#and have a chance to breathe and think that my heart breaks a little bit

[qvietspvce]

.

[cllightning81]

Red Bull? Really?

Summary : You're dating the three time world champion that's in a championship battle with your twin brother. However, you haven't told him about the relationship

Pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Norris!Reader

Word Count :

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You and Lando always had a good relationship. You didn’t have any twin telepathy, but that didn’t mean that neither of you couldn’t tell what was going on with the other. That was why Lando now knew that you were hiding something from him just by your body language. 

You were in a serious relationship with his on track rival where the rivalry was just heating up second by second. How could you come clean about that? It was bound to break your relationship with Lando and Lando’s relationship with Max. 

While all the commentators assumed the races would be what broke their relationship off track, it was about to be you. You had spoken to Max before the summer holidays and decided that before you left to go on holiday with him, you’d confess to Lando. 

Your original idea was just to text Lando from another room in his house while he was streaming so that his reaction couldn’t be too extreme but Max told you not to do that and that he was your brother. He wasn’t going to be too extreme. 

How wrong Max was about to be. Another debate you’d win. 

Lando had just finished streaming and was now coming downstairs to get some food that you’d cooked – in hopes to butter him up – you smiled over at him as you answered a text from Max F about a project you had coming up together. 

“So” Lando said, sitting down on the couch opposite you. You could feel your heart rate starting to rise knowing that you actually had to tell him now. Having previously told him, you needed to talk. 

“You can’t lash out” You started, and he raised his eyes. You really wish you had done it your way and just locked yourself in the bathroom so he couldn’t get near you. 

“That’s not a good start Y/N” You bit your lip, looking over at him briefly 

“So I’m dating someone” You whispered as Lando sat forward a little with a smirk crossing his face 

“Do I know them?” He asked, and you nodded slightly as he raised his eyebrows, getting a little more suspicious now. 

“Look, it was never my intention to hurt you. When we first started seeing each other, it was before anything ever happened. You’ll always be my brother before anything else. Please don’t do anything harsh” You rambled, stopping due to the knock on the door. You quickly took it as your chance to leave the conversation, hoping that Lando and yourself could forget about it. 

Except when you answered the door, your problem was, stood at the other side of the door. You let out a long breath, letting him into the house. 

“Max! I was just about to find out who Y/N is dating. You can join me” Lando hummed as you closed the door, taking a deep breath. You could see the smirk crossing Max’s face 

“Erm yeah Lan I think I’ll finish this conversation when we’re alone” You wandered off to your bedroom despite Lando’s complaints. 

You hadn’t brought up the conversation again to Lando and had quickly avoided any conversation he brought up. 

That was until you were, stood in your own house, Max was, sat on your couch scrolling  through the TV, trying to find something for you both to watch. 

“Kindje” (Baby) Max called as you poked your head through from the kitchen with a smile 

“Yeah?” You asked, walking over to him standing between his legs. 

“Movie or TV show?” He asked, looking up at you as his arms wrapped around your waist

“Let’s go TV show. Movies are long and boring” You answered, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, and he nodded, pressing a kiss back to your lips. Pulling you on top of his body so that you were straddling his lap. Your head resting in the crook of his neck breathing in his scent as one of his hands rubbed circles on your back 

“Still avoiding the conversation with Lando?” He asked, and you nodded 

“You and him keep getting your elbows out on track. I think that would make it worse” You sighed. It would make it worse. Lando and Max were violent on track enough as it was. You couldn’t imagine Lando’s violence if he found out about you and Max. 

“How about we abandon the TV show, go to bed, and just cuddle?” He suggested, and you nodded. 

“That sounds like a plan,” you hummed. Max stood up within one move, one of his hands hooked under you to carry you to the bedroom. Normally, you stayed at Max’s house however, Max decided to come over to your house tonight to surprise you. 

Max settled you on the bed before getting settled in next to you. Your body curling into his as he wrapped his arms around you. The silence was nice. Max’s hand under his shirt that you were now wearing drawing, comforting shapes on your back. 

You were both getting comfortable and about to fall asleep when there was a loud bang followed by someone shouting your name however, it didn’t compute who it was. 

“Y/N. Where are you?” Lando shouted, and that’s when it hit. Lando. You and Max both quickly jumped up as you glanced at Max, shutting the bedroom door as you walked to the living room to avoid Lando walking into the bedroom. 

“Lando it’s late” You complained, and he just shrugged. 

“And? I’ve got exciting news” He shrugged as your rolled your eyes. Lando’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at you from his spot on the couch. 

“What? Is that a red bull shirt?” He asked loudly as you glanced down at the top you were wearing. Shit. Fuck Max for not owning any other shirts. 

“I erm. I borrowed it from Checo and just never gave it back when I spilt coffee down myself that one time” You lied. It was a really obvious lie. The massive 33 on the top gave that away. Lando started to take a couple steps away from you, falling over the couch as he did. You couldn’t help but laugh a little after all he was your brother. Lando glared at you 

“Look Lando. I’ve been trying to tell you. I just didn’t know how. Please don’t be mad” You whispered 

“How long?” He asked quietly 

“About five months” You whispered, looking down as he continued walking towards the door, not saying anything loudly, just shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Lando please” you looked over, and he quickly opened the door and left slamming the door behind himself. 

