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

[cameronsprincess]

hey girly!! can we have a rafe!jj!reader 50 shades of grey type shit? like i’m talking the kinkiest shit going. being tied up, free use, spanking, toys.. the lot! x jj and rafe dom but mainly rafe. xxxx

oh absolutely baby🤍

CW: smut! 18+ only! dom!rafe, dom!jj, free use, bondage, spanking/slapping, degrading, use of a butt plug, throat fucking, piv sex, creampie.

note: to make the dialogue easy without color coding: rafe is bold. jj is italicized. reader is normal.

masterlists.

you, rafe and jj had been together for a few months. there wasn’t much you hadn’t tried yet, but, you were still wanting to find new ways to spice up your sex life.

the three of you are laid on the couch, bodies all tangled together as you watched fifty shades darker. your mind is reeling as you watch the movie, pussy throbbing at the thought of rafe and jj doing these things to you.

you slightly shift your body, rubbing your thighs together as you let out a shaky breath. rafe glances down at you, his blue eyes sparkling as a smirk graces his lips.

“you good, baby?” he rasps, his hand laying on your thigh, squeezing at it softly.

“mhm.. just.. ‘m horny… wanna try something new..” you whimper.

this catches jj’s attention, his eyes ripping from the tv screen and flitting between you and rafe. the latter smiles at jj, filthy thoughts already running through both of their minds. jj places a hand on your other thigh, his fingers tracing random shapes on your skin. his free hand moves to your neck, moving your hair to the side before he leans in, his lips finding the sensitive skin. he trails soft kisses from your neck to your jaw, his teeth nipping at your skin before he finds your eyes.

“tell us what you want, princess.”

rafe smirks, shifting on the couch so he’s sitting straight, his back pressed into the cushions. he grabs your thighs, pulling you into his lap, his hands firmly grabbing at your ass, massaging the flesh underneath his fingers.

you moan, your body rocking against rafe as jj stands from his spot, moving to stand behind you. jj wraps a hand in your hair, yanking your head back and forcing your eyes on his.

“come on, princess. don’t be shy,” his free hand wraps around your throat, gently squeezing before letting go, dragging his hand up to your face and pressing his thumb into your mouth. “what’dya want? hmm?”

rafe rips your shirt down the middle, your bare breasts springing free. he slaps your tit hard before pinching a nipple between his fingers, rolling the hardened bud, “you want us to use you? however we fuckin’ want? is that what you mean? i think this movie got our girl thinking..”

“yes,” you breath out, hands shaking as you continue grinding against rafe’s growing bulge. “please? want to be y’all’s little slut..”

both rafe and jj growl, exchanging a look with one another that has your breath catching in your throat. rafe stands, his hands planted firmly on your ass and bringing you with him. he turns quickly, dropping you down onto the couch, watching intently as your tits bounce. jj disappears outside, returning minutes later with two long pieces of rope. he holds them up, making his way to you, “this what you want, princess?” he asks, dropping to his knees before gripping both your wrists in one hand. your chest heaves, watching as jj tightly wraps the rope around your wrists and forearms.

he stops at your elbows, bringing the remaining length of the rope down and through the opening of your arms. he doubles it back over your arms, tying it off at the top. he grins, “you look fuckin’ pretty with your wrists and arms tied up,” he pauses, standing and shoving the other long piece of rope against rafe’s chest, “tie her legs up.”

rafe scoffs, pushing jj out of the way before falling to his knees before you. “since when do you boss me around, maybank?”

jj just chuckles, “i don’t, but, i dunno about you, i’m ready to get started on using our girl..”

rafe rolls his eyes, choosing not to respond to jj. instead, his pretty blue eyes find yours, dropping the rope to the floor in front of him as his fingers run up your legs. he digs his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down along with your lace panties. both men groan, their eyes going dark at the sight of your glistening pussy.

rafe reaches down, retrieving the rope he’d dropped and looping it around your ankles, running it up your legs and stopping at the bend of your knees. rafe copies what jj did with your arms, pulling the excess rope through the opening of your legs before doubling it over and tying it off.

they both stand, admiring the way you look tied up and ready for them to use.

“god she looks fuckin’ perfect. our helpless little slut.”

“couldn’t agree more,” jj chuckles. “you sure you wanna do this, princess?”

you whimper, nodding your head quickly as your eyes dart between both men. a slow smile spreads across rafe’s face. he squats, grabbing at the rope that binds your arms together and tugging you forward, “words, baby. you know we don’t like that silent answer bullshit.”

“yes. yes i’m sure. please?”

rafe groans, “sound so pretty when you beg us to be used like a slut.”

he pushes you back, standing from his squatted position and stripping himself of his sweats and boxers. jj mimics rafe’s actions, pulling his shirt over his head before removing his basketball shorts and boxers. they both stand before you, gripping their cocks and stroking themselves. jj moves toward rafe, his free hand reaching out and pushing rafe’s hand away, replacing it with his own. rafe lets out a low groan as jj slowly strokes him from tip to base. you squirm, arousal dripping from your pussy and onto the couch, you loved watching them please each other, but you wanted them to touch you right now.

“fuck, jj..” rafe grunts, thrusting his hips forward, fucking his cock into jj’s hand.

you whimper, “please? i need you both…”

jj groans, continuing his slow strokes on rafe’s cock while quickly stroking his own. rafe pulls away from jj, walking toward you and grabbing your upper arms. “jj, come sit.” rafe demands, and jj quickly obeys, “yes sir.”

rafe makes enough room for jj to flop down on the couch, his hard cock bobbing in the air. rafe lowers you down to the ground, your knees hitting the cold hardwood. rafe places a hand in your hair, pushing your head down, your lips rubbing against jj’s thick shaft. jj lets out a moan, his hand quickly gripping his cock before he teases at your lips with his swollen, leaking tip. “ffffuck.. you gonna let me fuck this perfect throat, princess?”

you whimper, parting your lips and letting your tongue fall out. you lick at jj’s leaking tip, the taste of his precum coating your tongue pulling another moan from you. “please? please fuck my throat jj.”

jj smirks down at you, pressing the head of his dick into your mouth. he shoves himself all the way down and you gag around him before sucking in a deep breath through your nose. your cheeks hollow, tongue working against the vein the runs up the bottom of his shaft.

rafe spanks your ass, causing you to moan around jj’s dick. “be right back, wanna do something before i fuck you.”

your eyes roam up, finding jj’s darkened over ones. he presses his tongue against his cheek, his hand gripping the back of your head and pushing you down further, keeping his cock buried deep in your throat. “you’re just gonna warm my cock until i’m ready to fuck this throat, got it?”

you whimper around him, nodding your head the best you can. jj lets out a dark laugh, “good girl.”

the sound of rafe’s footsteps coming up behind you have your body tensing, but you quickly shake it off. you trust them. you wanted this. rafe squats behind you again, his palm slapping at your ass again, making your body jump. jj tightens his grip on your hair, “hey, no moving princess. gotta be real still while you’re warming my cock, okay?”

rafe chuckles, his big hand finding your ass again. he massages the flesh in his hands before he’s spreading your ass open. you hear the sound of a bottle popping open, trying to turn your head to see what rafe was doing but jj yanks on your hair, “stop. moving.”

you look up, watching as jj watches rafe, an amused smile played on his lips.

“alright baby, this is gonna hurt a little, but it’s nothing you haven’t done before. just breathe f’me, alright?”

you suck in a deep breath through your nose, letting it out slowly when you feel something cold being pressed against your ass. rafe continues to slowly push the cold object into your ass, the burning feeling of it stretching your tight hole has tears forming in your eyes. “almost in baby, told you it’ll be okay. we’ve stretched this ass plenty of times. almost… and done.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a stray tear falling down your face as the thick butt plug fills and stretches your ass. you shift on your knees, swaying your ass side to side. rafe slaps your ass again, the skin tingling and sore from his rough slaps. rafe slides two fingers through the slick folds of your pussy, shoving them inside you before quickly removing them.

“goddamn, you’re soaked baby. tell me, is it jj’s cock down your throat, the plug in your ass, or you being tied up and helpless that has you so fuckin’ wet?”

jj pulls you off his cock, strings of spit attached to your lips and his shaft. “answer him, princess.”

you suck in a shaky breath, “a-all of it..” you whisper.

“fuck, such a filthy little slut, aren’t you baby?” rafe rasps, shoving two fingers inside you again, pumping them in and out slowly.

jj shoves his cock back down your throat, beginning to slowly move your head up and down his thick length. you let out a muffled moan when rafe pulls his fingers from inside you, the head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “gonna fill this pussy with my cum, wanna see it dropping from this perfect goddamn cunt.. what about you, j? you gonna fill this sluts throat with your cum?”

jj groans, continuing to slowly move your head up and down his cock. “fuck yeah.. wanna see her swallow every drop too, we don’t waste what’s given to us, do we sweet girl?”

rafe begins pushing the head of his cock inside you, slowly inching his way in. he lets out a low grunt when he finally bottoms out, his hips slapping against your ass. “so fuckin’ wet, baby.. pussy is squeezin’ me.” his hands find your hips, holding onto them so tight you swear his fingers will leave bruises. he begins fucking himself into you, his hold on your hips growing tighter each time your pussy flutters around him.

jj lowers himself on the couch, keeping his dick in your mouth as he repositions himself. he spreads his legs wider, pulling you further between his legs. his hips buck up once, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat roughly. he slowly drags your head off, leaving just the tip inside before he roughly thrusts back in. his hips find a quick pace, brutally fucking your throat while rafe continues to pound into your pussy from the back.

your body shakes, muffled whines and moans spilling from your lips as they use you for their pleasure.

rafe slows his thrusts, slowly pulling in and out of you, his eyes focused on the way your pussy gripped his dick each time he pulled back. he slowly drags out to the tip, slamming forward again and causing your body to jolt forward. your stomach tightens, warmth flooding your veins. “such a good little fucktoy aren’t you baby?”

jj groans, biting his bottom lip hard as his cock twitches in your mouth, “fuck… so good to us baby, lettin’ us use you like the slut you are.”

your pussy tightens, that knot in your lower belly growing tighter as you near your release. jj’s cock brutally pounds down your throat, his low grunts and groans filling the air along with rafe’s. rafe picks up the pace of his hips, fucking into you harder and faster. both of them fucking a part of you along with the plug that fills your ass has your nerve endings tingling.

rafe and jj’s thrusts become sloppy, both men grunting loudly as their dicks twitch and pulse at the same time. you feel the warmth of jj’s cum spilling onto your tongue and down your throat, his hand in your hair gripping tightly as he holds you down. rafe pushes in deep, holding himself inside you as his cum spills deep inside your pussy.

both men are panting, their cocks softening inside you before they’re slowly pulling out. rafe grins at jj before his eyes fall back down to your pussy, watching a thick glob of cum seep from your pussy. jj grips your cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips, his tongue intertwining with yours to taste himself. he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “did so good, princess. so good.”

rafe stands up behind you, leaning down and picking you up bridal style. your body is limp in his arms, wrists, arms and legs numb from how tightly they had the rope tied around you. “you’re a good girl.. we love you, now let’s go get you cleaned up and in bed, yeah?”

your eyes flutter shut, mumbling a soft “okay..” as rafe carries you into the bedroom, jj following closely behind.

tagging some moots: @nemesyaaa @starkeysbabygirl @rafescvntyclubgf @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @hauntedfawnn @rafescorpsebride @rafesbabygirlx @maybejj @maybanksangel @jjsbaby

[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.”

