#and I’m realizing I don’t even know what to say to the receptionist when I call. I don’t even remember the name of my dentists office tbh

[victory-cookies]

girl help I have a toothache

[cursingtoji]

11 and 21 with gojo please please PLEEK

One Bed + Hate Sex

⊱ ex!gojo x fem reader, smut, one face slap (on him), degradation but also praising ig?, possessive gojo, 2k words (this almost consumed me) ┊The Clichés ™

note: i got a litte crazy in the process of "why would i hate gojo" and ending up taking an extra prompt from the list for this so... ta dah ✨ ex boyfriend gojo enjoy

“It's been a while” Satoru greets.

One year it’s a long time, seeing him makes your stomach hurt but you realize you don’t carry as much resentment as you used to.

After your break you asked to be sent on missions far from tokyo, you knew eventually you would see Gojo Satoru again, and there he was, in casual clothes standing by the exit of the train station you agreed to meet at.

You felt him before you turned around the corner, and he felt you too. His six eyes could see the flames of your cursed energy increasing and decreasing as you tried to control your emotions. When you showed up he smiled, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses.

“Indeed.”

The director of Kyoto explained Gojo was meeting you there cause he got a lead on a special grade cursed object and you would be his companion on the search that would start tomorrow morning. That shouldn’t be hard, right? 

“How've you been?” he asks politely.

“We don’t need to do that” you reply quickly as both of you made your way to the cabs.

“Why? Am I supposed to not care for your well-being anymore?” his question would seem innocent to anyone, but you have trained ears for Gojo Satoru, and you can tell when he’s being patronizing.

“Yes, just like I don’t care about yours” you enter the cab and give the driver the name of your hotel, Gojo walks around the cab and sits beside you. The close proximity of him in this confined space already makes you uneasy.

“Don’t be like that, I know that’s not true” he puts his arm behind you, his cologne invading your senses and you consider rolling down the windows, but nostalgia stops you, “No matter what you say, i can still read you like a book” he whispers moving some strands of hair out of your shoulder.

Gojo knows you’re too well-mannered to do or say anything to him in this cab, you don’t wanna embarrass yourself in front of the driver even though he’s a stranger. Gojo always hated how much you cared about other people’s opinions — one of the things that you constantly fought about near the end of your relationship — yet he knew how to use that on his advantage.

The cab drops you off in front of your hotel and you leave Gojo to pay for it while making your way to the reception, giving your last name.

“I’m sorry, miss, I couldn’t find a reservation under your name” the girl at the reception says.

“Wha— didn’t you make a reservation?” you ask Gojo.

“I thought you were gonna make it” he shrugs and you have to restrain yourself from attacking him.

“Fine. Two rooms for tonight only” you turn to the receptionist again.

“Sorry ma’am, we’re all booked for tonight” she explains.

“Can you check again?” Gojo extends a membership card and she types something on her computer.

“Oh we have one master suit available for premium members” you roll your eyes.

“We'll take it” he says.

“Wait, just one?” you intervene.

“I'm afraid so, it’s the only room available for tonight.”

“So what’s gonna be, baby? Sleep with me or on the street?” he pushes his sunglasses down his nose bridge, wanting to see in detail your facial expressions as he teases.

“Don’t you dare call me that” you growl at him, “I shouldn’t have agreed to this mission” you mumble the last part looking around and considering your options.

“But it was not your decision to make, was it? You’re too much of a people pleaser to even question an order from those bags of bones you respect so much” he mocks bringing in a frequent fight topic.

“We'll have the room” you turn to the receptionist after realizing you didn’t have much to do anyways, right now you just look forward to locking yourself in the bathroom for at least one hour while you wash all the Gojo Satoru out of your system.

Gojo offered to carry your small one-night bag, but as expected you don’t let him take it, once you arrive at the room you can’t help but admiring how fancy it is. Just the kind of place Gojo used to get for the two of you.

“Good thing it’s a king size” you murmur looking at the huge bed, should be enough to sleep without touching him.

Gojo walks past you, pulling his sweatshirt over his head, the shirt underneath raising slightly but enough for you to take a peek at his back muscles and gulp.

“I'm going to shower” you announce, taking some clothes out of your bag and leaving your phone at the nightstand.

“Without me?” he blinks suggestively.

“Ugh” you slam the bathroom door in disgust.

Gojo laughs and lays at the bed getting comfortable, he reminisce the times when you were dating and he showed up at your hotel even if he was not part of your mission, he would get you a secret upgrade for a room with hot tub and sat there with you leaning on his chest while you talked about a future where you would be a teacher alongside him and not need to travel so much. Later he would assure the two of you would make it work through kisses and sweet whispers while fucking you slowly and passionately and take you out on a nice restaurant afterwards.

Gojo is pulled out of the memory lane by your phone’s message tone, he doesn't think twice before reaching to see what's your notification.

> did you arrive well? Xx

Suddenly he sees red. The contact name is unknown to him and he prides himself on knowing almost every sorcerer in Japan. So who the fuck is that?

Once the bathroom door opens, Gojo confronts you immediately.

“You moved on quite fast” you look up, noticing the phone in his hand and quickly trying to snatch it back before he disappears from the bed and reappears behind you.

“Don’t fucking test me, Satoru” you try again.

“Who’s he? Huh?”

“None of your business” you get closer and on your tiptoes to retrieve the phone, Satoru holds your wrist with more strength than necessary.

“Is he a curse-user? Kyoto faculty? Answer me” he pushes you until your back hits the wall, throwing your phone over his shoulder — not giving two shits if it breaks — and moves to be in between your legs, holding both your wrists above your head in one hand.

“None, get off of me”.

“Non— you’re dating a civilian?” he laughs, the psycho laughter gives you chills.

“You have no right to speculate about my own private life!” you tried to kick him, but he closed your legs between his own.

“That's why you broke up with me? To be with a boring fucking no-one?” that’s the angriest you ever seen Satoru, even when you fought he always kept his voice down, as if to tease you even more.

“I did break up and you didn’t even question it, did you? Didn’t even put up a fight!” you yell like you’ve been meaning for so long, after a big fight you yelled that you two should break up and his ‘yeah, maybe we should’ shocked you.

Satoru’s grip loses around your wrists, his big blue eyes look down at your anger filled ones seeing a hint of hurt in the features of the girl he fell madly in love with.

Fuck, he missed you so much.

You're panting at this point, both of you stay silent until your gaze falls to his lips, that's all the encouragement he needs to close the gap and kiss you, you gasp when the towel slides down to your feet, now physically and emotionally exposed to him. Gojo groans when he touches the bare skin of your waist and your arms fall on top of his shoulders. It’s incredible how quick you surrender to him, lips parting for him to taste his beloved one.

You can’t help the way your body reacts to him, not even when you attempt to rub yourself on his thigh and he stops you.

“‘S your boyfriend not taking care of you?” his tone drips mockery, a hand crawls up grabbing your breast harshly.

Before you can send him to hell his tongue is shoved back inside your mouth and you rub your thighs together already feeling yourself getting wetter.

“Fucking slut” he groans on your lips pinching your nipple and moving to cup your cunt, “Does he touch you like this? Like the whore you are? Or he treats you like a little delicate thing you pretend to be?”

Your palm acts fast to slap his cheek.

“Fuck” he moans, the burn on his face going stray to his dick as he ruts against your stomach.

Satoru slides the hand between your legs to spread your slick and press the heel of his palm on your clit, you whine, pressing your back against the wall.

“You’re not getting away from me, so don’t even try” your former boyfriend pushes his fingers without much resistance from your moist walls.

“T-Toru” you shut your eyes letting the nickname escape. This is all he dreamed of, having his name come out of your lips again, but he still couldn’t get over the fact you let someone else touch you, especially someone that did not understand you like he did. Someone that had no idea the type of job you had and how dangerous it was. Someone that would stand up during the mission assignments to volunteer for the most dangerous ones so you wouldn’t go.

“That’s right, baby, say my name” he curls his long fingers inside you, moving one arm out of his shoulder to guide your hand into his pants, where you quickly wrap around his length. You move his pants and underwear out of the way, the hot skin of his dick touches your stomach and you look down. And god, he has such a pretty cock it’s unfair.

“Wanna suck me, gorgeous?” he murmurs, watching the lust in your eyes, “Missed my cock in your mouth?” he hits the sweet spot inside you harder when you don't answer, “Say it” he grabs your jaw forcing you to stare at the dark ocean in his eyes.

“Y-Yes, I missed your cock” you confess, letting out all the times you pretended it was him pleasuring you instead of your fingers.

You squeeze his base when he fastens his fingers and your orgasm approaches, but it doesn't take long before he removes them and you whine.

“You’re all bark and no bite, all it takes is having your pussy played with and you get quiet” he bites your lobe, his harsh words make you wanna hide your face in embarrassment.

“Satoru, please” you beg and pull his pants all the way down trying to move to get on your knees.

“No, you’ll take what I give you” he grabs your arm and pushes you onto the bed, discarding his shirt before moving to position your knees on the mattress, “You’re lucky if I even let you cum tonight…” he strokes his cock with your remaining moisture on his hand before moving to bury himself in your walls, “... after everything you put me through” he confesses the last part in a hush.

“M-Me? Fuck you, Satoru” he fucks you roughly, not giving you time to argue back.

“Yeah, you” he punctuates with a particularly hard trust, “Can’t believe you were sleeping with someone all this time” his voice breaks but his pace doesn't.

You feel him in your cervix, but his tone pulls you out of your pleasure to explain yourself.

“I’m no— not” you whisper and he stops to lean over you.

“What was that?”

“I’m not… sleeping with him, he’s not— he’s no one” you confess slightly turning your head to look at him, his eyes squint as you feel his hot breathing against your neck and chest on your back.

“Good” he straightens up and pulls out. You turn around sitting on the bed and pulling him by the neck to kiss you again, Satoru complies, crawling with his lips attached to yours, until you're laying on the pillows wrapping your legs around his waist so he’s back inside you, “Missed this cunt so bad” he cups you again, feeling the way your lips stretch to his length while sucking on your nipples.

You arch your back “Hate you so… much— agh!”

“No you don’t, you never have” he bites your nipple and your nails sink on his back.

“This is pretty empty for an all booked hotel” you comment when you sit at the restaurant for breakfast the next morning while a cup filled to the brim with coffee, having slept only 4 hours since Satoru kept you up all night, denying your orgasm until you begged and apologized.

“Is it?” Gojo tilts his sunglasses looking around, finding only four other tables occupied while you stare at him suspiciously. He wonders how long it’ll take for you to find out that on the way there he booked every single room except one so you wouldn’t have a choice.

see also: Gojo + Fake Dating # Toji + Forbidden Love

[flowerfreya]

First Day

This is Part 2 of an office / cooperate AU for poly!141

Here’s Part 1 / Part 3

Pairing 141 x you

Tw: mean bf ( not 141)

The 141 leaves at the same time , and when they get down to the lobby they see that you are still down there in the cafe with a cup that is for sure empty and a large smart water on your phone. They are all shocked to see you there and and John is pissed but tries to breathe through it.

“What are you still doing here?” ,He ask.

You look up and is a little startled when you are greeted by 4 large guys looming over you. Your startled a little bit, “huh?”, you tired and you know you haven’t done anything for seven hours but your still not at home and you wish you were.

“What are you still doing here, bird?” John pushes out , he has an ideas as to why but he wants to hear from you.

“Oh , I’m waiting on my boyfriend , he gets off in 4 more hours” you say brightly , faking it until you make it.

“Do you need a ride ?”, Soap interjects, “ I get great gas mileage.”

“Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m okay”. You know how your boyfriend can get when he thinks that you are entertaining other guys , which you would never do but he doesn’t seem to realize that.

“You sure?” he questions, you want to take him up on his offer but you know you can’t so just smile and shake your head.

~

Four and half hours later you are passenger side of the car and he doesn’t even ask how your interview went just wonders what for dinner.

You roll your eyes , you don't even like cooking but its your duty since you don’t work and still need to share the responsibilities.

“Probably chicken and rice”

“Anything other than that?” , that pisses you off because one: you haven’t made chicken and rice for a two weeks and two: you don’t like cooking so he should take what’s he gets.

“If you don’t like how about you cook” you snap back.

“Don’t be such a bitch” he says casually. You know you deserve better than this but you feel stuck, you’ve been with him for 8 years, he was you first everything and while they has been many breaks within your relationship you never strayed and hopefully he hasn’t either (he has break or not).

You get home , you make dinner you don’t really want to make , have a sex with a guy you don’t really want to have sex with and go to sleep in a bed you really don’t want to sleep in.

The call comes in the morning at 8:30 am sharp , your so excited you have an issue answering the phone so it take a couple of rings beofre the sliding your thumb across the screen.

“Hello”

“Good morning , this John Price from the interview yesterday” his voice sounds so nice and low over the phone and you honestly love and it take you second to remember to say something back.

“Yes, that’s me”

“We would like to offer you a position as receptionist associate”

“Yes!”

“Woah, bird slow down, you need to hear my offer and then ask some questions”

“Oh okay sure”. So you listen to him talk and do a spiel that sounds almost robotic. He ask if you want to negotiate for the salary. No you say. Honey, you should negotiate he says. So you ask for a dollar more than offered and he says that will be fine.

“When can you start ? “ he ask

“Immediately”

“Today?”

“Ummm I guess not immediately, my boyfriend has the car today”

“I’ll call you a car” he says easily.

“Oh sure, how long do I have”

“Can you be ready in 30 minutes” . No. You cannot, but you say, “Sure”, in the most preppy voice as possible, you can feel the aniexty ramping up.

When you get off the phone it’s a mad scramble to find an outfit , which of course nothing fit rights and everything is wrinkly. You do your hair but you need a reti and your hair is fuzzy so you just leave it down. Your make up is not turning out right and you forgot to powder your makeup so now it’s going to crease. And you didn’t have breakfast but still has coffee so now your going to have to go the bathroom in 20 minutes and it’s not going to be fun.

And your sweating. A lot.

You just finished with your routine by the time you get the text from the number that called you this morning

>>the car is here for you.

You thumbs up the message, rushing out the door with your tote bag.

You slide into the backseat of the car because you think it’s a rideshare.

“What are you doing back there? Sit up here with me”. You look up and see Soap looking at your through the rear view mirror and shoot him a smile slide out of the backseat and move to the front seat.

“I didnt know this is what Mr. John meant when he said he was going to send a car”

“Mr. John,eh”

“ I just want to be respectful,” you say with a laugh.

“Hen , he will love that”

~

By the time you get to the office you are a bundle of nerves , you hate being the new girl , you also hate not being good at your job. You know what happens when you get a new job but you can still hate it. You are picking at your cuticles which is a nervous tick that you have, you follow Johnny up the office space and sit on the sofa next to the reception and wait for John to call you into his office. You do the basic onboarding task with and thankfully Kyle which you now know as “Gaz” is HR and that’s why he’s in the annex. After you are done with John you get sent back there and complete the rest of the task and that when you get shown your desk at reception.

“You can decorate it however you want”

“Really” You’ve never had a cubicle or a desk that you can decorate however you want. You're so excited to go to TJ Maxx after work and spend the money you don’t have . You sit at the desk and get started with making your system to work. Making a new voicemail message, making a new email signature and distro list. You look after answering the phone and having to assign to a rep and see a tall man with a surgery mask staring back at. You remember when you got the tour of that being Simon Riley. You give him a big smile and wave nd then point to the phone and then to you then to him and nods once, you transfer the call hopefully to Simon but then you hear Johns phone ring and you internally cringe, already knowing that you transferred the call to the wrong office.

“This is Price , what can I do for ya?” you hear and want the floor to swallow you up. You look over at Simon and his eyes widening and then is followed by his shoulders shaking and great hes laughing at you.

“Hen, a word ? “ You look up and see John in doorway, leaning against in that sexy way that guys do and you stand up from your desk with you head down and head over. You squeeze by him to get into the office and he shuts the door behind you.

“Please have seat , do you know how to- “ You quickly cut him off and start to explain how your still getting used to transferring calls and that you know Simon sits next to Soap but Soap real name is John but also called Johnny and then everyone's name is blinking an-

“Your not in trouble … did anyone teach how to use the phones?” You shake your head, and then he teaches you, like actually teaches you how to do things, and its the best first day you ever had.

~

You forgot to tell your boyfriend you had to work, and when he got home without you being there he called you. Your phone was on silent. In your purse. He has your location.

The door slam opens with the blinds bouncing on the door causing you be look and be startled. “Where the hell have you been” he demands , you know hes mad , his face is red amd his hair look like he ran his hand through it multiple times and you know for a fact the car is park half haphazardly taking up two spots.

Your used to this attitude and you make sure you stay perfectly still but not too defensive because it will make it worse but you’ve never experienced it at work. You glance over to your coworkers: John standing up in his doorway, Soap moving towards your desk, and Simon watching from his desk , he’s alert and you can’t see his hands.

“I’ve been here, they wanted me to start today”, you smile hoping to pacify him. You start to get stuff ready already knowing that you are about to leave just so he won’t embarrass you anymore. “I’m sorry it was all so sudden, you know”, ending in a nervous laughter.

“I’m not fucking laughing”, he says your name with so much force , you lean back as if that will get you away from him.

“I know” , you say softly, moving around the desk and putting your jacket on.

You look around and thank them for such a good first day.

“You okay ?”, John ask you with a tilt of his head trying to look you in the eye.

“She fine”, your boyfriend answered for you. You know you have tears in your eyes and if you were lighter you would be flustered but all there is to show for it is sweaty armpits. You nod you head and smile at him.

“I will see you guys tomorrow , have a nice rest of your day” , just as your boyfriend grabs you by the arm and drags you out of there.

~

John glances at Soap and then Simon and nods his head towards annex. They need to have a little chat about the receptionist and her little boyfriend.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

x

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[strang3lov3]

Invisible Line

Summary- Boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Roman Roy x F!Reader | 5.8k words

Tags- one bed trope mothafuckas!! mutual masturbation, unprotected piv, cream pie, oral (f receiving), come eating, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, power imbalance, needy and desperate reader, light degradation, manipulative Roman, Roman’s not the nicest but he does let you snuggle him

A/N- This is my first Roman Roy fic, so please be gentle 🫣 I know he’s got his issues with sex, so just play pretend with me. My usual Joel readers, I haven’t forgotten about you, he’s cumming soon 🫡🍆 but if you were feeling so inclined I’d appreciate it if you gave Roman a chance 🥺🩷

I had a fucking team of editors for this fic!! Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal, @papipascalispunk, @beefrobeefcal and @pinkypromisepascal for polishing this baby up

Fic notifs, Masterlist, Ko-Fi

You’ll never get used to the type of hotels you now stay in. All the lights glittering, floors shining, ceilings so high. You’d call it luxurious, but to your boss, Roman, this is considered modest. You’re always reminded that you and he come from two very different worlds.

As his assistant, you’re accompanying him on his “bullshit amusement park safety meeting in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere,” as Roman had so graciously put it. He’s got such a way with words. He’s exaggerating of course, always so hyperbolic. You’re not in the middle of nowhere, you’re in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s early June and the air is finally beginning to cool for the evening.

“We’re fully booked,” the receptionist says to you after first explaining that no, there’s no mix up of sorts, you had only booked one room and not two adjoining rooms like you’d thought. 

Just fifteen minutes earlier, you helped Roman with his bags and such up to his room. Roman carried the heaviest of his own bags to be a gentleman, call it his soft spot for you or whatever, but just to be a dick, still had you carry his briefcase that he was more than capable of carrying on his own. It is your job, after all. 

When you arrived with him to the spacious room, decorated with abstract wall art and odd sculptures, Roman wasted no time in flopping on the single king sized bed. After seeing no door to connect to an adjoining room, Roman sent you back to reception. “Well, better figure it out,” he said, waving you away, his eyes never once looking away from his phone screen. “I’m set here, so thanks. You can go fuck off. Have a nice evening and all that. Enjoy masturbating in your crispy white bed sheets, courtesy of Hyatt hospitality.” Always so vulgar. You’re not shocked by it anymore. 

