#Waiting on stupid fucking authorities to give me an answer so that I can do a degree I dont want

[jeveuxmeplaindre]

./

[pimpnchips]

Needed Me 2

Part 2

Natasha x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, slight smut, blow!job, slightly mean!

nat.

Summary: heated arguments with Natasha

Authors Note: I’m sorry it took me so fucking long to finish this, I'm okay! but I had major writers block and I wanted to make it good for you guys. I also wanted to put the daughter in here more.

Lena swung her head in your direction, "Mommy I want this one," she whined. The rack of stuffed animals sat on display as your daughter complained about how much she wanted the pink bunny.

"No baby, you remember what mama said."

Last night, Natasha talked to lena about behaving properly. Now that she's getting older you can't keep babying her and supplying all her wants after a tantrum or fit.

So Natasha decided on no extra things outside of the store list for a month so she can learn that you won't be able to get everything she asks for even if she decides on throwing a fit.

"Lena, no means no," scowls natasha. Carrying Mateo in his car seat with her left hand, "Pick her up detka — let's go."

You couldn't help but bite your lip at Natasha's authority

Seeing her do what she does best turned you on in so many ways you couldn't explain. You couldn't stay upset with her no matter how hard you 'tried'.

Heading to your shared bedroom last night, Natasha had a way with her words, instead of hate sex you made love.

You missed her warmth and her touch but there's nothing you miss more than how sexy she looked taking care of her family.

Yes, your wife is a lot of things but you know how deeply she cares for the three of you and if you didn't.. you wouldn't have taken her back.

-

You sighed in frustration, "I'm not trying to upset you baby"

"I never said you did," she muttered, gathering the clothes and putting them into the drawer across from you.

Which was a lie, you knew she was upset because you disagreed with her thoughts of not putting lena into school right now.

You brushed your fingers through her red hair trying your best to comfort her, "I understand there's a risk baby but I want her to have a normal child hood"

Natasha chuckles in disbelief,

"You understand nothing."

You scoff, "Natasha? She's my kid too so what don't I understand?" You started walking across the other side of the room away from her.

"Please, humor me." You sat down in the chair next to the open window, your hands slapping your knee as you sat down.

A blank stare on her face caused you to raise an eyebrow, bouncing your leg impatiently waiting for an answer.

It wasn't surprising that you and Natasha got into an argument today, it was always bound to happen. Sooner or later.

"You do shit like this all the time," she mumbles under her breath, trying to make it hard for you to hear.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Natasha?"

Your wife clutches the shirt in hand, more frustration clouding her eyes as she stares at you. She clearly didn't have an explanation, only acting on impulse.

"Am I the one who forged our divorce? If anybody does stupid shit it's you not me." You protest, rubbing your fingers on your temple.

But there's something about crawling under Natasha's skin that pumps you up. Toying with her is what got you here, having two of her kids and married to her for seven years.

She ignores your directed comment, "There's too many risks."

"She's not attending school and that's final," Natasha grumbled, her head was filled with your nagging comments.

"Nat -" you tried to reason with her.

"Don't" She growls, snapping her eyes up at you.

Your mouth clicks shut, "Sorry," you mumble. She knows how well you respond when she gets pissed off.

Sometimes you can't believe the effect Natasha has on you.

She knows your weaknesses and has no problem showing her mastery over you. Something you craved over the past few months, something a certain someone couldn't give you.

You haven't told Natasha, you figured if she ever found out a another woman came around the house, she'll probably kill the girl.

She's too possessive of you to share you with anyone else. It'll tear her ego down, make her seem like she doesn't have control anymore.

—

"What do you know about banana bread, bunny?" Natasha laughs, hearing your daughter talk about how much she loved the taste of the dessert at the dinner table.

Lena giggles with a wide smile, "Miss Maximoff always makes some for me and mommy" she grins, picking up her last nugget eating it innocently.

Fear was written across your faces as you avoided contact with your wife. Natasha furrows her eyebrows at you, mouthing something you couldn't quite pick up on.

You stood up, "Let's put you to bed baby."

Natasha stared daggers at you, continuing to watch you walk away but you tried your best to not turn around.

The anticipation of waiting for you to get back sent nat over the edge causing her to throw everything off her desk.

"Fuck!" she screamed.

You heard nat scream through the door as your hand hovered over the door nob. You took a short breath to get yourself together before entering.

The door shut behind you, Natasha turned around instantly averting all of her attention to you.

"Natasha"

Before you could finish your sentence, she already had her hand wrapped around your neck causing you to inhale shakily, "Please baby."

Your wife clenched her jaw, staring into your eyes making you feel small under her grasp.

"Did she fuck you?" For a moment you saw her eyes darken, her hands starting to grip tighter forcing you to answer her question with a quivering voice, "No"

She released her hand, slamming it on the wall beside you, "Don't fucking lie to me!"

Your eyes welled up with tears and your body shook at the sudden movement she made. You and Wanda didn't have anything special she was nice but she was too nice for you.

You needed something stronger, you wanted Natasha hence why you never went further than a kiss on the cheek. But in this moment something clicked in you.

You needed her.

You looked up at the red head, moving down onto your knees. You wanted Natasha to know that you were hers and no one else's.

"Get up," she gritted.

Ignoring her statement you unbuttoned her pants pulling it lower until her underwear came off. Her dick sprung free ready to be sucked by you.

After a long pause, she moved forward grabbing your head forcing her cock into your mouth. Your tongue sliding along her length as you bobbed your head up and down. She groaned, holding onto the wall, "She could never fill you up like this" she said between pants.

You locked eyes with your wife who was watching you with pure lust in her gaze. Natasha cleared her throat, cock twitching from her own thoughts.

"You don't deserve my cock, detka."

She smiles at the whimpers that escaped you. Her hips started to move and you moaned.

"You shouldn't be sucking dick like a slutty little whore"

Tearing your gaze away from the cock, which was dripping with pre cum, you stared straight into her piercing orbs.

"We didn't have sex, Natty." You whispered, voice mildly hoarse already.

Natasha's face was flushed, cock weeping precum still.

She hadn't realized how close she was to coming until you stopped. "I know.you wouldn't do that to me," was all she uttered as you moved to take her again.

Natasha groaned, every word dying on her lips as your mouth was back on her cock. "Oh...just like that detka... fuck your mouth takes me so well..." You glanced upwards, watching her throat bob as she tilted her head completely back. A low, husky moan left her lips as you swallowed.

The sound of your daughter's voice from down the hall made you pull back. Saliva and cum dripping down your face as Natasha groaned at the sight, painting your face with her milk-white cum.

She forced your mouth open with her hand, releasing the rest of her cum into your mouth. Seeing you drop to your knees for her and pleasing her needs without asking made her proud. It made her thirst for you more.

You quickly got off your knees in a hurry, rolling your eyes at your crazed wife for making a mess of your face while trying to get up.

"Put your dick in your pants before your daughter comes in here" you whispered by her ear, a demanding tone that surprised natasha.

Quickly walking to the bathroom to clean your face, the sound of your daughter's voice getting closer to the room startled Natasha as she buckled up her pants.

"Mama, where's mommy? I can't sleep" Her hair was all over her head, fingers rubbing her tired eyes.

You shouted from the bathroom, "Mommy's coming baby!"

You threw your face towel down, walking out of the bathroom being met with Natasha sitting on the bed with the little girl tracing her tattoos, her head on her mama's chest.

Lena looked up with a smile making your heartmelt at the sight. "Why was mama screaming earlier?" She questioned, tilting her head.

Natasha bursted into laughter, you quickly sent her a pointed look causing her to quiet down. You sighed at your daughters question, "Nothing love, I was helping her with something"

Lena was even more confused than before, it was written all over her face but she shrugged her shoulders letting it go.

Nat smiled at her confusions, leaning down to kiss the temple of her head.

You smiled at the interaction it made you realize no matter the fights or arguments you and Natasha will have she'll forever be here to love you and the kids.

And you'll always love Natasha.

Even if that meant you needed her more than she needed you.

Needed Me

Tags:

@starfire1008@viosblog112@dvrkhcld@ciao00000111 @ddreader04@twentyonetornmyheart @pancakefan7529@widowstingsposts @rosea-reginae @coxlong

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco!

Can you do a one shot about a younger actress reader?

There is a tiktok going viral about her saying that she likes older men and another where she is looking at marshall at an event with "fuck me eyes"?

Reader freaks out when marshall just slides into her dms but later they are spotted together at the paparazzi?

I just find it cute and awkward 💀

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI 🍝

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

Synopsis : You are a young actress whose crush on Eminem becomes public. You are mortified about it… until he slides in your DMs.

Author’s Note : I absolutely LOVED this request, I had to give it a go ❤️. I was inspired and I swear I never wrote anything that quickly. It is short and sweet and I hope you enjoy it. ☺️

You thought you were done being publicly embarrassed. Yet, life was proving you wrong. As an actress who had her start in her teenage years, you weren’t a stranger to embarrassment. From awkward casting calls to stupid deaths on TV, it was practically part of the job. However, as your career evolved, you thought it would go away. After all, you were now in a better position, able to choose the projects you were involved in and you had garnered the respect from your peers and the industry. Even the media had become more kind towards you. In a matter of years, you had gone from the awkward teen movie star to well-respected actress, and you were able to look back fondly to your early years. You even joked about how awkward you were, back then. The last thing you expected was for it to start all over again. 

You were walking the red carpet for the premiere of your latest movie, your biggest project to date. It was truly the highlight of your career : a role created specifically for you, a movie directed by someone you admired, a beautiful story told on the big screen… You had gotten your fair share of praise in the past, but you knew this was going to be your « big break ». Behind the scenes, everyone had praised your performance and told you it was « Oscars material ». You didn’t know if that was true or not, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. When you walked the red carpet at the premiere, in a custom Elie Saab gown, everything felt right and you weren’t even stressed out when you answered the questions of a few journalists present. 

You look truly amazing, tonight, one commented. Who are you wearing ? 

Thank you ! This is a custom Elie Saab, I feel like a princess. I sort of had to dress up for this beautiful event, you replied as you tried to shift the focus on the movie. 

This is your biggest role to date, another said. How do you feel about the movie ? Have you seen it ? 

I’ve seen bits and pieces. But I’m going to discover the whole thing tonight, you said with excitement. I’m very confident. Filming with such a director was an honor and I know that the result will be great. I can’t wait for everyone to see it ! 

One thing that everybody is really excited about is the soundtrack, too, a third journalist chimed in. Eminem was involved. Have you heard the theme song yet ? 

I haven’t, you said. But it’s Eminem so I know it’s going to be absolutely fantastic ! I can’t wait to hear it ! 

You sound like you like his work. Have the two of you met ? They asked. 

Oh, I’m his biggest fan, you said with a huge smile. His music’s the soundtrack to my life ! But no, I haven’t met him… 

Tonight’s your chance, they joked. He is over there. 

They pointed to him and Eminem was, indeed, a few feet away from you. He had been a celebrity crush of yours for years and you were absolutely starstruck. He was even more attractive than in pictures ! You couldn’t help but stare. This man was oozing charisma and commanding attention. You didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with « fuck me » eyes and licking your lips. For a brief instant, you completely forgot where you were, until you heard your name being called, signaling that you had to keep walking and enter the screening room. That night, you didn’t get a chance to meet your idol, though. As the lead of the movie, people kept on coming over to you and talking to you. It was probably for the best, too. You had been starstruck enough on the red carpet ad you did not trust yourself to have a pleasant exchange with him. 

Of course, the video of you thirsting over Eminem went viral. It would have been kind of cute if other clips hadn’t surfaced. There were videos from years ago, of you talking about having a crush on him - God, you really didn’t have a filter, back then - and especially one interview where you were candid about being attracted by older men. 

What’s your type when it comes to men and dating ? The journalist asked. 

I like mature, older men, you said candidly. I’m not really attracted to people my age. 

Any physical features you’re attracted to ? 

Oh, it’s typical, you know, you giggled. Dark hair, blue eyes… I like a nice beard, too. 

So basically… Eminem ? The interviewer playfully asked. 

Oooof… You have no idea, you replied with a grin. 

Isn’t he… Old enough to be your Dad, though ? 

Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind calling Marshall Mathers Daddy, you giggled. 

At the time, this interview didn’t make much noise. It was for an indie podcast and, seeing as you weren’t too famous at the time, it sort of flew under the radar. It was kind of a harmless joke and a nod to your thirst for him, which all your friends were very much aware of. However, the video resurfaced after the viral red carpet clip, and people were quick to make edits, soberly titled « Y/N thirsting over Eminem over the years ». Your friends jokingly forwarded them to you and you know they were being playful, but to you, it was everything but fun. You were absolutely mortified. Having a crush on him was one thing, but there was a literal video of you staring at him like you were in heat. So much for being a classy movie star… 

The nail in the coffin came when Marshall was interviewed and asked to react to the video of you thirsting over him. He seemed genuinely surprised, leading to think that he wasn’t aware of the clip before the interview. All in all, he didn’t say much, he just described the whole thing as « flattering » and quickly went on to praise your performance in the movie : « We didn’t actually meet, but I saw the movie, which I worked on the soundtrack for, and she is really amazing in it. Really talented. ». Thank God, he didn’t add to your embarrassment. Your friends were going crazy over this « Come on, Y/N, he said he was flattered and that you’re talented ! That’s cute ! You should DM him or something », they encouraged you. However, you didn’t. He was clearly just being classy and not publicly embarrassing you - you did that on your own anyway. 

A few days later, however, you had the biggest surprise of your life : a DM from him on Instagram. At first, you thought it was a fake account and didn’t pay it much attention but it was clearly him, verified account, blue tick and everything. You were nervous to open it and you almost didn’t want to. What would he say to you ? Most likely something along the lines of « Please don’t mention me ever again, that’s awkward, you’re awkward and your filmography is trash anyway». It actually took you a couple of days to muster the courage of opening it. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything horrible. Quite the contrary, actually. He was in LA for the week and wanted to know if you’d have dinner with him. You were terrified and freaking out, but also excited. At first, you were reluctant - what if you embarrassed yourself ? But ultimately, curiosity got the best of you and you accepted. Surely, if he asked you to have dinner with him, it couldn’t be that bad, right ? 

A couple of days later, the two of you went for dinner and joined at SoHo House in West Hollywood. Due to both of your fame, a members-only social club was a safe pace that allowed for privacy. You were nervous, at first, and some paranoid part of your brain was scared that it would be a complete disaster, but it was the contrary. He introduced himself as Marshall and was an absolute gentleman and a sweetheart. He mentioned he had seen a lot of your movies and described himself as an admirer of your work. The whole evening, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. He put you at ease and was one of the most interesting persons you had ever met, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and funny as hell, too. You weren’t too sure, but it also seemed like he was subtly flirting with you, though you didn’t want to get in your own head and make assumptions. He was so chill that you weren’t star struck anymore, but you were still reasonably impressed and too scared to flirt, so you simply enjoyed conversation with him. You were usually scared to meet people you admired, afraid that you’d have a terrible interaction with them that would taint your perception of their work, but the whole dinner was heavenly and you were so glad he DMed you. In his company, time seemed like a foreign concept, so much so that you had to be kicked out of the club’s restaurant, since you were the only customers left and it was 2 in the morning. 

I can’t believe we’ve been here for six hours already, you giggled. Time really flew by. 

It did, he said with a smile. I’m really glad we did this, Y/N. 

Me too, you said shyly. 

You were in the lobby, about to part ways, and your heart was beating fast. The way he spoke your name had you feeling all the feels and you didn’t really want the moment to end. He was staring at you intently while you were nervously biting your lip, trying not to say something awkward that could ruin the night. « Don’t be that person, Y/N », you thought to yourself. 

Thank you for coming, he said. When you didn’t reply to my DM, I thought you didn’t really want to meet. But I had a really great time tonight. 

Yeah, sorry I… I actually took a few days to open your message because I was scared, you confessed. I mean, we haven’t addressed the elephant in the room tonight, but I did kind of make a fool of myself on the red carpet. And when you wrote, I was kind of nervous. 

You didn’t make a fool of yourself, he said reassuringly. Nothing to be embarrassed about. It was kind of adorable. 

No need to sugarcoat it, you said nervously. You’ve seen that video of me thirsting over you… 

I have, he said as he got closer to you. I’m pretty lucky… 

A-Are you ? You asked nervously. 

Yeah… Thank God they didn’t catch me staring at you the whole night of the premiere, he continued. Because I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’re gorgeous. 

Oh ? Uhm… I mean… The glam team really did a good job, you babbled. And the stylists, too. 

They really did, he said with a smile as he got even closer. You were stunning. 

I mean, it was a lot of work for me to look good, you know ? I mean I normally look like tra-… I mean, not trash but you know it’s… 

There you were. Embarrassing yourself. There was only so much time you could spend in his intoxicating presence without making a fool of yourself and, apparently, it was six hours. He was smiling and you nerves were getting the best of you. You didn’t drink too much at dinner and you couldn’t even blame it on the cocktails. Just your dumb brain making interactions awkward. Thank God the lobby was dimly lit, otherwise, he would have seen your face turn bright red. You cheeks were burning from embarrassment. 

I-I’m sorry, you said. I’m not good at talking to hot people. I mean you’re… Oh my God, why can’t I shut up ? I’m sorry, it’s late and -

I’ll help you, he chuckled as he cupped your face and kissed you. 

The kiss was soft and romantic and you could feel him smile into it. He had one hand stroking your cheek while the other one was on your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fully leaned into the kiss as your lips parted ways, allowing his tongue to caress yours. Thank God it was late and you were the only people there, having some sense of privacy while the kiss got more and more passionate. When he broke the embrace, Marshall grabbed your hand and pressed his forehead to yours. 