You sat on the couch, dropping your head into your hands as a pair of hands wrapped around your body. The tears slowly falling down your face as Max’s hand rubbed your arm softly, pulling your body into his 

“It’s okay kindje” He whispered, holding you close despite you trying to push him away “Hey don’t fight me. I’m not going anywhere no matter how much you fight me” You were too distressed to understand what Max was saying. 

You’d hurt your brother. That’s the worst feeling that you’d ever felt in your life. What hurt more is the fact he didn’t even say a word to you. You never expected him to be happy about it, but you expected him to maybe say something to you. 

You didn’t want Max’s comfort. You felt like you didn’t deserve Max’s comfort, not after the harm you just caused your brother. You deserved to feel the harm as well. Siblings never mind twins were meant to harm each other. 

A couple weeks later, at the next Grand Prix, Lando still wasn’t talking to you. You’d phoned him a couple times a day, texted him multiple times a day, and even attempted to show up at his house. Max stepped in after a week also trying to speak to Lando. You’d even went through your family to try and speak to Lando, but he wasn’t having it. 

Now Max had convinced you to come to the Grand Prix just so that you wouldn’t be in the house moping as he had said. And well, in all honesty, his cats were little devils, and they could manage a week or two with a cat sitter.

Max’s hand rested on the small of your back as he spoke to the driver thanking them for driving you to the hotel. As you were about to walk in Max spotted a guy standing just off the side to all the team members and other people turning to you with a sly smile before his hand dropped and he walked over to the guy. Who clearly backed out of just asking Max to sign something, but you liked how even though he was prepared, he still respected the privacy. 

Max soon walked back over his hand, going back to resting on the small of your back as you smiled up at him 

“Ready kindje?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile 

“Think so” You hummed, walking into the hotel with him and up to the room he had been assigned. You were hoping that Lando was going to be here, but deep down, you knew that they had their own hotel sponsor and would probably be staying there, but one could wish. 

Max had also been invited to an event with sponsors, and after a lot of convincing, you decided to go with him. It was better than being stuck in a hotel room alone and there was free food which did work out as a bonus because those savings don’t last long when you refuse to let your boyfriend pay for your things wanting to be independent. 

Now, getting ready in the hotel room for the event, deciding on just a simple dress that matched Max’s suit. Your hair, in the simplest style you could do and make up just simple as well. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to put effort in and more that you just didn’t have any effort. 

Trying to get Lando to talk to you had taken up most of your energy and effort. There was nothing else for you to give, and you needed a break to reset that. Max walked up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist with a smile 

“You look beautiful” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your neck. You turned around in his arms, wrapping your own arms around his neck 

“And you look very handsome” You smiled, looking up at him. 

“Are you almost ready to go? The car is downstairs waiting” He smiled, and you nodded 

“I just need some help putting this necklace on, then I’m all finished” You smiled, holding up the necklace that you were planning on wearing. Lando had bought you it when you both turned 21. It was a matching one with one of his bracelets. 

Max carefully took the necklace out of your hands, and you lifted your hair up. Gently resting the necklace upon your chest before tying the clasp at the back of your neck. You smiled at Max through the mirror, and he couldn’t help but smile back. 

You were still in pain, but you couldn’t deny that Max was making that pain go away day by day. 

A short drive later, you and Max were not at the large ballroom for the event. Filled with sponsors for all ten teams, drivers from all ten teams, along with team principles and other important members of the teams. 

You weren’t even looking for Lando knowing that he’d just ignore you. Instead, you found yourself talking to his teammate and his girlfriend. You and Lily had always gotten along from the second Oscar joined the team, having many things in common. 

“How was your summer break?” You asked Oscar, knowing his plan was to go back to England however you hadn’t seen him since 

“It was nice. Typical British weather, but you know. Couldn’t have asked for a better time” He smiled, turning to look at Lily, who could only smile at her boyfriend “How was yours?” He asked, and you took a deep breath 

“It could have been a lot better” You replied 

You had thought Max was away talking to Cristian and Checo until there was a large hand settling on the small of your back. When you turned your head, Max was smiling down at you 

“You couldn’t have saved me?” He asked, and you shook your head slightly 

“No, unfortunately, I couldn’t have. I thought you were with Checo and Horner” You shrugged, and he shook his head. 

“No. I got dragged into a conversation with the Pirelli guy and some other sponsor” He replied, and you giggled. Leaning back into his warm touch. Max finally looked up to see who you were talking with “Oh hey Oscar” He smiled, and Oscar only nodded his mouth slightly ajar. Lily had a sly smirk on her face that only you picked up on. 

“Are we still on for padel?” Oscar finally asked, allowing the boys to get into their own conversation so Lily could drag you away to the bar. 