“Nothing?” you ask the receptionist. “There’s no way. I just need a single queen, I don’t care what floor it’s on. Isn’t there something?”

“Bonnaroo,” the receptionist explains, once more typing on her keyboard to double check and see if there’s a room for you. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available. Bonnaroo weekend is always when we’re busiest. People book months in advance. I wish I could help you,” she frowns apologetically. 

You’re not upset. It’s your own fault. And you’d seen Bonnaroo posters around the lobby advertising the shuttle that transports people from the hotel to the festival. And you’d seen the headliners, too. Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, LCD Soundsystem. Friday and Saturday tickets are sold out. You’re not surprised it’s all booked.

“No, I know,” you reply. “It’s my fault.”

You sigh deeply, and the receptionist types into her computer, prints a piece of paper and hands it to you. “This is a list of hotels nearby. Call around, they might have something.” She wishes you good luck, and you pull out your phone to begin making the calls, only then realizing your battery is at 2%. Now you have nowhere to go but back to Roman’s room.

–

You knock on Roman’s door and wait. Nothing. You knock once more, nothing again. You’re about to knock for a third time when Roman finally opens, his shirt a few buttons undone and his belt loosened. “What do you want?”

“Can you let me in?” you ask, “I need to use your phone, please.”

Roman’s taken some getting used to. You never quite know where you stand with him, what exactly he thinks of you. Moment to moment, you never know which Roman you’re gonna get – the flirting Roman, the occasional sweet and tender Roman, or the cold, sarcastic, uncaring and taunting Roman.

 “Can you let me in?” Roman mocks, opening his door wider and guiding you into his room with his hand on your lower back. Taunting Roman. His touch makes your tummy flutter. Something about his unpredictability thrills you, excites you. You’re attracted to it, and you don’t know why. 

Your phone charges by a nearby outlet as you sit at the desk with the room phone as Roman paces around, rifling through his suitcase to find his pajamas. They’re simple looking clothes, pale blue bottoms and a plain white shirt, but you know the cost of the outfit is equivalent to someone’s rent. He changes in front of you, something he’s always done. You’re not exactly sure why he does that or what he’s trying to do, but you do your best to not steal any glimpses of him as you begin calling the numbers on the paper, though the task proves to be difficult. Flirting Roman?

The first hotel on your list is The Hermitage, which is a bust. The Joseph is also a bust. Conrad Nashville, same deal. You’re keeping your voice as low as possible, hoping Roman doesn’t overhear your conversation. The last thing you want to do is give him more ammo. You sigh as you cross out the names on the paper one by one with one of the hotel’s branded pens.

Roman’s on the bed, smirking, rolling his eyes. You can see it in your peripherals. “You fucked up, didn’t you? Forgot to book yourself a room?” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, now calling the fourth and final hotel on your list. 

“You shut up,” Roman says. “Told you to double check.”

You wave a hand in his direction to quiet him. After asking your now three times rehearsed ‘Do you have any rooms available?’ and being met with an apology and a no, you reply to the person on the other end of the call with a “Yup, Bonnaroo, understood. Thank you.” Sighing, you hang up the phone and bury your face in your palms. You know what your only option is here, and you’re scared to look at it, to look at Roman. You know that even if you don’t verbally ask, your eyes will say it all. 

  Roman slides off the bed and makes his way to you, then nudges your foot with his own. “Am I doing you a favor tonight?” 

“I uh…”

“Oh, of course I am. Good thing I’m feeling generous, huh?” Roman’s lips are curled into an almost-sweet smile when you finally look at him. “Bed is mine,” he enunciates. “You can take the floor, I don’t care. Or push those chairs together or some shit.” You look at the chairs he’s referring to and nod. Roman goes back to his bed, and you pull your own set of pajamas from your suitcase, then change in the bathroom. Once out of the bathroom, you push together the chairs that Roman was referring to.

“Oh god, I didn’t think you’d actually do that. No, no, I was just joking – we’ll share the fucking bed. Yeah?” Roman pats the other side of the bed. “I’m not cruel like that, Christ. Making me feel like some fuckin’ sort of - sort of sadist. Not gonna bite you.”

“Won’t you?” you tease. 

That was the wrong thing to say. Your blood goes cold as Roman glares at you, displeased with your teasing. Reminding you of your place, that even though Roman can joke, make however many unsavory comments as he’d like, you can’t always do the same. Cold Roman. But then Roman cracks a smile, flashing his pretty white teeth and winks, his eyes sparkling. The boss-employee dynamic between you and him is always inconsistent, things going from professional to unprofessional, from friendly to friendlier.

He pulls the covers down the bed, once more patting the space next to him, indicating his invitation for you to join him. You round the bed and slide under the covers, the sheets feeling cool against your bare feet and legs. “You’ve got ulterior motives, don’t you? You fucked up the booking on purpose.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “No, Roman.”

“You totally did,” Roman says as you adjust the pillows behind you, “You’re trying to entrap me. You’ve weaseled your way into my bed so you can sue me later for harassment or some shit but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen. Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to behave yourself.” Roman drags his finger down the center of the bed, bisecting it evenly. “Don’t cross this line. Not even your fuckin’…pinky finger. Got it?”

“Understood, Mr. Roy.”

“Attagirl,” he chirps. “Wait, ew. Jesus Christ, Roman, you call me Roman. Not that Mr. Roy shit. God, that’s gross.”

You’ll take any chance you can to get under his skin after all he does to you. Flipping over on your side, you face the window and watch the city lights dance before pulling out your phone and silently scrolling through Instagram. Roman does similar, though he doesn’t reciprocate the courtesy of doing so quietly. He watches videos at full volume, shaking the bed with his giggles. 

You shift to your other side, now facing Roman, who lays on his back. Your phone rests on the bed as you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks. You don’t often see him look relaxed like how he does now – how sexy he looks in those thin pajamas of his, his biceps toned and his bulge protruding from beneath the fabric of his pants. His usually sleek hair is slightly messy, and you wonder how those silky strands would feel between your fingers as you tug on them, with him holding you close in a tight embrace and his lips connected to yours, swallowing your moans. 

You tell yourself not to think about it, about him. Don’t think, don’t think, god, do not think about him. Don’t think about his thick bulge or his hands or their wrinkles, the bluish-green veins that climb up his knuckles. Don’t think about his waist, don’t think about his soft tummy, or the thin line of hair leading down his groin and beneath his pants. 

Roman’s looking at you, wearing that sly, cocky grin of his, pleased with the knowledge of what he does to you. He shuts his phone off and turns off the light on his nightstand, the faint glow coming from the open curtains now the only light.

He doesn’t take long to drift into a slumber, though you do, still thinking of the things you shouldn’t be. Images of Roman still dance in your mind for hours, you watch the time go by when you check your phone’s lock screen. You hear his voice in your head, that two word instruction from him playing over like a broken record. Behave yourself. And god, you can fucking smell him. He smells clean, like he always does, with notes of Caroline Herrera’s Bad Boy filling your nostrils – a cologne with a truly obnoxious bottle and an even more obnoxious name. Roman picked it out one time you were with him while he was shopping, just to piss you off. You’ve never hated the smell, though, and you love it even more on his skin. But he smells like sweat too, just a bit. So masculine and slightly musky, you can almost taste him. 

Your hand has moved on its own accord underneath your shirt and between your breasts. You’re not sure when it happened, but you become acutely aware of it when your knuckles brush against your nipple and you gasp. 

Roman stirs in his sleep, but he’s dead to the world. And you’re good at keeping yourself quiet – at least you think you are. 

You turn your head to look at Roman, pinching and twisting at your nipples. Alternating between soft and hard, gentle and rough touches. Roman’s got his arm draped over his head, his palm so close to you. You imagine it’s that hand, his hand, squeezing and groping the soft flesh of your breasts, pretending that tingling feeling when you drag your thumbs over your sensitive buds is his tongue, all hot and wet. You let yourself breathe, the quietest moans escaping your lips. 

And then you let your fingers dip lower, your fingertips skating down your body, feeling your sides and the soft curve of your tummy, your hips. Your hand goes lower and lower, your thighs parting as you find your core but not moving your legs wide enough to cross Roman’s invisible line. Tracing your lips first, your fingers travel closer to where you need to feel them the most. You’re wet, so fucking wet as you press your middle finger against your hole, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit.

You shift in the bed, spreading your legs wider and now circling your clit with your middle and ring fingers, dipping them into your entrance once more to gather your arousal and drag it up through your folds. Massaging yourself, you still pretend it’s Roman’s hand as you take in that sweet feeling that’s quickly beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each circle of your fingertips on your clit, fighting yourself to keep your hips as still as can be.

Romans voice startles you. “For a second I wondered if we’re near a fuckin’... earthquake, or uh– fault line or something, but you’re just rubbing one out next to your boss. Wow. Do you always shake the bed this much when you masturbate?” 

You gasp, “Roman.”

“Or just when you’re next to me?” You’re not really sure what the right move here is. You could pull your hand from under your pants, but Roman’s already caught you red handed. Leaving your hand between your thighs is not the right move either. “Funny,” he adds, “I thought we just had a conversation about behaving. Didn’t we?”

“I know, I–”

“I mean, you get brownie points for not crossing the line in the bed, I guess,” Roman lifts the covers of the bed, then reaches for your knee and gently pushes it back on your side of the bed. “But you are crossing all sorts of other lines. You must think you’re sneaky. I heard you moaning, you know,” he accuses. He mocks you then, all snark and derision as he lets out exaggerated and breathy moans you’re almost sure you weren’t making. Roman, oh, Roman! Yeah, right there, Roman, please…

 “Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” he asks as he reaches for your jaw with one of his hands, turning you to look at him. He pinches, fingertips digging into the softness of your cheeks. No hiding now. “Is that what gets you off?” 

“No,” you stammer. 

“Liar.”

The air feels thick and Roman’s hazel eyes are dark, inky black, perhaps from the lack of light or maybe, you think, his own arousal? No, probably not. He looks genuinely pissed and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, his intense gaze making you squirm. But you can’t seem to look away, either. He allows a silence to hang heavily between you both as he stares at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. And that’s when you notice it – with the hand that’s not holding your jaw, he’s stroking his cock underneath his pants. You can see the bulge, the shifting of his hand. 

“You’re touching yourself too,” you point out.

“Yeah, now I am. I’m a man. You made blood rush to my penis with your fucking moans and your Roman this and Roman that,” he huffs. Pulling down his pants and letting his cock spring free, he continues, “So my dick is hard. It should be your problem to deal with, but I’m bailing you out yet again. Always cleaning your— fuck,” he stutters, “Your messes.”

You have no clue what’s happening here. Roman lets go of his cock for a moment and he reaches for your arm, guiding you to start moving your hand once again. “Get it out of your system,” he says. “Go on. You didn’t have an issue fucking yourself next to me five minutes ago, did you?”

Cautiously, as with Roman you know full well that this could be a trap, you begin to move your hand with his guidance. “Yeah, good girl,” he whispers in a hushed, almost imperceptible tone, one that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “God, I can’t believe you,” he says more clearly this time. “You better make it quick. We’re getting this over with, and we’re not looking at each other. Call it your punishment or something, just fuckin’—  take care of yourself.”

Roman adjusts so he’s flat on his back and resumes stroking his cock. His eyes are screwed shut and you’re watching his chest rise and fall, fully breaking the rule he just set. But you can’t help yourself, he looks so gorgeous like this. His pubic hair is longer than you would have expected Roman to have, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s not the longest but his head is wide and round, with thick veins climbing his shaft. 

“You’re watching, you fucking creep,” he says in a breathy tone, his words slightly broken. He’s not looking at you, only at the ceiling above. “Breaking the rules. You have a hard time with that, don’t you? Look, I can follow rules. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

Roman rolls his eyes at that, then flips on his side to finally look at you. A flicker of what looks to be relief quickly washes over his features, but quickly disappears. He reaches for your shirt, hiking it up your torso and tugging – up, take it off. You do as he asks, taking off your top and exposing your breasts to the chill of the air in the hotel room. 

“I hope you know that I’m not gonna touch you,” Roman says. 

“I know,” you breathe. “I know you won’t, I just, I just…”

“Just what?” Roman asks, still stroking his cock. You take off the rest of your pajamas and adjust yourself slightly, then spread your legs wide, the invisible line be damned as your knees fall back toward your chest and you rub your swollen clit. God, how you need his fingers inside you. You’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, but it won’t satisfy you in the way you think Roman could. “Spit it out,” Roman demands. 

Fuck it. You’ll deal with whatever consequences later. In the boldest of moves, you reach for the hand that strokes his cock and bring it to your pussy, guiding Roman’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance and pushing them inside. 

Roman wears a twisted sort of smile as he curls his fingers inside you, now playing his own game with you. He taunted you with an accusation of ulterior motives, but it was all talk, like how most of Roman is. He suspected this before, but now he's certain: you have nothing but need for him. Amused by it, he’s now playing his game with you. As you moan for him he wonders, how much can he toy with you, drag this out? How much will you beg for him? Your hand is wrapped around his cock now by your own choice, he wonders how low will you sink, and how high will he feel by the end of whatever this is? 

You’re inching closer to him. Desperate. 

“Your hand is wrapped around my cock,” he whispers. “And you buried my fingers inside your cunt. Is something not clicking in that head of yours?”

“So good,” you breathe. You work his shaft, twisting your hand up and down. He’s thick, veiny, his head feels smooth in your palm. Roman’s touch is firm as removes your hand from his cock to hover it beneath your chin. “Spit,” he tells you. You’re so pliant, and do as you’re told, spitting into your own palm, Roman putting it back where he wants it. “Wow. I pull my cock out and you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” 

All you do is nod. 

“God you’re soaked. Are you always this soaked for me? Just walking around all day, panties fuckin’ ruined?”

“Sh– shut up.”

Oh, you’ve still got some bite left. Roman wonders how quickly he can make that diminish. “Poor thing, did I hit a nerve? You wanna fuck me that badly? Are you really that desperate for your boss?” You say nothing, just inch even closer to Roman now. You hook a leg over his hip, moving your cunt towards what you need most from him, slowly guiding him in your hand ever closer to your entrance and hoping he’ll remove his fingers from you and replace them with his cock. And thank god, he does it. He pushes your hand away, gripping his member and notching the tip in your entrance. Fucking finally.

But he only collects your wetness on his tip, then spreads it down his shaft. He pushes his pelvis forward, rubbing his cock against your hooded clit and making you shiver. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he taunts, now dragging his cockhead down your dripping seam. 

“Roman,” you whine. 

“Roman,” he says, mimicking your whine, exaggerating how pathetic you sound. “Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Just fuck me, Roman.” 

“Yeah, I know. You know my name and how to nag me to fuck you. I get it. What you’re not getting is that I don’t care. It’s not gonna happen tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that… Just gonna fuckin’ play with you like this,” he hums, now pushing his cock up against your clit again, tapping you. “Yeah, you’re good. This is… this is good. I’ve been so bored recently, you know? Wonder what happens when I do this,” Roman stops tapping his head against your sensitive clit, now sliding himself left and right across your sex. He bites his bottom lip when you gasp and squirm.

“I wonder if I could make you come just doing this,” he muses, continuing to tease you. “I know I could. I could blow my load on your pussy right now and make you clean up a mess for once. Is that what you need? For me to show you what you’re meant for?”

Maybe, you think. Maybe not. You don’t know what you think. You need his cock. Roman pushes himself forward, fitting just his head into your hole again. And you think it’s coming, the fullness, the pressure, the ache and the stretch and the burn. He’s bent on his two prior rules, but compromise never comes. He doesn’t give in to you. Roman’s grinning, giggling to himself as he draws his hips backward, denying you. Watching how you struggle for him, how you whine and squirm and push your hips towards him. “Is it?” he asks. 

“Fuck, is what?”

“Is that what you need?”

“Yeah, I need you to fuck me. Roman, please. Need it – need you inside.” 

 Roman pushes out an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. That’s not what I asked at all. Is listening really that hard for you? What do they call that, tunnel vision but for hearing. Tunnel hearing? I don’t think that’s right.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“Google it for me.”

“Roman.”

“What the fuck do you think I hired you for? Google it. For me. Thanks.”

Roman lifts his dick again, rubbing it against your clit and then lining himself up again, all as you scramble for your phone and quickly open Safari. ‘Funnel visipn bur for hearin g’ is what you type, the combined sensations of Roman’s teasing and the too-bright screen making your task difficult. “Audi-auditory exclusion,” you manage to tell him. 

“Lemme see it,” Roman takes your phone from your hand, squinting at the screen. “Auditory exclusion is a form of temporary loss of hearing occurring under high stress,” he reads in his phony serious tone, still teasing you, bumping into your clit and then notching himself at your entrance, again and again and again. Giving you just a taste of what you know he could offer you instead. He’s opening Wikipedia now. “Auditory exclusion happens as a result of the physiological effects of the acute stress response, specifically an increased heart rate.”

“Fuck me, Roman, fuck me, please, I’m begging, please, please…”

“Begging’s nice, good. Very good. Very cute. But uh–” Roman points to your phone, “I’m busy reading here, so maybe quiet down. I really don’t want to hear it,” he laughs breathlessly, but nothing about this is funny to you. You’re in tears now. Tears of anger, frustration, shock. Roman lines up with your slick hole, just as he’s done repeatedly before. He notices your tears, “My god, you’re crying for it. So desperate, aren’t you?” he mocks your pout, wiping away your tears. You tell him you need him. “Need me? What a strong word. Yeah, I know that you need me. Message clear. God, you repeat yourself a lot. Fucking annoying.” 

Fuck this. Roman’s still on Wikipedia and down some rabbit-hole not even related to auditory exclusion. He’s stopped teasing you, his cock just resting, nestled at your entrance as he scrolls. And you take your chance. 

You reach for his shoulders and flip yourself so you’re above him, then sink down on his cock. Roman’s startled but he moans as he disappears into you and you sigh, finally feeling that stretch of his cock you’ve been craving since you don’t even know when – long before tonight. Roman watches where your body connects to his, seemingly shocked. He scoffs. “Oh, fuck you.”

Roman pushes your body off of his, he’s small but stronger than he looks. He flips you on your tummy and his touch is harsh but just what you need when he finally grabs your hips, placing his palm between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest down to the mattress. He was somewhat gentle when he was teasing you before, but all of that is gone now, as he lines up with your entrance and slams his hips into you, rocking you forward. He pulls out almost all the way before doing it again, harder. So many noises. You – gushing on his cock, moaning, crying out for him. Roman – his thighs slapping against yours, his grunts and his curses and breathy groans. The bed creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman fills you up better than you could imagine – fucking perfectly –hitting your walls, that sweet spot inside you. 

“So fucking wet for your boss. What’s that say about you, huh?”

Roman grips your hips tight – too tight. He’s denting his nails into your skin and it hurts, his thumbs are digging into your lower back. There’s no fluidity to his thrusts, no steady roll of his hips. Just Roman, parting your insides with the harsh rutting of his hips. His heavy balls swinging, bouncing against your clit, his soft tummy warm against your back. 

He sets a steady rhythm, a rhythm for his pleasure alone. Fucking you seemingly in two, exactly how you want it. Of course you want it this way. He can hear it in your muffled whimpers and cries, he wonders if the sheets are stained under your face, soaked with your tears. Roman holds your waist, forcing you up with your back against his chest. “Fuck,” you cry, and Roman wraps a hand over your mouth, the other is groping your breasts. Not that he doesn’t love the sounds you’re making for him, he just wants to give you another reminder of who’s in charge here – of how this is gonna go down, according to Roman. 