Would you like to come to my room ? He asked with a smile. 

Ok, you nodded - still a bit dizzy from the kiss. 

In the elevator, you kissed hungrily and there was absolutely no doubt as to where this was headed. You usually weren’t the kind of girl to sleep on the first date, but your five-date policy was thrown to the fire. Marshall was way too hot, way too charismatic. Also, you’d fantasized about him long enough to make an exception. If every wet dream of yours he had inhabited over the years counted as a date, this was actually overdue. You made it to the room and quickly ended up on the bed with him on top of you, nipping at the sweet spot in your neck. 

Marshall, you moaned. 

You meant « Daddy », right ? He asked with a smirk. 

You stared at him with your mouth open, almost embarrassed as you remembered your comment about how you wouldn’t mind calling him Daddy. Your shocked expression made him laugh and he didn’t give you time to reply. Instead, he captured your lips and ran his hands under your blouse. That night, you did end up calling him « Daddy », as well as screaming his name while he ravished you in every way possible until the both of you passed out from exhaustion. 

The next morning, as you woke up in his arms, you weren’t too sure what to do or say, wondering if that was a one time thing or not. However, you weren’t confused for too long as Marshall asked you on another dinner date. You saw each other as much as possible for the remainder of his stay in California. It was meant to be casual, at first, but it quickly became more and, even though the two of you were busy, you tried to make it work. Whenever he came to LA to work with Dre, he would stay at your place and, as soon as you had free time, you flew to Michigan to spend time with him. It was only a matter of time until rumors started to emerge about the two of you, though you were careful not to be spotted together. 

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI : Y/N SPOTTED IN DETROIT. 

Oscar-nominated actress Y/N was spotted in Detroit last week. She was seen grabbing a takeout order from Mom’s Spaghetti on Woodward Avenue. Through the years, Y/N has been quite vocal about her love of Eminem, but it seems like she’s doing more than supporting the Rap God’s business venture. The hoodie she was wearing does look a lot like the one Eminem was wearing a few days earlier when he was spotted attending the Lions game. Last time she walked the red carpet, Y/N was seen thirsting over the Detroit rapper. Is there a chance they could appear at the Oscars together ?

[deesixxs]

CW; breeding k!nk, slight choking k!nk, very rough and dark!abby. That’s all I can really think of, have fun!

Authors note:

Dni if ageless, under 18 or a man!!

Thank you for reading this, this is my first ever time writing a fic, if I need to do anything to improve please let me know! This is the raw unedited version and I hope you enjoy

Love yall!

You have never been so bored, so horny. Abby was at the gym and you had nothing to do except lay on the bed and wait around. You groan and you grumble when an idea pops into your mind. Sure, it’s dumb and possibly dangerous. You decide to give Abby a call. Calls are only reserved for emergencies but you being this horny should count as one. The phone rings and you are met with no answer. You try again about 4 more times before she answers. “Is it an emergency?!” She sounds panicked. “I’m horny and I need you.” You respond back. She’s furious. “Really? Are you serious? Fuckin’ wait until I’m home” she hangs up the phone and you got the answer you expect, but not the one you wanted. You wanted her to speed home and fuck you the moment she walks in the door. You begin to grow impatient and start to touch yourself, you pick up your phone and take a picture, sending it to Abby. You know it will drive her mad and it will get you in trouble, but maybe that’s the fun of it. You don’t receive a message back, she only leaves you on read. It’s what you would expect from her but still, you wish you could see her face when she received the picture. About 10 minutes later you hear the door slam and a heavy bang of her gym bag on the floor. The sound of footsteps filling your ears along with the fast thump of your heart. You know you’re in deep shit. The door slams open and you feel hands wrap around your ankles and pull you towards the end of the bed. The blonde girl sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and then props you over her knee. You know what’s about to happen. And you know it’s going to hurt and there will be no mercy. “Fucking whore. You couldn’t wait hm? You wanted to get punished didn’t you? So fucking stupid.” She strikes your ass open palmed with a thwack. “Answer me you little shit. You wanted this?” Your mind races, barely able to form coherent thoughts. “Y-yes” you finally mumble out before another blow meets your round, and now red ass. She grabs you by your hair and throws you onto the bed, your ass up in the air, facing her. She places her cold hand against your spine and pushes down, making you arch. Without warning she licks a fat stripe from your clit all the way to your hole. She slurps up all your juices mercilessly. She kneads your ass and smacks it once more before grabbing you by your neck and pulling your back to her chest, you let out a small whimper and a yelp. “You gonna be a good girl and listen to me? Huh, princess?” Her hot breath tickling your ear and your neck. She pushes you with full force back against the bed before she stands back up. You already know what she’s going to grab, you don’t have to see to know what’s going on. You hear her rummage through the closet before pulling out a black box. She pulls out a breeding strap and buckles it to her hips. She sits back on the bed and without warning she slams deep into you, immediately hitting your cervix. You let out a loud yelp and your back arches upward. It hurts, the immediate impact to your insides. She doesn’t care, she keeps going and continues to pound fastly into you. “God, so fucking tight. Look how this pussy just swallows and begs for my cock.” She whispers in between thrusts. You can feel her hips start to falter and her breaths get quicker, you know she is about to cum, and so are you. You’re quick to get to the edge just before she runs her finger over your clit, rubbing tight circles. It makes you cum instantly, you let out a loud moan of pleasure, “good fucking girl, just wait, I need to cum..” she’s overstimulating you, chasing her own release, and just as she cums, you feel a warm fluid filling your insides, you can feel it drip down your thighs, she pulls out in awe, seeing the cum drip out of your wet and puffy pussy. She is quick to take off the strap and grab you water. “Here, drink” she passes you the water and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead. “Was I too rough? Are you ok? I’m sor-“ you cut her off with a kiss to shut her up “it was perfect my girl, I love you”

[luvyeni]

YOU TRY TO ESCAPE 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre yandere 𖹭 warning mentions of murder and tying up , jake is crazy , sunghoon needs help and heeseung and jay are maniacs — parings enhypen hyungline x fem reader | back to library .

request. hii girlie could you do yandere enhypen when you try to escape it can be hyung line or ot7!

— enhypens reaction when you try and escape.

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i hope you like it.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

normally heeseung ties you up before he goes to bed , but this night he was too tired and he crashed right on the bed , leaving you both awake and unbound — so you took your chances , slowly moving his hand from your waist , climbing off the bed; tip toeing towards the door. "stupid stupid girl." you heard your boyfriend say. "you think just because i didn't tie you up i didn't set precautions for this?" he slowly climbed out of bed. "open the door , try it." he smiled. "fucking open it." you opened the door, only for an alarm to go off. "close it." he said , you tearfully closed it. "now get back into bed." he said and you listened , climbing back into bed. "I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt." he pulled out the handcuffs.

"but you clearly can't be trusted."

﹙ 𐙚 : jay ﹚ .ᐟ

jay would let you leave , it's not like you can get far with the tracker he put those pretty little earrings you were to stupid and high on adrenaline to take off , he knows where you are— so when you come to a sudden stop at a bus station , he smirks before telling his guys to get the car ready. you sat waiting for the next bus out of town and away from jay , you were finally free. "oh princess." you felt someone sitting next to you , your body freezing in fear as you felt his hand on your knee. "h-how did you find me?" he smiled , but you could see the anger in his eyes. "those really expensive earrings that you're wearing, pretty baby those are trackers." you tried to get up , but squeezed your thighs. "i have two men at the ready in case you run , so you don't have a choice." he said as a car pulled up.

"you really don't have a choice , get in the fucking car."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

the thing with jake is , he's crazy in love with a big emphasis on crazy; once he met you , his life had no meaning, he didn't live for himself , he lived for you — but jake also wasn't willing to let you leave , no he loved you too much , he'd kill you before he'd ever let you walk away from him , and if you weren't there then he'd had nothing to live for. "where are you going?" your heart dropped hearing your boyfriends voice , you turned around to where he stood , teary eyed , holding a knife in his hand. "you're leaving me aren't , you were gonna leave me." he was sobbing now. "jaeyun— no!" he shouted. "i won't let you go." he walked closer with the knife. "jake calm down." you said. "i can't let you go , but i can't live without you." he said. "let's calm down jake."

"i'll kill us both , let's die together huh? i can't let you go."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon ﹚ .ᐟ

he knew you were bluffing; he knows you'll be right back where you started , you have no money , no friends , no family; he's all you have and you know it. "you want to leave?" he smiled , but it wasn't a humorous laugh. "go." he said pointing to the door. "the doors right there." he shrugged. "answer me this one question , where are you going?" he asked. "how are you gonna get there?" you stammered over your words. "that's right , you have no one , you cut them off because of me." he said. "dumb move." he said. "so walk out that door , do it." he said.

"and see who really loves you."

©️LUVYENI

[dsireland86]

I have a very smutty request 🫣

Noah X Reader - they're best friends who tell each other everything. One night they're talking and she mentions whenever a guy gives her oral she can't finish. She doesn't know if the problem is her or the guys she's been with. Noah being a huge munch and helpful friend is like "let's find out" 😏

Oohhhh goodness me...... okay, here we go....

Author's note: Stupid Tumblr app screwed my draft this morning and I ended up posting this one without it being finished. To all you who liked it without it being finished... I freaking love you. To the Anon who requested this story and saw the first post.... blame tumblr! Here's the right post! I hope you like it :)

Let's Find Out 18+ below the cut

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @thefallenangel @fadingintothegrey

"Come on, y/n, you can tell me. We always tell each other everything." "No, you always tell me everything because you have no filter, Noah. I don't always tell you everything."

Noah sat next to you on the couch in your apartment, thinking and realizing after a moment how right you actually were.

"Ok, well, that's besides the point. Whatever it is, has got you all riled up. So, what is it?"

You were about to tell Noah, feeling bold enough to, but when you went to open your mouth, you couldn't, instead hiding your face in a pillow.

"I'm afraid to. I'm scared of what you'll think."

Noah was silent. Slowly, you pulled your face away from the pillow to look at him. He was staring at you with an amused look on his face.

"What?"

Noah scooted closer, turning his body to face you.

"It has something to do with sex, doesn't it?"

"Oh my god, Noah," you squealed, throwing the pillow at him.

Noah's laughter filled the room.

"It does! I knew it."

You folded your arms over your chest, pouting, while Noah gloated.

"Oh, come on, y/n lighten up. It's not like we're kids. We're grown adults."

Noah rubbed your arm, running a finger down your cheek, but instantly noticing your sadness.

"Hey, what is it? Come on, tell me. I don't like seeing you upset."

One look at Noah and those sweet, sympathetic eyes of his convinced you.

"Okay, fine, but promise me, please, that you won't think differently of me when I tell you."

Noah grinned but silently nodded.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a minute to process where to start.

"Okay, so you've had sex before, and so have I. Have you ever, you know," you trailed off to stare at your fingers.

"Have I ever what?" Noah asked, confused.

You ran your hands down your face, frustrated.

"Fuck it. Have you ever made a girl cum just from going down on her?"

You could feel the heat wash over your cheeks, as you watched Noah's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wow! That is not at all where I saw this conversation going," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"See, I knew it! I shouldn't have said anything." You jumped up off the couch, ready to run and hide from the embarrassment.

"No, no, no, wait," Noah jumped up after you, grabbing you by the arm.

"It's not like that. That's not what I meant."

You refused to look up at him because of your embarrassment.

"I just meant that, well sex has never been a topic of conversation for us. I never thought you'd be coming to me for advice. That's all."

You raised your eyes, meeting Noah's. They were soft and full of sweetness, promising he was trying to be gentle with you.

"But yes," he answered quietly. "I have made a girl cum just by going down on her."

The air around you two suddenly shifted, the dynamic going from calm and collective to hot and a little nerve-wracking. You cleared your throat, swallowing hard when Noah moved closer to you in a way that he'd never had before.

"And I love it. I'm gonna be honest with you because you're my best friend, y/n.”

You looked up at him finally, noticing how dark his eyes had suddenly gotten.

"Honest? About what?"

Noah smiled gently.

"I love eating a girl out."

It was your turn for your eyes to widen now.

"That was a little too much information, Noah," you huffed a light laugh.

"You asked."

"Yes, I did. Anyway," you continued, taking a step back to create some space between the two of you.

The dampness between your thighs and the tight clenching of your sex made your heart start to race. Your panties were soaked, something that had never happened around Noah before. But because of the topic of conversation and the way he was looking at you, something between the two of you had quickly changed.

Noah was hot as fuck and everything about him drove you crazy, sexually. But he was your best friend and you were his. There was no way he felt the same about you.

"Okay, so, anyway, was it difficult for you? Getting her to cum?"

Your voice was shaky, giving away just how nervous you were to be having this conversation with Noah.

"No, it wasn't. When you know what you're doing, it's quite easy, actually. You just have to find that right spot on her pussy, right between her clit and her entrance; rub that while using a mix of your tongue and finger, and bam, you have her."

Noah smirked, arching a sly brow and watching the way you responded to his words. Your body was tense, and your palms were sweating. What the fuck was happening to you. It was just Noah.

"Why are you asking me this, y/n?" Noah narrowed his eyes.

"I um, I," you were nervous as fuck. Noah had somehow gotten under your skin with his teaching and all you could think about was his tongue and long, tattooed finger doing the same thing to you.

"I've never finished when a guy has gone down on me, and I, shit... I don't know if it's me or them."

You let out a long breath. 

"Wait, what? Are you being serious?"

You nodded.

Noah's face went deadpanned, blinking a few times.

"Soooo, you've had sex before, just the clown you slept with never made sure you finished before him?"

You nodded again, unable to look Noah in the eyes.

"Fuck, y/n. That's heavy. How is that even possible?"

You shrugged.

"It has to be a them issue, not you."

You raised your head, checking to see if Noah was joking. But he wasn't smiling; he was serious.

"Why? What makes you think it's their fault and not mine. What if I'm the problem?"

"Wow, okay," Noah said, taking you by the shoulders. "You are definitely  not the problem, y/n, trust me. It is a hell of a lot harder for a girl to have an orgasm than it is for a guy, oka? Plus, you're beautiful. Any guy that’s with you should want to make you happy first.” 

You were so consumed with embarrassment that you didn't notice how close Noah was. He was only a few inches away from where you could smell his cologne mixed with the warmth of his body heat. You sucked in a breath as he cupped your face, bringing you closer together.

"How can you be so sure, Noah?" Your voice barely above a whisper. "Unless you're willing to test that theory, I've got nothing else to base your claims on."

Noah's lips were just a few inches from yours.

"Then let's find out."

"What?"

"Let me test my theory. Let me go down on you. I know I can make you cum."

You felt the light brush of his lips against yours as you took slow shallow breaths.

"Noah, I can't. If we do that,"

"Then we can't go back to how things are the way they are between us right now?"

"Exactly," you told him.

"Good, cause I don't want them to. I want more," he confesses. “I want more of us, not just as friends, but together. 

A small smile spread over your face. “Me too.” 

"Then let’s find out. Let me make you cum the way you deserve to."

Your best friend, the one who had been there for you through two break-ups and the death of your cat, gently laid his lips on yours. At first, it shocked you, knocking you back a little from the sheer force of his greediness, but the moment Noah pulled away, leaning back to look at you, you knew that you didn't want to be "just friends with him anymore".

"Okay."

A lopsided grin swept quickly over Noah's mouth before he carefully led you back over to the couch.

"Sit," he ordered, and you did, looking up at him.

You didn't know what to do with your hands or how you should keep your legs. The once neutral feelings and normalcy were no longer between you and him, replaced only by fear of what to expect running through your nervous system.

Noah removed his shirt before dropping to his knees. Yeah, you've seen him shirtless before, but the circumstances were completely different. This time, it was because he wanted to fuck you, not because he was hot.

"First, you need to relax, okay? You won't be able to reach your climax if you're anxious and tense, okay?"

You nodded.

Noah leaned over and kissed you again, making your insides flutter. As he looked down, you watched his eyes trail over your lower body, slightly licking his lips.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this y/n."

Your forehead puckered.

"Really?"

"Hmm, really," Noah confessed, giving you a confident smile.

His fingers found the waistband of your leggings, and he slowly slipped them under."

"Can I?"

His respect for you made you grin.

" Yeah, you can," laughing lightly.

Like a kid on his birthday, Noah slipped your leggings down as you raised your bottom so he could slide them all the way off. He stared at your middle, eyes darting everywhere.

"Secondly, one way to stimulate yourself is to watch."

"Watch," you lightly croaked, swallowing and licking your dry lips.

"Uh-huh, watch. Watch as I eat you out," Noah confidently smiled at you.

"Watch as Ienjoy the taste of you, how I dive between your folds and licks every part of you. Watch as I slide a finger or two up inside you, trying to tear down your inner walls."

Pulling you closer to the edge of the couch, Noah ran his hands slowly up your thighs, leaning down to kiss them. The feeling made you gasp, and you felt his warm breath spill over your skin from his chuckle.

"Has anyone kissed your thighs before?"

"No."

"Shame on them. Such pretty thighs. I'm glad I'm the first, though."

His touch aroused every feeling for him you had suppressed all this time. Your skin prickled, sending shockwaves of a tingling sensation straight to your pussy. You were so wet, the dampness in your underwear proof of how much Noah was turning you on.

Parting your thighs, Noah sunk down and ran his tongue over the skin of your inner thigh. Your body twitched, hands digging into the couch cushion.

"Mmm, your skin is so soft and warm, baby," he praised.

Looking up at you, Noah paused.

"You good?"

You nodded, but really, you weren't. You were wound up so tight, your pussy so stimulated, that you were on the brink of tears.

"Tell me if you're not, promise?"

