just this mild yet persistent annoyance that came from having to be responsible for something he neither wanted nor cared for. He could look down at you, throw a ball for you to catch, or pat your head half-heartedly while he talked to some random stranger that complimented you on the street, but whatever it was that you did right never granted you enough favor to avoid his ever-present disappointment.

That relationship alone was depressing enough as it was, but it would’ve been at least tolerable were it not for his much more obvious and paternal love for your older brother.

You could never really pin-point why it was that your father loved John so much while simultaneously only barely acknowledging your existence. You were both his children, after all. Yes, you were born to different mothers, but John’s mother had abandoned your father just as much as John’s did, and he only ever said good things about her, the same way he only ever said good things about John.

Maybe it was that John looked more like him, or that they thought just like each other, or that they only ever spoke about the same things.

Maybe this weird and cruel dynamic could be boiled down to you just being the odd one out. And though that didn’t make you resent it — resent them — any less, you’d made enough of a peace with it that once he was gone, you actually mourned him.

So why was it that it suddenly felt like he was right there, willingly ignoring you, all over again?

JJ and Kie lounged together on the sand over some old beach towel.The soft wind blowing her curls against his face. She smiles as she looks back at him, tucking that piece of hair behind her ear, and their eyes remain locked for a moment, gazes drifting back and forth between the eyes and the lips in that indecisive little lover’s dance you and him had been caught up in so many times.

You sat alone on the railing at the Chateau, his ‘Chateau’, drinking budweiser, his favorite beer, wearing an old shirt that most definitely had belonged to him at some point, staring out into the river bank where he’d last been seen, and feeling rejected, exactly the same way he always made you feel.

The man was haunting you.

It was excruciating: Sitting there and watching him play the same tricks he’d played on you on someone else, someone you knew he’d had his eye on for a while, like you were some sort of pathetic test subject he took up with the single intention of serving as the canvas on which he practiced his bullshitting skills.

You shouldn’t be surprised that he threw you away as soon as his actual target showed the slightest bit of interest in him, and you weren’t. That’s the worst part: in more ways than one, you knew this would happen. But as if locked in this realm of meta-self-consciousness, the more aware you were of JJ’s general scummyness, the more you convinced yourself you’d never fall for his lines, and the more comfortable you became in rolling over and letting him bullshit you.

You felt John’s approach before you heard him; Those unmistakably careless steps you’d heard just outside of your door all your life suddenly bounding towards you. Ten whole months of his obsessive and undivided attention hadn’t been able to erase the weirdness of him suddenly acknowledging you after seventeen years of pretending you weren’t there, so every time his eyes landed on you, your mind sent up a “something bad is about to happen” signal to the rest of your body.

He smiled awkwardly as you turned around to meet his eye.

– You okay? – The railing creaked as he sat down beside you, a half-drunk beer in his own hand. Your father’s disappearance had taken a lot out of John. At night, he paced. In the morning, he stared at the locked study. In the evening, he bit his nails and scratched his arms. And all throughout, you could see he was thinking of him. Whereas before, your brother had been the poster-child of teenage carelessness, now he could barely hide just how much his sanity had been going down the drain.

It was bad. Bad enough that he’d actually started worrying about losing you, of all people.

It was freaky.

The old John B couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you without cracking jokes at your expense or silently loathing at the burden of your existence. Now he could barely let you out of his sight.

You stayed quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you shrugged, taking another sip of beer before muttering, – Peachy.

John let out a hollow chuckle, shaking his head. – You suck at lying, you know.

–Thanks, – you said dryly, setting the bottle down on the railing beside you. – I’ll make sure to add that to my list of things I suck at.

He didn’t laugh this time. You could feel his gaze on you, weighing heavier with every second you refused to look at him. Finally, you turned to meet his eyes—green, sharp, and so annoyingly sincere they made your chest tighten.

–You’re not okay, – He said softly, his voice breaking the kind of silence that felt like it had been years in the making.

– That bad at hiding it, huh? Have to add that to the list too.

– Why do you wanna hide things from me?

You stopped yourself from scoffing before you could hurt his feelings. But the answer was obvious to anyone with eyes: The two of you didn’t know each other.

No matter how much he tried to make you a part of his friend group or make up for the time you two wasted pretending the other didn’t exist, a couple months of effort couldn’t fix what over a decade had set into stone.