[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.

[pinkboaclub]

Professor Styles [part two]

[read first part here!]

Summery: After you hook up, Professor Styles desperately tries to work things out, though you’re unsure……until you’re not.

Words Count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, teacher-student relationship (university-everyone is of age), fem!reader

It was Monday morning, and the air in the lecture hall felt heavier than usual. You could barely focus on anything, definitely not on the lecture Professor Styles—Harry—was doing.

Instead, your mind kept circling back to Friday night when you felt the soft brush of his hand against yours, the lingering heat between you as he leaned in closer to help with your research, the unexpected rush of emotions that had filled the space between the two of you, the kiss, and everything after that. You couldn’t shake it. You couldn’t look at him the same way anymore.

He stood at the front of the room, detailing his lecture, though you didn’t hear a word he said. His eyes were constantly trying to find yours, looking over at you every few minutes, but you stayed looking at your notebook. You normally were so engaged in these lectures, eager to raise your hand, to contribute, but today you stayed silent. The tension between you and Harry was palpable, and you felt it in every inch of your body.

He dismissed the class to work on their assignment as he walked around the room, asking people if they needed help. Your stomach churned every time he walked by your seat, which he kept doing, as if he was preparing himself to talk to you.

"Y/N?" He finally said, breaking you out of your nervous thoughts. "How’s the assignment going? Need any help?"

His voice, low and familiar, sent a jolt through your body. You didn’t dare look up, but you could feel him standing there beside your desk, waiting for an answer.

You shook your head quickly, avoiding his gaze. "No. I’m fine," you muttered, your voice coming out more abrupt than you intended.

He paused, as if he wanted to say something back, but nodded and moved on to the next student. You felt like you’d ruined everything, and yet, he still was trying to grab your attention.

The rest of the class dragged on. You couldn't focus. Your mind kept spinning with thoughts of Harry. What would he think of you now?

After Harry gave a last minute instruction and dismissed the class, everyone started to shuffle out of the room. You grabbed your things, the only thing on your mind was leaving. Just as you were about to walk to the door, you heard Harry’s voice again.

"Y/N, could you stay for a moment?"

You froze. His voice made your heart race, and you cursed yourself for not leaving faster. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as you reluctantly gathered your belongings and made your way to the front of the room. You tried to come up with some excuse, an assignment to work on, a place to be.

“Uhm, I actually have to go…I have somewhere to be.”

“It will only take a moment, it's about the last assignment.”

You knew it wasn’t about the last assignment, but a large part of you was praying it was.

"Sure," you reluctantly said, your voice tight.

The last student left, and Harry closed the door behind them. The awkwardness caused your body to want to squirm.

He leaned against his desk, his gaze softer now, but still carrying that same tension. “Y/N, I—” He paused, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. "I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, and I just...I don’t want you to hate me. I really care about you, and I would never want to ruin…this…us." His voice was sincere, and you could hear the concern in it, but it only made you feel more confused.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn't know what to say, you agreed with him, you never wanted to feel uncomfortable around him. But, he never made you uncomfortable.

“I don’t hate you,” you said firmly. "I think I...crossed a line, though. I shouldn’t have let it happen." Your voice broke slightly, and your heart raced at the confession. You stared down at your shoes, shifting uncomfortably.

Harry’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently. “No, Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing about that was wrong.” He took a deep breath and a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You didn't cross any line and I’d never want you to feel bad about it. You didn’t make things awkward for me. I just want to know you’re okay, at the very least"

You stared at him, trying to make sense of everything. His words, your feelings, the entire situation. But everything felt so jumbled in your mind.

And then, without thinking, you walked up to him. The pull between you both felt magnetic, and before either of you could say another word, you were kissing him again, this time, it was you who closed the space between you.

His lips were warm against yours, and the second they met, they welcomed yours, molding together. He didn’t hesitate this time. His hands cupped your face, drawing you closer.

When you pulled away, your breath was shallow, your heart pounding in your chest. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel him smile, that same soft smile you’d seen a hundred times before—but now, it felt different, warmer, more intimate.

"I think I just ruined everything, again." you whispered, your voice breathless.

Harry chuckled softly, pulling back to look you in the eyes. "No," he said, his voice low but certain. "You didn’t. We’re just figuring this out together."

There was a loud knock on the way causing both of you to harshly separate, creating a large distance between the both of you. The person walked in, it was another one of the art professors coming in to talk with Harry.

“So I think if you have time to make it up today, we can definitely work something out, make sure you get the grade you wanted.” Harry blurted, trying to make it look like he wasn’t just making out with a student moments before.

“Oh, yeah no problem, what time do you want me here?” You casually replied, pulling out your best acting skills. The other teacher, giving Harry a smile and waiting patiently for your conversation to be done.

“Uhm,” He looked at his watch, face scrunched, in a way that almost turned you on. “How about, anytime after twelve thirty My last class ends at twelve, so I can prepare a makeup quiz for you, it shouldn’t take long.” He lied and he gave you a look.

“That sounds perfect, see you then.” You gave a final nod before walking towards the door, giving the other professor a smile before walking out.

In your next class, feeling way better about your current situation with Harry, your phone lit up.

‘See you at 12:30, my classroom.’

You knock on the door that had ‘Professor Styles’ engraved into it. Taking a deep breath, looking around to see other students passing by. The door finally opened to a smiling Professor Styles—Harry.

“I have that makeup quiz ready for you.” He said while the door was still open.

Once the door was closed and he turned towards you, you grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

“Mm…my…office…is the only…door with…a lock on it.” He muttered in between kisses. You both walked towards his office, which was connected to the classroom.

He closed and locked the door and turned on the light. Walking backwards, you leaned your backside against his desk, continuing to keep his lips on yours.

Licking your bottom lip, he gently demanded entrance to your mouth, which you gave gladly with a light moan. You kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue against his. His hands rested lightly on your waist and yours on his solid chest.

You lost track of time while enjoying kissing him, not worrying about anyone or anything else, until you suddenly wanted more. Much more.

“Is this okay?” You broke away from his lips to unbutton his shirt, looking up at him to silently ask. He firmly consented and slowly dragged your top off, followed by your bra.

He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, gently nipping his way down to your breasts before taking one in his mouth. His hand cupped the other breast, rolling the already hard nipple with his thumb and forefinger. He moaned into your breast, the vibration against your nipple sending a wave of heat and sensation through your body. You gasped and dug your nails into his broad, strong shoulders.

He helped you out of your pants and lifted you on to the desk. His hands became more urgent as he began kneading and caressing your thighs.

“Please, more, Harry,” You babble, unable to form a specific request.

He pulled your underwear off and swiftly placed his fingers on your clit, before slowly lowering his body. You had never been so turned on in your life. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and without another word, he licked a soft stripe along your slit, from your opening to your clit, before parting his lips and planting a gentle kiss on the clit itself. You covered your mouth to muffle your strained gasp.

“We need to be so quiet, honey. Just for now, next time I’ll make sure you can scream as much as you want.” He gently said, rubbing a hand up and down your thigh.

He licked another stripe along your slit and fixed his gaze on yours as you watched your Professor do this, which was the sexiest yet dirtiest thing you’d ever seen.

He continued to look up into your eyes as he alternated licking, sucking, and grazing his teeth along your clit and labia. Registering every reaction, noting what you responded to the most, every moan, every ‘yes, keep going’. He gave you the most attentive care you had ever been given during sex.

The men on campus you had been with either wouldn’t go down on you or only did it until you were wet enough for penetration. Harry enjoyed giving you oral. He began sucking harder when he felt your legs straighten out, stiff and trembling, while your breath became heavier and louder.

“Oh fuck, Professor, I, I–ugh” This time he didn’t correct you, almost finding you calling him Professor hot.

“Yes, cum for me. You’re so beautiful like this, Y/N,” He encouraged between hot heavy breaths, before he buried his face into your pussy, using his nose to rub your clit even more vigorously while his tongue licked at your entrance.

His words tipped you over the edge and you started grinding yourself upwards, grabbing the back of his head and lightly pushing his face into you. You were cumming violently, heels digging into his shoulder blades, fingernails digging into his scalp, wanting to scream at the intensity of the pleasure.

After he licked your sensitive folds and inner thighs clean as you came down from your extreme high, he wiped away the cum that painted his chin, the tip of his nose, and his lips.

As he stood up you noticed his cock pressing against the fabric of his trousers. He had almost made you forget, by putting your pleasure at the centre of his attention. You unbuckled his belt and massaged him through his underwear.

You then removed his underwear, getting a better look at him than you did last time when you both were so quick and urgent. This time, you both were taking in every moment.

He stepped towards you, caressing your breasts before running his hands down to your hips, making you feel safe in his embrace.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” He kissed your upper neck, then behind your earlobe, rubbing his cock along your sensitive slit.

“You Harry, please, I want you.”

He kissed your temple, acknowledging your request. Using the head of his cock to stimulate your clit and inner lips, he began breathing against your neck. He knew exactly how to pleasure you, you almost feel ready to cum on the spot with this new stimulation.

After a little more teasing, you couldn’t take it anymore. You lightly gripped his cock in your hand and led him to your very ready entrance.

Needing no further encouragement, he slowly plunged into you and finally buried himself fully. He waited a moment, looking at you to make sure you were comfortable. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to move.

You stayed as quiet as your mouth would let you, not wanting to risk someone hearing and Harry getting fired. But you could have spent the whole time screaming his name over and over again.

He was so deep in you that your muscles started to contract around his cock, causing him to grunt in pleasure. He gripped your hips hard and began thrusting more vigorously, you could tell he was close.

Teasing your clit, he began sending you towards your own climax. You started to grind up against him even harder and crashed your mouth onto his. Desperately kissing and gripping each other, you both approached your own orgasms.

“Harry…..Harry” you quietly moaned into his shoulder, using every ounce of strength you had to stay quiet.

“I know, I’ve got you.”

You cum again, your body twitching as the pleasure rolled through you.

Your muffled moans as well as your contracting muscles on his cock, drove Harry to his orgasm, which almost made him double over as he holds your thighs in a grip that will probably leave bruises. He pulled out and came on your thigh, neither of you really worrying about where any of it would land.

Gently, he took your flushed face in his hand, “You’re so perfect, that was so perfect.”