"Promise." Your jaw was clenched out of pure desperation to feel Noah go further.

Hooking his fingers around your panties, Noah looked up once more and your eyes locked as he slid your panties off. You quickly closed your legs so he couldn't see.

"Relax," Noah said gently, kissing your knees. "We can stop if you want to."

"No, don't stop. I just, it's just weird to know that after all of this time together as friends, we're actually doing this."

" Y/N, we're still going to be friends. Just with benefits and more."

You nodded, relaxing your legs.

Noah parted them, sighing a low "fuck" as his eyes beheld your treasure.

Your pussy was thriving. It was the perfect shade of pink, glistening with your pre-cum that Noah could wait to taste.

"Oh god," he groaned, pulling you all the way to the edge of the couch.

"Thirdly, you have to help me make you cum too."

"How?"

Noah couldn't take his eyes off your pussy. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear he was drooling. You cupped his face, lifting it so you could look at him.

"How do I help you, Noah?"

"Your hands," he stammered, "use them. And your thighs. Please, fucking use your thighs to hold me against you when you do cum."

You were so fucking turned on you didn't even think of how wrong this all was, what Noah was about to do. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered, not even the others who had failed in fully fulfilling you. You knew Noah would.

His fingers lightly touched you, like the feeling of a feather. You sucked in a breath, holding it as you kept your eyes on what he was doing. Taking his thumb, Noah found the spot right around your clit area and applied the right amount of pressure, slowly creating circles causing your entire body to ignite.

"Right there?"

"Mmmhmm, yeah, right there," I gasped.

The tip of his tongue protruded through his lips as Noah gently worked your clit, but pulled away after a few seconds. He trailed his fingers through your folds, smearing your wetness, that he caused, all over you, before easing one finger, knuckle deep, inside your entrance. You rutted against him a little, pulling a nice little chuckle from him.

"Noah," you gasped, throwing your head back from the stimulation he was showing your sex.

"Oh fuck yeah, y/n, it was defiantly a them problem. Look at you baby, look how fucking wet you are for me."

Noah pulled his finger out and showed you how wet his finger was. It glistened with your juice. Noah slipped the finger in his mouth, making you whimper.

"God, you taste so sweet." He looked at you, watching him lick you off his finger, lighting the fire deep in your abdomen.

"You like watching me, don't you? It gives you those right kinds of feelings right here, doesn't it?" Noah slipped not one but two fingers inside you, causing you to sit up. The new angle allowed him to go further in you.

"Fuck, Noah," your cry turning into a moan.

"Oh god yeah, there's your spot."

"Noah," you whine, your fingernails digging into his bare shoulders.

"Yeah baby?"

"Make me cum for you," you pleaded, watching the look of pure lust rush over his dark eyes.

Noah lifted your legs, causing you to lean back on the heels of your hands, throwing each one on his shoulders and spreading you open like his favorite book. He locked his arms around them, which allowed his fingers to work the top part of your pussy while his mouth took care of the bottom.

Without a word, he pulled your folds back and ran his tongue up your slit then back down groaning in praise as he did. The penetrating feeling of your best friend's mouth on you was a feeling you never, ever thought you wanted let alone needed.

"Oh, Noah," letting out a long, low moan as you watched his head move between your legs that were already trembling as every muscle in your body tightened.

"Jesus, baby you taste so fucking good. Fuck! So sweet and juicy" he cursed, diving back into you. His tongue entered you, probing your entrance over and over and lapping up your juices mixed with his spit, swallowing all of it.

"Fuck Noah, oh shit, don't stop, please," you whined grinding yourself against his mouth.

"That's it, baby girl, just like that. Work your sweet cunt on my tongue."

You brought one of your hands to his head, running it through his long hair, sighing at the feeling of it slipping through your fingers. Noah moaned against your pussy. The feeling he was putting you through was insatiable, completely indescribable. You couldn't speak anymore, just moan and whine the more he bit and sucked or licked and probed. Gripping his hair and tugging on it, you gasped, panting at the unfamiliar feeling coursing through you.

"You're so close, baby I can feel it, here," Noah rasped, laying his hand on your abdomen. "You're really tight."

"I know I am, I can feel it. Noah, please don't fucking stop," you begged him through a needy whine.

Noah's eyes stared at you darkly. He was loving the way he had you like puddy, in the palm of his hand. "Don't take your eyes off me."

"Okay," you whimpered.

Noah dived back into you, working your pussy thoroughly in and out. Your thighs shook as his tongue alternated between thrusting into you opening and messaging you clit, adding two fingers to the desperate need that kept building and building.

"Oh god Noah," you whined, panting desperately. "Oh god, don't stop. Fuck, baby, I'm almost there," you cried, gripping his hair and tightening you thighs around his face like he wanted

He ate you faster, fucked you harder, until your climax hit you hard, crashing into you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name, moaning as your inner walls clamped down on his fingers and he licked and sucked your bud. Without any shame, you rode his face, giving in to the sinful pleasure of the way his tongue forced you orgasm to spiral on.

"Fuck me, Noah," you exhaled breathlessly, when he pulled away.

"Can I?"

Your eyes widened, but you knew you wanted him to.

"Yes."

Noah stood up, pulling his joggers and boxers completely off and revealing his prized secret. Even though you were still dizzy and mind fucked from you first orgasm ever, you were still able to appreciate the size and length of Noah's dick. It was prettier than you imagined.

Without a word, Noah pulled you up and spun you around forcing you to bend over. Bracing yourself against the back of the couch, you felt the now familiar feeling of your arousal building up again.

"I know this isn't romantic, fucking you like this for the first time, but every time I've gotten myself off just from thinking about you, it's always been from me fucking you from behind. Are you okay with this."

You nodded quickly, looking over your shoulder.

"Yes, please, just fuck me, Noah."

And on that note, Noah grabbed your hips and slammed his cock up inside you, making you scream a string of choice words. He fucked you hard and fast, the only sound being your moans and skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck! You cunt it so fucking tight around my cock, y/n," he growled. "I wanna fuck you like this every day. Goddamn it!" It only took Noah a few more hard thrusts before the tension snapped in him and he managed to shove your shirt up before pulling out and coming all over your lower back.

"Holy fuck!"

Noah leaned over to you, completely out of breath. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you up and into his chest soaked with sweat. Together, you collapsed on the couch, tangling yourselves up in each other.

"I really need to shower," Noah said.

"Me too. I'm a little sticky."

Noah looked at you raising his eyebrows, that same gleam in his eyes from before.

"Round 2?"

"In the shower?"

Noah pulled you up.

"Absolutely. Shower sex is my favorite."

He shot you a cocky wink, grinning like the devil before lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we exit the “enemies” phase, think of the enemies to friends as the match being lit and think of the friends to lovers as the candle taking thousands of words to burn. Chapter title from Homemade Dynamite by Lorde

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Things start to change in the safe house. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Somehow, after the mission, you slept. Not well, but you did. You didn’t see Soldier Boy for almost fourteen hours after that odd moment in your room, only for him to suddenly drop on the couch next to you, watching the newly-fixed TV, holding a bowl and spoon.

“What the fuck is this,” he gestured to show playing on the screen, his mouth half-full with cereal. Crumbs fell into his beard, and he looked at the TV as if it had personally offended him.

You answered slowly, glancing between his loud, sloppy chews and the milk in his bowl, sloshing up to the sides as he settled into his seat. “Netflix.”

“That’s a stupid name for a show,” he snorted. “What does that even fucking mean?”

You shook your head. “No, the show is called Santa Clarita Diet. I’m watching it on Netflix.” He gave you a glance with a frown but remained silent, raising his eyebrows as you stared blankly.

His voice was clipped when he spoke. “What the fuck is Netflix?”

“Oh, um, it’s like a network. Like a modern TV station. It has a bunch of movies and shows, but you don’t have to wait for a certain time to watch them.”

“Huh,” he looked back to the TV. “Cocksucker mentioned something like that. I thought he was making shit up.”

“No, on demand is a pretty common thing now.” You shrugged.

“So all TV is on Newflux?”

“Netflix,” you corrected, growing more and more bemused by the conversation. “And no. We kind of just reinvented cable in a different format. There’s like a million of these websites, Vought even has their own. From what I can tell, the CIA gave us Netflix, Max, Disney, and Prime.”

“They’ll do that, but they won’t buy me weed,” he grumbled. “Fucking uptight pussies.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t get us ad-free Disney or Prime, so I wouldn’t hold your breath about them giving you drug money.”

Soldier Boy only grunted, attention fixated on the TV. The silence between you stretched as you tried to figure out a perfect, organic way to bring up the whole “I told you what Homelander did to me and you put away groceries without me asking, what the fuck is happening” thing. Just as you were about to say something, hoping that the words would find you in the moment, you were cut off.

“What the fuck is this even about?” Soldier Boy asked with a sullen voice, still not looking away from the show.

“Uh, suburban zombies. I can change it if you want.” Anything, you thought, to keep this lack of antagonistic conversation going.

“No.” You waited for more elaboration but realized he wasn’t going to offer any, having fully turned away from you. You both remained on the couch, his eyes locked to screen as you remained in your seat, afraid to move and ruin whatever was happening.

The episode ended without any outbursts from either you or Soldier Boy, and you reached for the remote, only to be hit in the head by a soggy cheerio.

“What the hell?” You picked the cereal from your hair, turning to see Soldier Boy’s frustratingly casual expression. “What was that?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, nodding his head to where your hand had been on the remote.

“Why did you throw cereal at me?!” You snapped, holding the now mushy projectile to his face.

“To get your attention,” he answered, giving you an odd look. “You always get all bitchy when I touch you.”

“Oh.” You hesitated, your confusion only growing. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I can’t read your fucking mind. If it’s because of the Homelander thing, though, then you should remember-“

“No,” you rubbed your face in frustration. “Why did you need my attention?”

He rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to keep watching this shit. It’s the least stupid thing I’ve seen so far. But you should fucking remember-“

“You could’ve just said that instead of throwing shit at me-“

“Would you fucking listen?” His familiar angry glare was beginning to form, so you closed your mouth. “If the touch thing is because of that Star-spangled pussyfuck Homelander, I meant what I fucking said last night.”

Your body tensed, trying to recall what he might be referencing. Last night, along with the previous twenty-four hours, had been replayed so much in your head it had become a simple blur of bad. "What you said?”

“I’m no rapist. I’m not an ugly pussy asshat who needs to.”

You look at him with an incredulous gape. “Needs to?”

“No part of sex is fun if she doesn’t want it. I like my woman begging me to keep going, and I only bite if they ask.” He gave you a brash grin. “I’ll show you whenever you want, Sunshine.”

“Charming,” you said under your breath, employing your now expert skills at ignoring his advances. “Would you like a trophy for the bare minimum?”

“I’m fucking serious.” He hissed, smile dropping, catching you off guard with the intensity and firmness of his expression. “If that’s why you’re so fucking annoying about me touching you, get over it.”

“Get over it?” You give a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? First off, it has nothing to do with Homelander. Second off, if it did, I’m not going to just ‘get over it’ because this is 'annoying' for you.”

“Well then, what will make you get over it?” His question, though impatient, was said with a face of biting sincerity. At least, the closest thing to sincerity you deemed him capable of.

You tilted your head at him. “It’s not something I can get over.” Before he could respond, his mouth opening with a frown and squinted eyes, you continued. “It’s one of my powers. I can feel people’s emotions when I touch them, even if I don’t want to. I can’t turn it off, or ‘get over it’.”

His mouth remained open for another second, and you could almost see his brain slowly turning in his head. You waited, your own mind spinning with possible reactions he might meet you with. Wrathful shouting, angered distrust, cold disgust, forceful words and distance.

“Do you not like what you feel from me?” He asked, no twisted fury on his face, eyes filled with that analytical, intrusive look.

“No, that doesn’t matter to me. It's intrusive, and usually people don’t like when I do it, so I just avoid touching anyone.”

“But you can’t fucking control it.” His words didn’t seem to be directed at you, but his glare made it feel like they were. “It’s not your fucking fault all those pussies have so many fucking secrets.”

You give him a passive shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still against their will.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he mutters. “For fucks sake.”

You tilt your head at him, unable to place where his disbelief and frustration was coming from, even more unsure who was facing the brunt end of it. “I mean, it can’t be that insane that people don’t like it. It’s not like you’d want someone poking around inside your feelings.”

“Sunshine, of all the things to care about, that is one of the most fucking stupid things I’ve ever fucking heard. No, I don’t care about you ‘poking around inside my feelings’, because I’m not a fucking pussy with something to hide.” He gives you another odd look, accompanied by a pause before he spoke again. “Is that where your name comes from?”

“My, my name?” You feel yourself pale, still trying to fully grasp his previous declaration.

He watches you through narrowed eyes. “Your supe name. The Anomaly.”

Your blood might have evaporated, a petrifying cold running through you. “Don’t call me that.”

“I heard MM and the French Prick using it.” He looked slightly thrown by your response, but didn’t stop pushing. “Is it a fucking secret?”

“No,” you answer, trying to keep your voice level, your words acquiring a rambling quality. “It’s completely accurate. I couldn’t think of better one if I tried. Having fou-“ you cut off your slip. “Three completely unique powers on top of the usual supe-sauce is… anomalous. But I fucking hate it. I- I really hate it.” You trailed off, rubbing your arms uneasily.

“Why? It’s just a fucking name.” His voice was casual, almost bored, but he’d leaned forward with feet firmly on the ground, waiting for your answer with an impatient frown.

You’d frozen though, as white walls and straps, cold needles and cuts, and expressionless, masked people above you flashed in your head. Ghosts of fear the first time, devastation the second, emptiness the third, and fury the fourth echoed through your body. Moments of violating change and feelings of uncontrollable, off-balance infestation in your body that would haunt you for the rest of your life. You turned to Soldier Boy, who was still watching with a deep crease in his brow as the TV show played in white noise, and forced words from your chest, to your throat, and out of your mouth.

“If the Russians gave you a name, would you want people to use it?” You said carefully, and watched his first clench at your question, the bowl almost cracking under his grip.

He kept your gaze as he responded, a cool, rough brutality in his words. “I would fucking kill the pussy who was stupid enough to mention it.” You give him a pointed look, and watch the understanding slowly fall into place in his head. All that left him was a grunt, and he turned his body and focused back on the TV, the conversation abruptly over.

The afternoon slipped into evening, the evening into night, and hardly any more words were exchanged. You said good night as you stood to retreat to your room, and he gave a muttered acknowledgment in response. Your sleep was poor but long, and when you walked out into the hall the following morning, you found Soldier Boy standing right outside your door. His arms were crossed, one hand holding the TV remote, and he spoke the moment he saw you.

“Where the fuck is the rest of it?” His intense, demanding tone was far too firm for how early it was.

You gave him a droopy blink, noticing the same shirt and jeans from the day before. “Did you go to bed at all?”

“No. Where is it?” You try to move past him, but he moves to block your path. “Where?”

You rubbed your face, trying to squeeze out the lingering and puffy sleep. “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“The show,” he spoke as if it were obvious, continuing to glower down at you as he waved the remote in your face. “You left, and then it was suddenly over and some weird fucking shit started playing. Fix it.”

You squint at him. “That show was canceled in, like, 2018. There isn’t any more.”

His expression was remarkably distressed. “Why the fuck would they do that?!”

“Netflix isn’t great at understanding popular demand,” you rub your eyes again as the dry of your mouth starts to fade. “But there’s like, an insane amount of shows out there. We can find something else.”

“Nothing else is good,” he grumbled. “All that played after was some stupid dating show. I had to watch a group of fucking idiots sit in rooms and whine about love all night.”

“You had to?” You roll your eyes with a snort. “What, did Butcher arrive with a gas mask and threaten to knock you out if you didn’t? If it’s so painful for you, just change it, or turn it off.”

He glares at your mockery, rubbing his neck as he mutters, “I don’t know how.”

"Huh?" His words had passed right through your ears as you tried and failed to keep your slugglish attention from drifting.

"I don't fucking know how," he practically barked, his face red as he refused to look at you. "It's my fucking fault technology is so fucking stupid now."

“Oh,” You feel a small amount of guilt as you realize that his scowl is one of embarrassment, his annoyed tone most likely rooted in frustration. “Wait, how have you been using it for two weeks?”

“I’d just hit buttons until something happened. It worked fine until you started that stupid Netflix shit.”

With a deep breath and sigh, you extend your hand for the remote. When he doesn’t move, you grab it from him with a tug and duck around him. “Follow me.”

Soldier Boy trails after you as you descend the stairs, stopping at your side as you reach the TV. You raise your arm to turn it off, but glance at his still-scrunched face, his bothered expression, and hand the remote back to him instead.

He stares down at his hands before looking back at the TV, then to you, his scowl only more confused. “Nothing fucking happened.”

“You’re going to do it.” You explain, pointing from the remote to the illuminated screen. “I’ll walk you through it, but you’re going to do it yourself.” “Fuck no,” he tries to return the remote to you. “You do it.”

You hold your hands behind your back. “If you want to live any sort of life in the 21st century after this, you’re going to want to know how to use a TV.”

“I can use a fucking TV.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “A shitty, twenty-year-old motel TV. Unless you want us to put you in a memory unit, gramps, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Bitch,” he grunts, but he stops trying to pawn off the remote.

“Cunt.”

His knuckles are white around the remote as he gives you an impatient, expectant look.

“Raise your hand like this, with that side,” you tap the head of the remote. “Facing the TV.”

He mimics your movements, and you give a nod of approval.

“Good, now hit that button.” When he doesn’t, you grab his finger and adjust to sit where you had pointed. “Ok, now that one.”

“Why are all these fucking buttons hidden and not labeled. Buttons used to be fucking labeled.”