He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, his nose nudging your cheek. His mouth travels lower then, he bites at your neck where it meets your shoulders, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your skin. He’s sucking at your flesh hard enough to leave a mark – for what reason, he’s not entirely sure. To punish and to hurt you, humiliate you, maybe even mark you as his. It’s possessive and primal in essence, how the way you need him so fervently makes him feel powerful in a way he often does not. And you’re not helping your case at all, with your squirming and your whimpers only egging him on. You tried to take what you need from him, but he’ll drill into your head that you’ll only receive what he’s willing to give to you.

He wonders what comes after this. If you’ll turn on your side in bed, leaking with his come and hiding yourself from him, or if maybe you’ll cling to him instead. He knows that he’ll lay next to you after this and wonder what you’ll be like for the rest of this trip. Will you be shyer, about the same as usual, or maybe even bold? He’ll experiment with you, see how you react to a cold shoulder or a shower of attention. See what you’ll do when he squeezes your ass, or when sitting next to him in the car, the helicopter, or at dinner when his hand finds your thigh and inches closer to your sex. Will you lean into it? Will you squirm and push his hand away?

His hands travel along your sides and down your torso, he can tell you’re loving his touch. You’re shameless in your reaction to him, your pussy squeezing him, your wanton moans. Curious, Roman reaches for your clit just to see how you’ll respond. He teases you, tries to write his name with his fingertips into you. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin, the obscenity of your pussy’s slick noises. He’s not going to last much longer, that is quite clear. 

He doesn’t care to try to make you finish first, as a gentleman should, although Roman nor anyone else would describe himself as such. You’re on his time. He knows how desperate you are to come, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get his first, something he doesn’t often get otherwise. And so his pace quickens, still biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck and shoulders. He bets that in all those late-night fantasies of yours about this moment, touching yourself in the dark, you didn't picture him being a biter. This much is evident with your pussy clenching on him and your short gasps showing your surprise. 

He savors that feeling in every inch of himself – the power he holds knowing you’re aching not only to come on his cock, but to feel his touch, to experience him. It’s still just a game to Roman. Maybe it’ll always be a game. He’s not sure yet. 

His cock twitches inside you, that warm and sticky feeling in his balls is beginning to crescendo. “I need to come,” you beg. “Roman, please make me come, I need-.”

“Shut up. I don’t care.”  Roman fucks you with frenzied thrusts, and he doesn’t pull out to stroke himself above you, doesn’t ask you if you’re on the pill or if you want him to come on your ass or your tits or in your mouth. Roman shamelessly lets himself go and fills you with his hot spend. His noises are like music as he comes inside you, melodic grunts and moans coming from deep within him. And you take it all, everything he gives you because that’s what you’re meant for. 

Roman takes heaving breaths above you, pulling out and his spend spills onto the comforter. He doesn’t give a shit. And as you collapse down onto your hands and knees you think that’s that, that he really doesn’t care. That all of this was probably about Roman savoring the feeling of having control over another person, and that dangling pleasure over her head is how he’ll get it. 

Roman climbs off the bed and you’re trembling. He flips you onto your back, pulls you forward by your legs so that your sex is centered with his face as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His mind has changed quickly – first he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t make you come. He thought next about eating you out from behind, denying you connection as he tastes you, buries himself in your most intimate place. But you’ve done well for him, and it’s clear that you’ll take what he gives you at any cost. Roman watches you with hooded eyelids, offering you that connection as he brings his face to your center, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Call it his soft spot. 

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Roman dives back into you, and you hesitate before reaching for his scalp. Tentatively, you do it anyway, just to see if he’ll react. He might smack your hands away, maybe he’ll place them down on the bed. You’re sure he won’t hold them. 

He lets your hands linger. Your fingers tug on those sleek strands of hair as he eats you, his scruff chafing your thighs. His eyes alternate between fluttering shut and peering up at you as dips his tongue into your entrance, licking his spend from your folds. He brings a hand to your cunt, two of his fingers pushing into your heat as his tongue dances circles around your clit. He’ll never tell you how sweet you taste on his lips. 

“Yes, oh god, Roman.” He’s kissing your cunt, lapping at your folds, his tongue teasing all of that sensitive flesh. His fingers curl inside you at the same time he sucks your clit between his lips, making you writhe for him. “Right there, Roman.” 

You’re not sure if he’s indulging himself or you at this moment. He eats you like a man starved, he eats you like it's his artwork. Nipping at your folds, his fingers inside you never once faltering their movements. You grind against his mouth as his tongue flicks and swirls. After all that’s taken place tonight, it doesn’t take you long to come. You bite down on your moans as pleasure washes over you, and you come on Roman’s tongue, gushing into the palm of his hand. When he’s ensured that he’s milked you entirely, he pulls away and takes his place back on his side of the invisible line. 

Roman had wondered if - once in bed - would you cling to him or turn away, but he doesn’t allow you that choice. Instead, he takes your wrist between his fingers as he turns away, curling on his side, effectively wrapping your body to spoon around his. He keeps your arm secured firm under his, tucked around his torso. Tender Roman. You’re on edge, he’s been relatively quiet this whole time, and you’re expecting some snarky comment or a vulgar insult. “I swear to god, I will smother you with my fucking pillow if you snore,” is all he says. His threat, albeit baseless, comforts you. 

-

[gyusrose]

➵ 5-star michelin -> p.js

⚠︎ smut (mdni) , sprinkle of angst

✎ teacher!jay x student, slight age gap (25 & 23), jay is kinda mean, dom!jay + sub!reader, jealous!jay, praising, dirty talk

summary: achieving your dream of becoming a chef is not easy, even worse when your teacher’s always up your ass.

{btw! i don’t cook like at all so bear with me 🙏}

(non!idol jay x fem.reader)

~ late christmas + new year’s gift *ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wc: 4.2k

you love the kitchen, you pretty much live there day and night. it’s no surprise to anyone that your dream job is eventually becoming a real chef. that’s why you’ve spent almost your whole life perfecting the one skill you’re good at. most of the recipes you use come from your mom. before she passed she left a whole book of recipes in it and what a hell of a good time you had with it.

it helped you cope, that’s what drove it. you feel sad? make something yummy. you feel mad? bake something nice. you feel happy? cool something delicious. your problems seemed to fade away while your cooking.

over the last year, you’ve started attending culinary school. obviously, you’re not perfect and you still need some work on your dishes but you’re not doing too bad to say the least. now though, it’s a new chapter opening for you.

you’ve been wanting to get out of your hometown for a while and move to the city as there were more opportunities down here and to your luck, you got accepted into a (very prestigious) culinary school nearby your apartment, a win-win situation.

like anyone, you were scared, scared to make new friends, scared to meet new people, scared to start from zero, a new place, a new routine. but it’s all for the better.

you sighed as you tied your apron around your waist, almost heading out the door to your first day of school. boxes were still unpacked all around your floor, it was a total mess, you literally slept on the floor last night. it was definitely not the best case scenario for a great morning but eh.

you finally caught your breath trying to calm down grabbing your tote bag and leaving your messy apartment.

the school was no more than five minutes away walking. at least you’re gonna be on time.

your entered the glass doors of the huge white building. the receptionist noticed you, you quickly showed her your ID, which they gave you during your orientation last week. she gave you a nod and you headed into the elevator, pressing the number 13.

your hands were shaking and sweaty. coming into a new school in the middle of the year has got to be the worst scenario for an introvert like you. you finally reached the room where the class will be taking place ( i genuinely don’t know what culinary school is like pls) as soon as you stepped in, all eyes were on you. including the head chef’s.

“you must be the new student right? happy first day you’re late.” one of them spoke, your cheeks couldn’t have become any redder than what they already were. you hated all the attention on you.

late? didn’t class start at 7:30? you thought.

“class started fifteen minutes ago, take a seat and catch up.” almost like he could read your mind he responded.

you muttered a low ‘sorry’ before heading onto an empty seat trying to take as much attention away from you. of course his happens to you.

you gathered all the ingredients you were told to get and set them on the table in front of you. mimicking what the other students were doing. as you weee doing that the chef came up to your side, an evident scowl noticed on his face.

it was until then you realized how handsome he was, he looked very young as well, not someone that you would expect to be a head chef. his jawline was sharper than the knife on your hand. you shook those thoughts away quickly though, he’s your teacher! what are you thinking?

“i’m just letting you know, whatever you did today can’t happen anymore, attendance is very important everyday, this is a very advanced class so you might not want to be missing any of it, got it?” even though he whispered, it felt like he was yelling at you. it was very aggressive and harsh making you flinch.

you quickly nodded, now scared of him even more. suddenly you want to change classes with another chef. finally leaving you let out a big sigh which you were holding in ever since he came over, and resumed cutting your vegetables and stir frying them.

“you need more seasoning on that, it’s too bland!” the chef, which you now you know as ‘Chef Park’ said as he tasted your chicken. you were almost sweating, from the way he speaks and acts, you felt nothing but intimidated by his presence, even more when he’s tasting your first dish for him. throughout the whole lesson today, he seemed to be only picking at you, he didn’t taste any of the other student’s food, only yours. you found it kind of irritating but tried not to think much about it.

“i’ll definitely note that chef.” you smiled at him bowing.

“ i’m expecting a lot from you, ______” he said before heading back to his space.

you were confused. why you? you’re probably the least talented person in this room right now so why you? you had so many questions but decided that maybe you just needed a good nights rest and starting packing up your stuff on your bag.

jay sighed at the empty room in front of him. it was currently 1 am, and he couldn’t find the urge to go home. he was just thinking, thinking about you.

he was the one that read your application into the school, he read your recommendation letters from your past teachers. you were put into his advanced class for a reason.

what he didn’t expect was the glory of a woman that was going to get in that door. it was as if the universe slapped his type right in front of him. that’s what he saw. how could someone look so beautiful in such a simple uniform? he also wonders that.

he can’t let down his demeanor though. yes he finds you attractive, but he can’t soften up just for you, that’s unfair to the rest of the students that have to put up with him. plus he hasn’t forgotten that he’s the teacher and you’re a student, it’s unethical for him to even be thinking of you in that way.

it’s been approximately a month since you’ve started going to this new school and to be honest, it was eating you up. chef park kept nit-picking everything you did, which honestly is what’s. teacher should do but not to that extent. you saw the way he was always looking your way when you were cooking. how he would yell at you across the room when you did something wrong ( even if other people were also doing it) it’s driving you insane to the point that you’re about to actually request for a change of teacher.

you were struggling to cook the steak to chef park’s desired temperature when you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned your head around to see a boy. if you’re not mistaken his name is jake.

“i see you’re kind of struggling with that, there’s a trick i do that always manages to cook the steak to chef’s park liking. may i?” he asked if he could touch the knobs of your stove. you nodded and he turned the heat to the maximum for a few seconds, turning the steak over on both sides while bathing it in butter , then he turned it to low heat, repeating the same action.

jay obviously noticed this and did not appreciate it. he should be happy seeing another student sharing tips with you but that wasn’t the case this time. without thinking he walked over the two of your laughing figures.

“sim! it’s very inappropriate of you to be talking with your little friend when you should be cooking..”

“oh sorry chef park. i was just giving her a hand. i thought you wouldn’t mind.”

you looked at chef park, noticing his glaring eyes on jake. is it that bad for a student to help another student out?

“well i do! back to your place.” he said not sparing you a glance while jake decided to not respond back and just gave you an apologetic smile before heading off.

“alright everyone, that would be it for today, but don’t forget that by the end of the semester you’re gonna have to cook something of your own, impress me okay? “

as students left you decided to have a word with the chef, wanting to know if he just truly just didn’t like you or if he had a problem with you being here, so you could change chefs.

there was another girl talking to him before you. he acted so different with her, so respectful, kind and smiley. his face sours up every time he’s talking with you, so you barely see him smile and you almost melted at it.

“is there a problem miss ______?”

you jumped out of your other world and looked at him. suddenly feeling shy. you felt your confidence slip away as he was now looking straight at you, waiting for you to speak.

“ well-uh i’ve been noticing how harsh you’re on me compared to the other students, did i do something to cause that?”

jay was taken aback from your straightforwardness, but he responded either way.

“ you just need more toughness out on you _____, do you want to be mediocre?” he was lying through his teeth. jay knew you were if anything, the best of the class, he couldn’t just say that out loud.

you on the other hand, were crushed. was mediocre all he saw in you? have you been lied to by your other teachers?

“ is the yelling necessary though ? there’s way to effectively communicate without yelling.” you hated being yelled at. every time someone raised their voice at you, tears would just fall like a waterfall. thankfully, you’ve managed to hold in your tears during class so chef hasn’t seen you cry.

“are you questioning my teaching skills now? “

shit. now you offended him.

“n-no that’s not what i meant, i just-“

“you don’t think i’m a good teacher ?” he said getting up closer to you, pretty much standing inches in front of you. suddenly you felt your heartbeat fasten.

“i d-do chef, i just kind of find it unfair?” you said, trying to not stutter all your words.

jay smirked, now standing less than a feet in front of you, grabbing your chin and holding it up, making you look straight at him. jay could definitely see your rosy cheeks that you were so embarrassedly trying to hide.

“am i making you nervous miss _____?” you only gulped, you didn’t even know what to respond to that, even though it was bluntly obvious based on your state right now.

the both of you didn’t say anything for a moment, the two just stared at each other, waiting for one to make a move first.

you don’t know exactly where you got the guts to actually make the move. you engulfed your chef into a suffocating kiss. the kiss itself was enough to show how much y’all were yearning for each other. jay was dying to do this ever since he laid his eyes on you, but you on the other hand, didn’t know how much you actually wanted to do this until now. sure you found him handsome and smart and literally perfect but you never expected for him to think of you the same way to the point we’re he’s actually kissing you back and heating up the kiss you once started. his tongue grazed over your lip. his hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you closer, melting into his embrace. your lips tasted so sweet, jay felt insatiable.

both of you forgot about the fact that this was very much not allowed. the world ceased to exist to exist at that moment. there were no boundaries, no constraints, just the two of you.

jay’s hand traveled down further and further, now down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. the small action made you moan into his lips. even though your eyes were closed, you could feel him smirking at you.

your own hands travelled along his broad shoulders, down his shoulders. once again, confidence shot through you. your fingertips found their way to his belt buckle, about to undo it when his fingers wrapped around your wrist. stopping your movements.

“see you next class.” that’s all he said before gathering his things and leaving you there. high and dry.

that’s when you woke up. realizing what you were about to do, more like who you were about to do it with.

embarrassed. that’s what you were. he could literally lose his job what were you thinking?!

you let out a shaky sigh and left the empty room. all you need right now is a hot shower and sleep, you need to forget this ever happened. the worse thing is that tomorrow you still have to face him in class.

you knew showing up in the classroom that the two of you almost fucked in yesterday was going to be hard to show your face in. although no one noticed you, you just felt exposed. you refused to make eye contact with jay the whole time. jay definitely noticed this right away. he felt kind of bad in leaving you like that, but he knew that if he stayed there a little longer, he wouldn’t have controlled himself. he did think though, you looked kind of cute all shy and red, avoiding his eyes the whole class.

he took matters to his hands and approached you for the first time today, which was odd since he would’ve already yelled at you for something at this point.

“what are you working on miss ______?” his voice startled you, not even noticing he walked over to you.

“ just finishing the sauce for this.” you shortly said looking down at your food. jay’s stare didn’t leave your face once. and you could feel it very much. it felt hard to breathe at that moment. you have no doubt your face is boiling at his simple presence.

“ look at me when i’m speaking to you.” you didn’t want to. but he was still your teacher and the last thing you want to be is disrespectful so you looked at him. and god you wished you didn’t. those brown eyes have a world of its own. you found yourself staring at him shamelessly, forgetting he was speaking to you.

“are you even listening?” of course you weren’t yet you nodded assuringly.

“great then see you friday night.” you nodded but it took you a moments to realize what he said.

friday night? for what? this is what you get for daydreaming. embarrassingly, you asked him what he meant after you just told him you were listening to what he was saying.

jay chuckled and shook his head at your lie. “ i said if you were coming to the dinner i have set up for the class, since christmas is coming. and you responded yes, so you better be there miss ______.” he said with a smirk, palming your cheek. your eyes widened at his move. you looked around to see if anyone noticed, to your relief no one did as they were too focused on their food. “someone could’ve seen!” you whisper-shouted your chef. he just rolled his eyes and said “ just be there on friday, i have a gift for you.”

the last thing he said before walking away. you were left dumbfounded. what did any of that mean? you didn’t notice that you’ve doesn’t about 10 minutes just standing there thinking until you smelt something burning.

“your meat is overdone _____!!!” jake told you walking up to you turning the stove off.

shit.

you weren’t the one to like social events much. as a teenager, you barely went out with your friends. you were a proud nerd. always focused on school, that’s how you were thought to be, which explains how you’ve only made one friend (jake) ever since been here for months. now you’re gonna be forced to socialize for a whole evening.

you weren’t unprepared thankfully. you brought a couple of classy dresses with you, you could imagine that things like these were gonna happen. you eventually decided on a white silk dress. it was elegant yet comfortable for you. not too short or not too long as well. you decided to not do anything special with your hair and let it down.

you suddenly felt the urge to not go. the last person you want to see is your chef. you don’t see the point of going yet you kept doing your makeup, you just want to change into your pyjamas and lay in bed all night. a ding in your phone caught your attention, revealing a text message from jake.

-I’m here

it seemed like you have to go now. quickly you gathered your things and left your lot.

jay kept waiting and waiting. you was all he was waiting on. a bunch of people kept coming up and talking to him but he didn’t care. girls showed up trying to impress him, but nothing. he wanted you to come up to him, impress him.

what he didn’t expect is you coming in with some company. jake was obviously invited but not as your date, he thought. he could see his hand on your back as he said a few sorry’s for being late due to traffic. jay couldn’t focus on anything but you. what the fuck was jake saying to make you laugh so hard. was that on purpose? to see how he would react? jay couldn’t tell. it didn’t help how beautiful you looked tonight, more than usual. that fucker doesn’t get your beauty like he does.

the whole night jay kept quiet. stealing glances towards you and jake. when someone talked to him he kept his reposes dry. for a moment he could swear you stared at him.

jay didn’t miss when you stood up to go to the bathroom. he obviously took this opportunity to talk to you, if it wasn’t right now then it was never.

you left the bathroom, as a soon as you turned around, you were encaged. your breath hitched seeing who it was.

“c-chef?”

“oh please don’t act all innocent _____, i know what you’re trying to do.”

“i’m sorry..? i don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“coming in here with jake, wearing such tight dress showing off just enough to make me go crazy. do you realize how much power you have over me hm?”

you didn’t know what to respond to that. deep down you loved the way you made him feel. it was planned, at all, but it felt nice knowing how much little effort had an effect on him.

“ it’s not my fault that’s the way you think jay.” honourifics dropped. jay wasn’t expecting that response from you. the alcohol running through your blood was showing at the moment.

jay grabbed your neck and pulled you into a heated kiss. unlike your first kiss, this one was emerged in lust. both of your tongues entangled with each other. your hands rummaged through his hair pulling him closer to you.

all it took was a simple “wanna get out of here?” from jay for you to weaken in the knees, allowing your full submission to him.

“fuck jay, right ther-shit!” so much happened in the last thirty minutes, nothing could’ve prepared you to be eaten out by your teacher at that time.

you don’t even know how jay didn’t crash the car while driving to his house and completely stripping you in seconds. he ate your pussy like he’s been starving for months (which he was) your eyes rolled back, pulling his hair, engulfing him into you, wrapping your legs around his neck. jay was in fucking bliss.

“shit baby, you’re such a mess, so fucking sensitive.” he said pulling away from your cunt, earning a whine from you.

“such a desperate little brat. tell me, what do you want baby.” he said caressing your lips. you couldn’t stop biting them. from your angle, you could see everything of him. his sharp eyes staring down at you, his biceps, his chest, his abs, fuck you could cum right there.