You nodded, fully agreeing with him

You smiled as your foreheads leaned against each other, happy that you could be this intimate with him and not hate yourself afterwards.

“I do want to make this work. It will be hard, we won’t be able to tell anyone, at least for now, but I want to make it work, make you comfortable.” He said, moving his hand up to brush away some of your hair.

“I want to too. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to tell you on Friday.” You replied, diverting your eyes from his out of embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize. Our lack of communication was not your fault at all” He said sternly. “We’re here now, we feel good, we’ll figure this out as we go.” His words comforted you. In that moment you could have stayed in his embrace forever.

“I should get going though, I don’t think makeup quizzes usually take this long.” You both chuckled, allowing yourself to pull away and put your clothes back on.

With a flirtatious wink, you said a temporary goodbye “See you tomorrow, Professor Styles”

[crxlrei-888]

LOVE AND DEEP SPACE HAREM

@crxlrei-888

art not mine

ᯓᡣ𐭩 lnds x reader

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.

[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

[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.

[hjvi]

𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Chris breaks your heart, you revisit your most cherished memories with him in therapy, trying to understand what made you love him—and why it all fell apart.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Heartbreak. Angst.

Word Count: 8.4k

The sterile smell of the therapist’s office clung to the air, an odd mix of cleanliness and something far too clinical. It was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock hanging on the pale blue wall. I sat on the couch, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, gripping a tissue in one hand and twisting it nervously with my fingers. My therapist, Dr. Callahan, sat across from me in her chair, her expression warm but slightly firm, like she was waiting for me to unravel a ball of string I’d been clutching for weeks.

I stared at the floor, avoiding her eyes. We’d been doing this for weeks now—me, showing up, talking about anything but him. The sessions felt like a game of tug-of-war with my own mind, each side pulling harder but neither winning. The mere thought of saying his name out loud made my chest tighten, my breath quicken, and tears spring to my eyes.

Dr. Callahan sighed gently. "I notice we always seem to steer away from talking about Chris. And I’m not saying we need to dive into that, but I do want to talk about how you're managing your anxiety. It seems like it’s flaring up more than usual.”

That was an understatement. My anxiety had been suffocating, like being stuck in a maze I couldn’t navigate. And the pills—the little pills that kept my head above water—were sitting on Chris’s nightstand.

“I, um...” I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been taking my meds.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“They’re... they’re at Chris’s house,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat burned as tears threatened to spill over, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold them back. “I can’t go there. I can’t face him.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward. “Okay. Let’s unpack this together. How are you feeling after the breakup?”

And there it was—the question I’d been running from. My breath hitched, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “Horrible,” I croaked. “I—I can’t even think about him without crying. I can’t do anything without—”

The tears came faster now, and I wiped at them with the crumpled tissue in my hand. “I haven’t been eating. I haven’t been sleeping. Everything just feels... pointless. Without him, nothing makes me happy. Nothing feels right. It’s like... my life is worthless without him.”

Dr. Callahan’s voice was calm, soothing. “Why do you feel like your life is worth nothing without Chris? What is it about him, about your relationship, that makes you feel this way?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “It’s... everything,” I said finally. “The way he made me feel. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world. He made me laugh. He made me feel safe. Every good memory I have—it’s all with him.”

Dr. Callahan nodded again, her eyes steady on mine. “Okay. Let’s start there. Let’s talk about those memories. Let’s figure out what made them special, what brought you joy, so we can help you find that again in your life—even without Chris.”

I nodded slowly, my chest aching. “The first time I met him... that’s where it all started.”

The First Time I Met Him

The quiet hum of Nick’s desk lamp filled the space as I sat cross-legged on his carpet, flipping through my notes for our school project. His room was simple, with posters of bands tacked up on the walls and a faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. Nick sat across from me, scrolling through his laptop.

“You think this is enough to get us through the presentation?” I asked, holding up a neatly written outline.

Nick shrugged. “Probably. You’re, like, way more organized than me.”

I laughed softly and was about to reply when the sharp sound of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by two unmistakably loud voices. My head snapped up.

“Bro, are you serious? That ref was blind!” one of the voices exclaimed, frustration dripping from his words.

“Blind? You literally tripped the guy, Chris,” the other retorted, their footsteps stomping closer with each passing second.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nick. He rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. My brothers are... loud.”

Before I could ask, the bedroom door flew open, and in came two boys dressed in hockey gear, their faces slightly flushed from the cold. One of them, with dark brown hair and an easy smirk, was clearly mid-argument. The other, though, caught my attention instantly.

He was tall and lean, with tousled, medium-length brown hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times after practice. His striking blue eyes, full of energy and mischief, darted around the room before locking on mine. Time seemed to pause.

“Oh,” he said, the word barely audible as his jaw slackened slightly. His entire demeanor shifted in a split second—gone was the loud, restless energy from before. Instead, he straightened his posture, his hand awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable.

Nick groaned. “Chris, get out. We’re working.”

Chris didn’t move. His gaze was still on me, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

Finally, I broke the silence, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Chris blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Uh—hi! I mean, hey. What’s up?” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced before clearing his throat. “I’m Chris.”

Nick sighed, clearly annoyed. “She’s here for the project, Chris. Go bother Matt or something.”

But Chris ignored him, a grin creeping onto his face. “What’s your name?”

I told him, feeling my cheeks heat under his intense gaze. His smile widened, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly trying to seem casual. “That’s a really pretty name,” he said, his Boston accent thick and unfiltered.

“Chris, seriously,” Nick cut in, standing up to shove his brother toward the door. “Out.”

Chris didn’t leave without a fight. He grabbed Nick’s arm, dragging him just outside the room. I could still hear their voices, though they were slightly muffled.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a girl like her here?” Chris whisper-yelled, his tone laced with urgency.

Nick groaned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! She’s—” Chris’s voice dropped slightly, as if trying to be quieter, but I could still make out his words. “She’s gorgeous.”

My face burned, and I stared down at my notebook, pretending not to hear.

Nick re-entered the room, looking both amused and exasperated. “Sorry about him. He thinks you’re, like, a goddess or something.”

I glanced up, meeting Nick’s teasing gaze. “What?” I asked, though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.

Nick laughed. “Chris has a massive crush on you already. Don’t let it go to his head.”

The sound of Chris and Matt bickering down the hall faded into the background as I tried to process everything. I didn’t know what to make of it—this boy I’d just met, with his loud laugh and dazzling blue eyes, who somehow managed to make my heart race without even trying.

First Time You Held Hands The Awkward Spark

It started out as nothing. A quick, careless movement, nothing intentional. But the second Chris’s hand brushed against mine, I felt it. A spark, sudden and completely unexpected, shot through me like static. I froze, my hand hovering in midair, unsure if I should pull away or leave it there. I hadn’t meant to linger, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him. His fingers were still close enough to mine that the space between us seemed almost too big to ignore.

Chris, as always, was oblivious to the effect he was having on me. He kept talking, gesturing wildly about something—probably sports or something equally loud and energetic—but I couldn’t focus on the words. My thoughts were tangled in the way his hand had touched mine so casually. So naturally.

I could feel the warmth of his skin where it had brushed against mine, and for a second, I wondered if he felt the same thing I did.

“Yo,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked, trying to pull myself back into the moment. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned, flashing that carefree smile of his, but there was something different in his eyes. Something softer. A shift that made my heart beat a little faster.

“You’re spaced out, huh?” he teased, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Nothing.”

His grin widened, and that was when I realized he was still really close—closer than I’d thought. He moved again, shifting his weight on the couch beside me, and this time, his fingers brushed against mine again. But this time, they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough that it didn’t feel like an accident.

I froze again, my heart thumping in my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hand, just a breath away from mine. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous too, but there was an undeniable energy between us now.

Then, as if he could sense my hesitation, Chris turned to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a nervousness to it that I hadn’t expected. “You good?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was actually asking and not just making conversation.

I nodded, though I was sure he could tell something was off. “Yeah, just…” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words what I was feeling.

He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping a little. “I’m not gonna bite,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can relax, you know?”

His hand shifted closer to mine again, and this time, before I could think about it, I gently placed my hand in his. The moment my fingers curled around his, something clicked—like everything I’d been unsure about, all the nervous energy that had been circling around us, suddenly made sense. His hand fit mine so easily, like it was meant to be there. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by something warmer, softer.

We didn’t say anything for a while. There was no need. The contact, the feeling of his hand in mine, was enough to fill the space between us. He didn’t squeeze my hand too tight, but his grip was firm enough to tell me he wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t going anywhere. And for a moment, I forgot about everything else—the confusion, the tension, the anxiety that had followed me around for weeks. It was just me and him. Just this.

I glanced up at him, and when our eyes met, I saw it—something that wasn’t there before. It was a little spark, a little light, and I could tell it wasn’t just me feeling it. He didn’t look away, just held my gaze, his thumb lightly tracing circles over my palm, sending a new kind of warmth through me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low, but his smile still there, softening the words.

I nodded, and I don’t think I could’ve smiled any wider. “Yeah. I’m good.”

For the first time in a long time, I really was.

I sat in Dr. Callahan’s office, tracing the edge of the couch with my finger, still unable to meet her eyes. The quiet hum of the room made my thoughts feel louder, but I kept going.

“I remember the first time he kissed me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t like how I’d imagined it—like a movie or something dramatic. It was just... us.”

She leaned in slightly, her calm, steady voice guiding me. “Tell me about it. What was it like for you?”

I closed my eyes, letting the memory come rushing back, the way it always did when I thought of him.

First Time He Kissed You The Moment the World Stopped

The air was thick with anticipation, like a storm on the verge of breaking, as you both sat there in the quiet of his room. The soft glow of the lamp cast a gentle warmth over everything, making the atmosphere feel cozy, intimate. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, but everything inside felt suspended, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Chris was close, so close that you could feel his presence like a magnetic force, pulling you in without a word. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time, you noticed how his eyes had shifted. The usual playful glint was still there, but underneath it was something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. It made your heart beat faster, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

You both sat in silence, the tension between you building with every passing second. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on you, making your skin flush.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you sure about this?” His words were soft, uncertain, as if he was asking for permission.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart pounding. There were no words, nothing more to be said. It was a question that needed no answer. Instead, you just nodded, your eyes not leaving his. In that moment, everything else faded away—the thoughts, the doubts, the worries. All that was left was him.

Chris didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand, which had been resting at his side, moved up slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch light but purposeful. He seemed to be studying you, as if memorizing every detail before he closed the distance between you. His thumb traced your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, without another word, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as if you both were testing the waters. His lips were soft, and the warmth of them against yours made everything else in the room seem far away. You could taste the faint mint on his breath, feel the gentle pressure of his mouth as he leaned in a little deeper. It was everything—sweet, tender, and oh so careful.

His hand, still on your face, cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm grounding you in the moment. You felt his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer. Your heart raced, your breath coming in shallow bursts, and you couldn’t help but respond, your lips moving against his with growing confidence.