You shrug. “For most people it’s intuitive, I guess.” You point to another button. “Now hit that one, and I’ll teach you how to search.”

This continues for another painstakingly drawn-out ten minutes. Once you’re absolutely sure he can passably navigate, raise and lower volume, and turn off the TV altogether, you step back.

“That’s it,” you offer him a grin. “Easy as breathing.”

He makes a grumbling, incoherent sound, dropping back on the couch. After a moment of staring at the menu on the screen, he looks up at you from his seat with an irritable frown. “You just going to fucking stand there?”

You blink at him, catch that his curt words are meant to be an offer, and move around the couch and to take the same spot you occupied yesterday. He offers you the remote back, and when you don’t take it he throws it onto your lap.

You give him a tired sigh. “The whole point of this-“

“I’ve never seen any of this shit. You said you’d find something else I’d like, Sunshine. Prove it.”

You raise your brows, but your protests die on your tongue, and you start scrolling through the display.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he grunts over your focus.

“What?” Half your attention still on the TV, you watch him shift forward in your periphery.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he repeats. “I’m not your fucking gramps.”

You glance at him, a hum of amusement leaving you. “You’re over a hundred. It’s not like you’re forty and I’m calling you ancient. Besides,” you give yourself a small smile. “Hughie told me about your little trysts with mature women. Mature woman, forty years your junior.” You stick out your tongue at him. “Cradle robber.”

“I don’t discriminate.” He says, leaning back to lounge on the couch. “And it’s not robbing the cradle if there’s no one that’s-“ he cuts himself off as he almost slips and admits your point. He gives you a glower, daring you to say something. “I’m not old.”

“Someone’s sensitive,” you mumble with a small, genuine smile, and before he can jab back, you hit play on a comedy special, turn the volume to max, and recline into the cushions.

The next set of days pass in similar fashion, and though Soldier Boy doesn’t stop grumbling insults and annoyances, picking small fights, or calling you a bitch, your childish psychological warfare has come to a halt, there’s no more throwing of chairs or explosions, and the word “bitch” off his tongue lacks the malice it did before. You quickly discover that Soldier Boy is a lot more like a toddler than anyone could have possibly guessed. You start leaving out snacks of cheese and fruit on the counter and rarely return to find it still in its spot. If you sit with him, he’ll stay shockingly still, but will make little snipes at the television. Sometimes you catch him after a comment, watching to see if you’re entertained by his words, and learn that even a vaguely amused smile makes him take on an overtly smug grin himself. At one point you start writing down a list of his less than progressive phrases, labeling it “Soldier Boy Racist Grampa Highlights," until he catches you, grabbing the list from next to you when he notices his name.

“The fucks this?” He’d asked as he scanned the page.

“I got bored,” you shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.

“This one’s not even that bad,” he pointed to a more recent addition, and you leaned over to read it.

“You called Hughie a cocksucking queer piss-boy. He’s not even here to defend himself.”

“So?”

You just gave him a flat look and returned your attention to the book you’d been skimming. You noticed him pocket the list, though, and over the next few days he started to pull it out whenever the apparently vital urge to insult someone showed its face. While the vulgarity didn’t decrease, the use of language you could only describe as tasteless and bigoted, did. Hughie even received a demotion to a “cocksucking pussy.”

He still rarely slept, instead locking himself in his room late at night and only emerging once you wake up. Once you pass his room on a 3am trip to the bathroom, walking in soft, toed steps to avoid disturbing him, only for the light leaking under his door to flood the hallway as he opens it.

“It’s not morning,” he watches you, leaning against his doorframe. “You should be asleep.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” is what you try to say. But between your clouded brain, restless need for the bathroom, and energy-drained body, what comes out is a string of sounds in a whiny tone.

“What was that?” His voice is taunting, but lacks any real edge.

“Cunt.” You mumble, trying to look at least a little menacing and, based off of what you think is a grin on Soldier Boy’s face, not succeeding.

“Bitch. You know, if you’re not tired, I’d be willing to help get you there.” He’s probably giving you a cocky, suggestive eyebrow wriggle, but between the sleepy squint of your eyes and light casting him in a silhouette, you really can’t tell. When you just make another mumble in response, he chuckles “Go back to bed, Sunshine, you’re going to collapse.”

“Nu-uh,” is all you can manage, and start to shuffle down the hall once more. When you emerge from the bathroom, your vision filled with spots after trying to turn on the lights only to be blinded, his door is closed once more, and you return to your room, collapsing back into useless, terror-fraught sleep.

When you walk into the kitchen that morning, the coffee pot is full.

———-

“What’s the third?”

You look up from your trudge through a CIA-provided, untranslated copy of Beowulf to find Soldier Boy staring at you from the door of your room.

“Third what?”

Taking that as an invitation, he stepped fully through the door to stand at the edge of your bed. “Third power. You’ve got your fireworks and feelings shit, what the fuck’s the third?”

You mark your page and meet his insistent face. “I told you that what, like ten days ago? Did you only now think to ask?”

“Nine days,” he says with an eye roll. “Don’t be fucking dramatic. And you got all pissy about your supe name. Not my fault I tried to respect your stupid fucking woman emotions and dropped it.”

You laugh. “First off, add ‘woman emotions’ to the list. And you totally forgot. I can see right through you, you just didn’t want me to make more old man jokes.”

“You’re fucking doing it anyway." He mutters, taking out the crumpled paper and a pencil from his pocket, using the wall to scratch the addition. “Would’ve been a stupid fucking plan, and I’m not a sensitive pussy who cares about jokes.” He shoves the list back into his jeans, and gives you a scowl as your grin spreads further across your face.

“Literally two days ago you threw a tantrum because I asked you what dinosaurs were your friends.”

“Are you going to answer my fucking question?”

“Fine, you baby,” you snort. “I can heal people by touching them. Technically, I transfer their injuries onto me, and then I heal so quickly it doesn’t matter. That’s mostly what I was doing for the Boys before this.”

“You were playing nurse?” He frowned. “When you can withstand a nuclear blast and are a fucking human molotov? That’s fucking stupid.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t really have any control over the fire. And I wasn’t just ‘playing nurse’, I helped with missions in other ways.”

“Really?” His tone was sarcastic as he gave you a doubtful look. “What, you were a human shield too?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter sheepishly. “But it was helpful."

“Sure, Sunshine. They must be torn up without you.”

You give him a scowl. “You know, I’m not going to tell you stuff if you’re going to be a fucking dick about it.”

He blinks, mouth curving down. “I was fucking joking.”

“Wasn’t funny,” you shrug, opening up your book. “Get out of my room.”

He doesn’t move. “Why are you being a fucking bitch again?”

You sigh, staring blankly at the pages. You’d admit, even from inside your own head, your anger had blossomed quite suddenly. But his accusations of your team being absolutely unaffected by your absence stabbed you somewhere in your chest, fueling that voice in the back of your head. It was getting louder, reminding you of all that damage in your wake—how your team walked on eggshells when they spoke to you and flinched when you touched them. “Human shield” was the best description of your place within the group. “Nurse” was too generous a term for a person they let touch and heal them only if the hospital was too far away and it couldn’t wait. On rare occasions you’d convince them to forgo their protests and just let you fix their wounds, but it took promises and pleas from you and exhausted caving from them. You look back up at Soldier Boy, who has remained in his place, eyes boring into you as you’d calmed yourself.

“I don’t like being useless.” You say softly. You know the admission could return to bite you in the ass should the peace you and Soldier Boy maintained the past week crumble, but he’d surprised you once. Maybe he’d do it again. “I don’t need you to remind me that I am.”

You watch his reaction, frown growing but fuming annoyance fading. His eyes were overtaken by a surly look you couldn’t figure out. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard.”

Your jaw drops, and that thing under your skin starts to claw against your skull. “Get out.” When he doesn’t move, your voice raises. “Get out!”

“Would you just-“

“Out!” You’re at a full scream now, chucking Beowulf at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Just fucking listen to me!” He’d stumbled back as the book hit, most likely out of shock more than anything else, but remained in your room. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice smoke starting to curl around you, but you’re too angry to try to calm it. He must notice it as well, because his face pinches slightly, no longer trying to move back to you. “I wasn’t done-“

“What, you got more stupid, cruel shit to say? About how I’m not just useless, I’m a stupid fucking bitch? A useless whore who can’t even cook? An uptight fucking prude?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!” He’s yelling too now, and suddenly you can’t move. It’s not like he’s never raised his voice before, having frequent appearances in your previous daily shouting matches, but this is different. This seeps through the air into your blood and head, shutting everything in you down until all that’s left is fear. Breathing is hard, your heart can’t seem to keep up with your lungs, and your anger is quickly turning into a light-headed, frantic need to go, go, go and hide, or to start clawing and clawing at whatever comes close until this feeling leaves. All of a sudden he’s right there, he’s in front of you and grabbing your arms, shaking you and saying something you can’t hear. Slowly, the tightness around you starts changing, becoming something solid, something firm. You’re annoyed and frustrated, but under it rests an urge to cover your hands in blood over something. Your fragile terror is washed over by a vigilant alarm, and everything suddenly feels sharper. As you emerge from your own brain, you notice Soldier Boy still there, his face level with yours.

“You’re fine.” It’s not a question. He’s telling you, and suddenly you realize that you are. And as you nod, you feel the distress in you fade into something like relief. Your head drops, and you tense once more as your eyes see his hands on your biceps.

“Um,” you look between his grip on your body and his face, drawn with a confusion you can feel in yourself. You gesture your head back down, his own attention following yours, and he lets out a grunt when he sees what you’re glancing at, dropping himself from you.

He draws himself up and turns, and part of you thinks he’s going to walk out the door and leave the rest of your fight for the morning. But he stops when he opens the door, and speaks without turning.

“You’re not useless. That’s what I was trying to fucking tell you. You’re certainly worth more than any of those preachy hypocrites.” Before you can ever open your mouth, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

You don’t sleep that night, laying in bed with the sheets feeling too warm and itchy, your thrashing only just slower than your restless thoughts. You stare and stare at the ceiling, trying to comb through the conversation and pick apart every second so you’d know just what to say when the dawn broke. You wanted to, needed to, make sure things didn’t go back to the way they’d been before. That had been exhausting, every part of your waking moments wondering who would blow up first, listing out hypotheticals to ensure that you would win any fight he offered you. You’d take the blame, a scratch in the back of your head told you it was yours anyway, to keep this truce. As the night moves, time becomes uncertain, hours, minutes, and seconds all feeling the same. Your dread turns to shame, to doubt, to a hot, righteous anger.

This won’t wait for morning, you decide. He doesn’t get to do this, make you sink down like this. It might have been your fault, but he doesn’t get to make you sit in it. You’re going to fix this or blow it up, and you’re going to do it now.

He must be up. He’s always up. You’d seen him “sleep” twice, both times in a frighteningly controlled manner, waking himself up the moment his breathing became soft. He’s certainly up, the light in his room is escaping into the hall, and you can hear him shuffling around, but, still, you knock on his door. When it doesn’t open, you knock again, then once more after another minute of inaction.

After the fifth knock, your patience a thin thread, you shout. “I know you’re in there, Soldier Boy! The light’s on, and I can fucking hear you! We need to talk!” The sounds pick up, but still the door is shut. “Let me fucking in, you ass!”

Nothing.

The thread snaps, and you push open the door. The harsh of the light blinds you for only a second, and when your eyes adjust, you're met with the sight of Soldier Boy, asleep, with his face in crumpled in a pained grimace. Sheet askew across the bed as he grunts unintelligibly, his body looks braced against something you can’t see. You’re frozen in your place near the door, agitation forgotten. You want to wake him up, because you know far better than anyone how real these things can seem, how the pain being your head doesn’t stop the echo of it in your body. You want to leave and never speak of this again, because there’s no way he receive you seeing him like this well. But what makes you decision for you, springing you from your rooted place, is the light in his chest starting to brighten as the room starts to hum.

It’s more instinct than anything—you know that the safe house and everything in it has been built to withstand this very thing, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you—as you run to the bed and shake Soldier Boy by his shoulders. When your skin meets his a rush of fear, pure and unbridled fear as strong as it had been from you hours ago, overtakes you. Fear and anger. You don’t think you ever felt this bloodthirsty, savage anger in you before. Your anger had always been cold and zealous, calculating tributes for your sorrow. This anger didn’t care. Somebody just had to hurt, and hopefully that someone would break.

If it’d been any other circumstance, you’d have been terrified by it. But you’re not, focused entirely on waking Soldier Boy up. Later, when several hours were between you and this moment, you’d deal with this. Maybe you’d even acknowledge how, despite the distance, you still may not be afraid of it. But now, with the light only growing, you let his feelings wash through you, and you do something drastic.

You pull back and slap Soldier Boy in the face.

He roars, eyes shooting open and glazed with a feral haze, his body jerking upright and grabbing you by the throat. Even as it happens, hindsight tells you that there probably were other ways to wake him up, but this was the stupid path you’d taken, and you unfortunately could not go back.

Before your vision could grow spotty, before your own fear and images of a flickering light above you could overtake your head, he let go with another shout. You scrambled back, realizing the fever in you had crept out of your spine, trading bruises on your neck for burns on his hands.

You watch him slowly regain control, his face dropping into exhaustion and his eyes searching the room—for what exactly, you’re not sure—and finding you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” The words are low and rough, and though they don’t sound like a question, you answer him anyway.

“I- I just wanted to talk, and you weren’t answering the door…” You trail off lamely, your words sounding hollow even to you.

He doesn’t yell at your though, or push you out. He just stares at you, as if you’re meant to continue, to try and justify your presence. But you just stare back, unsure if you want him to kick you out, talk to you, or just pass out and forget the whole thing.

Instead of those options, leaving you at yet another loss, he sits back and scoots over to the far side of the mattress. When you don’t react besides another prolonged stare, he gives a half-hearted eye roll and pats the space next to him. Slowly, slightly fearful of misunderstanding his gesture, you walk over and drop on the bed at his side.

He’s looking ahead, unreadable from only his side profile, when he speaks.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

You don’t stop watching him as you respond. “Does that happen every time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have anything else to say—any reassurance you can think of sounding stupid even in your head. So you wait, still watching him, and sit in the silence.

“Do you not have any?” His voice is strangely soft, though no tension has left his body.

You give a small sigh. “I do. But I’m good at hiding them. Stuff like that,” you wave a hand to his chest. “Only happens on bad days.”

“Bad days?” You can see his frown forming as his lips turn down, his voice growing deeper.

“On a few missions, I saw Homelander,” you whisper, now staring ahead yourself. “From afar. Really afar. I know he didn’t ever even see me, because I’m not back… there, but whenever I see him, apparently it’s enough.” You turn back to Soldier Boy, and are met with him watching you.

“Is that what yours are about?”

You give a small nod. “Different things happen, but it’s always him. Always there.”

“Hm,” his eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “How do you stop them?”

You don’t have to ask what he means. “I don’t stop them, I just keep them in here.” You tap your head. “And I think of before. About how it was.”

“That helps?”

“As long as I don’t let myself remember that it will never be like that again.” You can’t hide the pain the words give you.

“What was it like?”

“Before? It’s was normal,” you shrug. “Boring.”

He tilts his head at you. “Normal?”

“Normal,” you repeat, watching his face as you speak.

He frowns, and looks away. You notice him swallow heavily, glaring at the wall. “Like,” he swallows again. “Like what?”

“Well, I had parents. Siblings. I had friends, I worked, I went to school-“

“School?” He turns back to you. “You're an adult, did they make school fucking longer?”

You feel a small smile quirk your lip. “No, I was doing a postgraduate. I’d actually just finished. Technically, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Of Anthropology, yeah. I know less about human medicine than WebMD.” You pause. "That’s like, a website that’s famous for giving bad medical advice. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“And you think you know less than it?”

“Oh, I know I know less than it.”

He snorted, returning to watch the wall. “That’s fuckin ironic.”

You nod in amusement. “Yep.”

When you don’t continue, he looks back once more. “What else?”

“I lived alone. Small, shitty studio on the Upper West Side. I visited my dad in Boston once a month-“

“Just your dad?”

“Yeah, my mom wasn’t dead, she’s just a bitch.” You hear Soldier Boy cough what might have been a laugh, but you ignore it. “She and my dad divorced when I was like, ten. They had joint custody, but I stopped talking to her when I was fifteen.”

“Harsh,” he mutters. “What, she ground you one too many times?”

You decided that holding back about thing like this was a need long gone. “She tried to send me to a medical boarding school in the Berkshires.”

“What the fuck is a ‘medical boarding school’”

“Like a psych ward where they teach you math.”

“Huh,” he raises his brows at you. “You need one?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I already knew math.”

He stares at you blankly, a smile having crept onto your face. “You’re… making a joke.” He said slowly.

“Yep,” you nudge his shoulder with your own. “That’s what a good one sounds like.”

He lets out a low laugh. “That wasn’t that fucking good.”

“You laughed.”

“You can’t fucking prove it.”

You’re grinning fully now. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, gramps.”

He rolls his eyes. “So your mom’s a bitch, you lived alone, and you can’t even cook. That’s just fucking sad.”

“New York is famous for its food,” you mutter. “And I can heat stuff up, as you very well know.”

“You can’t coast on box macaroni forever, Sunshine.”

“Been working fine for both of us so far.”

He gives you an amused look. “You’re not trying to seduce me.”

“What the fuck does that have to do-“

“You don’t have to impress me,” he continues, unfazed. “Your cooking doesn’t matter. What’d you do when you were hungry for dick?”

You stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.” He only returns your glare with a cocky grin.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sunshine.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.

“Men aren’t big pussies about that stuff anymore,” you smile as his face drops at your claim. “And I never spent a lot of time being ‘hungry for dick’, anyways.”