“fuck me jay, i want you to use me.” unlike other instances, you didn’t break eye contact making him moan before grabbing your thighs and spreading them around his pelvis. your core was dying for his cock, it was noticible from how swollen it was.

jay rubbed his head along your folds before looking up at you for reassurance. you nodded, desperate written all over your face.

the first thrust in you was insane. the stretch felt like he was ripping up your insides. it was painful, a good type of pain. “fuck you’re so fucking big jay.” jay only groaned. he couldn’t even say anything, this was better than anything he could ever imagine.

once he was fully in he started to move in and out of your core, grabbing your waist, feeling himself in you. the crude sounds coming out of the both of you echoed throughout the house. jay’s hands played with your tits while you grabbed his waist, making sure he stays inside you as much possible.

“shit you’re so tight, that’s pussy’s all mine ain’t it?” his hand left your tits and started rubbing your clit while his thrusts turned very hostile you couldn’t even form words from the immense amount of pleasure.

“yes yes, it’s all your baby.”

jay didn’t think it could get better than this, but it did.

he flipped you over, now on all-fours, back arched. not wasting any time in fucking you from behind. he groped your ass, leaving his hand marks all over them.

you were about to explode when a ring could be heard, more specifically from your phone. you looked over it on the night stand seeing ‘jake’ displayed on the screen. shit you completely forgot that you just left him at the restaurant. you could call him back lat-

“answer it.” jay said from behind you sternly, fucking you even deeper.

“i don’t think i ca-“

“answer the fucking phone, it must be important.” as much as he didn’t like jake, it turned him on the way you could barely breath let alone speak while he’s fucking you restlessly.

you could barely talk but you managed to grab the phone and answer it, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“ sorry jake, i just wasn’t-hmp feeling well.” your hand went over your mouth to stop you from moaning into the phone. jay was just laughing in the background at your state right now.

“yea yea i-i’m so sorry, have f-fun though.” you nodded at his last sentence before hanging up and glaring at jay from behind you.

“fuck you!” you said then slamming your head into the pillow letting out muffled moans.

“i’m quite literally doing that baby.” you rolled your eyes in pleasure and annoyance. your orgasm was very close, even jay could feel the way you clench around him.

“fuck i’m cumming, so fucking close.” your weak voice said .

jay was on the same boat, he would’ve cum way earlier but it just felt so damn good, he wanted to treasure every moment.

“me too baby, c’mon cum all over my dick, do it baby.” that’s exactly what you did. your body twitched at the sudden feeling. your body going limp.

jay was also on edge, with a few more thrust he pulled out of you and came all over your back moaning in the process.

after the two of you balanced your breathing, jay laid next to you caressing your hair, the both of you were just giggling like little kids.

“so this was the gift you were talking about?”

[davidlcki]

BESTIE BEGGING ON MY KNEES we need more david loki x reader out here 😭😭 maybe some angst/comfort?? ILY

jealousy

i got two pretty similar requests so i kinda combined these into one! anywho i fucking LIVE for angst, so i had fun writing this! it’s not as angsty as some of the stuff i’ve written, but i hope this lives up to yalls expectations 🙏

pairing: detective david loki x reader

warnings: cussing, arguing, jealousy, drinking, david gets slapped. implied female reader, though it can be read as gn! i think that’s it 😁

summary: david is jealous of a new hire that’s been flirting with you at the precinct.

words: 1,313

“i’m just saying i don’t like you being all buddy buddy with him.” david’s words shot anger through your veins. he was talking about one of the new hires that you were tasked with showing around the precinct. you were only the receptionist, meaning you had the most spare time to show someone the ropes. you could tell the guy liked you, making a few jokes and letting his eyes linger on you a little longer than they should. this didn’t bother you a bit. you were so smitten with david that no other person would be able to tinge it in even the slightest, so you let it slide and continued on showing him around. in hindsight, you knew this argument was going to happen. you noticed the way david’s jaw clenched as you spoke to the other man, eyes boring holes into the back of his head from his desk, surely imagining a hundred ways to kill him.

“david. i was asked by o’malley to show him the ropes. what am i supposed to do? say no and lose my job?” david shakes his head at your words, sighing heavily.

“no. but you two seemed awful friendly.” his eyes snap over to yours from his place at the counter, a glass of whiskey in his hands.

“there’s nothing behind that. i treat him just like any other coworker. you need to get over this jealousy thing, D. don’t you trust me?” you shoot him a glare, annoyed that he was so untrusting of you. you watch as he downs the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass down a little harder than he should have. he shakes his head in annoyance.

“he was flirting with you.”

“so what? i love you and only you. i’m not going to let some new hire’s shitty flirting change that.”

“you do this on purpose to mess with me, don’t you?” he scoffs, the slightest slur to his words. this is when you realized he was more drunk than you thought.

“jesus. you’re drunk. i’m not doing this with you while you’re fucking drunk.” you turn on your heel, walking from the kitchen. you were hurt. you knew he was the jealous type, but not like this. you hadn’t done more than show the new hire around and share maybe two laughs, but that was enough to send him over the edge. just as you stepped out of the living room and your feet make contact with the soft carpet from your living room, he spoke again.

“do you not love me anymore? that it?” this for you, was your breaking point. you weren’t thinking anymore as you turned and stormed back into the kitchen, getting face to face with loki who stood from his seat as you came over.

“how dare you?” your voice had a shake to it as you point a finger into his chest. “i would take a fucking bullet for you. god, your insecurities are taking over this relationship david! why cant you trust me like i trust you? half the women in the precinct drool over you every day. but see, i TRUST you. why not talk to me instead of drowning your feelings in fucking liquor first?” by the time you finished speaking you realized tears were coming down your cheeks in thick streams. you could tell what you had said got to david deep down, but you also knew how he was after a few drinks. stubborn as all hell. a few beats of silence pass before his brows furrow, eyes hardening ever so slightly, only something you could notice. you grit your teeth, knowing some bullshit was about to leave his lips.

“you gonna leave me over this now so you can go be with that new hire? what’s his fuckin’ name, john? jake? j-” you cut david’s sentence short with a harsh slap to the face. you knew it was wrong, but you were so hot with anger that any rational thought had been thrown out the window. his head snapped to the side, and for a while he stayed that way, pressing his lips into a flat line as he processed what had just happened, surely getting more sober by the minute. you weren’t the type of person to resort to hitting in situations like this, and your actions shocked the both of you. finally, he turned his head back to look at you, eyes widened ever so slightly. your bottom lip quivered, a threat of more tears to come, and you turned to walk towards your front door before he could say much more. you slipped your shoes on, not taking the time to put on a coat even though snow fell lightly from the dark sky. you didn’t know where you were going, but your feet had carried you through winding sidewalks through the little neighborhoods of conyers for at least a few hours. when you were sure you’d get sick from the cold and lack of a coat, you hesitantly came back home.

you pushed your front door open, and david was sitting on the couch, tv off. his head snapped to you instantly, his eyebrows knotted in worry. clearly he’s had time to sober up and reflect. you hardly make eye contact with him, deciding to head to the shower, hoping it would wash all your feelings away. you ignore as he calls your name out, soon drowning any other sound out with the sound of running water from the shower head. you stepped in so hastily you nearly forgot to pull your socks off. for a while you stood under the stream of hot water with your eyes closed, simply daydreaming. you were only snapped out of it by the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“david. just leave me alone.” you sigh. after a few moments of silence, you speak again.

“helloo? are you trying to be mysterious or something?” suddenly, david pulled the shower curtain back, not hesitating to step into the shower with you. he was still fully clothed.

“hey!!!” you shout, staring at him wide eyed, though a smile was tugging at your lips at the insanity of it all. “D, you’re still in your clothes!” he only looked at you, a solemn expression on his face.

“i’m sorry.” as he spoke, water from the shower dripped down his face, strands of hair falling out of their usual perfect place. you sigh, running a hand down your face and looking back up at him.

“i just don’t want to lose you. i’m scared.” you could hardly here these words from him as he spoke them so quietly, you nearly had to resort to reading his lips.

“i know. i know. i just wish we could talk about these things before you drink.” your eyes scan his face which remained knotted with worry. you noticed a red mark still remained where you had hit him. you look away for a few beats of silence. “i’m sorry for hitting you. i should have never done that.”

“i deserved it.”

a snort escapes you as you look back at him. “maybe just a little. but it was wrong. so i’m sorry.”

a small smile twitches at the corner of his lips. “i forgive you.” his touch was gentle as he pulled you into his embrace. you wrap your arms around his clothed frame, resting your head against his shoulder and sighing deeply, this time with relief.

“did you really have to get in the shower with your clothes though?”

“i thought it would be good for dramatic effect.” you pull away, looking at david who was smiling much wider at his seemingly great idea to get into the shower fully clothed. you shake your head, pressing your lips against his for a few moments.

“you’re an idiot, loki.”

[peachesofteal]

Combat Baby

Dead Disco Masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.7k words 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Feelings of fear, sadness and anxiety. Discussions of blood and injury. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals. Comfort and fluff. Angst. Established throuple. You get a phone call in the middle of the night. This takes place sometime before Chapter 1 of Dead Disco. It can be read as a standalone.

It’s the middle of the night when the phone rings. It vibrates against the nightstand, the rattle slowly bringing you to consciousness and you blink a few times to shake free the fog of sleep. 

The screen displays a blocked number. 

Your stomach becomes a pit. 

“Hello?” A British man says your name on the other line, the accent different from Simon’s, but still heavy, still thick. You don’t recognize it, and that lone fact has you sitting straight up. 

“Yes?” 

“This is Captain Price. I’m the commanding officer of the 141 and on scene at St George’s hospital.” Your body jolts, heart stopping dead in your chest. Oh no, god no please. Don’t let them be dead, don’t- “Ma’am?”

“I-I’m here.” You half swallow the words to try to prevent the panic from spilling out of your mouth. 

“Soap asked me to call ya, see if you could come down here.” 

“What’s going on? Is he okay? Where’s Si-“ 

“I can’t tell you anything else, just that he wants you to come down.” Your fingers fly onto a web browser to look up the hospital, a tiny sliver of relief twisting in your gut when you see it’s not incredibly far away. Not close, but doable with a few trains. The sleep that has been trying to spring free has completely evaporated, leaving your eyes wide and pulse racing, fear rapidly spreading through your veins while your mind conjures every single worst case scenario it could come up with. “Okay?” The captain’s voice is gentler now, encouraging, and you nod in the dark. 

“Okay… y-yeah. I’m on my way.” 

The hospital is bright. When you run through the lobby doors, it’s the first thing you notice. The walls are white, too white, and well lit, illuminating everything, every person in the giant room. You search their faces hurriedly, throat tight with worry while you decide that none of them are Johnny or Simon, and you practically throw yourself at the front desk. 

“Hi, uh, I’m looking. I’m looking for my partner? He’s-“ A British accent calls your name and you whirl to see a man in uniform standing behind you, his hand waving the receptionist off and gesturing for you to follow him through a set of double doors. 

“I’m Captain Price, we spoke on the phone.” Of course. 

“Yeah, where’s Johnny? And Simon?” You blow past his pleasantries because you honestly don’t care. You want to see your guys. You want to know what’s going on, and you want to know right now. The captain considers you thoughtfully for a moment, a short second that feels like an hour, before another set of doors is banging open to reveal- 

“Darling.” It’s Johnny. Johnny’s here. Johnny’s standing a few feet in front of you with his arms open. Johnny’s wearing his uniform that has a giant stain on the front. Johnny’s wearing his uniform that has a giant red stain on the front. 

You launch yourself into him without a second through, without a care about anyone watching, and press your face into his neck to take a deep breath. 

“Are you okay? Where is Si? Is he okay?” You babble, pulling away to get a better look at his face. He looks exhausted, and weary, and sad and you want to fold him into you again and never let go. Johnny is strong, he’s so strong even when he doesn’t want to be and right now, you can tell, he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be in command, doesn’t want to hold everything up. Guilt burns into your brain when you realize it’s for you, the strength is for you, even though he’s off balance, off kilter, he’s holding it together in this moment for you. “Johnny.” It’s a whisper, soft and raw, and he brings you back into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around your body and holding you to him while he presses his nose into your hair, shuddering a barely contained exhale. You hold him back, desperate to wrap your arms around him, stroking a hand up and down his spine slowly while you take deep, measured breaths. You bite your tongue against the overflowing bounty of questions you have, pausing to just be here, in his arms, his face buried in your neck. You try not to push him, try not to force it out of him. He’ll tell you, you know he will. He speaks every love language that exists between the three of you, communicates clearly when your head is a mess and your thoughts are all jumbled, sees you when you’re lost and pulls you back to shore. He makes Simon tea at one in the morning when he can’t sleep, he forces you to put your sneakers on and then pushes you out the door in the middle of the day so you can enjoy the sunshine. He gives you more than you could ever give back, and this moment is a dark, glaring reminder of that fact. 

He pulls away, giving someone a nod, you assume the captain, and leads you over to where a group of chairs sit. 

“Where is he?” You haven’t let go of him, gripping on like he’s your lifeline, and he lowers you into a chair before sitting down in the one next to you. 

“He’s in surgery.” 

“Okay. Is he going to be okay?” 

“Love.” You slam your eyes shut. No no no. “The doctor thinks there is a good chance he’s completely fine, but it was a very serious…” he pauses, and you know it’s because he’s trying to choose the right words “injury, and he had to go into surgery right away. He wasn’t conscious.” 

“A good chance.” You repeat it and he nods. A good chance. You try to fight the emotion that wells up inside your heart, but it’s no use, and you’re choking out a sob within a second, Johnny nestling you back into him, palm rubbing up and down your back. 

“Shhh. Everything’s alright now. Ye know he’s a strong bastard.” You bob your head in a halfhearted nod, but it’s hard to keep yourself afloat when you think about Simon alone in an operating room, with “a good chance.” Your lungs suddenly feel tight, the air in the room becoming a flimsy, feeble thing you’re not even sure exists. A good chance. A good chance? That’s… a chance. A chance he will be okay. A chance he will live. Not a given. Not even the starting point, just a chance, a good- “Darling.” Johnny’s fingers pull your chin upwards, until he’s forcing you to look at him, a warm palm moving to cradle your face when he’s satisfied he’s got your full attention. “I need you here, with me. Stay with me.” He doesn’t need to say anything else; you know. You know what he’s asking. You know he’s coaxing you to stay present, to not go down a long dark path, to keep yourself with him, and not below the cresting waves of your own heart, your own brain. 

You swallow the saliva that’s building in the corner of your cheek and squeeze his hand. You can do it. You can do it for him. For Simon. For them. For all of you. 

“Hard to kill right? Like you’re always saying at home?” The whisper brings a glimpse of a smile to Johnny’s face. 

“Thas’ right, love.” 

You wait for a long time. Johnny holds you, and you alternate between rubbing his shoulders and clutching his hand, your anxiety turning you restless as you shift relentlessly in the uncomfortable chairs. He slowly starts to tell you what he can about what happened, how Simon got separated from the team he was with, how he ended up outnumbered in an impossible situation, how he fought like hell and won. He recounts how he heard Simon calling for him over the radio in a moment of desperation, a pure loss of control, a last-ditch effort to hear his voice, and vice versa. He tells you that Simon made him promise in the helicopter to call you, as soon as they landed, because he wanted to see your face before he went in for surgery. He knew you’d be scared if Kyle or Price was the one to wake you up, and he didn’t want that. 

“He was still… talking, in the helicopter. I didn’t think… he was in that bad of shape, on the way. I think he was bleeding. Internally. And that’s why he faded out when we got here.” You nod, tracing a pattern of dirt on Johnny’s forearm methodically, timing it’s ups and downs with your own breathing. “Everything changed so fast. I’m sorry I had Price call. There was paperwork and they needed it as soon as possible and I didn’t want to wait to get ya here, I didn’t do as he asked but I-“  His voice chokes to a stop abruptly, and there’s a tear, on his cheek. Just the hint of one, shining beneath the awful ceiling lights of the hospital and you press your lips to it, trying to keep them from trembling against his skin. 

“It’s okay, Johnny. It’s okay.” You’re about to tell him to forget it, that he didn’t let Simon down, that everything is alright, when a doctor in a white coat comes through the doors with a smile on her face, her long legs carrying her over to stand before the two of in a blink. 

She’s smiling. The chance was good. It’s good. He’s good. 

“Mr. Riley?” She says, and you choke on a surprised gasp before you look to Johnny with a raised eyebrow. Uh… what? He pats your thigh affectionately before nodding and pulling you to your feet alongside him. 

“Yes, is he okay?” He spits, over eager, anxious and rushed to hear whatever it is she has to say. He too, has no time for pleasantries. 

“Your husband is out of surgery and stable. He should make a full recovery. We’ll go over discharge instructions and he’ll be here for a few days until I’m comfortable with his progress on antibiotics but, he’s in good shape.” Your husband. You bury the word deep, covering it with a whole mountain of other thoughts before you dwell on it. They would have told you, right? They wouldn’t have gotten married without you, would they? On a mission? The notion makes you feel nauseas, and then the guilt swallows you whole. Get a fucking grip. Simon is hurt. 

“When can we see him?” You blurt. 

“He’s still in post op right now, but I can bring you to his room to wait for when he’s settled in, how does that sound? He’ll probably be asleep for a while, but you can be there while you wait for him to wake up.”  

“Yes, please. Thank you.” Johnny wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses his lips to your temple with a fierce intensity. “Thank you, so much.” She gives the two of you a smile before leading you down the hall, and Johnny holds you close to him the entire time. 

Simon’s okay. He’s going to be okay. 

He looks too big in the bed. His shoulders stretch the width of the mattress, his hospital gown not even snapped closed, just draped over his torso, covering the white bandages are wrapped around his ribs. You stroke the side of his cheek, fingers tracing along his jaw line gently, pushing some strands of dirty blonde hair from his face while you whisper lowly. 

“We’re here, Si. We’re right here. Everything’s okay.” You’ve been trying not to watch the clock, trying not to count the minutes, over eager and impatient for Simon to wake up and finally open his eyes. You want to see him, blinking, breathing, speaking, before you finally feel at peace, and you can’t stand to see him unconscious, immobile, in a bed. He’d hate it. You know it, you know he’d hate it if he was awake, know he’s going to hate it, when he does wake, and you’re anxious to soothe him, even in his sleep. Anxious to lay your ear against his heart and count the heavy thumps of the muscle, eager to wrap yourself around him so he knows you’re here. You’re anxious to see his wry smile, see the flutter of his lashes, hear his voice. He’s so beautiful, so… unearthly to you that sometimes when you look at him you think you might be in a dream yourself. He’s your rock, your immovable force that never falters, never fails you, or Johnny. Holds you both steady. He looks so peaceful, so serene in this moment, even though you know in his mind, it’s far from the reality, and you hope he’s not dreaming in hell, experiencing his nightmares trapped in sedation. We’re here, I’m here. It’s okay. 

On the other hand, you’re not eager to wake Johnny, who’s asleep in the chair opposite you, Simon’s hand clutched in his, his head sideways on the bed next to Simon’s thigh, mouth open with a slow drip of drool pooling from it. He’s exhausted. Hasn’t sleep in 29 hours and he stayed awake for four hours after Simon was brought back to the room, trying for as long as he could until he just couldn’t keep his head up anymore. He needs rest. Your heart flutters when you look at him, the scruff of his mohawk laying against the white blanket wrapped around Simon’s leg, his features blank as he drifts in a dreamworld far away. He’s so sweet, so perfect that it makes your heart hurt, like someone’s emptied ice into your chest cavity and you can’t help but reach across and stroke a thumb across his knuckles in time with your other against Simon’s cheek. 

An hour later, Simon’s hand spasms, and you watch his eyelids start to twitch, body tensing in the bed as both you and Johnny jump to your feet so you can see his face. 

“Simon? Hey.” You stroke your fingers along the inside of his palm gently, trying to ease him into consciousness, while Johnny hovers closer, knuckles white against the rail, his free hand on Si’s shoulder, the touch gentle and reassuring. Simon slurs your name, then Johnny’s, then Johnny’s again before groaning: 

“Darling.”