He let out a soft, barely audible groan between the kisses, a sound so low, so raw, it made your entire body shiver in response. The sound of it sent a spark straight through you, igniting something deep inside. You felt the shift in his kiss, from gentle to hungry, as if he was searching for something deeper—something that only you could give him.

His hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your throat, sending heat radiating through your body. You felt his breath hitch as his lips parted slightly, his mouth moving with more urgency against yours.

Every kiss felt like a spark, igniting a flame inside you that you didn’t know you had. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a silent question, a request, and you parted your lips, meeting him halfway. The kiss deepened, slower now, but with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation of his lips on yours was intoxicating, every touch electrifying, and your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

His hands roamed, exploring the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together with a force that made your heart ache. You could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the way his body seemed to match yours in every movement. Each kiss was like a promise, each breath shared between you was another step deeper into something you couldn’t name but didn’t want to escape.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get more intense, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. You both gasped for air, your faces inches apart, your breath mingling in the space between. His lips were swollen, slightly parted, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. That familiar mischievous glint was back in his eyes, but it was softer now, more intimate.

“Damn,” he whispered, voice rough from the kiss. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You laughed softly, still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Yeah, me too,” you breathed, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, you just stayed there, your foreheads touching, both of you savoring the silence, the stillness of the moment. And in that silence, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper.

First Time He Wrote You Something

It wasn’t like Chris to do something so... thoughtful. He was always the one to crack a joke or do something spontaneous to make me laugh, but this? This was different.

It started out like any other day. We’d spent hours texting, trading stupid jokes and sending each other random things we found online. But then, a few hours later, I got a message from him that wasn’t like the rest.

“Check your mailbox.”

I stared at my phone, confused. What was he talking about? It was late, and we hadn’t talked about anything that would involve a physical letter. But curiosity tugged at me, and I figured I’d humor him.

I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, my mind swirling with questions I didn’t have answers to yet. The walk to the mailbox felt like an eternity, the cold air stinging my skin as I opened the metal box and found... a single, folded sheet of paper.

I pulled it out, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking slightly. Unfolding it, I saw his handwriting, neat but still unmistakably his. The words weren’t rushed, but carefully placed, like he’d taken the time to write this with purpose. I could feel something catch in my throat as I began to read.

Hey,

I’m not great at saying this stuff, but I need you to know. I’ve been thinking about you more than I probably should. When I’m with you, everything just makes sense. You don’t know it, but you’ve got this way of making everything lighter. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anyone but myself, and that’s not something I can say about a lot of people.

I don’t know what I’m doing with this, but I guess I just want you to know... I like you. A lot. And I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m in it. I just wanted you to know that.

Chris

I stood there, the paper pressed against my chest, not sure what to do with myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know he liked me, but hearing it like this, reading it in his words, felt different. It felt real. It felt like something I wasn’t quite ready for, but something I also couldn’t ignore.

I laughed, almost nervously, at how my heart seemed to speed up, the way my chest felt tight, like there was something big happening in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit it.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, trying to act normal, but the reality of what it meant settled in a few minutes later. This wasn’t just some fling or casual thing for Chris. He’d put himself out there, and I couldn’t ignore that.

First Time He Called Me His

It was late afternoon, and the park was full of life. A mix of families, groups of friends, and people just lounging around, enjoying the last rays of sun before it dipped below the horizon. Chris and I had been hanging out all day, tossing a frisbee back and forth with some of his friends, laughing and joking around like we always did. The energy was contagious, and everyone around us seemed to be in the same carefree, easygoing vibe.

I had just finished taking a swig from my water bottle, wiping the sweat from my brow as I stood off to the side to catch my breath. The heat of the day had been intense, but the evening breeze was starting to cool everything down. I was leaning against the tree, watching Chris and his friends make stupid jokes and just goofing off, and honestly, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he threw himself into everything—whether it was the game or just hanging out—that made it impossible not to feel alive in the moment.

I was about to head over to join them when one of his friends made a comment. It was a harmless joke, but the second it came out of his mouth, he turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Yo, Chris, how’s it feel to have such a hot girl with you all the time? Bet she's always making you look good, huh?”

Chris laughed in his signature loud, carefree way, but then, without missing a beat, he shot back, not at all embarrassed to let everyone hear him.

“That’s my girl, yeah? Of course she makes me look good.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made my heart jump in my chest. His tone was playful, but there was an undeniable edge of pride to it. He didn’t even pause to think about it. He didn’t shy away from owning it, letting his friends know that I wasn’t just some girl in the group. I was his.

For a moment, everything around me froze. The world kept turning—the laughter, the noise, the frisbee flying through the air—but all I could hear was the confidence in his voice. I could feel a warmth rush to my face, and I couldn’t help but look at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment. He was grinning at me, that teasing smirk on his lips, but I could tell by the way his eyes softened that he was serious.

The whole exchange had lasted maybe three seconds, but in that short window, I felt a surge of warmth wash over me. Not from embarrassment or pride, but from the reassurance of knowing he was proud to call me his. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second thoughts. Just a simple, confident statement, like he was stating a fact everyone should know. I belonged to him in the most genuine, affectionate way possible.

I chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling of being exposed, but my heart was still racing. It wasn’t a dramatic, over-the-top moment. It wasn’t some grand gesture or a public declaration of love. It was just him, casually stating it in front of his friends, so easily, without needing to make it a big deal. But it meant everything to me.

I could see that his friends had gone back to their own banter, but I stood there for a moment longer, looking at Chris as if he’d just given me something no one else could ever take away. The breeze lifted the strands of my hair, and I felt, for the first time in a long while, like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Chris walked over, tossing his frisbee back to his friend with one hand, and then, just as he passed by me, his arm casually slid around my shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his breath brushing against my ear, “that’s my girl.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt them settle deep inside my chest, a quiet claim of ownership that made me feel more seen, more special than I could ever have imagined. I smiled to myself as he pulled me closer, and though the sun was starting to set, I could swear the world had never felt warmer.

Dr. Callahan was quiet for a moment, letting me sit with the memory, but I could feel his gaze on me. His voice broke through the stillness. "It sounds like that was a really powerful moment for you. The confidence Chris showed, the way you felt... secure, loved. It’s understandable why that would stick with you."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against my knee. I could almost still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the laughter of his friends in the background, but those feelings were starting to blur, slipping into the recesses of my mind like water sinking into the sand.

"Yeah..." I murmured, more to myself than to him. "It was... easy, you know? It was simple. And I guess that's what makes it hurt now. Because it felt so secure. Like, I didn’t have to question it."

The room felt suddenly too quiet. I felt like I was speaking into the stillness, but it wasn’t just the room that was silent. It was the memory—one that had been so vivid a second ago—now starting to fade, like it was being replaced by something else. Something else that felt like it needed to be said, or maybe something that I wanted to remember next.

The shift was subtle at first. A slight tension in my chest, like a thread was being pulled in my brain, unraveling a different memory. One that felt like it belonged to the same day. It was almost like I could feel it coming, the next scene playing in my mind like a movie that had just begun its second act. The shift in the air, the change in the temperature of the room—like I was leaving behind the warmth of the park for something different, something that wasn’t quite as clear.

The time he took my virginity

The room was soft with dim lighting, the kind that made everything feel more intimate, more sacred. The quiet hum of the outside world faded as I lay there, my heart racing in my chest, but I wasn’t afraid. I trusted him more than anything—Chris was my anchor, the one person who made me feel safe, loved, and cherished. And now, as I looked into his eyes, I knew that this moment was something we would share, something precious.

“Are you sure, baby?” His voice was a gentle whisper, full of care, full of concern. He was looking at me like I was something so fragile, and in that moment, I knew he was never going to hurt me. “We’ll take it slow, doll. I’ll guide you, okay? You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”

I nodded, my breath shaky, but I felt his warmth surrounding me, giving me the courage to be vulnerable with him. “I trust you,” I whispered, my voice so quiet, but he heard me, and I could see the tenderness in his eyes.

Chris smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. “Good girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then my nose, and finally, pressing his lips gently to mine. His kiss was slow, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every inch of me. It made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with something so sweet and so full of love. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, okay? Let me do all the work.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his words. His soothing tone, the way he was speaking to me like I was the most precious thing in the world, melted away any lingering doubt. He wasn’t rushing, never rushing. Everything about him, from the way his hands brushed against my skin to the way he kissed me, was so slow, so deliberate, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

His hands, warm and steady, began to move over me gently. As he started to ease my jeans down, his fingers grazed my skin, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his touch all over my body. I tried to steady myself, but the nerves still lingered. I covered my mouth to stifle the noise of discomfort, and I could feel my heart pound faster.

“100%?” He asked, eyes searching yours for an answer. You smiled, nodding as you placed your hand over his. “100%.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, quickly resuming your kiss as his hands worked on removing his jeans and boxers, hastily pulling down your underwear after. He’d had half a mind to pull you to your bedroom, he knew where it was after spending the night in your apartment a many times, but the way you whined against his lips made him hoist you up, hands on the underside of your thighs as you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. 

The wall felt cool against your skin, but all you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of his cock sliding against your folds, the slick sound of your arousal coating his skin making you blush. He pushed himself against you, securing you against the bedframe as he moved his hand from the underside of your thigh, guiding his cock into your waiting cunt. The accompanying stretch made you sigh, eyes fluttering as he began slowly rocking his hips, wanting to give you a few moments to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

Chris’s expression faltered for a moment when he saw my hand over my mouth, but he didn’t miss a beat. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice low but soothing. “It’s okay, baby. The pain won’t last long, I promise,” he whispered. “Just breathe with me, alright? I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll take care of you.”

I nodded into his shoulder, the words comforting me as I tried to relax. My body still felt tense, and I couldn’t hold back the small noises slipping past my lips. I bit down on his shoulder, trying to distract myself from the pain, but I could feel myself biting harder as he slowly went deeper.

Chris noticed immediately, his gaze softening with concern. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, his hand gently lifting my chin from his shoulder. His touch was so tender, so caring, as he guided my face to look at him. “Don’t be shy, okay? Let your noises out. I want to hear you. You don’t need to hold back with me, doll. You’re doing so good.”

His voice was full of warmth, and the gentle praise in his words made me feel a sense of comfort, of reassurance. He kissed me again, this time, softer than before, like he was savoring the moment, reassuring me that everything was okay.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re amazing. I know this is hard, but I’m so proud of you. Let go, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands were so gentle as they massaged my lower abdomen, and I felt my body slowly starting to relax into his touch. His kisses, soft and sweet, trailed down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. Every little noise that escaped my lips only made him praise me more, each word full of love and tenderness.

“See, baby? It’s so beautiful when you let go,” he murmured, his lips brushing over my collarbone, where I loved to feel his touch. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re perfect”

“This alright?” He asked, voice strained as his hands clutched your thigh and hip. You could only nod in response, hands flush against his back as he thrusted up into you. He felt like heaven, his body so close to yours that each roll of his hips caused your clit to brush against his lower stomach, providing much-needed friction along with the feeling of his cock rutting inside of you. 