“What, you have a loyal boyfriend?” he taunts.

“Nope,” you give him a grin. “But I had a sweet old lady in the apartment across the hall who brought me food every weekend. You’d have liked her, she was just your type.”

He grunts, but not with annoyance. “All I hear is no boyfriend, no friends, and can’t cook. Like I said, just fucking sad.”

“I had friends!” You protest. “We’d do karaoke every Friday!”

“You can sing?”

“Nobody who does karaoke can sing,” you dodge with ease. “But we had fun.”

He lets out a labored breath, and when he turns to you this time, you notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Would you go back?” He asked. He was watching you so carefully, and you once again are left confused by the look in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could.” You answer, your voice sounding far away, a memory of a gravestone flashing in your head. “I don’t think it would be fair to them.”

“Fair to them?” He gives a doubtful huff. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Really?” You challenge. “I don’t think it’s stupid to not want to pull the people you love into this shitshow. I got a chance to keep them out of this life. Most people aren’t that lucky.”

Soldier Boy only shrugs. “Bad things will still fucking happen to them.”

“Bad things happen to everyone.” Your words are firm. “I’m making sure they don’t fucking die.”

“Well,” he turns back to the wall. “Aren’t they fucking lucky they have you.”

You know his words are meant to be cold and sarcastic, his face has even dropped into a scowl. But there was no sharpness behind them, and the rest of his face just looks… so tired. You hate it, it’s leaking into you and you’re not even touching him. You really, really want it to stop. So, you say the only thing that you can think of.

“Nobody taught me,” you say softly.

“What?” His red eyes give you a confused glance.

“I can’t cook because nobody taught me how. My mom didn’t care to, I don’t think it ever occurred to my dad, and eventually everyone just assumed that I could and I didn’t want to correct them. I turned into some sort of rage against the patriarchy shit in my head, but it’s a just life skill that I can’t do because nobody wanted to teach me.” You give him a sad smile. “I don’t think they felt as lucky to have me as you think.”

“So why’re you protecting them?” He asks, a puzzled frown on his face. “If those pussies didn’t fucking care about you, then they don't fucking deserve it.”

You shrug. “I know. But I’m going to keep doing it anyway.”

His eyes on yours have that look of dissection again, but it’s no longer violating, only prying carefully. You’re not sure how long passes before he speaks.

“It’s late,” he mutters. “You should sleep.”

You hesitate, but nod and stand. You move to the door, glancing back to see his still watching, alone on the bed. From here, he somehow looks more tired, the light making the circles around his eyes more prominent and the color on his face more washed out. You think it’s the most human you’ve ever seen him.

“Good night, Soldier Boy,” you say gently, and turn to leave.

You almost don’t hear his response.

“You don’t have to call me Soldier Boy,” the words are said under his breath, and when you turn, he has a soft frown. “Ben’s fine.”

You blink, and a small, unforced smile crosses your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ben.”

[moremaybank]

EYES ON US — r.c

pairing dark!rafe cameron x dark!fem!reader

summary the man you've been having an affair with enlists you in a devious and downright evil plan to get back at your husband. the husband that owes him a million dollars.

warnings 18+, dark!rafe & dark!reader. read at your own risk! violence/use of force, use of guns, kidnapping, being held at gunpoint, mentions of murder but it isn't actually depicted (all pertaining to reader's husband), unprotected sex, blow job turned to face-fucking, spanking, creampie, overstimulation, squirting, voyeurism, revenge sex, i think that's it ???

author's note this is my first dark fic ever so please take it easy on me LOL. i hope you like itttt

rafe masterlist

It was nightfall, and the air was cold and crisp, with a cloud of fog blanketing the island's heights. It was dark, almost pitch black, barring the dim street lamps, and deafeningly silent, adding to the already ominous theme of the night. It acted as a guarantee that he could make his escape. Flee the island quietly without fearing being sought out by the deadliest man in the Outer Banks.

So, there he was, your husband, Warren, traipsing through a back alley with a duffel bag full of his belongings. The town was eerily quiet, and everything seemed too good to be true. 

Could it be this easy? Warren thought. Will I make it out of this thing alive?

He found his answer when he heard the screech of tires in front of him as he reached the end of the alleyway. A shiver ran up his spine, and his eyes widened, watching three men unloaded from the black SUV. They all instantly made a beeline toward him, and Warren’s steps came to a halt. 

One of the men stepped into the faint, spotlight-like halo, revealing himself to your poor, and not to mention screwed, husband. 

Rafe Cameron. 

Rafe was the most powerful man on the island. He was well-respected and well-feared with equal measure, and rightfully so. With the snap of his fingers, one’s life could be swiped from them without a word or a trace. 

The stories constantly circulated throughout the town, the ones of him and his ruthless men taking action and retaliating moves when needed. 

No one would ever dare to cross Rafe or anyone he still held specks of love for in his cold, nearly-dead heart. They would also do well to avoid getting between him and his money. 

Your husband, however? Not so lucky. 

“You got my money, Warren?”

“Well, actually…it seems I’ve encountered some complications. I don’t have your money, not right now, but I made some wise investments, and I’m just waiting for the cash to come in. You’ll have your money by tomorrow, Mr. Cameron. Every last penny, I swear,” he spoke, attempting to reassure the authoritative man in front of him. 

A wry chuckle left Rafe’s lips in response as he moved closer to your husband. He wasn’t stupid; he knew precisely what Warren looked like when avoiding the truth. 

“See, I’d believe you, except you’ve been spewing the same lies for weeks now, and I still don’t have it. I’d also like to take the time to point out the getaway bag stashed in your hand.” Rafe stepped closer still, “You didn’t think you could hide from me, did you?”

Warren swallowed thickly. “So…what happens next?”

“I like to think I’m a nice guy, Warren. But I do have friends that aren’t so nice. So, I’ll give you a choice; you can either get into the car willingly, or my men here will use force to get you inside themselves,” Rafe responded, motioning back toward the two men who accompanied him. “I think the answer is pretty clear.”

“You don’t have to do this, Mr. Cameron. We’re just two people having a civil conversation. We’re talking, that’s it.” 

It was easy to note the fear in Warren’s eyes and tone, and Rafe relished that he could bring out the fear in people without even lifting a finger. 

“I’m all talked out, Warren. Get in the car, or my men won’t make this easy for you.” 

Warren shook his head, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cameron. I can’t.” He dropped the duffel bag, but before he could make a break for it, the two gentlemen on each side of his rival stalked toward him. They grabbed him, gripping his biceps tightly in their hold and dragging him toward Rafe. He tried to put up a fight, kicking his legs and floundering about, but he was quieted in an instant when Rafe’s gun knocked him on the side of his head.

-

About thirty minutes later, your husband woke in a cold, isolated cellar. He found himself alone with the same two men that had aided Rafe in getting him there. 

Warren moved to raise his hand but soon realized that his wrists were bound with thick ropes, as well as his ankles, and both were secured to the metal chair he sat on. He tried to budge, but the tight ropes combined with his head pounding gave him little to no strength or energy to follow through. He hissed as the left side of his head throbbed in pain, and he could feel the remnants of blood still dripping down his temple. 

Breaking the silence, Rafe knocked on the door and entered the room. He went over to Warren calmly and raised his hand to remove the tape from his victim’s mouth.

“I’d apologize for the rough tactics used to get you here, but I had no choice. I wasn’t about to let you run from me. Can’t have people thinking I’m getting soft, Warren. My empire would implode.”

“…Dare I ask what the plan is?” Warren mutters in response, eyes focused on Rafe pacing back and forth all too calmly.

“Well, my good friend, to be quite honest, I was just going to have you killed, you know? Lights out,” he snaps, “just like that. But then I thought, how can I make this better? And, shit, I think I’ve really outdone myself this time.” Rafe crouched down in front of Warren, their faces now levelled. “I have a very special treat for you, Warren.” 

One of his men opened the door again, and you walked, draped in designer from head to toe. Your dress clung to your curves with ease, and your heels clicked against the pavement of the cellar as you made your way over to Warren and Rafe. 

“Hi, baby,” you greeted with a smile, the glimmer in your eyes as bright as ever. 

Warren assumed you were speaking to him, but he wondered why you would be grinning from ear to ear when your husband was about to face his impending death.

Things became apparent as you stepped into the arms of Rafe, right in front of him, pressing a long and deep kiss to his lips before pulling back with a giggle. You turned your attention toward your husband, whose expression was gobsmacked. Your eyes landed on the ropes that kept him tied up. 

“Ooh,” you mused, “kinky.”

“I thought so too,” Rafe grinned, kissing your temple as his hands stroked your upper arms.

“What the fuck is going on? Why are you with him, Y/N? Why are you kissing him?” 

Fury bled through your husband’s tone, and you could see his brows creasing as he let the emotion take over him entirely. 

“Aw, come on, sweetie. You had to know I’d leave you eventually,” you replied. 

“What?” He whispered, swearing he could feel a crack in his heart threatening to split through it completely. 

“You’re broke, Warren. You owe Rafe nearly a million dollars, yet everything you’ve done to get it back has failed. You told me it would all work out, but there you were just half an hour ago, ready to make your escape and not bothering to care about the circumstances you would leave me in. Broke and completely alone.” You crouched down just as Rafe had earlier, “I don’t like being lied to, Warren.”

“You’ve been lying to me for some time, too. You’re a hypocrite. And a two-timing whore.”

Rafe was quick to punch your bad-mouthing husband square in the jaw. “Watch what the fuck you say to her, or I’ll make this worse for you. You got that?” 

You both watched as Warren glared at him silently, spitting the blood pooling in his mouth onto the floor beneath him. Then, you stepped directly in front of your husband, tilting his face up to look at you with your index finger. Looking him right in the eye, you started to explain your reasoning. 

“It was for a good cause. Rafe can give me everything, all the things you never could. Like good sex, for example. A woman needs her orgasms, my love, and you were doing a very lousy job providing me with them.”

Warren tore his gaze from yours in embarrassment, and it was hard not to bask in it. The taste of revenge was sweet on your tongue, and the fun hadn’t even begun yet. 

“So, what, your evil plan was to reveal your little affair to me? Congrats. Can you kill me now?” 

Rafe chuckled mockingly, shaking his head. “You underestimate me, man. You should know who I am by now.” Taking hold of Warren’s jaw, he bent to his level and placed the tape back on his lips. “You’re going to watch me fuck her. And believe me; it’s going to be one hell of a show.”

Rafe looked back to you over his shoulder, “Take off your dress for me, baby. Leave the heels on.” 

You nodded gleefully, moving to unzip your dress. You shimmied it down the length of your body and let it hit the floor. Your bare breasts and pussy were left in plain sight, having chosen to skip undergarments altogether. 

Rafe smirked at you, “No panties? Naughty girl.” He walked over to you, his hand clasping around your throat and drawing your face to his. He then kissed you, letting his tongue slip into your mouth and tangle with yours. 

When Rafe broke the kiss, he looked back at his men. “Make sure Warren is facing us at all times. I don’t want him to miss a single second of this.” His men both nodded and began to make their way to Warren’s chair. They stood on either side of him, caging him in — not that he would’ve been able to break free.

Rafe’s attention returned to you. His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, “How do you wanna do this, baby?” 

You pondered dramatically, tapping your pointer finger against your jaw. When you cooked up your answer, you beamed widely. “Why don’t you fuck me in doggy?” Your eyes met Warren’s, “Your favourite. Right, hun?”

“Fucking his wife in his favourite position? That sounds fucking fantastic to me,” Rafe stated proudly. His hand grasped your wrist, about to lead you to the other side of the table. Before he could, you stopped him. 

“Wait,” you say. “I wanna suck you off first.”

That stung. You barely ever offered to do so for your husband. You’d always been the girl that got off on pleasing her man. You sucked dick for your pleasure. But you’d grown bored with Warren so long ago; he couldn’t even fathom the last time you had. 

With him, that is. 

After turning so that Warren could view you from the side, you sank to the floor, your fingers working to free him from the confines of his dress slacks. You palmed and rubbed his cock, waking it up through his briefs. Your eyes peered up and caught Rafe biting his lower lip in response to your touch. You drew his cock out from the fabric before spitting onto your palm. Your dainty hand circled Rafe’s girth and began to stroke him slowly. Your tongue dragged up his length and swirled around his yearning tip before taking him into your mouth entirely. 

With ease, you quickly began to bob your head. Your lips created an air-tight suction around it, taking his cock to the back of your throat each time. You twisted and jerked and lapped at his cock with determination, and Warren’s hateful gaze only goaded you further. 

“Such a perfect goddamn mouth. You love taking my cock down your throat, don’t you?” Rafe spoke, threading a hand into your hair as you worked at him.

It was hard not to smile when you released his cock from your mouth. You spat on it, watching your saliva coat him and make him more slippery. You continued to stroke him while your moistened lips dragged over his balls gently. Rafe leaned his hand backward, bracing it on the table and holding himself up when your thumb ran over his slit. You’ve always known that it was one of his weaknesses, and you were damn sure to use that to your advantage. Your tongue slithered over the remainder of pre-cum still seeping out of him. You teased the small hole, almost making Rafe’s knees buckle.

“I love how hard you get for me when I lick you like this, baby.” Your eyes wandered toward Warren again, “Love this perfect cock so much.” 

You sucked Rafe into your mouth again, your tongue paying special attention to his sensitive tip. It spiralled around the head and slid down his shaft when you practically swallowed him whole. One of your hands fondled his balls and massaged them between your slippery fingers, and Rafe was quick to snap. 

“Fuck, stay right there. Let me use you,” he ordered, taking your head in both his hands now and holding your face in place. Your hands held onto his thighs, and Rafe started roughly fucking himself down your throat. You moaned around him, sending vibrations through him as he chased his high. His cock twitched between the seam of your lips, and his cum spurted out. You swallowed the hot substance, and Rafe groaned when he felt your throat close around him. 

Rafe pulled out, panting heavily as his eyes roamed over to your husband, and he smirked proudly when he saw his eyes about to pop out of his head.

“How’d it feel, Warren? Watching your wife swallow my kids? Hurt, didn’t it?”

Warren shuffled around as best he could, trying to move toward Rafe, but the guards held the chair back, restraining his movements. You and Rafe couldn’t hold back your amused laughs.

“If you think that’s bad, just wait ’til I fill her pussy up. You’ll be fuming.”

“Enough talking. Let’s show him instead,” you said. 

Your hand grabbed Rafe’s as you led him around the table to face Warren. You leaned forward, and your hands braced onto the surface. You arched your back, allowing Rafe full access to your backside. You felt his hands run down the length of your back to your ass, and he squeezed both cheeks before smacking one side. His fingers slid through your folds, feeling the pool of slick leaking from your hole. He sucked on them, tasting your sweetness. 

“Hold on tight, baby. I’m going to make this hurt.” 

Rafe pushed his way into your pussy, filling you up wholly. The air disappeared from your lungs, and you felt his balls against your clit. You instinctually arched further and tossed your head back, now practically bent in half. 

“So big, Rafe. Fuck,” you gasped. 

“Yeah?” Rafe asked, starting to move. “Bigger than him?”

You looked right at your prying-eyed husband. “Way bigger. He doesn’t compare."

Rafe grinned at your response, and his hips began to smack against your ass. His hands curled over either side of your neck, bringing you back against his cock roughly. He wasted no time picking up a ferocious pace, punishing your pussy and taking out all his Warren-related revenge on it. 

“Oh my god, yes,” you mewled. Your hands slid closer to the other side of the table, and your fingers hooked over the edge as you sought out some leverage. “Right fucking there. Shit.”

Rafe’s hand smacked your ass again, pulling a yelp from you, and he felt the heat rising onto your skin at the harsh contact. 

“You never deserved this perfect pussy, Warren. You didn’t even know what to do with it,” Rafe growled as he slammed deep into your hot, slick walls. You encased him so tightly; it was like he was fucking you for the first time again. Rafe never thought it’d get any better than feeling your pussy gripping him like it never wanted to let go, but that was knocked off its pedestal when he watched the rage on his victim’s face.

Warren’s cap was about to blow off. Each time he tried to look away, one of the guards would grip his jaw tightly and force his gaze back onto the two of you. Closing his eyes didn’t help either because he could still hear you calling another man’s name and begging him for more. It was a cruel reminder of how deadly silent you were with him when he gave you your so-called pleasure. 

It was killing him. You were killing him.

Noticing Warren’s shut eyes, Rafe nodded to the guards without stopping, and the two freed their handguns and pressed the muzzles of the guns to each of Warren’s temples.

“Eyes on us, Warren, or they’ll shoot.”

Angrily, your husband forced himself to watch the two of you, having no choice but to endure his suffering.

“‘M gonna cum, Daddy,” you babbled, already fucked into a stupor without finishing yet. “Please, make me cum.” 

Rafe’s eyes found your husband’s once more as he spoke through gritted teeth. 

“This is what it looks like when you can actually satisfy your girl. Can you hear how soaked she is? How loud she’s screaming for me?” Turning his attention back to you, one of his hands slipped into your hair, gaining an unrelenting grip on your strands. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for me and tell him who fucks you this dumb.”

Your tits pressed against the cold metal of the table beneath them, bulging them out and perking up your sensitive nipples as you all but screamed. “You, Rafe! Only y-you!” 

A loud shriek escaped your lips as you came hard, your knees buckling under waves of pleasure. Your body sagged against the table, your hands releasing their grip on it, and you essentially became his fuck doll as Rafe still fought for his orgasm. Your walls would not — could not stop clamping down on him, bringing him closer and closer to cumming.

“I’m going to fill this pussy to the brim. Maybe even let Warren taste it afterward,” he mused through a grunt. “Fuck, princess. So goddamn tight.” 