Maybe doing things behind his back wasn’t helping.

But you didn’t do it to hurt him. You didn’t plan for things with JJ to go as far as they did, they just did. And you knew it would hurt him if you told him what you had been doing, because JJ was John’s family more than you had ever been, and he’d see it as a betrayal.

For a moment, you wanted to tell him the truth. The real truth, not the sarcastic, deflective shit you’d been feeding everyone since the day you learned to speak.

But you didn’t. Because you’d had seventeen years of practice in swallowing everything you felt until it became a lump in your throat you’d learned to ignore.

– I don’t. I’m not. And I… I don’t want to. – you said instead, your voice as steady as you could make it. – Life’s just been kicking me hard right now.

He studied you for a moment longer, his brow furrowing slightly, before he nodded. – It's okay. I get it.

– Thanks.

You expected him to leave after that, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed right there, his shoulder brushing yours as you sat in silence.

It was awkward. It's always been with the two of you. But eventually, he spoke again.

– Look, I… um, how can I say this? – He laughed, dragging his fingers through his hair. – I need your help with something.

You chuckled, a little more light-hearted now, and patted his back softly. – Go ahead.

– So, JJ's been acting weird. – You froze. It was over. He knew. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he knew enough that this whole thing between JJ and you had to be completely restructured. Your eyes drifted back to where Kie and the blonde were sitting, trying to keep your panic under wraps. – I was talking to Pope about it, but it's not like he cares enough to know what's going on. And Kie, who is the one that should care, told me I was just acting crazy. But I'm not crazy! He is weird! He's acting very weird!

You wanted to comfort him, and tell him that he wasn’t crazy, that he was right. There was something going on with JJ. But how were you supposed to say that without blowing your cover completely? You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to say the most basic thing you could:

– How so? – Was all you managed, still looking outwards, at JJ and Kie, in an attempt to avoid your brother’s gaze. It turned out to be just as bad a choice as the previous one. Your stomach turned as you saw him whisper something in her ear, earning a giggle from the girl, one that almost grated at your nerves. You took a deep breath, re-claiming the bottle you'd given up on, and taking a swig.

– Like… um, I don’t know. He’s always brushing me off about the most random things. Like, I can ask him a stupid question about surfing, or beer, or I don’t know, whatever! And he acts completely normal, but if I ask him if he slept over he’ll just feed me a bunch of senseless shit that doesn’t even answer the question!

– That’s... really weird.

– Right?! – He looked so relieved as you reassured him. So trusting. Yet here you were, lying to his face, knowing damn well that you were the reason JJ’s moronic ass couldn’t just tell your brother he slept on the couch. – And he keeps making these weird comments.

You were afraid to ask.

– What sort of comments?

– Like, the other day- He stopped himself short, suddenly looking into your eyes and then away again, his whole face suddenly red. – No, no. Um, forget about it. It’s weird.

– Weird? – He hummed and nodded. Eyes still glued to the floor. – Weirder than your ‘That’s so Raven’ phase? C’mon, tell me.

– No, it’s just..

– Just what?

– It’s like… – He gesticulated exaggeratedly with his hands. – graphic. We were... talking about, this site and when Pope made this joke about half siblings he just-

– Okay! –You breathed in, looking away as well. – Okay. So don’t tell me that. Is there anything else?

– Like, look at that! Look at his back. That looks really gnarly, doesn’t it? – You followed his gaze back to the thing you’d just been mulling over, and noticed, for the first time, the thing that had probably been freaking John out all day long: JJ’s back was streaked with nail marks. From beneath the ends of his dirty-blonde hair a couple hickeys poked out. And right there clear as day on his left shoulder, a bite.

You swallowed.

– Damn, I hadn’t seen that. – It wasn’t a lie. You’d never taken pride in the marks you left on people, mostly because after JJ, you often did your best to compartmentalize whatever intimacy you partook in. – Why is that weird, though?

– At first I thought he’d gotten into some catfight or something, that was ashamed to say it, but JJ’s been bitten all over these days, and he makes SUCH a big deal about saying it's nothing. Like, he'll ramble for hours. – He sighed. – I don’t know, but isn’t it weird?

– Yeah, it’s weird.