“We’re here.” You rush out, the swell of your emotions rising up the back of your throat while you wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. “Right here.” 

“Are you in pain?” Johnny asks, but he’s already pushed the button, and you both step back when the nurse comes in so she can give him pain meds and check the monitors. When she’s finished, the two of you surge forward, retaking your places and you finally get to see that crescent moon smile on his lips, the ghost of his happiness surfacing from beneath everything else going on, the pain, the trauma, the sedation. 

“You’re here.” He whispers, eyes moving between the two of you. Johnny lowers himself to touch his forehead to Simon’s, before tracing the lightest kiss across his lips. 

“Of course, we are, ya mad bastard. Don’t ever fuckin’ do that again.” He says and Simon grunts, hand shooting out to grab his with a squeeze while his other palm presses to your cheek. You hold it there with one of your own hands, tears dripping from your eyes while his thumb strokes back and forth across your skin. 

“’m sorry I scared ya.” He grits out and you break into a soft, relieved smile. 

“Don’t be. We’re just so happy you’re okay.” 

 “I’m alright, darling. Can’t be leavin’ you two alone anytime soon.” His eyes droop, lids trying to shut and you know the pain medicine is pulling him back under, where he can sleep and heal until it’s time to wake again. He fights it, but it’s a losing battle. 

“It’s alright, Si.” You soothe him. “Go back to sleep. We’ll be here while you rest.”

“Y’promise?” He sounds a little spacey, a little loopy, and Johnny smiles while you stroke his hair in a rhythmic pattern, just how he likes at home. 

“We promise.” 

[invertedheaven]

If You Really Love Nothing

chapter 7: pink cotton candy

chapter index | next chapter

As you stood over the stove making breakfast, gojo joined you in the kitchen making a cup of coffee for himself you spoke up

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday but yuji knows about sukuna and I, he confronted me about it”

Gojo glanced at you before stirring way too much sugar into his cup “and airi?”

You shook your head in response so he continued

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know, more curious as to how he found out but I guess I’m okay… I didn't tell him anything important though” you paused for a moment “he wanted to know why we broke up”

“Yeah, don’t we all” gojo tried to joke, “what did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t know, and that it was sukunas doing” you shrugged

Gojo was slightly surprised that you were honest about it with yuji but before he could speak the conversation was interrupted by airi tugging on your pants

“Mommy im hungry”

“I know baby, I’m making breakfast right now” you bent down to pick her up while giving her a kiss on the cheek

“I was thinking… we should go to the winter festival they’re having in the city, they have lots of food y’know” gojo spoke with a mischievous smile knowing if he asked in front of airi, you probably wouldn’t say no

You shoot him a glare because now airi would only want to do that and sure enough she gasped excitedly “Please! Please mommy can we go today?”

“Not today airi, satoru and megumi have work and school” you responded to which airi pouted

Gojo shrugs “we can go after it doesn’t start up until 5 anyways”

Airi turned to look at you with a pout and eyes that could make anyone with a heart cave, you sighed turning your glare back to gojo “fine but you need to ask megumi if he wants to go”

“Done!” Gojo shouted before he took a sip from his coffee, burning his tongue

Airi asks to be put down and as you place her on the ground, megumi walks into the kitchen as well

“Good morning megumi” you smiled at him and he simply nodded back

“We’re going to the winter festival today, you wanna come?” Gojo asked

Megumi looked as if he was gonna say no after all, it was his last week of school so hes been studying for finals including helping yuji study as well, but before he could answer airi ran up to him

“please gumi” she asked but she sounded a bit sad

Megumi hadn’t realized that by having to keep yuji from airi that meant that he was also distancing himself from her and she had no idea why. To airi, megumi used to be around a lot more and he would play tea party or color with her, he’d even brush her dolls hair when she asked. Airi liked satoru too but obviously megumis presence was missed and you’re sad that you hadn’t realized it sooner.

Megumi felt guilty saying no now, seeing how his answer could greatly affect airis mood for the day, “yeah, ill come with” he half smiled

“Are you sure? I know you have finals” you spoke up giving him an apologetic look

“Yeah, it’s fine yuji has plans today too anyways so studying wasn’t gonna last all that long” he shrugged really, he wasn’t too worried about finals for himself

Airi was now beyond excited despite being a picky eater she really hoped there was gonna be desserts, not anything specific all she knows is that she likes sweet stuff. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too, you’ve missed the quality time of all 4 of you together. You weren’t looking forward to having to bundle airi up in a million jackets because she hates it more than anything.

——

Sukuna walked into the building like he owned the place, ready to finalize the deal with Gojo Sr. A part of him felt annoyed that he didn’t use this time of being close to Gojo, in proximity at least, to find out anything about you. He eyed the receptionist as soon as she came into view, he’d been flirting with her in past visits trying to see if shed be dumb enough to spill anything.

His first visit he tried to get information out of Gojos secretary but she was surprisingly stubborn, telling him if he had any personal inquiries about her or gojo that she wouldn’t answer. The receptionist on the other hand seems persuadable, if not at least for gossip— which he couldn’t believe he’d stooped so low for. Before Sukuna reached her, he really couldn’t remembered her name, gojo greeted her and made some small talk, which annoyed Sukuna greatly at first but he quickly figured he could make this work to his advantage.

“Well, I’ll see you rei!” Gojo said cheerfully while waving, sukuna only caught the tail end of what gojo said but it didn’t matter. The white haired bastard hadnt even noticed sukuna as he walked away from ‘rei’, at least sukuna knows her name now.

Rei was blushing and smiling like a fool at her interaction with gojo that she didnt notice sukuna until he spoke up “your boyfriend?” Her reaction was ridiculous her posture straightened up and she struggled to find words

“Ah sukuna! Its been so long” she smiled at him nerves still on edge, he felt nothing but annoyance looking at her, yeah she was pretty but she wasn’t you “no, thats not my boyfriend, he’s one of my bosses”

Sukuna just continued to stare hoping she’d say more, to his luck she did “I wish” she joked “but every girl is in love with him, plus I think he’s in a relationship, pretty sure they live together”

Not what sukuna wanted to hear at all, not in the slightest but he decided to swallow the anger “really?” He said exaggeratedly acting fake invested

Rei rolled her eyes at him but she laughed and continued “mhm, rumor has it they have a kid too”

sukunas teasing smirk drops and he feels sick but she continued as she focused her eyes on the computer in front of her “but I don’t believe it apparently the kid is in high school, I think gojo is too young to be a dad to a high schooler” she shrugged

Never in sukunas life did he think he’d be so relieved for the existence of gojos brat, of course she was talking about that fushiguro kid. Honestly, had he not been reminded of fushiguros existence thanks to yujis incompetence, he would’ve really thought the rumor was true. Which would’ve faced him with a reality he refused to think about. The most shocking aspect was how little anyone knew of gojos personal life— it seemed like he tried very hard to keep it under wraps

“Thats fascinating” sukuna said sarcastically

Rei laughed “you asked, no need to be rude about it”

That kind of teasing annoyed Sukuna because if it wasn’t you he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk to him like that but if he wants actual answers he might have to play along

“hmmm and how do you know all this?” sukuna teased

“My best friend is his secretary, but it also spreads around the office pretty fast any time theres something new” she typed something before looking at sukuna “I mean I’ve seen a picture of his supposed girlfriend before she’s beautiful but he could do better”

At this sukuna no longer felt like entertaining this woman, because the nerve this girl had to insult you like that made him sick. He doesn’t even know where the defensiveness came from, he owes you nothing but hearing rei slander you, being dead wrong too, struck a nerve. Sukunas smile dropped again and this time she saw it before she could ask what’s wrong sukuna spoke up

“Im done here” his voice having lost his teasing tone and instead replaced with a cold and empty tone that gave her a chill down her spine, completely thrown off by his change of attitude

Rei knew she’d tell Hana about this later, but she ultimately shrugged it off. Sukuna sulked throughout his meeting and felt great annoyance towards you, despite the fact that you did nothing. Not that he wanted to trust office gossip but sukuna was now moving with the idea that you and gojo were in fact together. But what sat in his brain the most was the idea that you could actually have kids with gojo, even if it ended up being megumi that rei was talking about the very idea irked him beyond belief. He didnt particularly want kids, they were gross, loud and annoying truly something he did not want to deal with. Yet the idea that it could be a possibility for you and gojo pissed him off more than he thought it would.

——

Yuji did in fact have plans that he thought were definitely more important than studying for finals— going to the movies. He was going to meet his friend at the theater but didn’t account for the festival that was taking place on the same street as the theater. His friend, junpei, had said he was running late so yuji wasn’t too worried about the crowd he had to work through to get there.

Although, he was tempted to grab something to eat so he slowed down to look at the food options. Each booth looked so good that he was half tempted to ditch the movie and just eat the rest of the night, unfortunately he did not have enough money for that. As he continued walking, he saw a familiar head of white hair peeking from the crowd, his brain immediately thought of gojo because that was the only person with white hair tall enough to tower over people.

As he got closer he instantly recognized fushiguro as well, you were there too but what he noticed was that gojo was holding a kid, that was probably the niece you babysit, right?

“I want that one!” Airi pointed at the pink cotton candy one booth booth was selling

“Okay but I want the blue one” gojo replied

You watched as satoru bought both options anyways and airi looked ecstatic. You were glad airi got distracted by the food because she started to complain about the layers of clothes she was wearing. She hated the beanie and gloves the most, and you had to stop her from trying to take the scarf off even though it was incredibly cold.

"Can I try that" airi asked while pointing at gojos cotton candy

"Baby, you said you wanted the pink one, that's satorus" you reminded her even though you knew he'd give her some anyways you didnt want her to become spoiled

"Only if you say please" gojo smiled

"please" airi pouted and gojo gave her a small piece of his

You rolled your eyes "gojo you cant spoil her y'know"

"its just cotton candy what's the harm"

And before you could argue back airi took another even bigger piece from satorus cotton candy. Which made him look at you with shock, prompting a laugh from you

Megumi oddly enough felt peaceful, it felt like the times before itadori came around and the energy around the house wasn’t so tense. It’s not that the tension came from anything inherently negative, nobody acted any differently, its just a similar feeling to when you get your report card from school and try to hide it from your parents. He was glad he was friends with itadori, but maybe the guilt is getting to him too. Megumi knows itadori tends to be alone a lot, he’ll act like it doesn’t get to him but megumi knows better.

“Do you know what you want?” Your voice cut off megumis thoughts

“Nothing in particular, I’m still looking” megumi shrugged

It was loud, seeing as there were a lot of people around so megumi thought he was imagining when he heard his name being called. Until he noticed you and gojo heard it too— the voice even sounded incredibly familiar. Airi was too busy eating her cotton candy to notice the way you, megumi and gojo looked at each other unsure of what to do next as the voice you all knew belonged to itadori got closer

“Fushiguro! What are you doing here?”

[gurugirl]

https://www.tumblr.com/gurugirl/717253767497695232/loving-with-all-these-ideas-in-from-the-asks-l-im?source=share

imagine the surprise on jessica or another coworker's face if they saw them out or her coming to see him at the office and he is being all over her, i know he would go manic if anyone gave even the lightest judgemental look to her but he also would bring it up to her after when they are alone "such a little slut uh, acting all shy and cute around everyone but still fucked a married man without thinking twice and got all those gifts, my little whore..."

okay just gonna write this real quick...

**This is a little blurb to go with The Arrangement**

Took 30 minutes to write this 😬 Apologies for the lack of editing and proofreading. I should be doing other things but felt inspired? lol! Hope you enjoy :)

1905 words

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, DDlg, degradation, slight exhibitionism

Y/n didn’t have a class that day so she spent part of her morning lounging in her silk pajamas, sipping on cold brew coffee, and working ahead on an assignment due on Friday. But she had the idea that she’d go and visit Harry at the office. Plus it’d be fun to see everyone again.

After taking a shower and picking out a cute outfit from their walk-in closet she called a taxi to take her downtown. She sent a quick text once she was on her way.

Headed to the office. See you soon xxx

She figured she’d meet him for lunch. Maybe he could get out of the building for a bit.

Harry was in a meeting when she texted him but he saw her note and smiled to himself. He didn’t need to worry about anything. He and his wife were done. Sean sold him his part of the company and shares so he wasn’t around. And if anyone even so much as dared look at Y/n with any kind of contempt he’d set the record straight. There were already whispers of his new relationship with Y/n. What Sean had done with his wife. The divorce Harry was in the middle of.

When she stepped into the front of the office the office receptionist jumped from her seat and greeted Y/n with a warm smile, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Nothing to drink for me. I can wait out front until Harry’s done with his meeting,” she said as she gestured toward the sitting area.

“Nonsense. I’ll bring you to Mr. Styles’ office to wait there. It’s a nicer view anyway. I’m sure he’d prefer you there.”

Following the receptionist toward Harry’s office Y/n was stopped by Jessica, “Y/n! What are you doing here?”

Harry stepped out of the meeting just as Jessica and Y/n were speaking.

“Oh! Hi! I’m just here to say hi to everyone. Wanted to see Harry real quick. How have you been?”

Y/n really wanted to get the attention off of herself. She realized most people knew that she and Harry were a bit of a thing at this point. But she still felt shy about being so open with it.

“I’m well. So you’re here to see Harry, huh? How’s that going?”

Y/n looked down at her expensive shoes and then shrugged before looking back at Jessica, “It’s good. Yeah.” She smiled shyly.

Harry walked up behind them at that and grabbed Y/n’s hand and gently pulled at her, “Hi darling. Come with me to my office?” He looked at Y/n as he spoke before turning to speak to Jessica, “You don’t mind if I pull her away for a bit do you?”

“Not at all. Nice to see you, Y/n.”

The moment Harry had his office door closed and locked he grabbed his little girl by her hip and pulled her into him, “What are you doing here?” He put his hands into her hair gently running his finger through it.

“Just wanted to see you. Thought maybe I could get you out of the office for a little lunch,” she smiled sweetly.

“Oh, it’s food you want? Interesting…” he continued with his fingers in her hair, “Thought you came here to show off. Let everyone know who you belong to now.”

“Harry…” she spoke softly, “that’s not why I’m here. I just-“

“Looking so cute and innocent in front of everyone. Showing off all the gifts I’ve bought you,” he nudged at her ear with his thumb over the Cartier diamond earrings he’d bought her, “It’s because you want everyone to know you’re Daddy’s little slut. Isn’t that right?”

“I just wanted to see you. That’s all,” she grasped his hand and moved it up to her lips so she could kiss his fingers, “I just missed you a little today. Thought it would be fun to see you,” she spoke between kisses as she kept her eyes on him.

“Just wanted to see me… Well, here I am. And I’ve already eaten lunch. It’s 2 pm, little girl. I have a feeling you came here for a different kind of fun.”

She smirked and then lowered her gaze to his lips as she dropped his hand and put her arms over his shoulders, “Just missed you, Daddy.”

Harry grinned and gave in to kiss her lips finally. She tasted sweet and smelled delicious. And her cute new dress fit her perfectly. Harry held her out in his arms and looked down over her outfit, “I do have good taste, don’t I?”

Y/n nodded and giggled as she looked down over her dress. She hadn’t worn this one yet. It was a little short and her heels were a little high. She’d also purposely put on a skimpy thong in hopes of him pushing it to the side and touching her or fucking her even.

“You really have everyone fooled, you naughty girl. They think you’re so sweet and shy but really, you had an arrangement with a filthy rich married man who gave you his credit card and then you stole him from his wife and now look at you,” he put his hand around her throat and pushed her back toward the couch in his office, “Shacked up with me, taking all my money, getting fucked every night, and pampered to your heart's content. You’re not innocent.”

Her blood rushed to her extremities and her head began to feel light and floaty like she usually did around him. Her pussy clenched and she moaned at his words and how he squeezed her neck softly.

“Sit down.” He gestured to the couch behind her as he let go of her neck.

She complied, holding the bottom hem of her dress as she put her bottom onto the soft cushion.

Harry sat next to her and leaned back into the couch, “Undo my pants.” He said but when she hesitated he continued, “Come on. I haven’t got all day. I’m a busy man, Y/n.”

She turned her body toward him and began to undo his pants. Harry brought a hand to her chin and grasped it to move her face to look up at him, “Haven’t got time for pleasantries. I’ve got a meeting in,” he lifted his wrist and looked at his expensive watch, “25 minutes.”

Y/n nodded as she unzipped his pants and sat back to wait for his next instructions, “Bend over the arm of the couch, put your pussy on the corner there so you can rub your clit while I fuck you.”

Quickly she got up and draped her body over the arm of the couch, placing herself at the edge where she could get enough friction from the couch. But truly, she didn’t care if she came or not. She was only there to please him. To let him come and get off.

Harry lifted her dress up as he pulled himself out of his briefs and tsk’d at her, “Desperately wet already. Just as I suspected. You’re going to make a mess of my couch, aren’t you?”

Y/n turned her head to look at Harry as he hooked a finger into the flimsy material and pulled it to the side so he could look at her pussy, “I’m always wet for you, Daddy,” she spoke quietly with rounded eyes.

Harry grinned and nodded, “I know you are baby.”

Harry braced himself with one arm on the back of the couch as he pushed himself into her. They both gasped at the delicious feeling of being connected. Two bodies as one. Moving together, breathing one another in, deeply attached and intrinsically joined.

When he’d dipped in as far as his balls would allow Y/n let out a groan that was too loud so Harry used his free hand to cover her mouth as he continued to rail into her, “Shhh… thought you wanted to keep up the appearance of being innocent. Wouldn’t want anyone to know what kind of whore you are, getting fucked on the couch in my office right next to the break room. Anyone in there could have heard you. Is that what you want?” Harry panted his words as he worked himself into her, the couch began to lightly bang into the wall at his thrusts, “You want people to hear how good I give it to you? How hard I make you come?”

Y/n’s eyes were rolled into the back of her head. She was happy to be a hole for him to come in but his cock always felt so good inside of her. And the cloth of the arm of the couch pressed into her pelvis and clit just right. She was glad his hand was over her mouth because he was driving into her deeply and each time he bottomed out she grunted into his hand unintentionally.

Harry spoke quietly into her ear as he continued fucking her, his balls whacking into her flesh, the obscene sound of wet pussy being fucked and skin colliding in repeated cadence in time with the couch hitting the wall, “I bet they all have their ears pressed to the door right now. They can all hear you little pussy getting fucked hard. That’s what you wanted, Y/n? Wanted to show off how good your cunt gets pounded?”

Her gurgles were muffled and Harry’s palm was wet with her saliva. He could tell she was drooling. He could see how red her face was and that she had goosebumps on her skin. Her eyes were fluttering. She was about to come. Which was good because so was he and he had to get going. His guests would be meeting with him in his office and he knew there would be a bit of cleanup involved.

“Gonna come on Daddy’s cock again? Didn’t you just come on his cock this morning, baby? Fffuck, my little girl is so needy. Needs Daddy’s come inside of her, doesn’t she? Poor thing. Wants to get knocked up and keep me forever doesn’t she?”

Y/n moaned and her walls clenched Harry’s cock as her orgasm took over. Her limbs stiffened and she grasped onto the material of the couch. Yes. She wanted all of that. If she could keep him forever, make him give her babies, and then he’d have to keep her.

Harry hissed at how tight her pussy gripped him but he continued his thrusts until he began spurting into her, punching into her deeply so his come could coat her and fill her insides.

Y/n opened her eyes when Harry released his hand from over her mouth and put her panties back into place. He helped her up and kept her in his arms, kissing her temple, “Okay to walk out of here like you are? Or do need a minute?”

She gulped and wiped under her eyes with one hand as she clutched onto Harry’s arm with her other, “I just need to wipe my face and calm myself a little.”

“Whatever you need. I have a mirror behind the cabinet door if you need it.”

Y/n straightened herself out and waved her hands over her face to cool down a bit as Harry wiped up the couch and then got his laptop ready for the meeting.

“Okay. I’m good now,” she smiled as she picked up her purse from the coffee table.