Rafe reached his high again, letting his cum spurt inside of you. He pulled out in a flash and scooped you up in his arms so he could carry you. He demanded help from one of his guards, having him bring the other chair in front of Warren. He sat down and hovered you over his cock. He tugged you downward, letting your cunt swallow his cock once more. You whimpered, leaning back against your lover’s chest. 

“Spread those legs nice and wide, baby. Need him to see everything he’s missing.”

Though he told you what he wanted you to do, he did you the kindness of helping you out by using his large palms to stretch you out and give Warren a close-up view of his enemy’s cock inside his wife. Your feet braced themselves upon Rafe’s knees, keeping you open for him, and your hands pressed flat against his thighs.

Rafe placed his own hands on the chair, his fingers curling over the edges as he fucked his cock up into you. Your head immediately fell against Rafe’s broad shoulder as you allowed him to pummel into you. 

Your pussy was already sore, but the sting was too satisfying to let go of. The thrill of your husband watching your affair spurred you on as well. There was no adrenaline rush quite like making your disappointment of a husband watch you fall apart on someone else’s cock.

To rub it in (no pun intended), your hand found its way to your clit, and you began to massage it tirelessly. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” You cursed, going harder as you burned for more. Your cunt started to spasm, contracting around Rafe’s shaft, and you knew you were close when your legs trembled. “Rafe!”

“Oh, shit. You going to squirt for us, baby?” Rafe questioned, the pride washing over him. You nodded desperately, and he kissed your shoulder. “Go ahead. Make a spectacle of it. Be my good girl and soak ‘em.”

You squealed when you let go, falling over the edge and letting the euphoria consume you. Your juices squirted out of you, drenching the three men in front of you and the man responsible for making you do so. 

“Bet you’ve never gotten her to do that, huh?” Rafe bragged, free of remorse. 

He fucked you harder, triggering his orgasm as he slipped in and out of you vigorously. You both rode out your climaxes, your legs feeling like jello as you tried to stay upright. Rafe then lifted you off of him carefully before standing up himself. He readjusted his clothing, bringing his briefs and slacks to his hips. 

Your releases oozed from your pussy and started to run down your thighs, and Rafe scooped it up with his fingers. Leisurely stepping right in front of your husband, he removed the duct tape from his lips again. Then, Rafe smeared the cum on his fingers over the seam of your spouse’s lips, looking smug as ever.

“This counts as your last meal, right?” 

Rafe pats Warren’s cheek twice with an evil smile before walking over to you and wrapping his arm over your shoulders. “Say bye, baby.”

“Bye, Warren. I hope you enjoyed the show,” you winked. 

The two of you made it to the door, and Rafe opened it. He turned back to the guards before leaving. “Kill him.”

All that could be heard as you two left the building were pleading screams and a single gunshot. 

Boom.

rafe tag list [added a few people who wanted to read this fic (join here!)]: @pankowperfection @oncasette @taintedxkisses @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @vigilanteshitposting @dreamingwithrafe @twelfthmortalofcrimsonpalace @wildflwrdarlin @saturnband @adoreyouusugar @rosie-cameron @f4ll-for-you @rafesdirtyslut @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @venomwh0re @cecesrings @indigoreccs @cumbuckett @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @insanelycrazyanddelusional @blueicequeen19 @mvybanks @countryclubkook @veescorneroftheworld @unmistakablyunknown @achromatopcia @chibijusstuff @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @belcalis9503 @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @ykitsher

[omgsecretsecret]

I don't want to go ! Part 2

Pairing : Lee Minho x gn!reader ; established relationship

Genre : angsty, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

Word count : about 930

Warnings : phobia of needles ; crying ; panick attack ig (idk if it's exactly one)

Author's note : I'm so sorry for taking so much time to post it but it's out now for Christmas (btw merry christmas to everybody who celebrates it and happy day to everyone doesn't <3) ; lots of love and bisous to @giddyfatherchris for helping me ; the pics on top are not mine, credits to the owners

Request : « Can you do a part 2 of the don't want to go lee known fic, where lee know comforts the character while getting a shot, the character cries too, maybe puts up a fight because she doesn't want to get a shot? Lee know tries to keep distracted. » by @200billionlightyearsaway

Masterlist || Part 1

◍｡⁠•⁠ ⁠���⁠ ⁠•⁠｡◍

Honestly, you are happy to have Minho with you, his presence is always reassuring. But at the same time, it's so embarrassing. How could a grown-up like you need their boyfriend to go to the doctor? You feel so childish.

You don't notice the way he's looking at you with slight concern, but you do feel him taking your hand. You smile at him and he simply squeezes your hand. You give your name to the secretary for the appointment, then go in the waiting room. Everything seems so slow, you feel like you're waiting forever. Why are doctors always late?

When you are finally called, you don't even know if you are relieved to leave the room full of sick people or if you want to run away even more. You tense up as you enter the medical room and Minho's hold on your hand tightens.

It's like you're not completely there when the doctor asks a few questions, letting Minho answer as you try to handle the anxiety threatening to overwhelm you. You feel so stupid. Why are you so damn scared of a simple fucking needle ?

Minho has to call your name three times to finally get you to react. You blink a few times before slowly getting up, your movement almost shaky. Your body feels weak as you walk to the examination chair and you are just unable to let go of your boyfriend's hand. The sound of your own heartbeat pulsing in your ears and your already heavy breathing covers everything else around you. You can't see the look of worry on Minho's face as your eyes get glassy, but when you hear the doctor pulling out the needle, you break down.

You instinctively grip his arm as you can't hold back the tears that immediately fill your eyes, looking up at him with genuine distress. You can't do this. You don't know why you react so strongly, but you just can't keep it together. You suddenly start crying, pulling on Minho's arm and messily begging him to get you out of here. You don't care about what the doctor might think of you anymore, all you want is to go home.

"Baby, baby... It's okay. Calm down, love. Just calm down. he whispers sweetly as he cups your face and crouches down to be at your eye level, but it doesn't help.

— No it's not ! I can't just fucking calm down ! You think I do this on purpose ? You think it's easy ? I can't –"

You want to keep talking, keep telling him how you feel, how wrong he is, but you can't. A loud sob interrupts you and you just can't speak anymore. You cower down and cover your face as you cry, attempting in vain to suppress your sobs. Of course you know you should calm down, of course you know your reaction is disproportionate, but you can't control it.

Minho's heart clenches at the sight. He hates seeing you in this state, but it's not like he's going to blame you. He lets out a soft, pained sigh before carefully wrapping his arms around you. He holds you gently, with all the love of a man who only wants to comfort his partner.

You bury your face into his neck, shaky hands coming up to clutch his shirt lightly. He doesn't say a word, simply holding you close and rubbing your back. In a last surge of resistance, you weakly whisper that you want to leave, even trying to get up but it's halfhearted. You know you have to take that damn shot. Minho just keeps you there when you try to move, pressing you against his chest.

"Baby ? You're going to get the shot okay ? You can do it, baby. I won't let go of you, I'll be right there. You can cling on me all you want. But we have to do it, okay ?" he whispers softly without pulling away.

You don't reply, don't nod, but your lack of protests serves as a silent agreement. Minho kisses your forehead lightly in encouragement before looking at the doctor and nodding for her to go ahead. He talks you through it, keeps you close and lets you squeeze him, not even reacting when you dig your nails into his shoulder.

The doctor puts down the empty needle, patiently waiting for you both to be done. Minho tries to be a bit quick as to not make her wait too much, but still takes his time to make sure that you're fine.

"Are you okay kitten ?" he asks softly, watching as you nod weakly.

He presses a small, tender kiss to your lips before turning to the doctor, keeping your hand in his. You hear him apologize to the doctor, but she's quick to reassure him. Kids are way worse, and we can't control our phobias. Minho gives her a soft smile before paying, grateful for her understanding.

He looks at you again and his gaze softens with love when his eyes meet yours. You look drained, exhausted even, and honestly you are. He helps you get up, bows towards the doctor and leads you out. He holds your hand all the way to the car, only letting go when you are settled in your seat so he can go to his own.

"You're okay. he says softly.

— I love you. you reply and he chuckles at the suddenness of the declaration, a mix of amusement and fondness filling his heart.

— Me too, kitten. So much." He whispers before kissing you gently.

◍｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡◍

do not repost, translate or rewrite without my written authorisation

[luna0713hunter]

I saw request are open so can I request something!? So I read about this lipbam challenge so I'd like to request reader doing lipbalm challenge with Zoro where she (reader) wears blindfold and she asks Zoro to puts lipbalm on his lips and reader guesses the flavour of lipbalm by kissing him. At first reader tries really hard to guess the flavor so Zoro gets annoyed that she is paying more attention to challenge than kisses so at the end he kisses her so hard that she blanks out from how good it was. And in the end they just make out lol

Thank you!

Author's note : ask and you shall receive!! 👀 Cant say im not invested in this!!!i havent seen this challenge but I'll do my best to write it!!hope you'll enjoy!

Lipbalm challenge

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : pet names, slightly suggestive,needy!Zoro cause why not

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"ok!you ready?"

You hear a sigh from your right side and turn your head in his direction. You narrow your eyes from behind the blindfold and playfully slap the direction you think his arm is supposed to be.

"hey!be more excited about this!"

"why the hell would i?"

"cause its cute and romantic!we never do anything romantic together,this is a great chance to spice things up."

When Zoro stays silent,you just know he's giving you his usual judgmental look. You tug at his shirt (or maybe its his pants,who knows) and give him your best pouting face.

"let's just start?please?"

You hear him sight tiredly and smile; Although he always complains,Zoro can never say no to you.

You hear the sound of the lid of the lipbalm opening,and you start swinging your feet and making the hammock to move slightly. You feel so excited,that when Zoro asks if you're ready you nod your head without missing a beat.

Then in the darkness surrounding your vision,you feel a pair of soft,soft lips on your own. But before you can lost in the sensation,you dart your tongue out and taste the lipbalm on Zoro's lips.

When you pull away (slightly out of breath and cheeks now colored pink) you grin and lick your own lips, "Strawberry!"

You feel Zoro pause,and then another lid opening.

"yeah,it was strawberry."

You grin happily and wait impatiently for the next one.

Watermelon

Peach

Lemon?

That must've been vanilla

You're so focused on guessing each taste right,that you dont even notice Zoro pause for a little bit too long and scowling at your blindfolded form. The way you keep paying more attention to the fucking lip balm,and ignoring him,has his frown deepening.

So he sets aside the stupid lip balms,and when you feel his breath on your lips and hear no sound of opening lids,you tilt your head, slightly confused.

"Zoro? what're you-"

Then his lips particularly devour yours.

You let out a surprised noise;having to wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from falling backwards. His hands grip your hips to pull you impossibly closer.

Zoro kisses you like he's trying to steal the breath right out of your lungs.

When it becomes too much,you start slapping his chest lightly to signal him you cant breath. He presses his lips to the base of your throat and your voice hitches.

"Z-Zoro," you stutter;not being able to form a coherent response when the kisses on your skin becomes much more heated, "what's -what's gotten into you?"

He grumbles a response against your skin and you card your fingers through his hair to get his attention.

"babe,talk to me."

"its the damn lipbalms."

Your eyebrows shoot high on your forehead as you take his face in your hands and look at him with confusion.

"what about them?"

"you were fucking paying more attention to them than me."

The answer has you blinking,once, twice,before suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter.

Zoro scowls at you and hovers above you as you drop back on the hammock.

"what's so damn funny?'

Using the hands on his cheeks,you pull him down again to press a loving kiss to his lips.

"its how adorable you are when you're jealous."

"i wasn't jealous-"

"over lipbalms no less!!"

He scowls even harder,but when you press another kiss to his forehead and then lips,his eyes softens the way it always does when he's with you,and your heart feels so full.

"how about we ditch dinner so i can make it up to you, Mr.Handsome?"

Zoro looms over you more and presses his chest to yours,and you shiver as you feel his breath right next to your ear.

"i suggest you forget about breakfast too then. Cause I feel really wounded,and I'm not planning to let you go anytime soon."

And when his lips are on yours once again,you think you should do these challenges more.

Because needy Zoro,will always be your favorite.

[herasversion]

Elevator problems in Monaco

Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: You get stuck in the elevator with your neighbor and everybody's crush, Charles Leclerc.

Author's Note: In this story, there is no use of "Y/N" there is poorly translated French; only a few words. And contains 413 words.

Masterlist

How often do you need to fantasize about someone before it is considered strange? I mean, it's not every day, but often enough that I consider it to become strange. Luckily, if you can consider it lucky, there are enough people always looking at him. Is it strange to become possessive of your kind of acquaintance-slash-neighbor? I don't think it's strange for me to think about him; after all, he is a Formula 1 driver, and a good one at that. I mean, I can count myself lucky that I even kind of know him when I see him walking his little dog.

Besides seeing him walking around the hall of her complex gives me extra views of his everyday life to fantasize about. But these are thoughts I shouldn't be having, especially not when I am in the elevator with him. Although he doesn't help with how in love he looks with his dog and the look he has right now, like he just came out of bed. And right now he is giving me the look like I am one of his crazy fans who just screamed 'Sign my boobs, Charles Leclerc.'

Tout va bien?! Alright, brain, don't freak out; he just asked you a question in a language you don't understand. Which you should be able to understand if you just didn't keep on skipping your Duolingo French lessons. After all, who lives in Monaco without speaking French? Rich assholes. Shit, you became a rich asshole who doesn't answer people. I try to smile friendly at him; it feels more like a grimace. Je ne parle pas français.

Ding! The sound of my dreams. I try to really smile at him this time while he looks at me like he still wants to say something and run like Usain Bolt right to my apartment. As I close my door, I realize that I have never looked pretty while I run and that he most definitely thinks I am a crazy person. After my freak out, I realize I went outside with a purpose and that I didn't even get off downstairs, but that I ran out of the elevator without it having moved. I am a crazy person. Can I still go back? I mean, I need to get back; otherwise, my friends will kill me. This is not a good enough reason to miss a baby shower, even if he is deadly handsome.

As I gather up the courage to look out my door like a spy, I realize that I have never looked so stupid. But I'm so relieved that I don't see him standing there that I want to scream. I walk over to the lift that is still open. Luckily enough, no one is inside, including my handsome neighbor, as I click on the button to go downstairs. I realize the lift is not moving, so I click another time, and another time. The lift is broken he says. I shriek and turn around while he smiles and giggles. I try to smile all the while, attempting not to freak out about the fact that I just shrieked at my crush and try to formulate a response.

"Seriously?!" He laughs again. "Yes, I just called maintenance, but I think today will be a stairs day, Mon cheri."

Now, you wouldn't think that would be a problem until you realize that we live on the 20th floor. "Wait, Mon cheri?" What does Mon cheri mean? He smirks this time and says, "How about I take you out for dinner when you figure out what it means? That way, you don't have to stare or run away from me anymore."

Somebody sedate me, 'Is Charles Leclerc flirting with me ?' 'I think I know what it means,' I say, trying to sound confident. 'Really?' he says with a cocky smirk. 'I didn't think you knew French with what you just said in the elevator. Or are you a liar, neighbor?' I scoff while he laughs with that stupid cute smirk, and I realize he is challenging me and I don't have a master plan. I mean, I don't speak French. He is looking at me expectantly, and I think, 'Fuck it.' I walk over to him and kiss him.

The next thing I know, I wake up to the sound of ticking on the floor and an arm around my middle. I sit up fast and look around my room until I notice the ticking was coming from the most adorable-looking dog I have ever seen. But then, I remember this dog, and most definitely the red gloves that lay in the room. As I panic, I quickly look to the side. The arm around my middle moves, and Charles sits up and says, 'Good morning, mon cheri.' I exhale and reply, 'Good morning,' with a smile, then lay back down and grab my phone, only to realize that I messed up greatly and missed the baby shower.

[moodymisty]

Hello! I can not tell you how fERRAL I went when I discovered your blog a couple days ago, I've binged the fuck out of your Darksiders content and I just can't belive I havent found you sooner (where have you been fr ;7;) !! Your writing style and vocabulary are impeccable, and I can't wait to read moreeee ahhdjshdjsjdj I am eagerly awaiting the next chapter of 'Tree in Bloom' but if I may request also a continuation or conclusion of your 'Death returning to the one he abandoned post well of souls' fic cuz I'm a succer for your angst and fluff and everything else you do really jdjshdj<3 sfw or nsfw idc as long as I get to read more of your writing!<333

Lots of love and support from a long time Darksiders community member and fan <3

Part 1

Author's note: Sure fam, I think I can squeeze out a bit more for that one.

Relationships: Death/Gn!Reader

Warnings: none really

Death hadn't returned to you since the confrontation.

It's a rare feeling for him, but he honestly doesn't know what to do next. If you were missing, injured, he could formulate a plan, kill something, even bite his tongue and ask for assistance. But you're right here, and so unfathomably angry at him that the anger has morphed into something else entirely.

Apathy, perhaps. Death wouldn't be unfamiliar with that sort of transformation. He'd felt that change towards the fate of the Nephilim a long time ago.

But Death knows that he doesn't want to just leave you behind the way he does with everyone else. The way he had tried to with his death in the Well of Souls, and had failed to successfully do. He enjoyed having you beside him, enough so that it almost made him upset at how attached he was getting. It made him even angrier that it was becoming more than just acquaintanceship, or friendship. He shouldn't be having the sorts of thoughts he was about you, he didn't deserve them.

You didn't either; Not after what he did. He knows he had to, it's what he thought was best, it was the only way to save War and your race, but that doesn't mean he hasn't realized how it had hurt you.

But now he stands in front of you completely silent, and all the words he was thinking about saying suddenly sound so stupid.