“Oh my god! What’s that?” She exclaimed, and you bit your lip 

“The reason Lando’s being such an ass to me” You replied before ordering a drink for both you and Max

“Ah so that’s what his mood is all about” Lily nodded, understandingly as you nodded turning to look at her. She still had that smirk on her face “So” She dragged out as you raised your eyebrows at her 

“So what?” You asked

“So what’s he actually like behind closed doors?” She asked as you leaned your back against the bar with a small smile 

“Lils he’s perfect. Like honestly so perfect” You sighed, looking over to him. It didn’t help that he currently looked very good. Although he always did, that suit was just doing something for him. 

“Wanna share more?” She asked, and you hummed tapping your nose 

“Nope that’s all the information I shall share” You smiled, picking up your drinks before walking back over to Max and Oscar. You spotted Lando talking with a sponsor as you handed Max his gin and tonic. His arm wrapped around you as you leaned into him with a slight smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you 

“Better than your cats” You shrugged, and he faked offence, holding his chest as you giggled 

“They’re menices!” You exclaimed, and he shrugged a little 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true” He smiled, leading you back to the table you were due to be sat at. Pulling out your chair allows you to sit down before sitting down. You turned your head to look at Max as you placed your drink on the table 

“Is he still ignoring you?” He asked, and you nodded slightly, looking over to where Lando was now sitting “Shit. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that” He sighed, resting his hand over yours as you shrugged a little 

“It’s fine. I just wish he’d get over it even just to say hello. He’s still my brother” You sighed, looking up to thank the waitress as she brought over the food for the table you were sitting at. 

Back at the hotel room the alcohol in your system had made you forget about the whole situation with Lando and Max had taken your phone so that you wouldn’t answer any of Lando’s texts now that the alcohol had made him realise what was going on. 

Max had helped you get ready for bed before getting in next to you. Your head rested on his chest as he wrapped one arm around you, the other resting on your waist as he drew shapes on it. 

“It doesn’t matter what Lando thinks as long as you're happy. Please never forget that Schat (darling)” He explained. You nodded along with his words 

“I’d be happier if Lando had anything nice to say” You looked up at him from his chest as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your own

“He’s been texting you but I think you should look at them when you’re a little more sober as much as I know you’d sleep better reading them but I’d rather you have a clear mind reading them” He explained as you looked up at him pulling away from his lips 

“Have you read them?” You asked, and he nodded 

“I did. I figured reading them before you would help me comfort you if needed” He explained 

“You don’t need to explain love. I just wanted to know” You replied, pressing your lips against his. Moving so that you were laying between his legs, your head still on his chest as both his arms wrapped around you, sliding under your shirt, allowing him to draw shapes on your bare back. 

No matter what, Lando ended up saying you were more than happy being wrapped in Max’s arms. Maybe it’s time for Lando to feel what you had felt. 

Tag List

@thewannabewriter @lozzamez3 @barcelonaloverf1life @hiireadstuff @mxdi0 @f1kenzzz @evie-119 @ahgase99 @velcosainz @kat-s2 @scarletwidow3000 @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tellybearryyyy @xabwlky1999 @xxx-betty @callsignwidow @chocolatepoetryfun @lwstuff @destinyg237 @glitzyditsy @sltwins @myloverjk @lilymurphy03 @chuckpiboli @rqlsefanny @alex-wotton @tpwkstlies @maymustdie @formula1-motogpfan

[peanutalergy]

stray cat ꨄ s.r. × reader

in which spencer reid sneaks into fem!reader's room at night

tags: high school au !! no explicit content duh ? tooth rotting fluff in a brain rottingly terrible written way, reader is a cheerleader and like a popular girl ? idk I'm a sucker for the popular × nerd trope; not canon accurate obviously because if it were spencer would be twelve and bullied by everyone; mentions of blood and cuts and weapons and getting hurt but not in the way you might think ..?; reader's dad is mentioned ? yeah anyway idk what else sorry

w/c: 2k (this was meant to be a blurb ?)

a/n: okay so I found this draft from last year (back when I was still in hs (r.i.p.)) and I decided to finish it because it seemed cute. turned out terrible I hate it whatever, it's very ooc idk sorry ALSO inspired by a situation I lowkey went through myself hence why there's things spencer would never say/do, sorry

you’re sitting in bed with your computer atop your thighs, stressing over the third essay you have to finish by the weekend, when you hear a noise coming from outside. you ignore it, at first, thinking it's just a raccoon or a stray cat, until you hear a very human grunt from right beneath the window. immediately, you jump to grab the small—and frankly, quite useless—knife that you always keep in your bedside drawer in case of an intrusion or something of the sort.

you pull out your phone, contemplating dialing 911, until you see spencer's head pop up at the window. putting down the "weapon", you run across the room to open it, laughing confusedly as your boyfriend stumbles in. you help him inside, taking his hand in yours, which he holds onto like he might fall right now from right here.

you open your mouth, but he starts mumbling breathlessly before you even get the chance to say anything.