– Maybe he found some vampire chick to hook up with. – He laughed, though it was clear he didn't find any of it funny. – I don't know, but it's like his head's in the clouds or whatever.

You laughed, speaking before you could stop yourself: – Vampire? – You huffed, taking a swig from your bottle. – I don’t know. Kie doesn’t strike me as the type that only comes out at night. – Your conscience dawned upon you as you put the beer down. Drinking made you reckless, and as soon as you said it, you knew you'd be regretting it for a long time.

– What?! You- You don’t think they’d- No. No. No way.

– Uhm, I… I don’t. I don’t know. It was just like a hunch.

– Did she say something to you?!

She had, as a matter of fact, said something to you two days ago, and it had been burning in your mind even since: You’d been in the kitchen, staring into the empty fridge and trying to think of something you could possibly do with nothing but ketchup and mustard, when someone suddenly kicked the back of your shoe.

Kie had looked back at you with a mischievous smile. “JJ’s been staring at you all day.”

There was something conspiratorial in the way she giggled, poking at your sides like you were both children again, and you couldn’t help but laugh along: “Oh, please. He’d stare at a tree all day if it had tits.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” She looked around again, squeezing your arm. “I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”

You didn’t want to tell her that you and JJ had been sneaking around for a while, paranoid that John or Pope might walk past and hear you, so you just laughed. “How much beer did you drink today?”

“Fine, then, don’t tell me. Just know that I’m watching you!” She said it in sing-song, opened the door, and left you there, grinning alone, sure that it had been a completely harmless interaction.

Only a friend wouldn’t say what she said, not at least, when she was planning to spend the whole day after that flirting with JJ.

Despite your endless tries, you hadn’t had many girl friends growing up. So when he was gone and John was suddenly forcing you to hang out with him and his friends, you’d been glad to spend time with Kie.

She’d always been nice to you, regardless of the fact she was older and a kook, so of course, you’d always been a little star-struck when she treated you like a friend.

You wish you could’ve been charmingly aloof to her giggling and preening, and that, despite your definite lack of kook-ness, you would’ve had the grace and etiquette to brush it off as easily as she brushed off your feelings. But you’d never been the sort of person that can deal gracefully with their own negative emotions. So you sulked, and you drank, and you smoked.

The night fell slower than you had wanted that day, but as soon as your brother’s snoring could be heard through the house, your door creaked open, and in came JJ, with his stupid smile, bounding over to you.

You brushed it off as playful teasing. No one liked to dirty talk better than JJ, and given his talent to make people angry, you wouldn’t be surprised this was some scheme he’d worked out to rile you up. You tangled your hands in his hair, and pulled his head back, kissing him quiet as his fingers sunk into your waist. “What is it, huh?” He thrust into you, once and again, and again, his eyes squeezed shut as his mouth fell open, groaning and moaning against the crook of your neck. “You- ah- You don’t like me talking to Kie? Is that- OH GOD- Is that- is that it?”

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t bother to address it until both of you were half-naked.

JJ had this habit of introducing serious topics of conversation just as you were getting comfortable with him. So he’d been beneath you, calloused hands tearing your shirt off of your body, head thrown back as you kissed his neck, when, between a groan and a plea, he asked “What’s gotten you so angry, huh?”

You slammed your hips against his and laughed bitterly as you felt a shiver tear through him. JJ babbled for a moment, opening his eyes just for you to see them rolling into his head. Your nails scraped against his back in a way that had him arching into you. And though you were enjoying yourself, a part of you wanted to torture him more than anything.

He’d begged you to slow down, breathless and starry-eyed, his own nails digging into the meat of your thighs as he pulled you in, over and over again, despite his contradicting protests.

When you were finally done, JJ was red in the face as he fell back on your bed, and it took him a while to formulate a sentence. “I should make you jealous more often.” Was what he came up with at the end, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage, enough that you could feel it against your skin.

His breath was as warm as his hands, and just as shaky. The patterns he drew against your back shifted from adoring to exhausted, and you remained there, weaving your fingers through his blonde strands.

“What you should do is cash a reality check.” You hummed, and he barked out a laugh at that, curling up into your arms as you shifted to your side.

“Keep lying to yourself, babe. You know you love me.”

From beneath your lashes, you could see the smile on his face as he watched his hands move against you, hypnotized by steady movement his palms made down the curve of your hips.