"I told you Death, you can just leave. I don't know why you keep coming back."

His jaw shifts behind his mask. That sounds eerily similar to something that he would say, and he isn't a fan of being on the other side of it. Perhaps for a moment he understands a bit of how you feel when you try to speak with him.

You look up at him with raised eyebrows, wondering why he hasn't either talked, or just moved on. Your anger fades ever so slightly when you seem to realize that he's... nervous. Or at least something in a similar category.

"What is it, Death?" He swallows the knot in his throat. What he's going to say isn't something he's said in so long that he doesn't remember how the words taste, nor does he know if it's even the right thing to say.

"I wanted to apologize to you."

Your face changes from anger to surprise. He thinks he sees your lips mouth what, but your voice was silent. You cross your arms across your chest as if trying to give yourself a hug.

"Why?" At first he thinks you're asking why he's apologizing, but when he sees the watery shine in your eyes he realizes that you're asking why he did what he did. You just wanted an answer, this entire time, and he knows now that he at least owes you that.

"I thought it would be better to just leave than to drag it out."

You wanted to be angry at him still he can tell, demand that he explain himself more, but you know in the end that's all you'll get out of him in words. You could at least understand him; That it was easier to rip the bandaid off than to say goodbye and risk feeling hesitation over what he had to do.

You sigh, still crossing your arms over eachother.

"You don't have to apologize. Just, don't leave me like that again." Death watches you look away from him again, and your next words hit him harder than he's been hit by any weapon in awhile. "I don't know if I could take something like that a second time."

Death doesn't comment directly on it, on how you so easily show you're attached to him. Death had tried desperately to stop you from doing so, for your sake and his. You shouldn't attach yourself to someone like him, and someone like him doesn't deserve such upfront, vocal infatuation.

"Dust stayed with you this entire time?"

Death looks down on you with his familiar expression, though even you can tell behind the mask it's a bit softer. The bird warbles softly at his name being called, ruffling his feathers a bit but still staying mostly still. You nod at his question.

"Yes, ever since you left." Death looks at his left shoulder at the crow, watching the bird eye him.

"Good bird." You smile at his praise. Dust deserved it, after everything.

"I imagine I have plenty to catch up on," Death says. He knows you have a penchant for curiosity- as does your entire race it seems - along with the changes he himself brought not long ago. He's sure you've gotten into trouble under the Makers care, as well as anything that has changed since he brought Humanity back from the dead.

"You do." You take a breath and raise your tone to something more questioning, and more importantly expectant. "But I can bring you up to speed, if you can stay awhile?"

Death out of habit wanted to say no, but perhaps he can defeat a centuries old habit just for you.

He nods, and follows behind you as you go to sit down together with him, and tell him everything.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr. Gaiman!

I hope you're happy and well.

A part of me hopes this ask gets lost, while another really strongly hopes you answer (not a good beginning, but fuck it).

Okay, so here goes *deep breaths*

My parents have some connections in the publishing industry (they know publishers, dad is an author, etc), and they want me to give them something, anything, that they will then get published. Because I write relatively frequently, stories, poems, research articles, and they know it, they keep telling me to create a book out of my written stuff. But I honestly don't want to, primary reason being that I really don't want to get published because of contacts and stuff. My first book was published that way, and while it holds a special place in my heart, I still feel it shouldn't have been published (some stuff is practice, and some maybe needs the right time - is what I feel). I want to do this on my own, and even if I fail, I'm good with it; but I don't want to get published like this, even if it's for initial books that might help me career-wise. But the parents say that time is running out (I'm 22 btw, and sometimes I do get scared that it's really running out), why not use opportunities when they're coming to you on a plate, doesn't matter if the quality is bad, nobody really reads, only the CV is read, etc. And while the idealistic part of me is strongly against it, another more sensitive part of me really gets affected and scared and just...fucked. When I decline, the parents get angry, say I'm stupid, idealistic, don't know what's good for me; and I get sad seeing them disappointed.

Could you please give some advice on this? Should I give in? Should I keep walking the idealistic path and keep trying on my own? I absolutely love the act of writing itself, and honestly, a lot of the time, finishing a piece of work and polishing it is usually enough for me. I can wait for however long, to first find a proper place(s) and then send it, and even then, rejection won't hurt. I'm already working on some stuff, short story collection, etc. but these talks (lectures and scoldings rather) really scare me. Am I doing the right thing, going against them, at least as far as my own writing is concerned (coz I'm usually pretty passive)?

Thanks for reading so much of my crap, and sorry if your time was wasted. It's perfectly fine if you don't answer.

PS really really love your works, and The Sandman (along with Discworld & Good Omens) honestly really saved my life in one of the darker parts - so thank you for that.

Hope you're happy!

Time is not running out. Don’t let anyone rush you. Write a book you are happy with first, and then see if you can get it published.

[invvuu]

chances to kill you — park jay

pairing — villain!park jay x hero!reader

summary — you’re fighting jay and he corners you

genre — superhero au, slight e2l

word count — 1269

warning/s — few curse words, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of cutting someone’s tongue, mentions of weapons, possible grammatical mistakes

author’s note — can i just say that i really like the dynamic between jay and yn in this and i think i might have gone too far in some of the scenes so if there are any surprising ones, i’m sorry;; + rushed ending so do be aware of that

You trip on the ground as a fresh wound opens on your thigh. A breathy gasp spills out of your lips as you look at the injury.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter to yourself in a harsh tone. The blood soon creates a small puddle beneath your fallen figure, staining the fabrics that cover your body.

You try your best to flee from the battle but within a second, a dagger finds its position beside your ear, the blade merely inches from creating further damage to your skin.

A set of chuckles come from the area above you. “Is that all you got?” Jay taunts with a sly smirk on his face. He puts his left hand on the space beside your other ear, pinning you fully to the ground.

This was absolutely awful, you thought to yourself. How in the living hell did this even happen? Jay, the villain you were supposed to prevent from ruining the lives of the city’s citizens, has you cornered. Well this had already happened multiple times but none of those could compare to this situation — a situation where you writhe, giving the villain an opportunity to do whatever he wants with you.

“What,” Jay starts, “Cat got your tongue?”

You scoff at his ridiculous question, a scowl forming on the lips that once taunted Jay the same way whenever you won a battle against him. “You fucking suck,” several curses soon came after your insult.

The villain laughs at your outburst, smirk not faltering. “Those are some vulgar words coming out of that pretty tongue of yours,” he tilts his head, “Maybe I should cut it off so you won’t spew out any more stupid nonsense.”

You grab his arm, trying to loosen his grip on the ground beside your head. He notices your attempt and adds strength, tightening his hold, causing you to be more frustrated at him. “Get off,” you demand. The curves of Jay’s lips only go higher as he hears your command. “And if I did you wouldn’t be able to move, after all one of your legs is injured,” he brings his mouth right next to your right ear, “You would just be stuck here with me.” He chuckles as the volume of his voice goes lower.

You raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean stuck with you?” The tone of your question becomes harsh as you wait for an answer.

“The exit is password locked and it can only be opened from outside,” Jay directs his gaze at the double-sided doors that stood across the room, “So that means you and I are stuck here until we find a way out.” He turns back to look at you, a smirk creeping onto his face once again.

“This has got to be a joke,” You say out loud with the same scowl from earlier. Jay laughs slightly at your complaint, “I don’t like this either but I must say, having you right under me is definitely a sight I would want to see.”

“Shut up,” You raise your hand to put it against Jay’s chest, “And get off of me.” You finally say as you push Jay away, causing him to lean back away from your upper body. He lets go of the dagger’s handle, leaving the weapon itself to fall and create the sound of metal hitting the hard concrete floor.

You prop yourself with both of your elbows and look at the villain in front of you. He wipes the blood from the side of his mouth with his hand, looking at it and then at you. He smiles softly while raising an eyebrow, “Seems like you still have some energy in you.”

You grab the dagger beside you and quickly throw it into Jay’s direction only for it to miss and hit the wall. He chuckles and reaches towards his knife belt, “You do know I have more, right?” He asks mockingly. “But you only have two left,” you bite back.

A frown manages to appear on Jay’s face as he hears your words. He pushes you down again and takes out another dagger. He swings it right in front of your face before stopping — the weapon merely inches away from stabbing you.

His reaction makes you smirk, it was your turn to spite him now. “Aw, it seems like someone is pissed at me,” you say with the intention of taunting him. Jay stares at you with a blank expression, the sly appearance nowhere to be seen on his face.

“You know,” you start while admiring the villain’s face, “throughout our entire fight we were close to each other multiple times and it seemed like any other fight to me.” Jay raises an eyebrow, “What are you even talking about?” He asks plainly, void of any emotion in his voice.

“But when you managed to pin me to the ground you had a dagger in your hand,” you change your gaze unto the weapon near you, “and all you did was just taunt me and look incredibly annoying instead of killing me.”

You rest your hand on top of Jay’s hold on the dagger, “I get that you hate me too — the feeling’s completely mutual between the two of us but you can’t kill me? That’s pretty pathetic the way I look at it.” Your fingers wrap around the handle, “If you can’t kill me then that would mean you can’t kill anyone, seems like you’re just a coward to do anything drastic.”

“Fuck off,” Jay says with a deep voice as he quickly uses his free hand to press down unto your shoulder, causing you to make a slight noise of pain. “I could say the same to you,” he responds, “you’re a hero trying to save this city but each time you try it hurts people.” He puts his lips beside your ear, “People die, people lose everything they have, no matter how much you and that stupid organization does it is never enough to save everyone.”

The moment you hear his words your grip on the dagger’s handle loosens. Jay smirks, enjoying the feeling of being able to make you vulnerable by doing nothing but speak the truth.

“[codename], can you hear me…?!”

The sound of Jungwon’s voice comes through your ear piece. The villain chuckles as he opens his mouth to speak further.

“We can hear you,” he responds to the young boy.

The latter doesn’t talk, speechless. After a few seconds the sound of Jungwon trying to talk comes out, “What have you done to [codename]?”

“Don’t worry, they’re here safe and sound with only just a few scratches.” Jay says, trying to reassure Jungwon knowing full well he wasn’t going to fully trust him.

“Listen here,” he starts, “I will leave for now but know that I will come back next time, your little friend is here at the company’s storage room.” Those were the last words before he stopped communicating with the young boy.

Jay stands up, taking the dagger with him. He looks down at you as a soft smile appears on his expression. “Well then, I will be on my way now,” he says while catching your attention simultaneously, “I’ll be looking forward to when we meet again, [codename]. ”

He then runs away afterwards, leaving you on the ground, the puddle of blood semi dried beneath you. You try to compose yourself as you think about what had happened, but a realization starts creeping into your mind — that little trickster knew there was a way out.

[© invvuu] - do not repost, translate, or copy my written work in any shape or form

[griefabyss69]

Deliverance

Steddie - Rated: E - 7.5K

[ AO3 ]

Eddie still owes Steve for the terrible advice he gave him, but even though he's had a long time to figure out how to make it up to him, he's mostly just got half baked fantasies and pocket lint to offer up.

Luckily, he has something that Steve wants. This is for @andwhatyousaid, who asked for a continuation of their fic Missing Scene in their author's notes. I got inspired! This was really fun to work off of, please go read it!

Excerpt

"Sure," he says, finishing off his beer just to free up his hands. "Name your price?"

Steve scoffs, though Eddie can see the smile behind it.

"You can't think of anything?" he asks, crossing his arms.

Eddie laughs, shrugging. He's a little embarrassed at how badly this has gone so far, the whole thing he'd been thinking obsessively about just because he really wanted to impress him. And now he's blowing it. Again.

"I can, but I feel like an idiot," he confesses, and Steve thinks about it.

"Then the worst than can happen is that you continue to feel like an idiot, right?" he says, like that's not a bad thing, like Eddie's not about to scramble hard to save face a second time.

"To have your confidence," he mutters, sighing. "Okay, um… You want drugs?"

Steve's flat stare is enough of an answer. Maybe it would've been a better offer if Eddie didn't constantly give him free weed.

"Right, okay. Uh. You have booze, food, music, movies, clothes – though! You don't have my clothes," he says, bracing himself. He knows it's fucking stupid. He's trying.

Steve bites down on his smile as he shakes his head.

"Okay, fuck. What can you get the guy who can just buy whatever he wants?" he asks, muttering to himself again, but Steve rolls his eyes anyway. "Uhhh… A massage?"

"Do you know how to give a massage?" Steve asks, those eyebrows back to judging him. "I can just buy one of those, too."

"Ugh," Eddie scoffs. "Fine. What about food but like, home cooked? I could – wait. Scratch that, I suck at cooking."

Steve stares at him, polite in the way he's trying not to laugh at him, but Eddie still feels so judged he's starting to feel his skin prickle with a blush.

"Cleaning? Though…" Eddie thinks about his cleaning skills and winces. "Got any need for a guitarist?"

Steve thinks for a second, but shakes his head.

"Fine," Eddie huffs. "That's my best skill. I'm assuming you don't want me to do a campaign for you?"

He pauses to let Steve shake his head again.

"A favor, then?" he asks, and the look in Steve's eye sharpens. "Yeah? You want me to owe you a favor? What kind of favor?"

[epinebleue]

i can fix him (no really i can) (m) (chibs telford) | 04

“You’re not stupid, Eloise, just a whore.” Ellie looked into her mother’s eyes, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. A shiver ran down Gemma’s spine. It had been so long since seeing her reflection in her youngest child that she had forgotten how much she hated it. “Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

pairing: filip “chibs” telford x eloise “ellie” teller (original female character)

genre: angst, fluff, mature.

chapter’s warnings: cursing, depiction of loss and family issues.

author's note: it's been a while! please tell me what you think of this, your feedback is always welcomed 🥰

tag list: @daphnen21 @undead-ahead-wh0re

chapter index | previous chapter | next chapter

Ellie’s phone vibrated, the ringtone so loud that the noise drowned the chirping of the birds that had nested in the tree outside her window.

With her face still buried in the pillow, she stretched out an arm to grab the device. Not even bothering to glance at the name on the screen, Ellie pressed the green button before pulling it to her ear.

“What?”

“Damn, not even a good morning?” A feminine voice said through the speaker. “California’s rudeness has rubbed off on you this soon?”

“I’m sorry, Maya.” Ellie turned to lie on her back, unable to open her eyes. “I got to the hotel pretty late. It’s seven in the morning over here.”

“Yeah, I figured. But I couldn’t wait any longer, I wanted to know how it went.”

Ellie’s mind regressed to the night before. Immediately, her heart sank.

“Should there be more?”

Chibs held her gaze for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. His heart tightened, but he quickly shook his head, his cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers as he took another drag. He let the smoke settle in his lungs, then blew it out. It dissolved in the cool evening air.

Six years. Six fucking years. And yet, here they were, just as tangled as before.

“Maybe you should ask yourself that.”

Ellie didn’t answer, her eyes fixed in the darkening horizon. But he saw her clench her jaw.

Upon her silence, Chibs resumed:

“I’ve seen you grow, Ellie.” He began, turning Ellie’s stomach. Why did he have to say it like that, as if explaining it to a small child? Would he always see her like that? “I could never see further than that.”

God, she wanted to scream and kick the floor. Six years away and she still hadn’t learned to not make a fool of herself in front of him. It was pathetic, really.

Ellie’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and defensive.

“It’s fine, Filip.” She said, quietly. A small fake smile splattered on her face. “I did something stupid at a time when I was vulnerable. You did what you had to do.”

The girl turned her back to him then. She threw the remains of her cigarette to the concrete and stepped on it to extinguish it.

“I came back because my brother needs me, because my nephew needs me. That’s all I’m on.” She let the words fall from her lips like a shield, even though they didn’t feel like the truth. “You don’t have to worry about me or my feelings anymore. I can handle myself. I’m a grown woman.”

“Well, it was… expected.”

Silence took over the call for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Ellie.” The girl opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling above her. “Are you okay?”

“I am. I just…” Ellie stopped herself. “I knew exactly how my mom would react, and yet she disappointed me, you know?”

“It makes perfect sense, actually.” Maya said, and Ellie couldn’t see her, but she knew she was nodding her head. “You were hoping for something different, something better. I think everyone has someone they know will let them down, but they keep holding out hope that, one time, it will be different. And when that hope gets crushed, they feel like they were the ones who were wrong for expecting more. It’s okay to be disappointed, Ellie. Fuck, I’d be, too. But sometimes people can’t give you what you need, even when they’re supposed to. Wanting it doesn’t make you weak or foolish.”

Ellie, who had sat with her back against the headboard, grabbed her best friend’s words and took them close to her heart. They were warm, comforting. She held onto them.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“You have, but it’s always nice to hear it.” Maya let out a giggle. “I just want you to be okay. Will you be okay?”

Ellie’s eyes drifted to the window, the sunlight barely creeping through the curtains. for a moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of everything: the confusion, the pain, the disappointment. She wasn’t in her childhood home, forced to hide her emotions. Right there, in a little room of a hotel in her hometown, she found a fleeting shelter.

A small breath escaped her lips as she smiled.

“What are you talking about? I will.” She answered, her voice a little steadier. “I’m a tough kid.”

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

Jax’s soft laugh filled the elevator.

“What for?”

“Maybe nervous isn’t the correct word. Excited? I’m literally shaking, look.”

Ellie stretched her arm and held it in the air so that Jackson could see her wobbling hand.

The elevator dinged as they reached the sixth floor, where the neonatal unit could be found. Ellie followed Jax through the white, brightly-lit corridors, the sterile smell sticking to her nostrils.

They turned a corner and walked to the end of the hallway. Past a viewing panel, Jax opened a door and stepped aside, allowing Ellie to step into the room first.