“i don't know what i was thinking, i’m never doing that again. i don't think just reading the stealthy guide to climbing roofs was enough, i mean, the writer didn't even take into consideration everything that could've went wrong. do you know how many terrible things could have happened? i could have fallen and broken my neck, someone could've seen me and called the police, or– doesn't your dad have a shotgun? do you think he heard me? god, i'm all dirty, i’ve got leaves all over me, i don't–”

you press a quick kiss to his lips, the most effective way you've found to shut him up. when you pull away, he's frozen, trying to catch his breath, cheeks rosy from the physical exercise–something he doesn't usually engage in–and from your touch, as well.

“what are you doing here?”

“sorry…” he mumbles, staring down at his fingers as they fidget with the sleeves of his cardigan, “i wanted to see you. did i wake you up?”

“oh, baby” you giggle, patting away the dirt and leaves from his body gently, “don't apologize, i'm glad you're here. i wasn't asleep, don't worry. you scared me, though. i thought someone was breaking in.”

“oh, i'm sorry, i didn't want to scare you, i’m really sorry. i should've called you.”

“no, don't worry. it's okay. it’s a nice surprise.”

“yeah…?” he asks, glancing up at you hesitantly.

“mhm.” you nod before taking his face in your hands. he tilts his head, leaning into your touch, similar to an animal who wants to be pet, but doesn’t know how to ask for it. you chuckle and give him another kiss, your fingers moving up and tangling in his hair.

“why did you go through the window, though? you could've just knocked on the door, my dad doesn't have a shotgun. he's a sweet little old man, he would've let you in just fine.”

“i don't know, i was scared. i'm sorry.” he says shyly. he's blushing furiously, heart almost jumping out of his ribcage, and it doesn't have anything to do with the adrenaline from the climb anymore.

“no, it's okay. you're fine, it's fine. are you hurt, though?”

“i- uh, i hurt my hands a bit, but it's nothing major, i’ll be fine.”

“aw, you poor thing. lemme see.” he looks down at his palms, and you take them in your hands to see they're all scraped, red and raw, blood mixing with some of the dirt. “jesus, spence. we should get that cleaned up, no?”

“no, no, it's fine. we– it's okay, we don't need to, i'll be fine.” he tries to pull his hands away, but your grip on his wrists doesn't let him, and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“hm, no, c'mon, that's gonna get infected or something. then your hands will get necrosis and fall off. do you want your hands to fall off, baby?”

he shakes his head, and you can tell he's holding back a chuckle, “well, that– that's not really how necrosis works, but–”

“no, it is, shut up.” you cut him off and give him a playful nudge, “please, just a few band-aids?”

he looks at you reluctantly, and after a second, he sighs and finally nods, “sure. but just because you're worried. i wouldn't get necrosis either way.”

you giggle and press your lips to his again. as you pull away and walk to the closet, you point to your bed and mumble, “go sit down,” which he does immediately, settling awkwardly at the edge of it.

while you search for the first aid kit, you notice spencer looking around your room with a smile. he's been here a few times before, but never at night, and he finds awe in the way the moonlight reflects off a mirrorball that sits on your desk, and the way your posters look when the only other source of lighting comes from a few vanilla scented candles.

it’s actually quite ironic how much you two fit together. no one would have to look at you twice before guessing your interests, and they'd be right if they were to say things like pop music and cheesy 2010s romcoms; but there's a side of you, a side only spencer reid has ever met, that matches him perfectly.

after a while, you walk back to the bed, little box in hands, and you sit down on the ground in front of him, looking up at him with a smile.

“please, don't sit on the floor.” he murmurs as you settle between his legs.

“why not? it's clean.” you mumble as you start rummaging through the first aid kit.

“no, but, you're– this is– just… it'll hurt your back.”

“it won't, though, don't worry.” you give him a smile, and before he can protest again, you put out your hands, “gimme.”

he gives you his wrists once more, where you hold as you begin gently wiping his palms with antiseptic. he winces at first, and tries to hold back a noise so as to not worry you even more.

“what were you thinking about?” you ask. he answers with a hm?, that makes you say it again, “when i got back. you looked like you were thinking about something.”

“oh, just… your room.”

“what about it?”

“it's so… you. i mean, the space in which one lives does tend to be a reflection of themselves, but… it's like you took everything that makes you yourself, and you spread it all around the place. it's adorable... like you.” he mumbles awkwardly.

you chuckle, looking around the room, glancing at him, then turning your attention back to his hands. this time, when the wipe touches his raw skin again, he hisses. “ooh, sorry, that hurt? i’m sorry, baby. i’m trying to be gentle, i swear.”

he shakes his head. “no, you're being gentle–” very gentle, more than anyone had ever been to him before, “–it's just the alcohol. it- uh… alcohol molecules activate the same nerve receptors in your skin that let you know hot is hot, so it burns. it's chemical. you're being very gentle, don't worry, it's not you.”

you hum, smiling and nodding, before you both go quiet. he's staring down at you as you work, brows furrowed as you concentrate on his hands. “y'know, i could've done this myself,” he mumbles.