Harry kissed her forehead, “See you tonight at home at 7.”

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[theunbearableweightofpedropascal]

Angel

Summary: Coming home from college without a degree has you scrambling to find your place in the world. Charlie just might be your savior.

A/N: I was thinking this would be set around eclipse. This was in the drafts for a while.

Warnings: Besides an age gap (reader in her 20s Charlie in his 40s) there is none.

Word Count: 3.1K

You didn’t expect your life to turn out the way it did, and neither did the people of Forks. If the confused looks you would get on the way into town were anything to go by. You had been a stellar student, assignments were early if not on time, and teachers never had a bad thing to say about you. You graduated and moved on to college like everyone would expect, but college was harder. It wasn’t even the work, it was you. 

For once you had no set path, everyone else just seemed to know what they wanted to do. After 2 years you realized how far behind you felt you decided to take a break. If you didn’t know what you wanted to do you were just wasting time and money. The loneliness set in soon after too. Although you have friends they’re all off doing their things, making their place in the world. 

Your dad helped if only by sending cringe Facebook posts captioned “It’s never too late.” His efforts were much appreciated but it’s not a good feeling when you feel like you are in last place for a race you didn’t even know you were running. Staying holed up in your room won’t help but at least you won’t have to run into anyone you know. You hate feeling like such a disappointment even though your parents assured you that would never be the case.

After a few weeks of licking your wounds, you started looking for jobs. You reach downtown and begin combing through your options. All of which would require you to run into people who would ask too many questions that you do not want to answer. Forks was already limited in what they had and if you wanted to avoid working for the Newton family your choices were much more slim. But you do take note of it just in case. Syphering through your selections you almost want to give up.

Turning the corner you bump smack into another person, you brace yourself for a fall that doesn’t come. Peeking through one eye you make out a badge and ‘C. Swan’. You immediately straighten yourself up after realizing you just bumped into Chief Swan. 

“You alright-”

“I’m so sorry-”

The both of you speak at the same time, a loud silence fills the air as you both stare at each other. Your wide eyes and his furrowed brow. You snap out of it first and bend down to pick up your fallen pamphlets, The Chief crouches down to help you. 

“You don’t have to do that Chief Swan.” He ignores you in favor of picking up the rest, stealing a glance at them before handing them back to you. 

“Charlie’s fine.” He scratches his head before telling you, “Since you’re looking we could use another receptionist down at the station.” Charlie took pity on you, Although he isn’t one for gossip everyone’s been talking about how you came back from university without finishing. He knows what it feels like to be lost especially in a town like Forks. 

“Really?” The prospect of working at the station was much better than any option sitting in your hands. “Is there anything for me to fill out?”

“No just stop by on Monday and I’ll have Helen walk you through everything.” His mouth forms into what you think is a half-smile, and you return it tenfold.

The conversation with Charlie was so refreshing you’re unsure why out of all the people in Forks he was the one to make you feel normal. You realize it’s because he’s the first person to not question or probe why you’re back here. Working at the station doing administration would be perfect. On your way home you mentally comb through your closet for appropriate clothes you can wear to the station for work. The combination list isn’t huge but you could make it work.

……..

Monday morning you awake at 6:00 am to begin getting ready, he never mentioned a time but you imagine how bad you would look strolling in there at 1:00 pm. You decide on black stretchy office pants, a chocolate sweater, and white sneakers that are comfortable enough to do sustainable walking. Grabbing your backpack you pack your essentials and bid your father goodbye before heading off.

On the way in you have enough time to stop for some coffee so you order for yourself and Charlie as a thank you. You make sure to get his black with no sugar, though you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover you can’t imagine he enjoys cremer. The last stretch of your walk toward the station has your heart pounding. You're not even sure what you are nervous about it shouldn’t be that hard since it’s Forks.

The station smells like stale coffee and mothballs, the atmosphere is mostly static but that’s given. Upon walking up to the front desk you see an older redhead who you assume is Helen. You smile as you approach her and she returns one.

“Excuse me, Chief Swan said to come up here for you to train me on administration stuff.” You hope Charlie actually talked to her.

“Of course, he told me about you yesterday dear follow me.” You set down your coffee before being given the grand tour. After a minute you’re back at the front being directed on your daily duties. Most of which is pretending to look busy, Helen prefers solitaire on her computer to get her through the day. On the other hand, you brought a book that remains hidden behind the ancient monitor in front of you. 

You thought about bringing Charlie his coffee but his office lights are off and his doors are locked so he must be out patrolling already. Within 45 minutes you’re given your first task of making more coffee, while the water pours out you see Charlie step into the break room. His eyes look surprised to see you but his face doesn't change, he peers around you toward the coffee maker before he can ask you to tell him. 

“I bought you coffee on the way in, it is at the front desk.” You quickly leave the break room to get it before he can react. On your way back you inform him, “Black, no sugar, no cream.”

“Thank you.” As he takes the cup your hands brush his, and he can feel the increased beating of his heart. It’s the most contact he’s had with a woman. He likes it. Your bright smile gives him that butterfly feeling he hears Bella talk about with her friend.

“No thank you, Sher- Charlie I appreciate the opportunity.” He waves off your thanks as if he does stuff like this all the time. 

“You adjusting OK?” He finds he wants to keep conversation with you despite his nature. You may be surprised but you don’t show it, enjoying this interaction.

“Yes, Helen is nice and I get to just pretend to work all day.” You bump your hip against him before you can think better of it.

Charlie surprises you with a deep chuckle, It’s not a full-blown laugh but it’s more than enough. It’s no secret that Charlie is one of the more attractive men in Forks, but you didn’t think of him like that until now. Not many men could pull off the 70s pornstache, or his grumpy attitude without being a complete ass. Your thoughts are interrupted by Charlie leaning down to speak quietly to you.

“Well let me know if you need more books to keep you busy Bella’s got tons of those romance ones.” He rolls his eyes playfully and nods his head before heading to his office. 

In the wake of his leave, you revel in the way his deep voice felt so close to your ear. However, you don’t dwell on his actions too much because there is no way he was flirting with you. Making your way back to the front desk you see Helen packing up to leave, she informs you she’s taking lunch. 

Charlie lets out an exasperated sigh at the stack of paperwork waiting for him when he unlocks his office. The coffee you brought him goes straight down like a shot, he appreciates the fact that you knew he wouldn’t like the extra bullshit. Throughout his shift, he sneaks peeks at you. He pauses when he sees you talking on the phone, telling himself he’s only checking to make sure you don’t need help. But the way your lips move has him in a trance, he snaps out of it before you can catch him. 

Even though he spent a fair amount of time staring at you he managed to complete over half of his paperwork. He’s overdue for a break and he knows you could use one since you never took a lunch.  

You have been manning the phones even after Helen came back, you know you should’ve taken your 1-hour lunch but you were in a groove. At least until Charlie strolled up beside you to see what you were doing. You could smell Irish Spring wafting off of him with a hint of laundry detergent. 

“You busy?” It was a loaded question on his part but he didn't want to just command you to come with him. 

“Not for the Chief.” You turn your body towards him to prove your words, and in return the corner of his mouth lifts almost like a smile.

“Lunch on me then?” He asks you with his hands balled in his pockets.

“I’ll never turn down a free lunch.” You turn to Helen to check that she’ll be okay, and she gives you a wink nodding her head toward the chief telling you to ‘have fun’. You raise our eyebrows at the implication.

On the way out Charlie gets the door, and his veiny forearm peeks out from his uniform. You wouldn’t say you have a thing for hairy guys but yet again Charlie somehow makes it work. Luckily you could blame the frigid breeze for your flustered expression. You follow his lead to the cruiser and he opens your door for you again. Your bashful expression after thanking him goes straight to his lower stomach, it’s been a while since a woman looked at him so fervently. 

Once he’s in the cruiser a comfortable silence fills the air, and you think of all the things you could bring up with him later in the diner. So far all you’ve come up with are sports and books but honestly, that should be more than enough for Charlie. Orange leaves take up most of the ground, a warning for the upcoming months. The diner is the same as always when you pull up, you open the door before Charlie can hustle his way to where you are. The stern look he gives you only makes your sudden attraction to him worse. 

The bell above the door alerts Cora to your presence. Charlie saddles up right behind you urging you forward with his hand on your middle back. Walking past the patrons, you can feel the questioning stares. But you’re sure Charlie won’t pay them any mind so neither do you. At the booth, Charlie gestures for you to slide in first.

Cora turns to you for your order since she already knows Charlie’s by heart.

“I’ll do a burger and fries with a sprite please.” You smile at Cora as she takes down your order. 

“So,” You turn to Charlie, “What’s been going on in the sports world?” 

Charlie’s side glance is enough to make you laugh. “Steelers are cleaning up, they have a path to the Super Bowl.” He didn’t mean to look at you crazy but it was the first time in a while someone was genuinely interested in his interests. The flutters in his stomach make another appearance. 

“My dad’s a cowboy fan so it’s the same thing every year.” Charlie snorts at that. 

The sound of plates landing in front of you ends your and Charlie’s moment. Looking up your eyes meet Cora’s and you thank her before she leaves again. You and Charlie waste no time digging into your food. With all of your fries and most of your burger gone you throw in the towel, leaning back against the booth.

“You gonna eat that?” Charlie eyes the rest of your burger.

“No, you can have it.” After your acceptance, he finishes it in one quick bite. You wish you didn't find that attractive.

……….

After your first lunch together many were shared, Charlie would always schedule his break around yours to make sure you ate. He also wanted to spend time with you when the opportunity would lend itself. The feeling was mutual, you put in more effort with your work outfits and make-up. Every morning you would stop to get Charlie coffee on the way in, and Helen would always give you sly smiles. You figured she picked up on the undertones of your and Charlie’s interactions, but unlike most people, she kept it to herself.

That didn’t stop others from probing you about your “Diner Dates” with the Chief. When you were collecting produce a few older women came up to you under the guise of concern. They told you getting with a man that age wouldn’t be good for any girl your age, while it was good advice you know it wasn’t given with good intentions. Instead, you pretend to not know what they are talking about effectively outing their ill-informed gossip. Charlie also hadn’t shown any initiative to ask you out on an actual date so you’re unsure where the fuel is coming from. 

The next day at work you decide to pull back seeing as the entire town somehow thinks you both are dating. You took your lunch before Helen, the words of the older ladies on replay in your head. Sure it was the wrong messenger but it was the right message you don’t know what you were thinking. 

It didn’t last a day, Charlie came by the desk deliberately when Helen took her lunch. 

“Hey there’s some discrepancies with the evidence log of Riley’s stuff, can you help me sort through it.” Though he posed it as a question he began to walk toward his office immediately. 

Once you’re in the office he shuts the door behind you before he moves to stand in front of his desk.

“I just uh wanted to check that everything was alright,” He clears his throat before continuing, “That you feel comfortable or if there’s something I’ve done.” After he finishes your face morphs to shock.

“No of course not, I just know there’s been some gossip around town about us dating and figured I’d have lunch by myself.” Charlie’s eyebrows furrow at your admission.

“I haven’t heard anything did someone say something to you?” His voice drops at the thought of anyone badgering you about this. 

“It’s not a big deal, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfo-” He cuts you off with a deadpan stare. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable with people thinking a woman out of my league is dating me?” His definitive words leave you stunned. “It is a big deal, do you remember who it was?”

“No it’s fine Charlie really,” You try to convince him.

“It’s not if means you don’t go to lunch with me.” He gripes.

“I didn’t realize you enjoyed my company that much.” You stare at him until he returns your gaze.

“Well I do.” He assures you.

The both of you stand in front of each other in silence, the smile grows bigger on your face at Charlie’s confession. 

“Does this mean you want to go on a date with me?” You inch your way closer to him, gently tugging his tie. 

“Of course I do, I was working my way up to it.” He swallows hard when he feels you get even closer to him. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes never stray from his as your smile widens. Charlie’s eyes fall to your lips just as quickly as he looks away. You grab his hands placing them on your waist before bringing your lips to his ear. “How about now?” 

Charlie’s hands firmly grip your waist when he feels your warm breath tickle his ear. His pants grow tighter when your perfume invades his nostrils. When you reer back to look at him he wastes no time planting his lips on yours. His mustache tickles underneath your nose but you respond back with the same fervor. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, Charlie groans at your eagerness. 

Your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck to play with the hair on the back of his neck. When his tongue licks your bottom lip you eagerly open your mouth to him, pressing your chest against his. Charlie lets his hands dip to cup your ass through the jeans you’re wearing, earning himself a pretty moan from you. The way his tongue licks into your mouth gives you ideas of what else he would be good at. 

But all good things come to an end, and a knock at the door sends you two flying apart. You immediately focus on fixing yourself so it doesn’t look like you were in a make-out session with your boss. A folder catches your eye and you pick it up hoping to look busy. Helen peeks her head in to let Charlie know Bella is getting dropped off by Edward. Charlie’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the mention of his daughter’s boyfriend, you can’t stop the giggle that pours out of you. 

Helen slips back out and Charlie walks over to the far corner you’ve placed yourself in. “It’s a little backward now but would you let me take you out on a proper date?” 

“I’ll have to check my schedule.” You smile up at him knowing he knows you’re joking.

“How does Saturday at 7 sound?” He bends down to your ear before continuing, “I know a nice Italian place in Port Angeles.” When he pulls back he is glad to see the bashful expression on your face. He’s still got it. 

“It sounds great Charlie.” You get on your tip toes to peck him on the cheek before exiting his office. 

On the way to your desk, you see Edward and Bella sitting in the waiting chairs talking. As you sit down you see Bella’s head snap in your direction, her and Edward's conversation halting. You pretend to do work as usual until Charlie comes out to greet Bella and grunt in Ed’s direction. 

[the-mandawhor1an]

Just a scratch - Din Djarin x Reader drabble

Summary: Life as the assistant in a droid-operated doctor’s office isn't eventful. That is, unless a certain frequent visitor ends up in your capable hands again. This time he’s in for a bit more than just some bacta  Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI! brief description of wounds, some Mando’a (translation at the end), no face reveal (sorry!), allusion to sexytime A/N: This was fun! This little drabble is for @janaispunk’s 1500 follower celebration. The prompt was “neck kisses” and our boy Din – I decided to play around with a younger Din and the prompt basically screamed for an inner conflict about his oath (His age isn't mentioned but in my head he's in his 20s here) Fun fact, the actual fic part is exactly 1500 words. Unbeta'd, be nice 🙏

It is a slow day today, boring even.

So boring that you decide to clean the reception, dust off the high-shine furniture while listening to the low hum of all the equipment in the adjacent room. Your name badge rustles with every swipe of your arm. The light above you flickers. It is late in the evening, close to the end of your shift. 

To be quite frank, you like it like this. 

Empty. Peaceful. Tranquil.

Working in a doctor’s office, you’re regularly presented with emergencies that drain your energy quickly. Yes, the actual healing is mostly done by droids, but you occasionally have to lend a hand. Some people don’t trust droids. Or they are scared so you end up taking care of them.  

You understand to a degree. Sometimes the ‘doctor’ malfunctions and it’s your job to make sure it doesn’t harm the patients. And – because of your regular maintenance, you’d like to think – nothing has ever happened since you started your job here. Basically you are both a mechanic and the receptionist. And, well, the healer for certain patients that under no circumstance want a droid near them.

Such as the Mandalorian who has visited the office quite often now. In fact, you’re sure he deliberately stays close to the space port just to make sure he can see you when he is injured. 

He never really talks much until you start your process. He likes to tell you about where his injuries come from. He’s a bounty hunter, that much you have figured out by yourself. Most of his wounds aren’t threatening to his health, scratches, bruises, an occasional concussion. 

Today is no different. Just as you are about to take off your name tag, the door opens and he stumbles in. You’re familiar with the sound of his steps and take no time to get the med droid out of the exam room. 

He plops down on the table and starts removing his cape. 

“Well, what do we have this time?”

You don’t even need an answer. The hole ripped into the flight suit and the dark stain on his shoulder says enough. “Got bitten,” he states. With your head slightly tilted, you ask “You got bitten?”  The helmet halts for a second, staring at you. He said what he said. 

“May I?” you ask, offering a hand in taking off the metal plates that have to come off before you can tend to his wound. He nods and you carefully detach the shoulder plates. He hisses underneath the helmet. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. Placing the armor parts gently on the table next to him, you watch him take his gloves off. The gauntlets follow, as does the chest plate. His fingers feel for the closure of his vest. “Let me get some Bacta while you’re busy,” you stumble when you realize you’ve been staring at him for a while.

“I need you to take the shirt off as well…” you add as you’re already halfway in the storage to get equipment and hide your blushed cheeks. Technically there is enough Bacta in the exam room, but you know he needs privacy. 

The topic of his creed has come up before – when you’ve been treating him for the first time. He had suffered a concussion and you wanted to check his head, but ultimately he refused and explained why. You didn’t understand then, you don’t now, but you don’t have to. You’re just here to make sure he isn’t dying, right? 

When you return, he sits there in all his glory. Broad shoulders, a toned back, a slender waist and that damn helmet on his head. Tan, freckled skin and, rather pleasant to see, there’s no bruises on him this time. You’ve seen it all. The scars, bruises, new, old; scratches, cuts, blaster wounds. But a bite? That’s new. 

With a hand on his wounded shoulder, you take out a small light to see if the wound shows any signs of infection. “I know we usually have a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ agreement but I have to break that this time. How? And was that a bounty?” Again, he hisses as your fingers graze the skin, avoiding your touch by arching his back. “Yes,” he replies. What else would it have been, realistically? An animal? Not here. And certainly not with a bite wound up that high. Or this is a rather unfortunate bedroom accident. 

You take the Bacta and spray it on the bite mark. It’s not too deep luckily. Neither has it hit any larger blood vessel nor are his precious muscles at risk. It probably hurts a lot, but he is used to pain. “Not a human, of course,” he says as the spray starts closing the little marks the teeth of the quarry have left in his flesh. With a damp wipe you wash away the blood on his shoulder, far enough away from the wound that he shouldn’t wince again. But he does. “Fierce warrior, huh? Is it that painful?” You half-mock, but your concern still audible underneath. This isn’t a wound that should hurt. Judging by his behavior, it’s uncomfortable. 

“It’s not. It’s just … you” “Me?” You take a step back to look into that black visor. Sometimes you wonder how he looks like underneath it. If his face is as pretty as you’ve imagined. “I–” he stammers. “I’m not used to being touched. Not so close to the helmet.” 

“Oh,” you let out. It’s not loud by any means but he’s close, so he hears it anyway. “Do you want to wipe your blood off of yourself?” You offer the cloth with an outreached arm. He hesitates, staring at the stained fabric you’re holding towards him. The pain in his shoulder slowly dissipates and the throbbing leaves. “N-no,” he finally says. His voice is low, breathy. You can clearly see that his breathing is more labored. Is he anxious? 

The hand with the rag slowly retreats and you take a moment to process what he says. “Do you want me to–” He nods, so you continue wiping away the blood. The holes in his skin have closed up and now only a set of pink little spots remains. His blood has traveled far down his back and you gulp before slowly moving down with your hand. His skin is warm and you can’t deny that there is suddenly a weird tension between you two. He sits here, watching you touch his exposed skin. You’ve done it before but never so close to his neck. Is he sensitive? As the side of your hand brushes against his neck, he flinches. You do it again and the helmet turns to face you. For a few seconds you stare at each other. 

You’re standing in between his knees, a respectful distance between your bodies otherwise. “I would’ve never guessed that,” you take your unoccupied hand and let your fingertips wander over the other side of his neck. He shivers and exhales sharply. 

He leans into your touch. The beat of his heart is visible, a vein pulsing underneath your index. “Don’t,” he hushes. Don’t what?

You halt the movement of both of your hands. He hesitantly extends one arm and rests his hand on your waist. First you expect him to push you away, but rather than that – he pulls you closer. He straightens his back until you’re almost eye to eye. You know he’s broad, but being so close to him made that abundantly clear.