You were satisfied by the interaction when it happened. It felt so playful, so soft, you didn’t even have the heart to wake him up as you felt his breath grow deeper against you.

JJ would wake you up hours later, just as the sun broke the horizon, whispering something about leaving before John B came to check on you, and you’d only barely registered his words, still stuck in that void between consciousness and sleep, but you remembered smiling as he kissed up your neck and told you he’d see you later.

He was right about that. But you weren’t glad you saw him again.

You woke up, opened the door, and just between stumbling to the bathroom and wondering if there was anything to eat, you saw him, shirtless on the couch, with Kie on top of him. You turned back around as if the sight had blinded you, trying to force the sound of their kissing out of your mind.

All day long, he’d been attached to her hip. They’d spent the morning whispering and giggling on the couch, the evening eating off each other’s plate, and now there they were, cuddled up on your beach towel, watching the sun go down.

John was still looking at you expectantly. – So? Did she say something?

You sighed.

– Why didn’t you say anything?!

– Not explicitly. She did ask me if I liked him very suspiciously, though.

- Because! – Because you had no idea she would bait and switch you like that. The moment sat heavy on your chest, a constant, gnawing reminder that whatever semblance of camaraderie you thought you had with Kie had only been another cruel thing in your ongoing circus of disappointments. And of course you couldn’t share that with John. The last thing you needed was to light another fire beneath his already manic suspicions. So you shrugged and avoided his gaze, taking another sip of beer. – It was weird, but not weird enough that it merited an intervention.

He’s shaking his head as you speak, unconsciously, almost in denial.

He clearly wasn’t buying that there was nothing going on, and the frown on his face deepened, turning into something like disgust. – Kie wouldn’t… She wouldn’t do that. She’s not dumb, right? She knows what JJ is like, doesn’t she?

You soaked in that unintended insult for a second, wishing you had never opened your mouth. – I don’t know. Maybe they’re not. – But they were, though. –You’ve all had a thing for Kie at some point, right? JJ’s probably just going through a phase.

– Yeah, but she’s entertaining it! She never did that before! – You couldn’t argue against him anymore. You knew he was right, and he, unconsciously or not, did too. But the guilt was eroding at you from the inside out. Despite the decade and some you two had spent trying to ignore one another, you knew him well enough to know that what was bothering him was not that his friends could be in a relationship, but what would happen to his friend group when they inevitably broke up. – I can’t believe JJ would do that.

– He might not be doing anything, John! – You tried to give him some comfort at least, janky though were at expressing sympathy. – I mean, it’s JJ we’re talking about, he’ll flirt with any girl that has a pulse.

– What part of “She’s entertaining it” didn’t you get?! – He turned to you like a coiled viper, eyes dark with an anger you couldn’t really comprehend. The moment his voice sharpens it’s like the temperature in the room has dropped. Suddenly, you’re on your feet, struggling to process how this seemingly normal conversation had turned into a fight.

You try to keep your cool, though you feel that guilt pushing into confusion:

– Hey, you don’t need to raise your voice at me. I’m just trying to make you see the nuance here.

– What nuance?! It’s obviously happening! You were the one who brought up the problem and now you’re just gonna brush it off?

– I wasn’t the one that brought it up, and that’s not what I’m doing!

– Yes it is! And you always do! You bring up these random things about other people, stirring shit up, and when I try to talk about it, you’re suddenly above it? You’re such a hypocrite!

– Why are you mad, John? We were just talking about this like grown-ups and suddenly you wanna argue? Let’s just- Let’s calm down for a second, okay? – You both looked down for a moment, interrupted by your ringtone. Barry’s name flashed on your screen for the third time that day. Yet another one of your bad habits catching up to you. – Uh, hey, Bee. I’m kind of in the mi- Hey! Hey! What the fuck are you doing? – John wrestled the phone out of your hand, turning it off before you could do anything. – WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!

– We’re talking here! I don’t know if you realized.

– Fuck you, John! Are fucking kidding me?! Give me back my phone!

– WE’RE TALKING RIGHT NOW!

– I’m not fucking talking to you after this bullshit! Give me back my fucking phone!

He held it out of your reach, looking at you with spite. – I hate Barry. You know I hate him, why the hell do you keep talking to him?!