“mm, yeah, well, we could do it all by ourselves. we'd be miserable, though, no?”

he's quiet for a second, thinking about a way to deny that, but when he can't find one, he just mutters a soft yeah and goes silent again.

scared of the situation getting too awkward, he starts rambling on about his day, telling you all things he believes you’d find interesting as you listen and nod and hum along and laugh. it's like he doesn't notice the words coming out of his mouth when they do, “i missed you at school today.”

“oh, i’m sorry, honey. i, uh– i wanted to talk to you at lunch, but, i– i wasn't sure you'd want to see me. i don't know, i didn't know if you'd want to be around the girls, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so... i didn't want to make you uncomfortable.” you say, looking at him between placing band-aids.

“of course i would've wanted to see you. yeah, your friends are… a lot. i think they don't really like me. but i don't mind being around them, if it means being around you.”

“no, they like you. don't worry about that, they like you."

“they sure have a strange way of showing it”

“yeah, well, they're– they look a bit, like, uhm… mean girls, but they're not. they're nice. they're just a bit... vain and shallow.”

“vain and shallow usually means mean girls.” he whispers with a chuckle.

“nah, not really. just means boring. to be fair, you're much cooler than them.” you answer with another laugh, to which he shakes his head in disbelief, right as you finish bandaging his hands.

you place two gentle kisses to his palms, which you can notice makes his breath hitch a little, and you put the kit to the side. you shuffle closer to him and tilt your head, resting it on his knee and smiling up at him, “i missed you, too.”

he nods and tucks a strand of your hair behind an ear, his touch lingering at your jaw. there's another moment of quiet, in which you just stare at each other, grinning. he looks at you and touches you almost as if you're not real, almost as if he's convinced this isn't actually happening.

he can't help but be fascinated by the intimacy of this moment. a few months ago, he had never even been looked at for more than a few seconds, and now he's doing staring contests with the captain of the cheerleading team, in her room, at night.

sure, the people at school still see him as a loser, but that doesn't matter to him. all he cares about is you. you're here, holding and taking care of him, looking at him like he's worth something. that's all that matters right now.

“hi.” you break the silence, though barely, your voice a quiet whisper.

“hi.” he whispers back with a smile, “please, will you get up from the floor…?”

you chuckle and stand up again, him being sat allowing you to press a kiss on his forehead while your fingers run through his hair. when you do so, he wraps his arms around your legs and burrows his face into your stomach, letting out a noise, almost a purr as he nuzzles against you like a kitten.

after a while, he pulls his head away to look around the room again, and his gaze falls on the laptop that had been sitting in your bed this whole time, the essay abandoned. "when is that due?"

"history class on friday."

"i could help you with it, if you want."

"no, no, no, you don't have to. don't worry. i'll get it done... sometime." you say with a chuckle.

he nods–he woke up the next morning and finished it for you while you got ready–and hides his face back in your shirt.

“are you sleeping over?” you ask, and it makes him lift up his head to look at you once more.

“can i?” he mutters reluctantly, “i don't want your parents to wake up, and see– y'know… a boy in your bed. and we've got school tomorrow, so…”

“do you want to sleep over?”

“mhm” he hums with a nod, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shirt.

“my parents won't mind, then.”

“are you sure? i mean, teenagers are–” he starts rambling again, and you shut him up with another kiss.

“my parents won't mind.” you repeat after pulling away, leaving another peck on his nose, “and we can just skip school tomorrow. it’s gonna be boring, anyway. we don't even have any classes together. we can spend the whole day here, yeah?”

“okay, yeah.” he mumbles under his breath, trying not to look too nervous.

you smile and lie down on the bed. he immediately follows suit and curls up next to you, face buried in your chest, arms around your waist, leaning into your touch and clinging to you like you'll be gone if he lets go. “i love you,” he whispers, his warm breath against your skin sending tingles down your spine.

“i love you” you whisper back, placing yet another kiss on the crown of his head. it's not long after you start running your hands through his hair that he falls asleep.

and in the end, you realize that, in a sense, it actually was a stray cat at your window.

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[lexluvsmegs]

Just thinking about Nanami helping virgin!Ino fuck you for the first time.

Ino feels as if he was on cloud 9 after finally asking you, his sexy class mate, to be his first ever girlfriend. He’s nervous, that much is painfully obvious, his sweaty hands fiddling as he blurts the words out trying his very best not to stutter. His hopes aren’t set too high since you’re… you. But when you smile that beautiful smile and nod your head in acceptance he leaves with hearts in his eyes. Literally.

He’s in love, there’s no doubt about it. You’ve been going out for a few months now and Ino has been nothing but a gentleman, pulling out all the stops to keep you impressed. He’s made you playlists with your favourite songs, taken you out to fancy restaurants, bought you the clothes you’d been eyeing. What more could a girl want?

However, there was one aspect about dating that was weighing hard on him, and that was sex. You see, you were hot, and Ino was a virgin. That may not seem like such a big deal. But to him? It was the end of the world. His insecurities were eating away at him. What if he wasn’t good enough for you? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? In his mind, everything could go wrong.