“Don’t stop,” he pleas. The softness in his voice could melt your heart. The cloth falls onto the table behind him, squelching upon impact with the cold metal surface. Both your hands rest on his skin, drawing small circles on his neck. 

“Can I take that as confirmation you’ve been staying close on purpose?” Again, he nods. “I hope you’re not getting injured on purpose though,” you say with a smirk. A single chuckle emits from underneath the helmet. “I’m not, not any more at least.” you shake your head in amusement. “Could’ve just said something. Ask me out or something.” “And what would we do? I can’t take that helmet off.” 

I have an idea.

Leaning forward, you stroke over his shoulders and down his arms, making way for your lips to brush his shoulder. “Osik,” he curses under his breath. You’ve heard him curse in Mando’a before so your smirk just grows. Your lips travel up his shoulder, until they finally reach his neck. “I mean,” you talk in between kisses, feeling him melt against your chest. “I know something we could do that doesn’t necessarily need the helmet to come off.” On your life, you swear you hear him whimper. The battle-hardened Mandalorian whimpers. Because you offer what he probably has been waiting for for a while now. 

“Would you like that?” You tease. His hand travels down your waist. As it ends by your hip, his second hand joins. “Yeah.” 

_________________________

Osik – shit 

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 23

PREVIOUS

There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.

The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.

The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.

Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.

“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.

So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.

“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.

“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.

“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.

The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.

Wymack.

Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.

“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.

“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.

“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.

“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.

“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.

“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.

Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.

That stupid bet.

The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.

Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.

The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.

Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))

“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.

“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.

“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.

“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.

“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.

“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.

“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.

Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.

“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.

Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.

It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).

Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.

“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.

“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.

Andrew blinks.

“She’s coming here?” He asks.

“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.

He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.

“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.

Shorter one today

NEXT

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees  @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex​ @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​ @omgrubelangel​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 9

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: Angst, canonical character death, hurt/comfort and many, many feels.

Part 9: Intensive Care

You only felt a little ridiculous repeating yourself for the hospital receptionist.

“Dean McGillicuddy,” you said. Your nails tapped impatiently on the counter. Meanwhile, the woman behind the desk seemed to take her sweet time sorting through the computer records.

“He’s in Intensive Care,” she informed you. “Just so you know, only family members are allowed to visit at this time. What’s your relation to the patient?”

You made the decision to lie before you even really thought about it—with an age-old tactic since the movie While You Were Sleeping, circa 1995. 

“I’m his fiancé,” you said. “What’s the room number?” 

Once she gave you the room, you booked it down the hall and up the stairs three floors (the elevator was taking too long). You were breathing heavier by the time you swept into the room, but then your lungs constricted. 

A gasp got stuck in your throat when you saw Dean. He laid intubated in the hospital bed, with several wires crisscrossed along the floor, two monitors steadily beeping, various bruises and lacerations spread across his face and arms, and a nasty cut stitched down his forehead. 

“Dean…” Tears welled up in your eyes.

Standing beyond his bed was an older man you hadn’t seen before. He had dark hair, a salt-and-pepper beard, handsome features. He also looked banged up with his arm in a sling (presumably from the accident), and in his blood-stained undershirt, wrinkled buttoned-down, and jeans. He looked up at you, confused and suspicious.

“Who are you?” he asked. There was edge in his deep voice, and his posture straightened. Defensive. Protective.

Another small gasp fell from your lips. Your gaze lifted from Dean to the man’s face and you instinctively told him your name.

He seemed to recognize it in an instant. His eyes widened as he realized who you were, then they softened. His shoulders loosened.

So you approached Dean’s bed and raised a shaking hand to the crown of his head. Very gently, you brushed back his hair, traced the outline of his stitches down his forehead. You sought the warm thread of your soul bond, but you couldn’t feel him at all. The connection was solid, but silent. 

The man on Dean’s other side shifted on his feet, bracing one hand on the bed frame. You then realized this must be John Winchester, Dean’s father, who you’d never met before. And he was watching you with some measure of curiosity. 

With a hot blush, you remembered your manners and stuck out your hand across the bed.  

“I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Winchester…sir.”

After a beat, his shoulders relaxed. His lips pulled into a smile and he took your hand.

“Just John is fine,” he said. “...Dean’ll be happy you’re here.”

You gave a weak smile. John was slow to lower back into his seat at Dean’s right, while you stood at Dean’s left. Before you could find something else to say, Sam walked in with a duffel bag and hell on his heels. He spared you a smile and a hug when he noticed you.  

“Good to see you,” he said, with a gentle pat of your back. You let out a halting breath.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the circumstances.

But when Sam released you and looked at his father, his face fell into a tight frown.

“Something wrong?” John asked.

Sam’s lips pursed. He dumped the duffel bag at his father’s feet. “You think I wouldn’t find out?” 

John’s brows furrowed. “What’re you talking about?”

“That stuff from Bobby. You don’t use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one,” Sam said. “You’re planning on bringing the demon here and having some stupid macho showdown!”

This conversation was lost on you, but you weren’t about to interrupt. You sat down on the edge of the bed, took Dean’s hand, and watched Sam in worry. John, however, looked calm.

“I have a plan, Sam,” he said.

“That’s exactly my point!” Sam shouted. “Dean is dying, and you have a plan. You know, you care more about killing this demon than you do about your own son!”

You’d never seen him so angry before. It was starting to scare you, especially when he emphasized that Dean was dying. 

Fresh tears burned in your eyes and your lower lip wobbled as you looked down at Dean. You didn’t notice that John glanced at you before answering his son.

“Do not tell me how I feel,” John argued back. “I am doing this for Dean.”

Sam glared incredulously. “How? How is revenge going to help him? You’re not thinking of anybody but yourself! It’s the same selfish obsession!”   

“You know what, I thought this was your obsession too,” John shot back. “This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be a part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would’ve happened!”

“It was possessing you, Dad!” Sam ground out. “I would have killed you too.”

You perked up at that, mostly confused. You’d pieced together that the demon had somehow caused their car crash, but it had possessed John too?

“Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now,” John said. 

“Go to hell,” Sam spat. 

It probably wasn’t your place to interrupt, but part of you wanted to speak up and stop this. You started to feel a growing sense of anxiety and frustration, even anger at these two men. You had the sudden urge to tell both of them to shut the hell up. 

Then a quiet gasp fell from between your lips as you realized something. You were anxious, yes, and scared. But angry? 

Had that thought really been yours?

It felt a bit like that first time, long ago. When you were a child standing in a cold cemetery on the worst day of your life, but you started to sense thoughts and feelings that weren’t your own…

“I should’ve never have taken you along in the first place,” John said. “I knew it was a mistake!”

Sam opened his mouth to spew back a hot retort, until a glass of water on the rolling tray between them fell and shattered on the tile ground.

I said shut up!

This time when you gasped, both John and Sam noticed you. Both quieted with apologetic looks. 

And one of Dean’s monitors started to beep more rapidly. All three of you stared at it for a moment in shock—and then it flatlined. 

Sam rushed out of the room and called for help while you pressed the emergency button multiple times. John called his eldest son’s name, and was still trying to reach him when the nurses rushed in. Two of the nurses guided you out of the way. You didn’t want to leave his side, but in shock and desperation you looked back at Sam. He gently took you by the shoulders over by the door. 

John also leaned against the wall while the medical staff tried more than once to resuscitate Dean with the defibrillator. Each shock arched his chest, but didn’t stabilize his heart. 

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head. Tears poured down your face as you hiccupped a sob.   

“Still no pulse,” the nurse said. The doctor nodded.

“Okay, let’s go again,” he said. “360.”

“Charging.”

“Clear.”

“All clear.”

By the third round, you were all but leaning against Sam with your face buried in his side. His supportive arm wrapped around your shoulder. He had the door jam in a death grip with his other hand.

I said get back!

The thought rang out clear as a bell in your mind. This time you could even hear Dean’s voice. 

And his heartbeat finally stabilized into a steady rhythm. You let out a shaking sob in relief. Sam’s hand tightened on your shoulder and he led you to a nearby chair. You looked up at him, not knowing what you wanted to say or what to think. Sam had similar relieved tears in his eyes. He nodded and let out a sigh before he turned back to his father, who looked three shades paler. 

“Want to get back to your room?” Sam said. After a moment, John seemed to snap out of it and actually see his younger son. He nodded, though his gaze was focused on Dean. Sam’s lips pressed, but he went over and helped make sure his dad made it back to his hospital room.

“I’m sorry about that. All that arguing,” Sam said. He returned to you in Dean’s room with a cup of coffee for you. “Me and my dad…we don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

That was a bit more than a petty argument, but okay, you thought. 

“I can relate,” you said. “But Sam, what happened? What caused the crash?”

Sam hesitated, but he proceeded to tell you more about the Yellow Eyed demon, as well as the events that started from Sam and Dean finding their father, and the demon, and ending with being hit full-force by a mack truck. 

It was a lot to process with one watery cup of coffee, but you managed with a slight tremor in your hands. 

Sam assessed you.

“Did you drive here without stopping?” he asked.

You looked down at yourself and realized you were still wearing your blouse, skirt, and heels for work. You had stopped at your house briefly to grab a few things, but you still hadn’t changed or eaten since you left the museum.

“More or less,” you said.

“Maybe you should—”

“Sam,” you interrupted, “I…I heard something. Felt something. I think…I think it was Dean.”

Sam straightened in his seat across from you. “You did?”

“Through the…our connection,” you said. “When the glass shattered, and again when he…before they brought him back.”

Sam brought his folded hands to his lips as he thought. A determined look then flashed across his face. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” you asked. 

“I can…well, it’s a long story. But basically, I felt him too. I’m going to see if we can do something with that,” Sam admitted. You didn’t know what he meant, but you weren’t about to stop him. He left you alone with your coffee and your thoughts. 

You got up from your chair and made your way to Dean’s bedside. You touched his hand, his long fingers and scraped knuckles. You sought out the warm current of energy inside your mind, and you tugged on the soul bond.

Dean? 

You waited, but there was no response. 

Dean, can you hear me? you tried again. 

Nothing. Your shoulders fell as you deflated. The damage to his brain was enough to be unpredictable, but still, the doctor had very little hope that Dean would wake up.

You bit your lower lip to stop it from trembling. Tears still worked their way down your face. You covered it with your hands, as if you could block out the world and stop it from moving forward.

You just didn’t know that Dean’s ghost-like spirit was standing right next to you. He’d tried to call out to you, to Sam, to John several times, but none of you could hear him. Now, his heart was tearing at the sight of you. 

Unlike in phone calls and emails and texts you two had shared over the past year, he couldn’t just tell you it was going to be all right anymore. 

Because this time, he had no idea what he was going to do.

Sam brought in a Ouija board to try and communicate with the spirit that was most likely Dean. You were skeptical, and even wary of that hoodoo crap, but Sam asked you to trust him.

Eventually, Sam was successful in contacting Dean. He was able to tell you and Sam that an actual reaper was after him.

“What’s a reaper? As in black hood and scythe—Grim Reaper?” you asked Sam. 

“Pretty much,” he said. “They help schlep souls to the afterlife. But if one’s here naturally for Dean…damn it.”

“What?” you asked in worry. 

“He’s…he’s screwed,” Sam said. “There’s no way to stop it.”

That gripped you icily, but the thread of energy inside you pulsed in your chest. You raised a hand to your heart.

Our souls are like molecules, you remembered Dean telling you once. Just trying to connect.

“No,” you replied. “I can still feel him, which means he isn’t gone. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I’m going to find out,” Sam said. He’d renewed his determination with a stealed look. “There’s gotta be a way. Dad will know what to do.”

Sam got up and once again left you alone in the room, packing up the board as he went. 

You let out a shaky sigh. He was likely off to do his own research…but so could you!

You went down to your car and grabbed your laptop (plus a sandwich from the food court). From there you returned to Dean’s bedside, tore into a tuna melt, and started looking up everything you could find on reapers.

It had been a long drive from South Dakota, and the most trying hours of your life, but you focused on the screen in front of you. 

A few hours later, you struggled to keep your bleary eyes open and had to jolt yourself awake. You hadn’t found anything that could help Dean so far.

With a sigh, you set your laptop in the second, now empty chair. 

Dean? you tried again, but you could no longer feel his spirit like you had before. The bond was there, but it wasn’t thrumming strong. It was just…steady. 

For now, a traitorous thought whispered. You shook your head and got up from the chair, stretching your cracking back as you went. You’d kicked off your heels a while ago, so you padded barefoot to Dean’s bedside and sat down. You took comfort in watching his chest rise and fall in easy sleep. Or at least, you could pretend he was just sleeping.

Okay, channeling Sandra Bullock, you thought with a slight smile. You brushed your fingers through his short sandy hair, which was shades lighter than Sam’s and his father’s. Maybe Dean took after his mother. 

“I’m grateful, you know,” you said. Maybe it was silly to talk to him out loud, but getting the words out made you feel like he could actually hear you this time.

“Bobby, my dad, your dad. None of them got the time they thought they were going to have with their person. So…so however long we get, I’ll try to be all right with that,” you said, even though your voice started to break. 

“I just want you know, before anything else happens…that I love you,” you confessed. “I love you. The only regret I have is that I didn’t make you take me with you when you left. Because if I’m honest, I hate that you keep leaving me behind.”

You covered your face at the tears sliding down, trying and failing to blot them out. That’s when Sam returned. He was apologetic when he noticed the state you were in, but you waved him in anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you cry today.

“Have you found anything?” you asked, sniffling.

“I’ve looked, but there’s nothing that can repel or kill a reaper. I can’t find my dad either,” he said. 

That fell between you with a heavy thud. You didn’t want to acknowledge his words, so you distracted yourself. You noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes.  

“Do you need a coffee? You look like you do. I’ll get you one,” you said. You wiped your face and got up to do just that, slipping your heels back on. Sam smiled.

“When you do that, it kind of reminds me of Dean,” he said. 

Your head tilted curiously. “What?”

“He may not look it, but he’s been looking after me…pretty much my whole life,” Sam admitted.  

You smiled. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

When you left, Sam’s smile dropped. He approached his brother’s bedside.

“I don’t know how to help you,” he said. “But I’ll keep trying, all right? For her sake, for everyone…as long as you keep fighting.”

He smiled and laughed a little. “I mean, you can’t leave me alone here with dad. We’ll kill each other, you know that. Dean…you gotta hold on. You can’t go, man. Not now. We were just starting to be brothers again.”

Sam let out a shuddering sigh. He stood in silence there for a few minutes, just wracking his brain. What can I do? What the fuck do I do? 

When you returned, Sam was still standing in the same spot. He almost didn’t hear you when you offered him his cup of coffee. 

“Sam,” you started, but that was when both of you heard a hacking cough.

A gasp fell from your lips.

Dean was choking on his breathing tube because he was awake. Sam went to press the call button while you called for a nurse. Soon enough the room was crowded again with medical personnel. But this time, your tears were born of relief.

“Do you want some more water? Or are you hungry?” you asked. “I think I can snag you a sandwich from downstairs instead of the potato surprise they got cooked up for your neighbors.”

Dean stopped you from fluffing his pillow again. Sam sat at his right, not bothering to cover up his smile. 

“Hey, just stop, okay. Relax,” Dean said. He reached for your busy hands and un-busied them. He brought you down to sit on the edge of his bed. He liked the look of you in your pretty white blouse, black skirt, and heels. But he didn’t like how exhausted you and Sam looked. 

Dean stroked the back of your hand and glanced at Sam.

“You said a reaper was after me?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”  

“How’d I ditch it?” Dean asked.

“You got me,” Sam replied. “Dean, you really don’t remember anything?”

Dean rubbed his stomach with his free hand. “No, except for this pit in my stomach. Sam, something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” you asked in concern. Dean almost kicked himself. He didn’t want to worry you—

“I’d rather you tell me the truth than hide it from me,” you told him, more sternly. You’d picked up on the trail of his thoughts through the bond, which was once again flaring with life.

His lips quirked. “Damn. Forgot we’re basically human lie detectors again.”

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked into a smile. “So don’t bother trying, tough guy.” 

There was a knock on the door, making all three of you turn to see John Winchester. He stood in the doorway to Dean’s hospital room with his arm in a sling. 

“How you feelin’, dude?” John asked with a smile.

“Fine, I guess,” Dean replied. “I’m alive.”

You squeezed his hand at that, and he gave you a small smile. 

“That’s what matters,” John agreed.

“Where were you last night?” Sam asked. He stood from his seat, crossing his arms at his father. 

“I had some things to take care of,” John replied.

“Well, that’s specific.”

“Come on, Sam,” Dean interjected. You felt his annoyance and sensed this was an ongoing battle between the three men. That Dean had often been the one trying to play peacemaker here. The argument you witnessed between John and Sam made a lot more sense to you now. 

“Did you go after the demon?” Sam pressed.

John shook his head. “No.”

“You know, why don’t I believe you right now?” Sam snapped. 

Dean held in a sigh, lowering his head. He was too tired to do this balancing act between his father and brother. 

You rubbed his arm, though you looked between Sam and John uncertainly. You weren’t sure what to do either…

But John stepped into the room and kept his tone civil, even gentle. 

“Can we not fight?” he asked. “You know, half the time we’re fightin’, I don’t know what we’re fightin’ about. We’re just buttin’ heads.” 

Sam quieted then. He looked like he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Look, Sammy, I…I’ve made some mistakes. But I’ve always done the best I could,” John said. “I just don’t wanna fight anymore, okay?”

John looked damn near close to tears. According to Dean, this was a former Marine made of leather and grit and not much softness in between. You watched John in concern.

“Dad, are you okay?” Sam asked. He was picking up on the same thing—that something was off here.

But John only smiled. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just a little tired,” he said. “Hey, son, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

Sam agreed, though he still looked uncertain. John watched him leave, then his gaze turned to his eldest. You picked up on the subtle distraction for Sam, that maybe John wanted to talk with Dean in private. So you squeezed Dean’s hand and grabbed his water cup as you stood.

“I’m gonna refill this for you. I’ll be back,” you said. 

“Thanks, baby,” Dean said, though he reluctantly let you go. 

You weren’t proud of this, but when you left the room, you also left the door open a crack and stood near it with your back against the wall. You were too curious about John Winchester. While you’d gotten the gist of his relationship with Sam, you had only a small idea of what his relationship with Dean was like.

Meanwhile, inside the room, John stood by his son’s bedside. 

“You lucked out with that girl,” John said with a smile. Dean’s was softer, and you felt the warmth of it in your chest. 

“She’s…hell, I don't know why she puts up with me.” 

You were careful to keep your thoughts and emotions from Dean, but you couldn’t help melting at that. It made you feel a bit guilty for that part of you that resented him leaving you. His reasons were important, and as much as you hated the fact that hunting had landed him in the hospital, damn near dead…you understood his family’s fight.

But you were soon shaken from your thoughts as John said something unexpected.

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” he said. “Another one of those mistakes…they seem to keep pilin’ up.”

Dean looked at his father a bit harder. There was something wrong. “What’s going on, Dad?”

You listened as John apologized to Dean. He’d put too much on a child’s shoulders. He should’ve protected his son, both of his sons, better. He shouldn’t have made Dean grow up so fast. 

“I just want you to know that I am so proud of you,” John added. 

You sensed Dean’s discomfort, even as your heart broke for him. 

“This really you talking?” Dean asked. John laughed a bit. 

“Yeah, it’s really me.” 

“Why’re you saying this stuff?”

You couldn’t hear what John said next, but you felt Dean’s reaction. Shock, disbelief, confusion—it was a confusing mix to try and sort through. And it only piqued your curiosity further. Before you could figure it out though, the hospital room door opened.

You scrambled to make it look like you had just gotten back, but John graciously smiled and didn’t comment on your obvious eavesdropping.

“Do me favor, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Uh, sure, what do you need?” you asked. 

“Dean can be a bit like me. Stubborn,” he said. “Just…look after him for me, okay?” 