You could hear his breath catch in his throat whenever you’d clench around him, fingertips grasping your flesh with enough ferocity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your skin the day after. He trailed his lips along your throat, sucking love bites into the soft skin as he fucked himself into you, smiling against your throat whenever he’d draw a moan from you. 

He pressed against me again, his movements slow, ensuring that I felt every inch of his care. His lips traced over my skin, leaving soft, feather-light kisses, and with each movement, he made sure to check in with me. “I’m right here, baby. We’re taking this slow. You’re amazing. Just relax, and let me love you.”

As he eased a little deeper, I felt the pressure of him there, and despite the discomfort, the warmth of his touch made everything feel safer. He noticed the way I bit down on his shoulder again and, gently, pulled my jaw from him.

He pulled me closer, his hand gently cupping my face and brushing away a stray tear. He wiped the sweat from my brow, pushing stray strands of hair from my face with such tenderness, his touch like a balm.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” Chris asked, his voice full of concern and love. He rubbed my lower abdomen gently, his touch slow and comforting. “Tell me where it hurts, doll. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The pain in my stomach was dull but persistent, and his gentle touch only made me feel safer. “It’s here,” I whispered, still pressing my mouth into his shoulder, trying to keep the noise in.

Chris’s hand continued to rub my lower abdomen softly, his touch slow and comforting. “I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe with me, okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re doing so good, doll. You’re my girl, and I’m so lucky to be with you.”

“Baby, don’t be shy. Let it out, okay? You don’t need to hold back,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. He placed my hand over my lower abdomen and pressed it gently down, guiding me to feel just how far we’d come. “You took almost all of it” he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. “We’ll take it slow. I promise you, the pain will stop soon. Just one more time, and we’ll be through it, alright? You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

His words were like a balm to my nerves, his gentle praise soothing my every fear. The way he held me, his every touch full of love, made everything feel so much better. I felt my body start to relax again, his soft words and careful touch giving me the courage to let go and trust him completely.

“Just a little longer, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.

Every time I let out a small noise, whether it was a shaky breath or a soft wince, his dick would twitch. “You sound so pretty.” He whispered, words followed by a soft grunt as his pace picked up a notch, your movements against the wall causing a series of barely audible thuds to echo throughout your living room. “You feel so good.”

His words came out hushed, always interrupted by a whine or a moan that he tried to hide in the crook of your neck. Every noise you heard from him went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around him as you felt your orgasm budding in your lower stomach. Your thighs tightened around his hips, heels subtly digging into his skin as you rolled your hips to meet his movements. 

he murmured, kissing me softly.

He continued to move, slow and steady, his hands never leaving my body as he guided me through it. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered again, his voice filled with pride. “So good"

His kisses continued, soft and comforting, and with every reassuring word, every gentle touch.

I smiled into the kiss, a small, shaky thing, but it was real. It felt so good to be loved like this, to be held with so much care, so much tenderness. I couldn’t speak yet, the emotions and the sensations overwhelming me, but I repeated his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Chris...”

“I know, I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so soothing. He kissed my forehead, his hands still moving over me, tender and patient. He was giving me space to feel everything, to adjust to him at my own pace.

His touch was everywhere, a steady presence on my body that made me feel cherished, loved, and safe. As his hand moved to gently massage my lower abdomen, I felt my body responding, but in a way I couldn’t express with words. I reached down, guiding his hand to where I needed him most, the place where I would feel good, where my body craved his touch.

Chris’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need words to understand what I was asking for. “You’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride. “I love that you know what you need. I’m here with you, okay? I’m right here.”

I whispered his name again, this time with a soft, breathless smile on my lips, “Chris…” I make a weak attempt to continue my previous sentence.

“Oh, fuck-“ He whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as your hips moved with his, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. He placed open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each kiss intercepted by a whine or whimper of your name. Your fingers dug into the muscles lining his back, head rolling back to rest against the wall. 

“I’m gonna cum-“ You murmured, words near slurred as your cunt spasmed around his cock. A strangled moan fell from his lips at the feeling of you coming undone around him, his pace faltering for mere seconds as he tried his best to keep himself upright, legs practically shaking from the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around him. 

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise as he chased his own. You threaded your fingers through his hair, subtly grasping onto the strands as he rutted into you. He seemed to like the feeling, face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he came inside of you. His hips stuttered with each wave of his orgasm, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he grunted through the feeling. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you full of his cum. 

You kissed his cheek and jaw, catching your breath all the while. You couldn’t help but smile against his damp skin, loving the way he still held you in his arms even through his orgasm. A soft laugh bubbled past your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him. 

In the end, I was breathless, my body aching in the most beautiful way. As he held me close, his hands gently tracing over my skin, I felt completely at ease, completely safe.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice shaky but sincere, my heart full of him.

Chris kissed me softly, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you, baby. So much,” he whispered, his voice warm and comforting, like a blanket I could wrap myself in forever.

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. Safe in his arms, loved and cherished beyond measure, and I could feel my heart swell with love for him in return.

The night he promised forever

It was a night that felt like it belonged in a movie. Everything was perfect—the soft lighting from the street lamps, the cool breeze in the air, and the way I felt as I walked into the room, completely transformed. I’d spent hours getting ready, making sure my outfit was just right. The soft fabric of my dress hugged my curves perfectly, and my hair, usually more casual, was styled into gentle waves that made me feel a little more glamorous than usual.

And then there was Chris. The look on his face when he saw me for the first time that night—it was pure awe. His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked at me, barely able to speak. "Baby," he breathed, "you... you look unbelievable."

I smiled softly, trying to act calm, but inside I was a mess of butterflies. "Thanks, Chris," I said, giving a little twirl to show off the dress.

Chris didn’t even try to hide how his gaze followed me, his lips curling into a grin that was almost too proud to be real. He chuckled, shaking his head, trying to play it off. "God, you’re so beautiful. I’m actually losing it right now." He stepped closer to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I don’t think I can even look at you anymore tonight or I might just—" He stopped, shaking his head again with a mischievous grin. "Never mind."

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully, and then we were off. The date had all the right vibes—casual and sweet, with just enough energy to keep everything exciting. After a cozy dinner, we ended up at the ice cream shop, Chris already making jokes about how he was going to spoil me with whatever flavor I wanted. I picked vanilla, my favorite, and Chris got his usual mint chocolate chip.

Sitting on the bench outside, enjoying our ice cream, Chris couldn’t help but tease me every chance he got. His eyes were practically locked on my lips, and I could tell his mind was racing. When I got a little ice cream on the tip of my nose, his face lit up. Without even thinking, he leaned over, his lips gently brushing my nose to kiss the ice cream away.

He pulled back with a smirk, looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. "Mmm, vanilla, huh?" he said, voice dropping lower. "Reminds me of what I want to taste from you tonight."

My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I pushed his face away teasingly, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. "Chris! Stop," I giggled, pushing him back playfully, but I couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down my spine from his words.

Chris, unfazed, just laughed softly and leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my cheek. "I’m just sayin’, doll, you look too good tonight. It’s driving me crazy."

I smiled, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, especially with how his eyes were scanning me like he was trying to memorize every inch of me. Chris was always so sweet and gentle, but there was a side of him that was so much more intense when he wanted something. He kissed my cheek softly, then my jaw, and whispered in my ear, "Can’t wait for tonight, baby. I can already picture it. You in my bed with your thighs squeezing my face... God, that thought is driving me wild."

I gasped, pushing him away again, laughing but feeling my heart race. "Chris, you’re impossible!" But there was no hiding the fact that I loved his words, even if they made me feel nervous.

"Come on, don’t be shy, baby," he said softly, his hands reaching for mine, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. "You know I’m always gentle with you. I just love teasing you... You make me want you so bad." His voice was soft and warm, but there was a sincerity in it that made my stomach flutter.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling all the tension melt away. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just him, me, and the promise of a night where everything between us felt just right. He was sweet, tender, and always knew just how to make me feel special—even when he was making dirty jokes or teasing me endlessly.

"I just wanna take care of you, baby," he whispered, pulling me close as we continued to laugh and smile. "You’re perfect in every way. Don’t forget that."

I looked up at him, feeling my heart full of affection. "I won’t, Chris. I promise." And that promise was sealed with another soft kiss from him, one that made me forget everything else in the world but him.

Forever without me

The room spins as you stumble into the apartment, your arm draped over Chris’s shoulder for balance. Your feet barely manage to keep up with his steady steps as he guides you inside, his hand resting protectively on your waist.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you some water,” Chris murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re gonna feel like crap if you don’t.”

You giggle, your words slurred as you sway against him. “I don’t need water. I need... I don’t know what I need.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he helps you toward the couch. “Well, I know what you need, doll, and it’s water. Trust me.”

He sets you down gently, brushing the hair out of your face as you blink up at him with a hazy smile. “You’re so... pretty, Chris,” you mumble, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I’m the lucky one, baby. Now sit tight, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen, your head lolling against the couch as your eyelids grow heavy. When he returns with a glass of water, he kneels in front of you, holding it out.

“Drink,” he coaxes, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a few sips, m’kay?”

You pout, pushing the glass away weakly. “I don’t want it. I can do this myself.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, his patience unwavering. “Doll, you can barely sit up. Just humor me, alright?”

You groan but take a sip, your movements clumsy. He watches you carefully, his hand resting on your knee to steady you. When you’re done, he sets the glass aside and stands, offering you his hand.

“Let’s get you changed and into bed,” he says, tugging you up gently.

You sway on your feet, your head falling against his chest as he wraps an arm around you to keep you upright. “I don’t need help,” you mumble, your tone stubborn. “I can do it myself.”

Chris lets out a soft sigh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know you can, baby, but let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

You huff but let him lead you to the bedroom. He sets you on the edge of the bed and crouches down, his hands carefully unlacing your shoes. His movements are so tender, so patient, it makes your chest ache.

“I can do this,” you mutter again, trying to push his hands away as he reaches for the hem of your top.

Chris’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. “I know you can, but you’re drunk, and I’m just trying to help.”

You swat at his hands as he gently pulls your shirt over your head. “I’m not a kid, Chris. I don’t need you to baby me.”

He freezes for a moment, his hands stilling as his eyes flicker to yours. “I’m not babying you,” he says softly. “I’m taking care of you.”

But your words keep spilling out, unfiltered by your inebriated state. “You always do this,” you mumble, your tone accusatory. “You treat me like I can’t do anything on my own.”

Chris’s shoulders tense, and he exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep his composure. “That’s not what I’m doing, doll,” he says, his voice steady but with an edge of weariness. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You shake your head, your words growing more jumbled. “You just... you’re always... I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

The hurt that flashes across his face is fleeting, but it’s there. He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands dropping to his sides. “Alright,” he says quietly, standing up. “If that’s how you feel.”