And that’s how Nanami found himself here, positioned on the edge of Ino’s bed as you lay naked, sprawled across the plush mattress with Ino knuckle deep inside your gushing pussy following Nanami’s instructions as if his words were law. Ino had practically gotten down on his knees when he begged for the older man’s help, he really couldn’t lose you. Thankfully, Nanami took sympathy on the poor boy. He couldn’t deny that you were stunning, so maybe it was a little selfish when he agreed to the terms with the promise of seeing you in such a compromising setting. Call him a perv but just the thought of you was able to make his pants feel just the bit tighter.

“Angle your fingers like this” he sounded calm and composed, but in reality he had never felt so excited. Nanami shuffled closer as he grabbed Ino’s hand and repositioned it until it had you moaning out his name. God did Nanami want it to be his name next.

“T-that feel good baby?” Ino felt breathless as his fingers kept up his ruthless pace. You couldn’t form a proper sentence being too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure you were feeling. However, the endless whines that fell from your lips let the two men know exactly how you were feeling.

Nanami felt his resolve break slightly as he knelt down next to Ino who looks at the blond with a confused glint in his eyes. Nanami, however, wasted no time as he lowered his head to be eye level with your gushing pussy. With a deep inhale of your scent he finally opened his mouth to taste your juices and immediately groaned.

“Tastes so good” you can barely make out the words as he sloppily laps his tongue over your clit causing you to snake a hand into his golden locks and pull. His tongue felt like heaven as it dipped deep into your hole, tracing his name over your puffy lips not allowing you the chance to catch your breath. Babbles of his name leave your mouth in huffs as you feel yourself reaching your first orgasm. To your disappointment, Nanami halts his movements of nipping and sucking at your clit and sits back. Fucking tease.

“She should be ready for you now” his voice is so husky and damn is it sexy. Ino immediately fumbles as he stands, nervous yet hard as a rock, his cock bobs as his flushed tip falls from his lower belly. You hadn’t yet had time to properly inspect it but my god, it was long. By no means was it ugly, you would argue that it was one of the prettiest you had seen, prominent veins led up to his raging head that pulsed with the need to be buried deep within you. Your legs would have closed if it weren’t for Nanami’s strong hands keeping them wide open.

Ino climbed onto the bed, his weight held up by his shaking arms. “So wet f’me baby… you ready?” His gentle tone had you melting deeper into the sheets as you gave a slight nod. He took this as his chance to reach one hand down to pump himself a few times before lining himself up and pushing his cock inside. The three of you groaned, Nanami transfixed by how well you were able to take Ino’s cock. He wondered how you would be when taking his.

Ino felt like he was in heaven as your gummy walls wrapped around him so perfectly. “P-please move” your hoarse voice called out which spurred Ino to snap his hips down into you leaving you gasping. An uneven tempo was created, though, Nanami could tell Ino’s pace wouldn’t bring you to finish, therefore he took matters into his own hands, resting a large palm on Ino’s lower back as he guided his strokes. If Nanami hadn’t promised to help Ino he would have probably taken you for himself, his hard length screaming for relief as he palmed himself with his free hand.

With the new pace set, Ino was making you see stars as he hit deep within you. Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails dug deep, Ino groaned at the thought of you leaving marks and claiming him as your own. His hips stuttered as you pulled his face close to yours, sloppily kissing and licking into his mouth. You were gonna be the death of him. You broke the kiss to look down at where he was pounding into you and instead noticed the bulge that was forming in your belly every time Ino would push back in. Ino followed your eyeline and couldn’t help but whine as he found the source of your attention. He was filling you so good you could barely process your impending orgasm.

The feeling was intense as you tried to wriggle away from the shocks of pleasure racking through you. “S’too much” tears began streaming down your face as Ino’s pace never faltered.

“Stop whining, you can take it” Nanami’s harsh voice rang out.

“S-so close” you whine out, you can tell he and Nanami are the same as they moans filling the room grow desperate. And as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close, he empties out into you causing your own orgasm to crash over you.

You feel a hand petting your hair as you come down from your high, turning to face Nanami as he offers you a sweet smile. You pretend not to notice the obvious stain now gracing his light pants and instead smile in return as Ino slumps his body atop yours.

Virgin!Ino who’s no longer a virgin.

——

© lexluvsmegs 2025 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work.

Thank You, Beautiful People! :)

[wingedhallows]

— AT A TIME LIKE THIS —

— ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ pairing: ellie williams x reader | 0.8k words — ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ plot: Amid chaos and gunfire, a desperate confession slips out—raw, unplanned, and terrifyingly real. With blood staining their hands and time running out, the weight of unspoken feelings collides with the fight for survival. But in the midst of it all, love might just be the thing that keeps them holding on. — ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ authors note: hey, babes. this is a request from none other than the lovely @luvsizedfrellie :) i made it a bit more dramatic and added my own twist to it, i hope you like it

♡ navigation ♡ ; part two

Shit.

Just—shit. This was supposed to be a routine patrol, nothing out of the ordinary. Now, bullets shriek past your ears, kicking up dirt as you drag Ellie with you, your grip on her wrist unrelenting.