There wasn’t much else you could do but stare up in disbelief. – Why are you bringing this shit up now?! He’s my friend, you know that! And you don’t own me! I’ll talk to whoever I want!

You hear the steps coming towards the two of you as John scoffs, pushing you off of him. – Barry’s a drug dealer, for God’s sake! When are you gonna realize this guy is bad news?!

– Oh, sure! Because JJ is such a model citizen!

– Don’t bring him into this!

– You were the one that brought him into this! It’s none of your goddamn business who I choose to hang out with, John! I’m your sister, not your fucking pet!

He raises his hands, laughing bitterly. – Pet? Really? That’s fucking rich coming from you! – That stings more than you want to admit it. The way he throws his words at you like knives. The way he says it, it tells you it’s not just the frustration talking. He means it. – Up until a couple months ago you treated us all like lepers, wouldn’t even look us in the eye! But you want me to believe that the crackhead down the street is somehow more worthy of your time than I am?!

Your composure had gone down the drain now, and the guilt went with it. You could have lied. You should have lied. But because you didn't, now you were punished. – You are so fucking full of yourself, John! I swear to God!

– I’M FULL OF MYSELF?! Really?! I am?!

– Yes, you are! You’re so fucking spoilt! You think the world just revolves around you! You can do whatever you want, you fuck up, you commit literal fucking felonies out there with your friends, and I’m the problem because I’m friends with the guy that YOU BUY WEED FROM?!

He laughs. Not to himself, at you. Just the way he used to do before: – You’ve gotta be really fucking stupid to think Barry, of all people, is your friend. It’s fucking pathetic, really!

– Says the guy who hasn’t made a friend since the third grade!

– Whoa! Whoa! Chill out, you two, what the hell is going on?! – JJ comes rushing in, already pulling John away from you like some sort of white knight, but your brother just pushes him out of the way, still tearing into you:

– Barry’s not your friend. You’re too smart not to see that– Or you know, at least I thought you were.

– Guys, c’mon- JJ can barely get a word in:

– You don’t know what you’re talking about! The people I hang out with are none of your business, and you know damn well you have no room to talk!

– What do you even mean by that?!

You laugh sarcastically. – And you think I’m the one who is fucking stupid?

You feel a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you back. Kie stands behind you, her dark eyes full of pity, a concern that is more judging than kind. – Guys, Guys, please. Just stop it. You two are not thinking straight.

– We’re talking here, Kie, stay out of it! – You can see the lack of patience in your brother’s eyes as he speaks. And you take the opportunity to try and grab your phone again, but JJ grabs you before you can get to him. – Get off of me, JJ! None of this shit concerns you! Can you fuck off?!

– JJ’s just trying to help. – Kie says. She pushes JJ off of you, trying to stand in between. –Look, let’s calm down.

– We don’t want your help!

– Don’t talk to my friends like that!

– Like what? Like the way you and dad talk to me?

– You’re not putting dad into this fucking conversation right now! Jesus, you are so fucking pathetic! – He’s always thought that about you. In all the time you’ve known John, which is all the time you’ve been alive, that’s the word he most commonly attached to you: pathetic. And it echoes in your head as you look at him. The edge in his eyes repeating that word again and again. – You’re literally a child! You’re trying to butt into my friends lives because you don’t have any, and dad’s supposed to be at blame because you had no fucking life until I tried to include you?!

– Oh, oh sorry! Sorry! I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a Saint! I thought I was talking to the guy who bullied me in middle school at the same time he had me help him with his High School homework! My mistake! GO FUCK YOURSELF, JOHN! It took dad disappearing for you to acknowledge the fact I wasn’t some fucking plaything for you to kick around when you’re bored! Get off your fucking high horse!

You see the rage forming on his face again.

– You’re rich! You’re really fucking rich, you know that?!

– I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, John! I don’t care! I can take a humbling from a lot of fucking people, okay, but I don’t wanna hear shit from you! You’re a spoiled brat! Dad never had the guts to tell you no on anything, so you think you’re entitled to everyone’s shit! You think you can control your friends lives, you think you can boss me around and use the money THAT I’M FUCKING MAKING to fund your little parties and make yourself feel better about the fact Dad walked out! Well I’ve got fucking news for you, bro! You’re the fucking child here! YOUR ASS CAN’T EVEN GET A JOB!