He takes a step back, his blue eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something—anything—that would undo the sting of your words. But when you don’t, he nods to himself and steps toward the door.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he says, his voice tight, and with that, he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

-

The pounding in your head is relentless, but it’s nothing compared to the aching void in your chest. You stir on the couch, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, and find Chris sitting beside you. He’s leaning back, his arm draped over the couch’s edge, his face unreadable.

You shift closer to him, resting your head against his stomach, desperate for some kind of connection. His body tenses under you, but he doesn’t say a word. You tilt your face up, planting soft kisses along the fabric of his hoodie, trailing them lower, hoping to draw out some kind of reaction.

“Chris,” you whisper, your voice small and pleading. When he doesn’t respond, you kiss him again, this time with more intention. “Please, talk to me.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming to rest on your head for a brief moment before pulling away. “Baby, not now,” he says softly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

You ignore his words, your emotions high and desperate. Your fingers graze his jaw as you press another kiss to his stomach. “Why not?” you murmur, your lips trembling. “Don’t you want me?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his patience visibly fraying. “I said not now,” he repeats, still trying to keep his tone even. “You’re not in the right headspace.”

The sting of rejection hits hard, and your chest tightens with a mix of shame and hurt. “Chris,” you plead again, sitting up now, your hands reaching for his face. “Why won’t you touch me? Why don’t you want me anymore?”

His jaw clenches, and he finally looks at you, his blue eyes filled with frustration. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart breaks at the coldness in his tone, and before you can stop yourself, you move to straddle his lap, your fingers fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Chris grabs your wrists gently but firmly, pulling them away. “Stop,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “Baby, stop this.”

But you don’t stop. You lean in, pressing your lips to his, your desperation palpable. “Why not? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?”

That’s when he snaps. Chris pushes you back slightly, his voice exploding with emotion. “Why not? Are you serious right now?” He stands up abruptly, running his hands through his hair as he paces the room.

You sit there, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. “Chris, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” he cuts you off, turning to face you, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even remember last night? Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling for answers. “No, I don’t remember,” you whisper. “I just remember you helping me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I helped you. I always help you. But you don’t remember telling me that I’m controlling? That I treat you like a child? That you feel smothered by me?”

Your heart sinks, and tears spring to your eyes. “Chris, I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he spits, his voice sharp. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to disappear because you don’t remember.”

Tears stream down your face as you stand, trying to close the distance between you. “I don’t feel that way, Chris. I swear. I love you.”

Chris’s laughter is harsh, almost cruel. “You love me?” he echoes. “Then why are you acting like this? Why are you so desperate for me to touch you now when last night you couldn’t stand the way I take care of you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, clutching his arm. “I just wanted you. I needed you.”

He shakes his head, his voice rising again. “You needed me? You always need me, don’t you? You act like this—like a child—whenever things get tough. You love being babied in bed, and I’m always soft with you because you’re so damn sensitive.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, he pauses, his face softening slightly as guilt flickers in his eyes. He hesitates, his mouth opening as if he’s about to backtrack. But then his jaw sets, and he doubles down.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he continues, his voice harder now. “You’re so sensitive and overdramatic that I have to walk on eggshells around you all the time. I have to take my time with you, but now you’re acting like this—like you can’t wait another second. Why?”

Your sobs grow louder as his words cut deeper, and you shake your head, trying to reach for him. “Chris, please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But he doesn’t stop. His frustration has taken over completely, and he’s unable to hold back. “Why are you so needy and quick for me now?” he snaps, his voice breaking. “You make me feel like I can’t win no matter what I do. I’m either not enough, or I’m too much.”

Your knees buckle, and you collapse back onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “Chris, please,” you beg, your voice barely audible.

He softens slightly, the anger in his expression replaced by sadness. “I love you,” he says, his voice cracking. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m never enough for you.”

Before you can respond, he grabs his keys from the table and heads for the door. “I hope you figure out what you really want,” he says quietly before walking out, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of his absence.

You sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the memory settles between you and Dr. Callahan. "That’s the last time I saw him," you say, staring down at your hands clutching a tissue.

The room feels oppressively quiet, the hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the silence. Your chest tightens as the words hang in the air, final and raw. "I woke up the next morning, hungover and confused, and he was gone. His hoodie wasn’t on the chair anymore, his keys weren’t on the table. He didn’t even leave a note."

Your breath hitches as your eyes well up again, and you swipe at your face angrily with the tissue. "I don’t even remember all of what I said that night. I just know I was crying, begging him, practically throwing myself at him—and he snapped. He told me I was too much. That I’m always too much."

Your voice cracks, and you let out a shaky exhale. "I mean, he wasn’t wrong, was he? I am too much. I pushed him so hard that he finally broke. And then I just… let him leave. I didn’t even try to stop him."

Dr. Callahan leans forward slightly, her hands folded in her lap. Her voice is soft but grounded. "It sounds like that moment is still very raw for you. But it also sounds like there’s a lot of blame you’re placing on yourself. Have you thought about why you let him leave without stopping him?"

You blink hard, the tears blurring your vision. "Because… I thought he’d come back," you admit, the confession trembling on your lips. "He always came back before. No matter how bad the fights got, no matter what I said or did—Chris always came back."

Your voice drops to a whisper. "But this time, he didn’t."

You press the tissue to your nose, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. "I don’t know why I even thought he would. He looked at me like I was a stranger that night. Like he didn’t even know me anymore. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe I pushed him so far that he stopped loving me, and I just didn’t want to see it."

Dr. Callahan watches you for a moment, her expression calm but empathetic. "What you’re describing—losing someone you cared so deeply for—is incredibly painful. But it’s also important to understand that relationships don’t break down because of one person. It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself."

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "But I did this," you choke out. "I was the one who couldn’t stop. I was the one who made him feel like he wasn’t enough. And now he’s gone, and I can’t even tell him I’m sorry. I can’t take back any of it."

Your chest feels hollow as you lean back into the couch, the tears still falling freely. Deep down, you wonder if the ache will ever stop. If the image of him walking out the door that night will ever fade. If you’ll ever feel whole again without him.

To be continued??

A/N: This fic has been a labor of love and has definitely been time-consuming to write! Mostly due to the fact that I never slept in 2 days. A huge shoutout to the amazing anon who requested a story about a breakup with a personal spin on it—hopefully, this is exactly what you were hoping for! If you’ve made it this far, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the world to me. If you liked the story, or even if you have thoughts or feedback, any sort of interaction is always beyond appreciated. Thank you again for reading 🩷

tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[dinogoofymutated]

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

[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!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @lotusstarr @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33

[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

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

[starrysan]

nouvelle vague

↳ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅ? [12]

pairing: korea local!yunho x new to city!reader [smau]

masterlist || prev chap || next chap

third person pov

y/n was working at their desk when they were called into their bosses office. “you asked for me?” when say walking into the office and sitting down. “yes i did” the boss hums typing on her computer. she gestures for them to have a seat though they were already seated.

"you've been here a few months now, yes?" she asks. "yes I have" y/n replies. "im sorry.. did I do something wrong? I thought I reported everything in a timely mann-" y/n starts. "nothing like that" their boss assures them.

"you've been doing great. really incredibly" their boss continues. "its not confirmed but we may move you back to the Australia branch" she drops finally to which y/n freezes on the spot. "i.. im sorry what?" y/n makes sure they heard her correctly. "the employment isn't going as well there since to be honest we moved a lot of people abroad this quarter" their boss continues.

"I was told i'd be here for minimum a year its barely been 8 months" y/n says in disbelief. "I know.. im sorry" the boss replies though it honestly didn't seem that convincing. y/n leaves the office in defeat. it of course wasn't confirmed but the fact that it could happen made them freak out.

they tried texting yunho who wasn't responding again but he's busy they shouldn't bother him its fine. they texted chris for a bit, texted san as well. started getting worried about yunho since he wasn't responding and started freaking out about their job again. they panic FaceTimed chris who picked up immediately.

"everything ok?" chris asked through the phone to which he got a quick "no" from y/n. they re-explain everything their boss had told them "I miss you so much but I also love Korea so much now and I know nothings confirmed but im still scared" y/n rambles. "everythings going to all work out y/n don't worry" chris reassures them.

"I know.. im sorry I shouldn't be freaking out right now" y/n sighs. "don't apologize" chris hums. "I cant confirm what will happen of course but youre strong y/n it'll all work out and be okay" chris finishes. "thanks chris" y/n says.

the two hang up the call and y/n goes back to trying to test yunho with no success. he was at work for another couple hours but they thought he'd at least be able to look at his texts. maybe he was sick of them already.

they tried not to think that way but it only made the thoughts they had in the back of their head stronger. he didn't really like them did he? who were they kidding.. he was too busy for someone as high maintenance as they were. they should have known he'd get tired of them.

maybe he was ignoring them to send them a message without actually telling them. that had to be it? did they do something wrong? did they screw up that bad that he didn't even want to talk to them. all these thoughts rushed into their head till they got an abrupt phone call from mingi that broke them from their thoughts.

"hi mingi" they say picking up the call. "y/nnnnn" mingi says excitedly. "what's up? hope im not bothering you I know you have work right now" he giggles over the phone. to not let him know the anguish they were going through they pretended everything was completely fine. "hi mingi" they chuckle. "yeah im good what's up?"

"just wanted to call you its been a hot minute want to hang out later?" he asks, y/n hears yeosang's distant voice telling him not to bother them at work. "tell yeosang I say hello" y/n hums. "sang y/n says heyy" mingi practically yells. "hi y/n" yeosang chimes in.

y/n got off the phone in a bit of a better mood. mingi always had that charm of helping them feel better. they decide not to think about the potential doom of leaving Korea and head home for the night. they send one last text to yunho wishing him goodnight before crashing and falling asleep.

a notification chimes just as they're falling asleep, from yunho..

extras!

y/n overthinks a lot

mingi #1 y/n cheer upper!

ty for reading!

pls fill out the taglist form if you'd like to be added <3

taglist: @mimikittysblog @matchahintonagar @crownj1min @katsukis1wife @staytinyluv @ffenjoyerdazme @soupbinlily @ateezswonderland @yvnhoos @yunniverse @linearities @kattarrynnka @dalsuwaha @coffeewwithdrawlheadaches @spenceatiny18 @wonderz-real @akunoeyebrows @imogenlovess @mystic-megumi @xh01bri @sparda1234

[boyfriendchrisenthusiast]

how shy!matt and ladybug!reader met ꨄ

wc: 2225 words

warnings: none!

a/n: this is kinda long so I apologize.

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

Matt loved living alone. Being able to come and go without telling anyone where he was going, spending the whole day in his boxers, and sometimes not speaking at all the entire day. But after a while, he started to feel lonely. He knew he didn't want a roommate. Especially after living with his two brothers for 3 years prior to moving into his new home. He wanted to be able to be alone, but not feel lonely. which led him to the conclusion that he would adopt an animal.