Your pulse slams against your ribs, so frantic and erratic that for a terrifying second, you think your heart might tear itself free.

"Wait—" Ellie gasps behind you, her breath ragged, uneven.

"Just a little further!" you choke out, barely recognizing your own voice.

Your lungs burn, your legs scream in protest, but stopping isn’t an option. Not now.

The moment you shove through the shattered doorway of a crumbling office building, you yank Ellie in after you, slamming your weight against the frame.

Dust and debris rain down as you brace yourself, chest rising and falling in desperate gulps. But Ellie—Ellie isn't beside you.

She’s hunched over, one hand braced on the counter, her entire body trembling.

“What—” you start, but then you see it.

Everything freezes. The world shrinks to a single, suffocating point in your chest.

Ellie’s white tank top is soaked through, crimson blooming across the fabric like a grotesque flower.

Your breath stutters. Your fingers shake as you reach for her, guiding her down to sit before her legs can give out.

She grits her teeth as her back meets the counter, a strangled groan slipping past her lips.

"Fuck—" she hisses, her voice tight with pain.

Your mind fractures, a violent spiral of panic and denial. No. No, no, no—this can’t be happening.

Ellie can’t die. She won’t die. Not when you haven’t told her yet.

Not when you haven’t confessed the one thing that’s been clawing at your chest for so long.

Not when you can’t even imagine a world without her in it.

"Hold on."

You drop to your knees beside her, hands shaking as you reach for the hem of her blood-soaked shirt.

Ellie flinches, sucking in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, her body rigid beneath your touch. Her eyes—dazed, unfocused—barely manage to meet yours.

"I got you. Just—just hold on." Your voice wavers, barely above a whisper, but you don’t have time to dwell on it.

Your fingers fumble as you rip your backpack from your shoulder, yanking at the zipper, searching—first aid kit, bandages, anything.

But then—a touch.

Ellie’s hand, warm and trembling, finds yours, halting your frantic movements. Your breath stutters.

"Hey, hey—take a breath." Her voice is raw, strained, yet impossibly soft. Maybe just for you.

Your vision blurs. Your throat tightens. You blink hard, but a tear escapes anyway, slipping down your cheek.

Ellie sees it—of course, she sees it—and despite the pain, her expression softens. And for a fleeting, impossible moment, the world outside fades. The gunfire, the blood, the suffocating fear—gone.

Just her. Just you.

And before you can stop yourself, before your brain can catch up to your mouth, the words slip free.

"I—I love you."

Ellie’s brows twitch, the smallest flicker of surprise breaking through her exhaustion. But you don’t regret it.

Not now, not when the truth feels so right sitting between you.

Not when it might be the last chance you get to say it.

The corner of her mouth twitches, just for a second, before her voice slips out—hoarse, strained, but laced with quiet amusement.

"You know, it's just like you to confess at a time like this."

A breathless laugh escapes you, though it’s more disbelief than humor. Your hands tremble as you refocus on tending to her wound, but your mind is spinning.

Was that a rejection? Was she teasing you? The uncertainty gnaws at you, tangling with the panic already clawing at your chest.

Ellie watches you, pain etched across her face, yet there’s something softer beneath it—something just for you.

"Hey, look at me."

Her whisper is so faint you almost miss it. But you don’t hesitate. You stop, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

And then—her fingers, warm despite the blood staining them, slip into yours. She squeezes.

"I love you too."

The world stills. For a moment, the gunfire outside, the frantic pounding of your heart, the terror—it all fades into nothing. Your breath catches, your chest tightens, and God, you would kiss her stupid right here if you weren’t so afraid of her bleeding out.

"You do?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, fragile and disbelieving.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate. She nods, firm despite her exhaustion. "Yes, silly."

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips—small, but real. The fear doesn’t disappear, but something steadies inside you. You exhale, slower this time, more sure.

You can fix this. You have to.

With renewed focus, you reach for her wound again—hands steadier now, more confident. Because she loves you, and you are not losing her.

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[greengoblinswifey]

Hit My Line—Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you and nicholas are on thanksgiving break away from each other so he hits your line for help in his time of need.

warnings— switch!nicholas, L bombs, fluff, phone sex, male and female masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, degrading kink.

a/n— happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate but be careful with the turkeys, the men are fucking them apparently <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

This was the longest stretch you would ever be away from Nicholas, and every minute would seem to drag. But as you pulled away from the college campus, you turned back to reassure him, fighting the tears in your eyes.

“It’s just a few days, baby. You’ll see me soon,” you whispered softly, trying to ease the ache in his heart. “And if there’s anything—anything at all—hit my line.”

His voice was thick with emotion, but he nodded, a soft smile breaking through his sadness. "I’ll miss you so much."

The few hours apart felt unbearable, even though they weren’t even a full day. As soon as you arrived home, your phone buzzed with a message from Nicholas:

“I miss you already. I can’t stand being away from you. I just want to hold you.”

You smiled, typing out a quick reply: “I miss you too, baby. We’ll be back together before you know it.”