– You’re really gonna make this about money again? Is that the problem?!

– Oh my fucking God! TAKE A FUCKING HINT, JOHN! LOOK AROUND YOU!

JJ calls your name again, holding your brother back as Kie begs you to stop. You hadn’t even realized they were talking. – Please! That’s not who either of you are! You’re angry! You’re saying things you don’t mean.

– Oh he means it, Kie. John might be stupid but he’s damn sure not crazy, and he knows what he says! That's what he thinks of me! He thinks I'm some dumb little kid who can't make friends! That I'm some loser who doesn't have a life! He thinks EXACTLY WHAT HE SAID! He thinks I'm fucking pathetic!

– AND HOW EXACTLY ARE YOU PROVING ME WRONG RIGHT NOW?!

– Fucking stop this already! Just GIVE IT BACK! – You were livid now, pushing past Kie and reaching for it, but John yanks it back like it’s some kind of trophy just so he can see you rage.

– You’re not even listening to me! All this shit you’re doing, the screaming, the shouting, the running off to Barry or whoever the hell else— That’s exactly the shit you’d pull when we were kids! It’s like you haven’t grown up at all! You’re fucking doing this or attention!

– Fuck you. Just fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!

JJ’s the only thing standing between the two of you now, a wall in the middle over which the two of you scream. Kie holds you by the shoulders, pleading.

You’re glad for them at that moment, because you can’t be sure you wouldn’t scratch your brother’s eyes out if he came too close.

Your head is spinning. You wanna tear your hair out of your head. And as if what was going on right then wasn’t bad enough, JJ has the gall to open his mouth and tell you to step back: – He’s right. You’re being childish. Just let this go.

You were about to, until he said it.

– I need to let it go?! He was the one that started this shit in the first place! HE took my phone! HE started screaming! HE’S the one calling me fucking names and talking to me like a fucking child! And I’m the one that needs to let this go?! NO! FUCK YOU JJ! THIS SHIT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU! FUCK OFF!

– STOP TALKING TO HIM LIKE THAT, HE’S MY BEST FRIEND!

– Yeah?! And you’re doing such a great job of showing it right now, huh? Freaking out over some scratches on his back and trying to make it into some great betrayal! You’re out of your fucking mind!

– FUCK YOU!

– You’re obsessed! You’re losing your mind over some stupid shit that doesn’t even matter! You can’t fucking handle it when people do things without telling you because you think you know better about their lives than them! Guess what John: Maybe people don’t owe you shit!

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head and pointing at you as if he was some great detective: – You’re going really hard on this aren’t you? You’re hiding something! I know you are!

– What?! Are you seriously accusing me of–? God, you’re insane! GET OVER YOURSELF JOHN! The world doesn’t revolve around you and your little posse!

You can hear a rumble in the distance, the roar of an engine you couldn’t quite place, and you look away, the rage within you giving way to exhaustion. You want this to end, but John keeps going:

– Stop tearing into my friends just because you don’t have any of your own, okay?! This jealousy, this envy shit, it isn’t even funny. It’s just pathetic! IT JUST IS! The fact that nobody gives a fuck about you is not anybody else’s fault! – The words came out like venom, sharp and deliberate, but they struck true.

You kept your eyes on him for a moment, jaw clenched, face still. You could see JJ and Kie looking between themselves in the tension, sort of hesitating, completely clueless as to what to do.

Your brother’s face fell, slowly, as if he was reliving every word that had just come out of his lips in a play-by-play. The emotions flitted through his face like seasons, first it was confusion, then shock, then regret, and finally guilt.

You wished you could’ve said something, something cold, and cruel. Something that he’d be thinking about for a long time. But you couldn’t. Just the effort that it took for you to be able to breathe without crying had frozen the words within your throat. So you were kept silent, took the beer from the railing, and pushed past him.

– Wait- – John reached for you, but you shrugged him off before he could get the attention he needed to formulate his next words. You didn’t want to hear him, be near him, you didn’t want him to exist.

Instead, you look out into the lawn.

– Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just- John falters mid-word, the rumble of the engine cut through the tension like a knife, low and guttural, growing louder as it approached. Both of you froze, your argument abruptly suspended as the sleek black Range Rover pulled into view. You frown for a moment, trying to piece together the fragments of memory you have of seeing this car, but JJ scoffs from behind you on the porch, and when you see Kiara’s expression twist into one of contempt, you know exactly who it belongs to.