Matt sits up in bed and reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing his computer. He flips it open and immediately opens a new tab. ‘Animal shelters near me’ he types into his browser. The first one that pops up is called “Purrs and Paws Rescue”. He clicks the website linked to the location page and is quickly brought to another page with dozens of pictures of animals. Cats, dogs, and even reptiles. He scrolls on the site for what feels like hours, smiling at all the pictures and clicking on them to read more about their personalities. He knew he needed an animal that was low maintenance but still provided him company and comfort. Which is why he ultimately decides to get a cat.

The next day, he climbs out of bed early. He was so excited to finally have a pet that was just his. He takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth and gets dressed all in only an hour. He does his final touch ups before he leaves, messing with his hair in the mirror. He walks out of his bathroom and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter on his way out the door.

It was a pretty typical day at work for you. Today, It was your job to help potential adopters meet their perfect match. Walking them through the facility and showing them animals that you think would make a good fit fir them and finally, giving these sweet babies the second chance they deserved. This was one of the parts of your job that you loved so dearly.

You sit behind the front desk with your coworkers, patiently waiting for customers to come in. It gets boring waiting around for people, but you pass time mindlessly scrolling on your phone until there is something better to do. suddenly the door chimes ring, you sit up straight to appear more approachable to the incoming client. In walks a cute brunette boy, a smile resting on his face as he waits at the desk. “Welcome in! What can I help you with today?” I ask flashing him a quick smile.

“I was looking to adopt?” He stuttered, immediately moving his eyes to the ground. A small blush creeps across his cheeks as he turns his head away.

“Yay!! What kind of animal were you looking to adopt today?” You respond with enthusiasm.

“Um I was looking at maybe a cat… you know something low maintenance.” He says looking into your eyes, trying to read your expression.

“Perfect! If you'd like to follow me I'll walk you through our facility and we can discuss what you're looking for exactly.” I stand up, motioning him to follow after me. He turns to follow behind me silently. “Before we start what's your name?” I ask him tucking my hair behind my ear.

“My name's Matt, you?”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name” he mutters, almost barely audibly. He doesn't know what confidence washed over him, but it felt right.

“Oh thank you.” Your cheeks heat up, a pink blush washes over your face. Quickly you try to divert the subject off of yourself. “So, you're looking for a low maintenance cat? Do you have kids,roommates, a partner?” You technically didn't need to know if he had a girlfriend, but it didn't hurt to ask. Plus, you couldn't help yourself. He was exactly your type.

“No, no, and no. I live by myself. Just looking for something to keep me company. I've always loved animals so I thought it would make the most sense.” he explains while walking next to you now.

“We have a lot of options for you then! I can introduce you to some of my favorites and we can go from there.” I smile at him, noticing the way his eyes dart away. Almost hiding embarrassment or shyness. You turn the corner together into a smaller room, the walls lined with cat cages. Each cat having a name tag with their likes and dislikes on it. He was in awe seeing all of them here, even recognizing a few from the website he looked at. They had everything. Persians,Tabbys, Tuxedos, you name it. There was one in particular though, that caught Matt's eye. A shy calico cat, sitting in the back of the cage who is clearly uninterested in his presence.

You notice him stop at the cage, smiling softly at the small animal. “Oh that's Bea. Someone picked her up off the street a couple weeks ago and dropped her off here. She's only a year old, so she's still a baby. She's not super social, but she's a doll.” You explain looking between him and the cat. You found it cute how he'd chose the one that most people just ignore. “If you'd like, we can take her to the meeting room! See how your initial chemistry is.” you smile back at him, hoping he'd take you up on the offer.

“Yeah, I'd actually love that.” He thanks you, making eye contact for a little longer than anticipated. His shyness peaks through, as he nervously runs his hand through his hair, turning his head away. You open the door of the cage, putting your hand out gently for Bea to sniff, letting her know you weren't there to hurt her. She had always liked you, so she quickly rubs her head into your hand allowing you access to pet her. You suddenly scoop her up into your arms as she lets out a meow in annoyance.

“Ok if you wanna follow me” I motion towards me walking towards the door to the meeting room. “I think you're going to love her, it might take a little for her to warm up but she might be exactly what you're looking for.”

“Her colors are so pretty” He says admiring the cat, who's head is turned looking at him.

“Aren't they?”

You stop at the door, slowly opening it and bending down letting the cat free from your grasp. The room is decorated with pastel paw print painted on the walls, and various toys scattered across the floor. Matt follows behind you as you close and lock the door to the room. Bea immediately starts investigating the room, sniffing around all the toys and the small carpet in the middle of the floor. You open the door to the closet in the corner of the room, taking out two cushions for you and matt to sit on. You toss them on the carpet, sitting down on one and looking at matt to sit down next to you.

“Bea, come here baby” You coo at her trying to lure her over to where you and matt are sitting. You make clicks with your mouth trying to grab her attention. She trots over to you, rubbing against your side. Matt puts his hand out for her to sniff, as she determines whether she would trust him or not. “It's ok sweetie he won't hurt you” you talk to her, as if she could understand you. Suddenly she slowly walks towards him, testing the waters before allowing him to pet her.

“Hi there… you're so cute…” he speaks softly at her, scratching the top of her head. Your heart melts at the sight. It was rare to see a man, especially his age, be so gentle towards a cat. Most guys your age don't like cats. They say they're mean or not playful enough. While Matt is loving every second of this, getting lost in the act of loving on this sweet little baby. The room is filled with silence besides the occasional sound of meows and purs.

“So, Matt what do you do for work?” You ask wanting to know more about him. Becoming increasingly infatuated by his nature.

“Oh uh I work at a record store.”

“Really? I love music. I go to concerts like every 3-5 business days” You giggle softly.

He chuckles at your words, while internally admiring the sound of your laugh. “What kind of music you into?” He questions, wondering if your music taste is similar to his.

“Well honestly, I listen to a little bit of everything. I think my main genres are pop, r&b, and indie.” He smiles at this, realizing you did like some of the same genres. He looks down at the cat, still giving her attention as she purs in comfort.

“Maybe you should stop by sometime, we have all kinds of cool records. You know, only if you want..” He says nervously, hoping you'd take him up on the offer.

“Oh absolutely, I'd love to.” You smile back at him. The room falls quiet for a moment after, while matt struggles to find words to say. “You know, I think she really likes you. I've never seen her like this with anyone. Seems like she's met her match.” You point out, hoping he'd love her as much as you do.

“I really like her, when would I be able to take her home?” He asks looking back up at you.

“You can take her home today! I'll just have you fill out some paperwork and as long as you're able to pay then she's all yours.” you say standing up. “Do you feel comfortable holding her for a minute while I grab a travel carrier?”

“Yeah yeah sure.” He gently and hesitantly approachs her, attempting to not scare her. He wraps his arms around the small cat, carefully trying to keep her calm. He holds her in his arms, petting the top of her head gently. He watches as you leave the room momentarily. “You're going home today…” he whispers to the small animal in his arms. You walk back in the room quickly with a cat carrier.

“Ok here we are. If you just wanna put her in here. She might fight you a little bit but don't worry she's not a bitter or anything.” you laugh as he struggles a little bit getting her in the crate. She lets out loud, unamused meows from inside, clawing at the bars of the carrier.

“it's ok, you'll be out soon.” He whispers gently to her, trying to calm her down. “uhm- y/n I was just wondering. Do you want my number? Just to you know, check in on her maybe. Or if you still wanted to check out my store-” he stutters on his words, getting nervous you might reject him or shoot him down.

“Oh- yes please.” You interrupt his stuttering, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. “Here, you can type your number in.” You hold out your unlocked phone for him, anticipating him finally punching his numbers in. Quickly, he wipes his somewhat sweaty palm on his jeans hoping you didn't notice. He grabs the phone from you and swiftly types his number in and shoots himself a quick message, making sure it goes through.

You walk back up to the front of the building, Matt following closely behind you, now holding the cat carrier. When you reach the lobby, you walk behind the desk as he goes in front of it, ready to check out. You reach under the desk into a storage cabinet, grabbing out papers to fill out. “Ok so you'll just have to fill out your information on these papers, so if you'd like to take a seat and bring these back up when you've finished that would be great.” You explain handing over the papers attached to a clipboard, and a pen. He takes a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby, setting the carrier on the small coffee table next to him. Every few minutes he looks back over to you, catching you staring at him momentarily before you dart your eyes away. You put your head down blushing.

Matt finishes his paperwork, bringing it back up to where you're sat and lays it on the desk. You look over the papers, making sure all the information was there. “Perfect, and you're paying with card I assume?” You ask while he starts pulling out his wallet.

“Uh yeah card” He hesitates before taking out the card.

“Your total is $100” You confirm spinning the cars reader towards him. You watch as he swipes his card and puts it back in his wallet. “Well, looks like you're all set. Keep me updated on Bea yeah, I'm gonna miss having her here!” You add, almost a hint of sadness in your voice.

“Don't worry, I will. Thanks for all your help today. I'll see you around then, yeah?” He suggests, nervously twiddling his fingers.

“Yeah, uh- I'll see you.” You say, giving him one last smile before he turns around, cat in hand, and walks out the front door.

a/n: soo im finally putting out my first fic. I introduced this au a WHILE ago but I was really nervous to actually put anything out. I've been very nervous about being perceived or just opinions from peers in general. Also, I'm sorry there's not much actual fluff in here I'm trying to make this sound realistic and well thought out😭 Likes, reblogs, and positive feedback will be greatly appreciated. I love you all and I really hope I can do this au justice because I love them sm.

[grimeshound]

CAN WE CAM UP?

masterlist

word count: 2,228

pairing: sang-woo x gi-hun.

summary: when sang-woo comes clean about his debts to gi-hun, the older man introduces him to the prospect of opening an onlyfans account. unbeknownst to gi-hun, he’d be watching his best friend’s video on the site weeks later.

cn: 18+, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, webcam/onlyfans sangwoo au

a/n: title from cyber sex for doja cat! you can clearly tell i have no idea how the onlyfans layout works,,, i hope that doesnt ruin anything T_T

—-

“Well— how are you, really?” Gi-hun asked, swirling the bottle of soju lazily in his hand, his tone softer than usual.

Sang-woo took another slow sip of his own drink, the bitterness lingering as he huffed. “I mean, alright.”

Gi-hun fixed him with a deadpan look, a rare moment of seriousness. “I think we’ve known each other long enough to know that’s bullshit.”

The words hit Sang-woo harder than they should’ve. It had been years since they’d last seen each other, his childhood friend now feeling like a relic of a simpler time. But the universe worked in funny ways, reuniting each other at a no-name convenience store after all this time. A little coaxing, albeit barely needed—was all it took for Sang-woo to agree to drinks. He could never say no to Gi-hun, even back when they were kids.