There, inside an incubator, a newborn seemed to be peacefully sleeping. Ellie went mute as she left her purse in a chair by the door, walking forward until she was in front of the incubator. Her first instinct was to touch him, but her plan found the cold wall of the machine. She didn’t care.

Ellie couldn’t utter a word, too overwhelmed by emotions. Her brother, a person she had known forever, had made a baby. How crazy was that?

As if sensing movement outside, Abel shifted slightly.

“Doctor says he’s doing great.” Jax said, reading his little sister’s expressions. “In spite of it all, he’s going to be okay.”

Ellie just couldn’t take her eyes from Abel. Never would she have thought something so small could hold such strength.

“Hi, Abel.” She whispered, finally finding her voice. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her voice cracked, and so she went mute again. She blinks quickly, trying to get rid of the tears that had gathered in her eyes. But Jax was family, after all, and knew how to read her. He took a step forward and stood beside her, his palm finding her back to caress it.

“You can cry, Ellie.” He said, softly. “He’s worth crying over.”

Ellie looked up to his brother, her lips pressed into a smile. Jax was right: he absolutely was.

“Hi, baby. I’m your aunt, I’m Aunt Eloise.” Once again, Abel shifted in the crib as if he could hear what she was saying. “I’m going to buy you so many toys, and so much candy.”

Ellie had sacrificed a lot of things the moment she decided to leave Charming. First and foremost, her family. She had always known it wasn’t the best, but it was hers.

She had missed out on being there as Opie and Donna’s kids grew up, watching Jax turn into the man he was today.

The plan had been clear from the start: staying in Charming for at least two months, knowing Jax would need all the help he could get with Abel.

And now that she had seen Abel, she didn’t want to see anything else.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she would be able to pack her stuff as easily as she had thought. How could she leave him? How could she walk away from his little life, one she wanted so desperately to be a part of?

Just the thought of missing out on watching him grow up tore her heart apart.

But millions of people lived far away from home, right? She could still visit on Christmas and birthdays. She could still call him every day.

It had been enough once. Why didn’t it feel enough now?

As Ellie stood in front of Abel’s incubator, the weight of her conflicting emotions felt almost unbearable. She wanted to stay, to be there for Jax, for Abel, but the reality of it all, the life she had left behind in Charming, the life she’d tried to escape, pushed her away with immense force.

She turned her head slightly to glance at Jax, who had been quietly watching her process the moment. He seemed to be deep in thought too, standing a few steps back, giving her space.

The quiet hum of the hospital seemed to deepen, and before Ellie could say anything more, Jax’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen before he answered it.

Ellie didn’t want to listen to his conversation, but the quiet buzz of his voice filled the room as he stepped back toward the door, glancing at her before walking out into the hallway. She followed him, not wanting to leave Abel but knowing she had to, feeling as if there was an unspoken understanding between the two of them that this wasn’t the end.

Jax’s voice softened as he spoke, stepping further away to take the call in private, though Ellie could still hear snippets of his conversation. He was probably speaking with someone from the club, a member or someone who needed something.

Ellie quietly stepped into the hallway, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her mind still focused on Abel. She needed a minute to process everything, to figure out how to handle the pull between her past and the life she wanted for herself.

As she turned down the corridor, she noticed a familiar face approaching. She blinked, her heart skipping a beat as the last person she expected to see emerged from the hallway.

Tara Knowles, looking as composed and as put-together as always, was walking toward her, a light frown on her face as she glanced at Ellie. It only took a second for both of them to recognize each other. Tara’s eyes widened in recognition, followed by a surprised, almost disbelieving expression.

“Ellie?” Tara asked, softly, with a mixture of surprise and something else. Curiosity? Concern? Ellie couldn't tell.

Ellie’s heart fluttered. She hadn’t seen Tara in years, not since the day she’d left Charming. Their relationship had never been bad, but she had seen how Tara’s departure had broken Jax’s heart.

It was difficult to be objective in times like those.

The youngest Teller smiled faintly, feeling awkward but trying to make the best of it.

“Hi, Tara.” She said, offering a nod of acknowledgment. “It’s been a while.”

Tara blinked, still processing the fact that Ellie was in front of her.

“A while?” Her lips curled into a faint but genuine smile. “It’s been six years.”

Ellie felt her chest tighten slightly at the mention of the time that had passed. Six years. The distance, the years apart, the mistakes. So much had changed since then…

“Yeah.” Ellie agreed, shrugging her shoulders a little. “Six years… Seems like a lifetime, huh?”

Tara nodded slowly. The two women shared a brief silence. There was an undeniable distance between them, a gap that only time could create. Finally, Tara spoke again.

“I didn’t expect to run into you here. I thought you’d still be…  away.”

Ellie’s gaze dropped for a moment, but she met Tara’s eyes again. “Yeah. I… I came back for a little while. For Jax. For the baby.”

Tara’s expression softened at the mention of Abel.

“I get it.” She said, her voice quieter. She took a step closer, her gaze lingering on Ellie. “How’s everything going?”

Ellie felt a wave of tension rise in her chest. It wasn’t like things had been easy between her and the family when she left.

“It’s… complicated. But I’m here now.” Ellie said softly, glancing over at Jax, who was still on the phone, his back to them.

Tara’s gaze followed Ellie’s, her eyes flicking toward Jax before she turned back.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She said, a small but genuine smile on her lips. “We should meet up and catch up.”

Ellie hesitated, but there was something kind in Tara’s offer, and for the first time in a while, Ellie found herself wanting to bridge the gap.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Ellie said, nodding. “We should grab coffee sometime.”

Tara’s smile widened, her posture relaxing just a little. “It’s a date then. I’ll text you.”

Ellie felt a tiny weight lift off her shoulders as Tara gave her a small wave and turned to walk away, her movements graceful, professional. That was a woman comfortable in her skin.

As Ellie watched her go, she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little less burdened by the awkwardness of the past. Maybe it was possible to reconnect after all.

Jax finally ended his call and came over to her side.

“Everything okay?” He asked, his voice soft.

Ellie nodded, her smile returning. “Yeah. Just… talking to Tara.”

Jax raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a grin.

“That’s a surprise.” He looked back down the hall where Tara had disappeared, and then back at Ellie. “Well, look at you. Making friends already.”

Ellie’s gaze shifted back to Abel’s room, her heart still full of emotions she couldn’t quite explain.

“Well, it’s never too late.”

“Aren’t you guys supposed to, you know… be good at this?”  

Juice sighed, his hands wrapped loosely around the shotgun, eyes fixed on the game counter. He slumped forward, trying to mask his irritation, but failing miserably. Then, he glanced at Ellie with a hint of defensiveness.

“I underperform under pressure, okay?”

The girl raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

“I bet you do.”  

The sound of Bobby and Tig’s laugh echoed around them, low and scandalous. Juice shot them both a glare before turning back to Ellie, now visibly annoyed. Without a word, he passed her the shotgun, his fingers brushing hers.

“Why don’t you try, princess?”  

Slightly taken aback by his challenging tone, Ellie took the shotgun, her fingers expertly finding the trigger.

“Are you sure you want to turn this into a competition?”

Juice smirked, as if delighted by her question.

“Chickening out already?”

Ellie straightened her back and strode to the stand confidently. Juice stayed behind, his arms crossed. Ellie found it funny how one simple comment had been enough to ignite his fury.

Men were always so goddam protective of their ego.

“You’re on.” Ellie shot him a look over her shoulder as she settled into position. “I’ll beat your ass and win the giant elephant.”

As she lifted the shotgun to her shoulder, the group fell silent, the tension palpable. She adjusted her stance with precision, like she’d been doing this her whole life. Juice, on the other hand, fidgeted nervously, rubbing his temples.

Then, with a sharp crack, the first duck went down. Ellie didn’t even flinch.  

Juice could simply stare.

“Shit.” He whispered.

Growing up, Ellie couldn’t stand watching Gemma and Clay kiss in front of her. She would usually turn to Jax with the biggest face of disgust and laugh when he silently gagged, pretending to throw up.

Carrying her huge purple elephant, she walked behind her mother and her husband. They behaved like two horny teeangers, and it made her stomach turn. Jax’s arm falling on her shoulders pulled her out of her head.

Ellie glanced up at her older brother, his familiar presence grounding her in the moment. Jax’s mischievous smile softened when he saw the way her eyes lingered on their mother and Clay.

“Do you think Mom ever loved Dad like that?” She asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Jax remained quiet for a beat, his gaze shifting from Gemma and Clay back to Ellie. It was as though he was searching for an answer in them, or maybe he was just buying time to avoid a topic he didn’t know how to address with his little sister.

“I don’t know.” He finally muttered. “Maybe? At least I hope so.”

Ellie’s heart twisted. If she loved him that much, how could she cheat on him? She glanced at their mother, now laughing as Clay whispered something in her ear. How could love feel so tangled? It seemed like it wasn’t just messy, it was shattered. How could they all be caught up in something so complicated, so unpredictable?

“Hey, you okay?” Jax asked, nudging her gently.

Ellie gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Jax chuckled, a soft sound of understanding. “Maybe it’s better not to think too much about it. Trust me, it doesn’t help.”

Ellie laughed, but it was bittersweet. Her shoulders relaxed a little, though the knot in her chest remained. Maybe Jax was right. Maybe it was better to let it go for now. But something told her, deep down, that she’d have to figure it out eventually.

The sounds of the carnival filled the air as Ellie, Jax, and the others walked through the crowd. The lights of the Ferris wheel flickered overhead, and the scent of popcorn and candy floss drifted through the air. Ellie felt her mind wandering, caught between the present and memories of the past, when a familiar voice pulled her back to reality.

“Ellie?”

She froze. It was the voice of someone she hadn’t heard in years. Turning around, she found herself staring at none other than Tristen Oswald, the girl she used to babysit. Tristen looked completely different. Older, of course, but there was still that same energy and warmth in her smile.

“Tristen?” Ellie asked, her heart giving a small leap.

Tristen’s face lit up as she rushed forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh my god, it’s really you!”

She threw her arms around Ellie in an enthusiastic hug, making Ellie laugh.

“I didn’t even recognize you at first!” Ellie said, pulling back slightly but still keeping her hands on Tristen’s shoulders, taking in the sight of the young girl in front of her. “You’ve grown up so much.”

Tristen glanced over her shoulder at her parents, who were standing a little further back.

“I was just talking to my mom about you. She always said you were the best babysitter we ever had.”

“I remember those days.” Ellie couldn’t help but smile. “You were such a little handful back then.”

“And you still survived!” Tristen’s laughter rang out. She shifted her stance, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “You should totally come with me on the Ferris wheel. Please? It’ll be just like old times. I swear I’m still scared of the heights, so you can totally protect me.”

Before Ellie could answer, Tristen’s parents stepped forward.

“Ellie?” A warm, familiar voice called out. Ellie turned to see Karen and Elliot approaching, both looking as polished as she remembered. Karen gave her a welcoming smile, her eyes twinkling with genuine fondness. “Well, well, look at you. It’s been so long.”

Ellie smiled back, a bit surprised but pleased to see them.

“It’s been a while.” She said. “How have you two been?”

“We’ve been good.” Karen replied smoothly. She paused, glancing over at Jax and the others, who had fallen a bit behind. “And you’re looking well. I hope things have been treating you kindly since you came back.”

Ellie gave a small, stiff smile.

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Elliot, who had always been a bit more reserved, nodded in agreement. “Good to see you back in Charming. It’s been… long.”

Jax, noticing the tension in the air as Karen and Elliot exchanged polite words with Ellie, stepped forward, flashing a tight smile at Tristen’s parents.

“Hey.” Jax greeted them, his tone casual but respectful. He gave them both a quick nod before turning back to Ellie. “What’s the verdict? Are you going up on the Ferris wheel with Tristen?”

Ellie glanced at Tristen, who was still looking at her with wide eyes.

“I think so.” She said, offering a playful grin. “Besides, it’s been ages since I’ve been on a ride like that.”

Tristen’s smile widened as she gave Ellie an excited thumbs-up.

“I’ll save you a seat!” 

She said, turning toward the entrance of the ride, practically bouncing on her heels.

Before Ellie could follow, Karen leaned in, her tone becoming a little more sharp. 

“Don’t let her drag you into too much trouble, Ellie.” She said quietly, though there was a kind smile on her face.

Ellie nodded, sensing the underlying tension. Karen had always been nice to her, but six years had passed. None of them were who they were then, and Karen seemed to be unsure of where Ellie stood now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Karen seemed to soften, her smile warmer.

As Ellie walked toward the Ferris wheel, where Tristen was waiting, everything started to feel strange, bittersweet. Tristen turned, waving eagerly for her to join her in the line.

Some things never change, she thought. Especially not in Charming.

Ellie glanced around as she waited for the beer. The fair was flooded with families munching on stale popcorn and rancid hot dogs, lovers holding hands in the stands, and parents chasing after toddlers. The sunset cast a golden hue over everything, making it look like a postcard. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture to send Maya.

In the distance, she spotted a familiar figure. Ellie grabbed the beer and made her way toward him.

Juice was sitting on a bench, alone, his expression slightly tense, his eyes scanning the crowd. When he saw her approach, he gave her a short nod but didn’t smile.

“Where’s the elephant?” Juice asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Ellie slid onto the bench opposite him, adjusting her white sundress and taking a breath before answering.

“I gave it to Tristen.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, meeting his gaze. “Something tells me she’ll appreciate it more than I ever will. Her mom didn’t look that happy, though.”

Juice leaned back a little, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“You gave away your prize? Guess you’re not a monster after all, huh?”

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “I told you I wasn’t that bad, but you never listen.”

The girl took a sip of her beer, watching the crowd as she did. A child darted away from his mother, who chased him, laughing. The sound made her smile, just a little.

After a moment, Juice asked the question he had been dying to make, his voice genuine.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

Ellie sighed, looking out at the fairgrounds as she gathered her thoughts. The noise around her seemed to fade as she remembered.

“Well, my mom and I didn’t exactly get along. Shocking, right?” She paused, and Juice noticed the slight shift in her expression. She swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. “She wasn’t into... you know, doing fun, girly stuff with me. So, my dad picked up the slack. He taught me all the ‘manly’ stuff he could.”

Juice took a swig from his bottle, studying her. The flickering lights of the fair seemed far away as she spoke.

“That sounds like a hell of a dad.” He said, softly, picking up on the sadness that had crept into her voice.

Ellie stared at her beer bottle for a second, letting the bitterness of it take over.

“What about you?” She asked then, shifting the focus. “What’s your scar?”

Juice hesitated, his eyes wandering to the ground before meeting hers. He leaned forward slightly, contemplating his answer.

“I came from a single-parent household.” He began, voice quieter than before. “Dad left when I was a kid, and my mom worked all the time. Had to figure a lot of stuff out on my own.”

Ellie could feel the weight of his words, recognizing the loneliness in them. She tilted her head slightly, her voice softening.

“My brother told me you’re a hacker.” She said, her tone light but genuinely interested. “So you must be a smart guy. How does someone like that end up tangled in this mess of a club?”

Juice didn’t hesitate to answer this time.

“I guess... I just never really felt at home anywhere. But with this club... I’m finally where I belong. Even if it’s messy. Have you ever heard of ‘found family’? That’s what it feels like. I don’t know what would’ve become of me if I hadn’t found them.”

Ellie’s heart tightened at his words. She often forgot that the club was a place for outcasts, a place that offered protection, stability and, most of all, support. But she also couldn’t shake the feeling that the world they were in was something she could never fully understand.

“Glad to know it feels like family for someone here.” Ellie said, lifting her bottle and clinking it gently against his. "Cheers to that."

Juice met her gaze, his eyes softening just a little. “Cheers.”

Chibs walked through the fair, his boots crunching on the gravel. He’d needed some air, some time to clear his head. The past few days had been too damn much: too many club politics, too many problems to solve. But as he passed the food stalls, the sounds of children laughing and the smell of greasy food, his thoughts kept drifting back to Ellie. Ellie and that conversation they had had the day she arrived.

He hadn’t meant to be cold towards her, but what else could he do? He couldn’t keep thinking about her like that, but she had a way of sneaking into his mind when he least expected it. He tried to shake it off, focusing instead on the bustle of the fair. He didn't have time to think about her.

But then, through the crowd, he saw them.

Ellie and Juice were sitting together on a bench, sharing a laugh. Ellie looked so at ease, so carefree. And Juice? He was leaning in a bit too close for Chibs’ liking, laughing a little too loud.

Fucking hell.

Chibs stopped in his tracks, his chest tightening. His mind immediately told him to look away, but his eyes were locked on the pair. He didn’t want to feel this way. He couldn’t afford to.

He took a step back, trying to retreat without being noticed. There was no reason to let this scene get to him. But damn it, the sight of Ellie looking so comfortable with Juice twisted something in his gut.

His fingers tightened around the bottle he’d been holding, almost as if trying to crush the jealousy that had risen up in him. Juice was a good guy. Hell, he could understand why Ellie would gravitate toward him. He was smart, charming, and, more importantly, not twenty years older than she was. Chibs wasn’t the kind of guy who could give Ellie what she needed, or deserved.

Well, not that he cared anyway, right?

Still, the image of them together lingered in his mind. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away.

But the pain wouldn’t go away so easily.

Chibs walked toward the food stand where Tig and Bobby were, trying to focus on anything other than what he’d just seen. His brain was working overtime, trying to convince him it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like he had any right to be upset, right?

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. But the more he tried to push it down, the more it fought to escape. He didn’t have feelings for her. No, that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t afford to have feelings for anyone. Especially not Ellie. She was too close, too involved with the club.

He couldn’t risk making things complicated.

No reposting or translations allowed.

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