The driver stays put, engine still running as if the car itself was too impatient to linger. And for a moment no one gets out.

You approach carefully.

You’ve never spoken much to Rafe Cameron, you only saw him whenever he came to see Barry, and even then, it was always quick. A glance, a smile, a double entendre he says while he eyed you, without ever addressing you directly.

You look over your shoulder again to see if maybe he’s come for Sarah. But she’s been laying in John’s room all evening, and the doorway is empty, no sign of her.

John’s face twists back into anger. He wraps a hand around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His jaw is clenched as he looks at the Rover, and he seems eager, like a cat ready to pounce.

The passenger door swings open right then, and you see him. Not Rafe, not Topper, or any of his Kook friends, but Barry — A grin splits his face as he steps out, the light catching his golden tooth as his smile widens, a cigarette dangling from his lips. – Well, look who’s got the whole neighborhood in an uproar! – He drawls, voice teasing but warm. – What’s going on, darlin’? You look ready to throw hands.

Despite yourself, you feel your shoulders relax, the weight of the argument easing slightly. – Barry! – You’re surprised by how light your voice sounds as you run to meet him, standing arms open before Rafe’s car, he wraps you up and spins you around quickly, his laughter blowing against your hair. – What’s going on?What’re you doing here?

– Phone call got cut short. – He winks as you pull away, glancing over your shoulder at John. His smirk widens, deliberately provoking. – Figured I’d swing by and see what the fuss was about. Looks like I walked into a family reunion.

– It’s none of your business. – John snaps.

Barry raises his hand in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. – Touchy, touchy. Don’t worry, man. I’m not here to stir the pot. Looks like y’all already took care of that.

– Sorry about the call. – You whisper. – Things are kinda weird around here.

– Not your fault, sweetheart, – He taps your arm with his pointer finger, fixing you a smile as he dragged a hand through his hair and threw the cigarette on the ground. – Some people just don’t know how to let things go.

– I’ll tell you what’s letting go, Barry. You’re gonna let go of my sister and fuck off back to your rat’s nest!

– Ignore him. – You beg, no less worried as you hear your friend whisper an “always do”. – So. What is it?

– What? I can’t just be here for the pleasure of your company? – He pats your back softly, feet swaying as he speaks. – You wound me, sweetheart.

– You’re a peach, Bee. A real charm. But I’m guessing this favour you’re about to ask me isn’t a work-from-home sorta thing. You’ll have my company regardless.

Barry leans against the open car door, his smile fading. He breathes in deep. – You’re not gonna like it.

– Well, I hate you already, – You teased. – can’t see how things could get worse.

– I was gonna tell you on the phone, but the troglodyte over there wouldn’t let me. – He looks over his shoulder, and back at you. – There’s a party, over at figure eight. Boss’ gonna be there. You remember him, right?

A shiver tore through you just at the thought. – How could I forget?

Barry chuckles, shaking his head. – Yeah, well. He kinda likes you, y’know. Thought maybe you’d tag along, help me keep things smooth. – You felt your chest tighten. He pauses, eyes glinting with something unreadable. – Missed you, too. Thought maybe your boy over there was keeping you on house arrest again.

– I can hear you, Barry. – John said coldly, stepping forward.

– Oh good. – He didn't miss a beat. – Thought maybe I’d have to file a request just to get five minutes with her. What’s next, man? A sign-in sheet? You running this place like a damn prison, now?

– Shut up! – Your brother snapped again, his fists clenching. JJ came up behind him, eyes fixed on the arm Barry held over your shoulder.

– Relax, big guy. Nobody’s stealing anything from you, we can’t all break into people’s houses and take their money while they’re gone.

You cringe at the memory. – Barry, please. Don’t.

– Me? I’m not doing anything, sweetheart. We’re just playing around, right, boys? – He chuckled, squeezing you closer as he looked at them.

JJ was the one to speak then: – Get off of her, man.

– Shit, what am I now? A cradle robber? – Barry looks at you with a pointed smile, but he’s not talking to you, he’s just riling them up. – You don’t even like me like that, do you, sweetheart? Unless you do, and then, well…

JJ grabs him by the shirt, but Barry just keeps laughing. – I’m telling you to get the fuck off of her, man!