Sang-woo sighed, leaning back into his seat. “Well… maybe not alright. There’s the debts—”

Gi-hun’s eyes lit up, cutting him off mid-sentence. “No way? Me too!” He leaned in, gesturing wildly like Sang-woo had just announced they’d won the lottery. “It’s fucking insane, right? You try everything—”

Sang-woo blinked, half-incredulous, half-amused as Gi-hun launched into a rapid-fire list of schemes he’d tried to get out of debt. It was so absurd he couldn’t help but snicker, the laughter sneaking out before he could stop it.

“Yeah…” Sang-woo trailed off, his smile fading as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He looked away, the silence creeping back between them.

“But you know,” Gi-hun continued, grinning ear to ear, “I’m managing. You just gotta try everything you can.”

Sang-woo sighed heavily, swirling the last bit of soju in his bottle before setting it down. “I have tried everything, hyung. You think I haven’t?”

Gi-hun leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Okay, like what?”

Sang-woo chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “I tried the obvious, cutting expenses. No more eating out, no more luxuries, not even a cup of coffee from the vending machine at work. Didn’t make a dent.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then, I thought I could invest my way out. Stocks, crypto, you name it. I spent months researching, thinking I could outsmart the market. Turns out, luck isn’t something you can study.”

Gi-hun just nodded wordlessly, letting Sang-woo ramble on.

“And then,” Sang-woo continued, his voice growing quieter, “I thought about selling my car. My condo. Everything I own. But I realized even that wouldn’t be enough to cover it all. It’s like trying to drain an ocean with a goddamn bucket.”

Gi-hun frowned, leaning back in his chair as he sucked his teeth. “Damn. That bad, huh?”

Sang-woo scoffed. “Bad enough that I started thinking about loans. Sketchy ones, the kind where the interest grows faster than you can blink.” He glanced at Gi-hun, his expression dark. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.”

There were a few beats of pause, the two men quiet for a bit.

“Well, you know…” It was Gi-hun who broke the silence, hoping to ease the heavy tension in the air. “There’s always OnlyFans, I hear that’s lucrative nowadays.” he joked, nudging Sang-woo’s side with a laugh.

Sang-woo froze, his cigarette paused halfway to his mouth. “What?” he said flatly, his brow furrowing.

Gi-hun looked genuinely surprised. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard of it? You’re 46, single, and you don’t know?” He snorted. “Wow. It’s true what they say—genius types like you really don’t have time for stuff like that, huh?”

Sang-woo just stared at him, unimpressed. “Are you going to tell me, or are you just going to keep spouting nonsense?”

Gi-hun snickered, leaning in like he was sharing some grand secret. “It’s this site where people pay you for… uh, requests.”

Sang-woo’s frown deepened. “Requests?” He repeated the word slowly, like it was foreign.

Gi-hun hesitated, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “You know. Webcam stuff. Like… adult webcam stuff.”

It took him a second, but when the implication hit, his face flushed crimson. “What the hell, hyung? Do I look like a fucking prostitute to you?!” He yanked off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would help erase the image from his mind.

Gi-hun, of course, was laughing too hard to take him seriously. “Hey, hey—it’s just a joke!” he said, clapping Sang-woo on the back. “Besides, what’s wrong with it? I hear it’s real liberating these days. And it pays a killing.”

Sang-woo rolled his eyes, slipping his glasses back on. “Yeah, well, I’m not that desperate. Keep dreaming.”

They parted ways shortly after, and Sang-woo returned to his empty apartment, the silence of the place practically swallowing him whole. He barely made it home before the exhaustion hit. The ridiculousness of Gi-hun’s suggestion shouldn’t have stuck, but it did. It nestled itself into his mind like an unwelcome guest. He wasn’t that desperate. He didn’t claw his way through SNU just to end up… doing that.

But, Gi-hun had said it paid generously.

He stared up at the ceiling, the thought refusing to let him go.

Would it really be so bad?

He didn’t want to entertain Gi-hun’s absurd suggestion. He really didn’t. But the idea had already planted itself in his head, stubborn and intrusive.

OnlyFans.

Sang-woo rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Could it really be that simple?

His gaze shifted to his desk. The faint glow of his computer monitor caught his eye. He blinked, hesitant.

“It’s not like I’d show my face,” he muttered under his breath, as if justifying the intrusive thought to himself. “I wouldn’t use my real name. I wouldn’t even talk much.”

Before he realized it, his body was moving. He slid into the chair, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The cursor blinked in the search bar, expectant.

“OnlyFans pay,” he typed hesitantly.

Click. Scroll.

“How much do you earn from webcam videos on average?”

Click. Scroll.

“How to sign up for an OnlyFans account?”

Click. Scroll.

Finally, his fingers typed the URL directly. OnlyFans.com.

The screen changed, illuminating his face in the dimly lit room. His heart raced as he navigated the sign-up process. A username, an email, a quick verification.

And then the words appeared on the screen:

“Welcome to OnlyFans!”

—

Two weeks passed. Gi-hun hadn’t heard from Sang-woo since their last meeting. It was late, the kind of quiet that only came after the rest of the world had gone to sleep. He laid in bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. His eyes wandered to the clock in the top left corner.

2:35 a.m.

His thumb flicked past videos and thumbnails of the familiar website on autopilot. He sighed, scrolling faster. The content blurred together—until his thumb stopped.

A thumbnail caught his attention. A suited figure sat at a desk, the camera cutting off the person’s face. The video title was simple: “First vid.” The uploader’s username was equally unassuming: woosxng.

“Huh,” Gi-hun muttered, intrigued. The simplicity stood out among the neon-lit, high-production videos that dominated his feed. Something about the dimly lit room and the anonymity of the figure made him pause.

He clicked.

The video loaded, and Gi-hun’s eyes were glued to the screen. The man in the video adjusted his tie, his movements deliberate. His veined hands hovered over the front of his slacks, pressing down against the obvious strain. A muffled groan escaped his lips as he palmed himself, hips shifting slightly.

Gi-hun’s breath hitched. There was something strangely captivating about the scene. He was embarrassed to admit it, but that familiar fantasy crossed his mind. He imagined Sangwoo there.

It wasn’t entirely far-fetched, really. The suit, the deliberate movements, the quiet control—it all reminded him of his childhood friend.

The man in the video worked his belt open, sliding his boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock was heavy, flushed as it was leaking at the tip. Gi-hun swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away. He’d always thought people who paid for this kind of content were suckers, but this? This was different.

The man’s strokes were slow, teasing himself as his hips bucked slightly. Low groans filled the air, growing more desperate with each movement. Gi-hun felt heat pooling in his stomach, his own arousal growing impossible to ignore. The sound of the stranger’s groans pulled Gi-hun’s attention back to the screen. He couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. It was like he was hypnotized. The stranger’s hand moved with deliberate precision, stroking his length with slow, teasing motions.

“Fffuck…” the man groaned, his voice strained. His hand ghosted along the underside of his cock, tracing a prominent vein. The sensation drew a whimper from his lips, high-pitched and unrestrained. First hearing the man’s voice had Gihun’s heart skipping a beat. Gi-hun’s breath quickened, shallow and uneven, as the fantasy took hold. He tried to fight it at first, growing heat pooling in his gut. But it was no use. His imagination betrayed him, painting a vivid image of Sang-woo in that chair, his face flushed, lips parted and eyes hazy with need. All for him.

Gi-hun felt his own arousal becoming unbearable, his boxers painfully tight as he watched. But it wasn’t just the visual—it was the sound. Those whimpers, soft and unrestrained, made Gi-hun’s pulse race. He didn’t even know it was possible for a man to whine like that. The stranger’s low groans melted into high-pitched cries, his desperation becoming more palpable with every passing second.

Without even realizing it, Gi-hun had freed himself from his boxers, his hand instinctively wrapping around his own length. He hissed softly at the contact, the sensation almost too much. His strokes matched the stranger’s pace, his eyes locked on the screen as if the man’s pleasure was somehow his own.

The stranger was driving Gi-hun to the brink, his every movement and sound sending shivers down Gi-hun’s spine. That tone—so drenched in vulnerability and surrender—had him clenching the sheets beneath him, his own arousal almost unbearable.

The camera’s angle, low and intimate, captured every detail in a way that left nothing to the imagination, and yet Gi-hun still felt like he needed more. His eyes zeroed in on the stranger’s throat, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down a moan, his lips parting just enough to let out those desperate mewls. His thighs trembled, muscles straining with effort as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

Gi-hun couldn’t look away, couldn’t even think of anything else. The stranger’s hand moved faster now, his cock disappearing into his fist with each stroke, slick with precome. His hips bucked upward, as if chasing something just out of reach, his movements becoming wild and erratic.

And those sounds—God, those sounds. The deep, guttural moans from earlier had given way to something softer, higher, more desperate. The stranger’s voice cracked as he whimpered, his pleas spilling out in a breathless stream.

“Please, oh—fuck. Please, please”

He was moaning like a fucking girl, Gi-hun thought, and it turned him on harder than anything he’d ever seen or even imagined before. It was maddening—the way he begged to no one, his voice dripping with raw, unrestrained desperation. The contrast between his deep, guttural growls and the high-pitched, pleading cries sent Gi-hun’s mind reeling.

The stranger’s head fell back, exposing the column of his neck. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as his strokes grew faster and sloppier. Gi-hun felt like a voyeur, watching something private, something sacred. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His heart pounded in his chest, his own arousal building to an unbearable peak as he matched the stranger’s intensity in his mind.

Gi-hun’s breath hitched, his body tense as he imagined that voice, those cries, coming from someone else entirely—someone he knew all too well. The thought made his stomach twist with guilt, but it only heightened the ache deep within him.

Gi-hun was left staring, his own breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling in time with the stranger’s. He felt like his skin was on fire, the rush of pleasure giving way to a lingering sense of shame. But even as the guilt crept in, he couldn’t deny the impact this stranger—this anonymous, faceless man—had on him.

Or, more accurately, the way his mind had twisted that man into someone else entirely.

The stranger’s strokes grew sloppier, more frantic, his hips jerking wildly against his hand. He whimpered, almost sobbed, the sound raw and unfiltered. Gi-hun felt lightheaded, the room spinning as his own hand worked faster, chasing the edge that teased just out of reach.

“Gonna… gonna—” the stranger cried out, his voice breaking as his body stiffened.

The screen showed him arching, his head hitting the back of his chair with a soft thump as he came, thick ropes spilling over his hand. The intensity of his release was almost palpable, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly relaxed back into the chair, utterly spent.

Gi-hun’s body tensed, his own climax hitting him hard as he finally gave in to the fantasy. His mind painted the image of Sang-woo crying out, his face flushed and beautiful, his glasses slipping down his nose as he lost himself completely.

He was so fucked the next time he’d see Sang-woo.

[midnightdahlias]

Bait for a broken heart

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

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.

····································

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