You looked up at him in slight confusion. “Of course.”

Though you nodded, you were also concerned. Was he planning to make a run for it without his sons again? Was he going to go after Yellow Eyes himself? 

John rested a gentle hand on your shoulder as he passed by you down the hall. You watched him go, but Sam returned with his dad’s requested coffee in hand. 

“I think he went back to his room,” you told him. “Though you might want to check in on your dad. Something seems a bit off with him.”

Sam frowned. He also touched your shoulder as he passed by, and it made you smile. Maybe it’s a Winchester thing.

You took a breath and refilled Dean’s water like you promised you would. When you got back to his room, his greeting smile was weaker than usual. You wanted to ask him about what his dad had meant by years ago, but…you didn’t think this was the time. Dean needed rest.

You set the cup of water on the rolling tray and once again sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Are you hungry? I’ll get you that sandwich, unless you want something else,” you offered. 

“I want you to stop running around,” Dean said. He sighed and rested a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry about all this.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “You were hurt, Dean. You don’t need to be sorry.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he said. His eyes were serious, boring into yours. You bit your lip in concern.

“But, there is something I want,” he said, a note of teasing in his voice. He tugged on your hand, playfully pulling you toward him. You inched a bit closer. 

“Come on, all the way,” he beckoned with a hand. You couldn’t help but smile and let him pull you into his arms, and then in for a soft kiss. It didn’t take long for him to deepen it, his warm hand spanning the small of your back. 

He’d been cleared by the doctor, but you were still careful with him when you touched the side of his face. It was rough with days of stubble. And he would be lucky if he didn’t have a scar left from the cut down his forehead. 

The past year alone had changed him, but you were so grateful he was alive.

Stroking his cheek, you pulled away so you could see his face. You wanted to tell him you loved him while he was awake. So you did.

“I love you, you know that?” you said. “Whether it was God, or the universe, or sheer luck of the draw, I’m glad you’re the one I got saddled with. You’re the one my soul chose.”

You both saw and felt Dean’s soft shock. Your words touched him in a way that maybe even he didn’t fully understand. 

His mouth fell open to respond, but before he could, both of you noticed a team of nurses and assistants rushing down the hallway. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Dean wondered. 

“Stay here. I’ll go check,” you said. You didn’t want him getting out of bed just yet, even if he was mysteriously healed. 

You hurried into the hall and followed the rush, only to find Sam.

He was holding John’s body on the ground, shouting, crying, and trying to shake his father awake. 

Dean’s body healed, but his heart was not so easily persuaded.

The three of you returned to South Dakota and performed a small, quiet funeral for John Winchester. Bobby explained that burning his body was insurance—so his spirit wouldn’t linger like your mom’s had. 

It made sense, but it still felt wrong to you to burn their father out in the open woods like this. It felt like it wasn’t enough. And though Dean tried to hide it from the bond, you knew he was breaking inside, just like Sam was. 

In the days afterwards, Sam and Dean stayed with Bobby while the latter worked on restoring the Impala, which had basically been crunched like a pretzel in the crash. It was beyond totaled, but if you had learned one thing about Dean, it was that this car was sacred. Even if there was one working part, it was worth taking it apart and putting it back together again.

So you watched him work in the salvage yard from inside the kitchen, where you and Bobby talked over a glass of iced tea. Slowly but surely, you were trying to get the man to cut back on the liquor.

“Something wasn’t right about it, Bobby,” you said. “When I talked to him, John was fine. He asked me to look after Dean, like he was about to take off by himself again. Like he knew he was going to leave, or…”

Like he knew he was going to die, your mind finished what you couldn’t say.

Bobby hefted a long sigh. He looked out the kitchen window at Dean for a moment. 

“Bobby?” you prodded.

“The Colt is missing,” he said. 

You nodded. The Colt was a gun, made by a known gun maker and hunter, Samuel Colt, in 1835. Sam and Dean had told you that this gun was made with special bullets. It was the only weapon on earth that could possibly kill any supernatural creature, including the Yellow Eyed demon. 

“The demon took it, didn’t he?” you said. 

“I think John gave it to him,” Bobby said. Your eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it was a trade,” he replied. “Dean’s life for John’s, and the gun that could kill him.”

And by him, you assumed he meant Yellow Eyes. Which meant that John hadn’t been after the demon, like Sam had assumed. John had struck a deal instead. 

A few days later, Sam convinced Dean to come with him to investigate an old voicemail on one of John’s phones—from a woman named Ellen. Dean was more inclined to keep working on his car, but he reluctantly agreed to find this woman at a bar in Nebraska, called Harvelle’s Roadhouse.  

You came by Bobby’s house after work to catch them before they left. You watched Dean pack his bag in swift moves. His face was relaxed, but he was careful to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself, away from the bond. You handed him a shirt of his that you had been borrowing, and he took it with a brief “thanks.” He hadn’t truly looked at you in days.

“Dean.” You halted him with a gentle hand on his arm. It got him to look at you, at least. 

“If you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, just call me,” you said. He gave you a smile that barely reached his eyes. 

“I’m fine, really,” he said. “But thanks. I’ll let you know when we’re on the way back. Guarantee, this isn’t gonna take long.”

That wasn’t what Sam said, but Dean just kissed you on the cheek and made his way downstairs to meet his brother.   

That was Monday. It was a Saturday by the time they got back, so you were able to come by your uncle’s house and catch the brothers talking outside. You started to head toward them, but you sensed Dean’s unease through the bond. So you hung back behind a large van that at the very least, needed a new bumper.

“About me and Dad,” you heard Sam say. “I’m sorry the last time I was with him, I tried to pick a fight. I’m sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him. So, you’re right. What I’m doing right now is too little. It’s too late.”

You heard emotion start to make Sam’s voice tremble, and your heart broke for him too.

“I miss him, man,” he said. “And I feel guilty as hell. And I’m not all right, not at all…but neither are you. That much I know.”

A tendril of Dean’s irritation made it through your bond. But it was laced with deeper emotions than you’d ever felt from him—self-loathing and disgust with himself being the least of them. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Sam said. You heard his boots crunch toward you, but you couldn’t make yourself move. 

When Sam eventually found you, he looked surprised to see you, but then he softened and laid a hand on your shoulder. 

What should I do? you wanted to ask him. You didn’t know what Dean needed right now. Did he need space? Should you try to talk to him, comfort him? And if you did, what the hell should you say? 

Dean had seemed to know exactly how to comfort you after you burned your mother’s ring, laying her to rest. Before that, he’d gotten you to open up about Danny Schmitt and how that experience had rattled you. But now, you couldn’t do the same for Dean, your boyfriend. Your soulmate. 

Sam didn’t have words for you either though. He just continued inside the house, leaving you standing at a crossroads of decision. 

Right now, you felt like a failure. Your mom had always known what to say to your dad. Their connection had seemed…well, seamless. 

But you were startled out of your thoughts when you heard a crash of metal on metal. You rushed out to the clearing where Dean had already spent two weeks working on the Impala. Now he was wrecking the hood and body all over again with a large crowbar. 

You remained at a distance for a minute, not sure how to get closer but too worried to leave him be. 

Dean? you reached out tentatively with your mind.

His hands tightened on the crowbar as he struck the dented hood of the car again. Then he beat through the windows with a spectacular shatter of glass.

You flinched with a small gasp. But that sound was enough to cut through it all, at least for Dean. He stopped short, though he was heaving for breath. He looked back at you over his shoulder, his eyes widening. 

He lowered his arms and was purposefully slow when he tossed the crowbar back onto the car’s hood, letting it go. He didn’t want to face you again. You knew because you felt his shame come through the connection.

You were hesitant at first, but you deemed it safe enough to approach him. His gaze stayed on the ground, even when you touched his back. His shirt was dusty and drenched with sweat. 

Sorry, he imparted to you. 

You shook your head and slipped your hand into his. He squeezed your hand, and that gave you the courage to wrap your free hand around his arm and press yourself against his tall, strong frame from behind. But he didn’t always have to be strong.

I love you, you reminded him. Your dad loved you too. 

You let out a shaky breath. 

The last thing he said to me was a request, you said, and with a slight smile, He said you could be a lot like him sometimes, a bit too stubborn. He asked me to take care of you…and I promised that I would.

Dean breathed heavily through his nose. You knew he was fighting it, but you rubbed his arm and stayed there until the dam in both of your minds finally broke.

He released everything he was hiding from you. All his shame, the depths of his distress and grief. It all but shredded your heart. 

Tears burned in your eyes and fell, but you didn’t let that stop you from slipping around him and taking his face in your hands. When he looked down at you, his eyes were shining and red.

His mouth trembled, but neither of you spoke. You just leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, bringing him to you as tight and warm as you could. 

His arms likewise slipped around your frame. At first it was just instinctive, holding you back. But as you continued to rub his back and soothe your fingers through his hair, his tight shoulders loosened.

Dean clung to you then, burying his face into your hair, your neck, pressing his lips into your skin. 

And he let go. 

AN: Whew, lots of drama and feels there. Every time I watch 2.01 I wanna give both brothers a ginormous hug. Especially Dean, poor guy.

But the reader finally met John (however brief that was). And she finally let Dean know exactly how she feels. The question is: when will Dean?

So let me know what you thought of this chapter!

The next one will be a bit lighter: the reader and Dean go on their first real date!

To keep reading: PART 10

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[wol-fica]

-𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 & 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟-

summary - you and jenna get into an argument about the fact that jenna is putting her work before you.

warnings - swearing, angst, happy ending cause i’m to sappy to break them up over anything except death

——————

Jenna messed up, she knows she did. She made the choice to put her job before her relationship which is why she is in the predicament right now.

Shouting had occurred and a glass on water was smashed, now she is slumped over on the couch with her head in her hands while you took refuge in the guest bedroom.

Jenna sighed, cursing herself out for being such an idiot. How could she let this happen? How could she be such an ass to you, her own girlfriend? Her thoughts invaded her brain so much that she decided to leave and go for a late night stroll.

Stepping out of the apartment, as quietly as she could, Jenna made her way down the hallway to the elevator which she took to the ground floor. After a swift greeting to the receptionist and waving to her neighbor, she exited the building to proceed on her stress-walk.

The sidewalk was lit with the soft glow of the street lamps as she walked, her head leaned down in sorrow. There were some people out, but not one bothered her for pictures or autographs; maybe it was because she looked upset, or no one recognized her as she was kind of hiding her face with her hair.

After about an hour of walking around her apartment building, she finally took a moment to rest on a bench outside of the complex. There, she let her mind take over and let her thoughts finally seep in, remembering what had happened an hour and a half ago.

a little while ago….

“I don’t understand you sometimes,” You said as you washed dishes in the sink while your girlfriend typed away on her laptop.

“Can we not do this now.” Jenna replied, still furiously focused on her computer screen.

“Do what Jenna? Talk? Like normal couples do when they have issues?” You said, waving a sponge around.

“Issues..? We don’t have issues Y/N.”

You slammed a pot down, making her jump slightly as her eyes snapped to you in annoyance.

“Yes, we do, but you are so damn invested in your job that you completely ignore your own relationship half the time.” You snarled, throwing the sponge back into the sink as you stormed past Jenna.

“I’m invested in my job because it’s my job.” She shot back, now standing up to face you, “I have responsibilities you know.”

“Am I not one? Is your girlfriend not a responsibility to you?!”

“Not when she is incredibly annoying!” Jenna scoffed as she crossed her arms angrily, “Why can’t you just shut up and leave me alone?!”

Your face was blank, eyes wide as you stared at Jenna with disbelief. You wanted to cry, to yell, to say something snarky back at her, but your shock at her words left you silent. Slowly, you closed your open mouth and trudged away to the guest room, slamming the door behind you.

back to present…

“Jenna?”

Jenna’s eyes snapped open, looking up to see you teary eyed and wrapped up in her hoodie as you looked down at her with concern and worry.

“Jenna, come inside.” You said, holding out your shaky hand.

She hesitated to take it, but eventually caved in as the chill of the wind over took her stubbornness. You helped her up, gently pulling her back to the building and leading her back to your room.

The silence was loud, deafening even. While you were calm, Jenna was internally freaking out. Were you about to kick her out with her stuff? Did you plan something for her to embarrass herself with when she would return? What were you thinking about her?

“Honey, please sit down.”

Jenna realized she was now back in your shared apartment, standing awkwardly in the kitchen while you waited for her to sit across from you at the island. Gingerly, she sat down, fidgeting with her hands as a means to keep herself calm.

“I’m not mad.” You said, trying to get her to look at you.

“Why aren’t you.” She asked, her head still down.

You sighed, glancing around for a moment before leaning down to gently grasp her chin.

“Because I now understand how stressed you are.” You replied, caressing her cheek, “You are overworked and tired, and we haven’t had any time with each other for the past two months.”

Jenna’s lip trembled, her eyes slowly filling with tears as you exposed her current state. She felt embarrassed, overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“We haven’t spoken or enjoyed each other as couple’s should, and that is ruining both of us.”

She let out a sob, leaning into your palm as you broke down her walls that have been built up over time. Instinctively needing your touch, she lurched forward into your arms in which you wrapped around her protectively while she cried.

“It’s okay to be vulnerable with me, you know I won’t ever judge you for it.” You whispered, hugging her close to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry!” Jenna cried into your shoulder, shaking in your lap.

“I know, and I forgive you.” You mumbled into her hair, placing a kiss there as tears clouded your own eyes.

You both embraced, crying together as a way of cathartic means. The rest of the night was spent side by side where cuddles and kisses were exchanged while Jenna made sure you knew she loved you through thick and thin.

————

[rubykgrant]

(I'm still re-writing and editing the whole chapter, but I liked how this part turned out; a conversation between Jon and Martin while they're hiding out in Scotland, about love and their lives~)

If Martin didn’t know any better, he’d think they were just two regular people, out on a regular date.

“We could have been doing this for years. Just sitting together. Enjoying each other,” Jon murmurs, head resting on Martin’s chest.

“I would have liked that,” Martin says. He imagines himself and Jon before, how they were both awkward in different ways, how they each may have tried to help the other move past it, how it could have felt the first time Jon held him close, or how it could have felt when he realized he felt safe with Jon. Wanting to keep somebody, and also wanting to be kept, not being afraid to let it happen.

“We also could have had ANY other job…” Jon continues.

“One that, perhaps, wasn’t so hazardous to our health?” Martin finishes.

“Mmm, yes. Did you know- I nearly dropped out of university?”

“What, NO? Really? You?” Martin tries to picture Jon quitting, just leaving something behind, even something that was just causing him distress, and he can’t. Jon was more likely to “sunk-cost fallacy” himself to death.

“I was… struggling with a few classes, near the end. That wasn’t why I almost left, though. The university wanted me to see a counselor, just so I could have, as they put it, a ‘mental health refresher’. I, er- got a touch offended. And I decided for myself, I would either double-down and pass everything with top-grades, OR drop out. Because surely that would teach everybody a lesson,” Jon sighs, as if frustrated with his previous thought process. “If I had actually left, I probably wouldn’t have gone to work for the Magnus Institute. Who knows if we would have even met…”

“Wait, third option. What if you actually went for that mental health refresher?” Martin asks, and his voice quivers with a sudden attack of giggles. “B-because, Jon, I- I almost applied for a job as a receptionist at a counselor’s office!”

“Are you serious?” Jon is laughing a bit now, too.

“Yes! I wouldn’t have needed to lie on the CV or anything, either. The only reason I didn’t go for it- the job didn’t pay quite enough to afford everything I needed at the time,”

“So you’re telling me, we could have had an entirely DIFFERENT awkward encounter? With a whole other conflict of an inappropriate work relationship? Oh, if only, in another life…” Jon says in an overly dramatic, wistful tone.

“Hey, why would it be awkward? Or inappropriate?”

“Because, I would have walked into that office all- all pissed-off about everything, feeling insulted that anybody would even suggest I wasn’t absolutely FINE. If you thought I was insufferable before, you should have seen me while I was at university, especially near the end. I can promise you- charming I was NOT. I also couldn’t stop picking at the spots on my face,” Jon grimaces, thinking about himself.

“Fine, you were horrible. But so am I… if we did date back then, I would have been one of those people who always wants to get your acne spots for you. Now, what about the inappropriate part?”

“Well, maybe not entirely inappropriate, but… I’m sure it is at least frowned upon for employees of a counselor’s office to date the patients,” Jon isn’t sure what the rules would be (he’s certain the actual counselors can’t be involved with people they see professionally). “And even if that job would be less stressful for you, would you want to risk it for an awful little shit with a bad attitude?”

“Hmm, fair. Maybe I’d wait and see if the mental health refresher actually WORKED, and once you you stopped being a patient, I’d give you my number…”

“Making the first move, in this scenario?” Jon’s voice implies an attempt at sarcasm, but his face looks much more eager and intrigued.

“You’d be surprised how confident I am when I don’t have to worry about creepy-crawlies trying to eat me, or lying about my age and work experience on a daily basis!” Martin chuckles, and his laughter makes Jon bounce against him.

“Wouldn’t that have been a dream. I get a mental health refresher, you have a pleasant job as a receptionist, we go on a few fun dates, and start a happy relationship together, and you can indulge your pimple-popping fetish-”

“It is NOT a fetish!” Martin’s hug tightens around Jon, trying to squeeze the air out of him. For a moment, Martin sternly refuses to look at Jon, instead staring straight ahead (if he sees Jon’s face right now, he might laugh himself off the bench).

“Do you want me to stop washing my face?” Jon wheezes out.

“You’re the one who made a whole kink-list!” Martin reminds him. “And did I add anything like that? No, no I didn’t!”

“Darling… don’t be afraid… to be yourself… I’ll accept you…” Jon is gasping now, but it is less from Martin’s powerful hug, and more from his own laughter.

“I HATE you,” Martin informs him.

“I think we’ve come to the conclusion… that you actually LOVE me…” Jon snorts, like that was so clever or something, and that breaks Martin’s concentration. The attempt to hug Jon into silence ends, all the muscles in Martin’s arms loosen, and Jon melts into him as they both give in to the giggles that have been building.

Jon forces himself to take a big, deep breath, and once his chest stops hitching, he tilts his head up to give Martin a kiss. Around them, people pass, not even noticing, but anybody who had been thinking about sitting at that bench feels like they’d rather find a different spot. Jon and Martin aren’t unseen phantoms, repelling people from their space. Nothing as alarming as that; they’re just uninteresting shapes, on a bench that isn’t very appealing, for no special reason.

This allows them plenty of time to linger, and kiss lasts as long as they want.

In the back of his mind, Jon has decided that no matter what kind of life they could have had, if he still met Martin somehow, falling in love would just be an eventuality. How could he resist any version of Martin? How did he resist THIS version of Martin for so long? Jon is so deeply in love, it is hard to even remember NOT feeling this way. Despite his protests, mostly in reference to himself having such a bad habit of being a wanker, Jon is secretly a hopeless romantic. He’d die, over and over again, for Martin’s sake.

Martin, on the other hand, has different thoughts he’s keeping to himself. Them having a chance to be free of the Magnus Institute and still be drawn together is very nice… but even though he argued in favor of dating the “un-charming” Jon in another reality, Martin doubts it could actually happen that way. Maybe he’s being realistic, maybe he’s actually just a pessimist underneath all his optimistic layers. However, the fact that he actually HAS this with Jon now, against the odds and through all the crushing pain they’ve suffered, makes Martin treasure it even more. His rotten luck wouldn’t give him another chance like this. He’d fight for it, he’d break for it.

They don’t share these thoughts, so they never know how different yet similar they really are. Instead, Jon kisses the man he’ll always love, and Martin kisses the Jon he has, and both are happy enough to know that much.

When they begin their walk back, Jon comfortably links his arm with Martin’s again, sort of leading the way this time. Still a guard-cat, still protective and alert, but considerably more calm. Martin is pleased with himself indeed; he’s the center of Jon’s concerns, but that doesn’t need to be something strained or stressful. It can also be fulfilling.