– JJ, chill the fuck out, what are you doing? – You push him back, away from your friend. There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite read as he meets your gaze. Anger, frustration, sadness. His hands rest on your shoulders, and he opens his mouth, as if to tell you something, but Barry’s laughter cuts in again, and suddenly all you see in his face is anger.

– He’s pushing it! – The blonde retorts, almost childishly.

– Ooh, down pitbull! – He’s almost cackling now, and you can hear a second laugh, something shorter, softer, coming from the car. Rafe’s looking at you too, you can feel his eyes on you. – I’d watch out if I were you, John B! Looks like your buddy here is looking to catch some friendly fire.

– Barry, for fuck’s sakes!

He just laughs at your words, resting his hand on the car door again. – Sorry, sweetheart. But it’s just too easy! – You hesitate, looking back at your brother, whose scowl has deepened. – C’mon, let’s just go.

– She’s not going anywhere with you, – John spits the words out like poison, stepping in to stand next to JJ. – Not with you, and sure as hell not with that psychopath! – You can hear a scoff from within the Range Rover, Rafe seems to be enjoying himself. Enough that he just sits back and grins, waiting for your brother to keep talking.

Barry lets out a whistle. – Ooh, now we bringing Rafe into it? You’re scared of a little country club action, huh? What’s the problem, John B? Brother-in-law not good enough for you?

– What the fuck did you just say to me?!

– Oh, for fuck’s sakes. Stop it. Just stop this shit, I’m tired of it.

– Not my fault your brother’s got a stick up his ass.

– Barry! – You sigh, feeling the limit of your patience encroaching as you turn around. – Give me back my phone, John.

– No. – He swiped it out of your reach again. – You’re not fucking going, and you're gonna thank me for it later. Barry is bad news, as it is. But Rafe? – His eyes darken. You can hear that same chuckle again, and you can tell they're looking at each other. – Rafe’s even worse. You’re not going anywhere near that nut job if I can help it.

– You hear that, Country Club? Surfer boy’s scared of you!

– I swear to God, man. If you don’t shut up–

You pushed him back, long past your wit’s end:

– Quit it. I’m getting really fucking tired of your shit, John. I’m not joking, give it back.

He looks at you for a moment. He'd managed to keep his face smooth for the duration of this talk, though he never could hide his temper, but now he looks as if he could kill you:

– Come and get it, if you want it. It’s right here. – He held it out over his head, smiling without a hint of joy on his face.

– Are we really doing this, right now?

– You said you wanted it. Well, do you?

You look over your shoulder, pondering the options.

Barry’s eyes meet yours as he climbs back into the car, smirking. – Door’s open, sweetheart. Tick tock.

John’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and angry. – She’s not going! – He tried to grab you again, but you didn’t think, you just moved.

You ducked under his grasp, twisting away before he could get a hold of your arm. The sudden motion made your heart race, adrenaline flooding your veins as you bolted toward the car. John cursed behind you, his footsteps heavy on your heels, but he was too slow to catch you.

Barry already held his hand out, his golden grin flashing into laughter as you dove inside. You barely registered the hand that steadied you before you landed ungracefully in his lap, your momentum knocking the breath out of both of you.

– Damn, sweetheart. – Barry drawled, his hands catching your waist steady, where Rafe’s had just been, and the door closes behind the two of you with a bang. – Didn’t know you missed me that much.

– Drive! – You snapped, ignoring the heat rushing to your face.

Rafe’s laughter erupts from beside you, loud and mocking, as the car lurches forward. You glance up just in time to see him smirking at you, his hand casually draped against the steering wheel. The engine revs beneath you as the Range Rover moves, kicking up a cloud of dirt.

You turn around to look at the window, catching sight of JJ and John as they stumbled to a halt. Your brother shouts something – Your name, maybe, or a string of curses – But the roar of the engine drowns him out.

Barry chuckles against you, leaning back on the seat with his arm around your middle. – Remind me to do that again sometime.

– I will man, don’t worry. – Rafe laughs.

– The two of you are sick. – You can feel Barry nodding, his laughing lips pressed against your shoulder, the road before you suddenly becoming clear. They say something else, something you don’t quite catch, as the situation finally dawns on you:

You’re in a car with Rafe Cameron. And it's too late to go back.