Thanksgiving morning came, and you woke up with a yawn, your phone ringing beside you before you even had the chance to fully roll out of bed, his name flashed across the screen. You smiled, picking up.

“Happy Thanksgiving to my incredible girlfriend,” Nicholas beamed over the phone, his voice warm and full of affection.

“Good morning, baby,” you whispered, your heart fluttering. “Happy Thanksgiving to you too.”

“I'm so thankful for you,” he said, his tone deepening. "You mean everything to me, I love you.”

The words hit you like a wave. It was the first time he'd said it though he had showed it in other ways, and the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes couldn’t be held back. “I love you too,” you said, voice cracking.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby,” he cooed. “I’m just so glad I have you.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm yourself. “It’s okay. I’m just so thankful for you too. You're the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.”

He chuckled softly. “I miss you so much, and Mom wishes you were here with us for Thanksgiving. I really want you to be a part of the family.”

“I promise, next time,” you said, wiping away your final tear. “Tell her we’ll make it happen.”

You both hung up after a few more heartfelt words, and as the day went on, you spent time with your family. But your thoughts often drifted to Nicholas. The love between you felt so deep, even with the miles separating you.

That night, you made sure to text him. “How’s Thanksgiving going, baby?”

His reply came quickly: “Great, but I have a bit of a problem, I’ll tell you about it later.”

Concerned, you quickly typed back: “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s nothing serious, just something I wanted to talk to you about later, when we’re alone.”

You smiled, having an idea of exactly what he meant.

After a while, when your family was settled and you were tucked into your childhood room, your phone buzzed. It was Nicholas, his voice lower than usual.

“Hey, baby,” he said, sounding a little—off.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s the problem you were talking about? You’ve got me worried.”

He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well—uh, to be honest, I’ve been really horny all day,” he admitted with a slight laugh. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You felt a surge of heat at his confession. “How can you be thinking about that when you're with your family?” you teased lightly, but there was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver down your spine.

He hesitated for a moment, before confessing, “I don't know, I just—I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. I wish you were here.”

You let out a soft laugh, heart racing. “Well, baby, what do you want to do about it?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then he whispered, “I’ve never done this before, but I wanna try phone sex. I’ve heard the guys in the frat talk about it, and I don’t know—I just really need you.”

“I’m down if you are, baby,”you said softly, feeling your body react. “But I don’t have my vibrator with me.”

Nicholas chuckled. “Well, I don’t have anything but my hand, but that’s enough as long as I hear your voice.”

Your breath hitched, and you could practically feel the tension between you two building on the phone. “I think that’ll do just fine,” you said, a teasing smile playing at your lips.

“Wait fuck, I forgot I had facetime, wanna switch?” he suggested.

You hung up immediately and called him on facetime, a small smirk on his face. There he was in all his glory, hair messy, shirtless with just his pajama bottoms on and his hard dick printing.

You had your bonnet on, bare faced and draped in a silk, two piece pajamas. “You look beautiful,” he said, admiring you as the red of your LED lights lit up your face, “the red lights are fitting.”

He propped up a pillow in front of him, skillfully angling the phone so that you could see his entire body. He was gorgeous as always, the dim light cascading over his shirtless body, his abs, his pecs, those fucking biceps. You wanted him on top of you crushing you. He was built like a Greek God.

You did the same, propping up the pillow and angling the phone so he could see your figure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful baby,” he grunted, bucking his hips. You could see the outline of his cock pressing against his pajamas.

“Tell me all the things you want to do to me baby,” you whispered, just loud enough so he could hear over the phone.

Nicholas pulled down his bottoms, his hard cock springing out, the sight made you bite your lips as you stared at his body through the phone screen.

His hand slid down his chest, teasingly close to where he was already hard, and your breath caught in your throat. “God, I miss that body,” you breathed, your voice a little shaky.

Nicholas’ gaze darkened, his lips curling into a smile as he ran his fingers over his abs. “You like what you see, baby?” he asked, his voice husky, each word slow and deliberate. “You’re driving me crazy here. I’m so hard for you, you have no idea.”

You shivered at his words, “I think you’re forgetting who has the real power here,” you teased, your smile playful yet full of the same heat that you felt building between you both.

He let out a low laugh, clearly appreciating your confidence. “You know you’re just as beautiful as always,” he said, his eyes never leaving you. “I can’t stop imagining the way you’d feel with me inside you right now.”

You grinned, “Is that so? I think I could help you with that. If only you were here.”

“I’d be all over you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. His hand moved lower again, teasing his cock, though he didn’t touch fully. “I’d show you just how much I miss you.”

You bit your lip, unable to stop your pulse from quickening as his voice made the moment feel even more intimate. “If I were, I’d make sure you never wanted to leave me again.”

Nicholas groaned softly. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?” His eyes flickered as his breath quickened, clearly lost in the moment. “You’re making me wish we weren’t miles apart right now.”

You smiled, a sense of power blooming within you as you responded, “Trust me, baby. I’d make it worth your while.”

You pulled off your satin pajama top, revealing your boobs, your nipples hard. Your hands went to them groping them as you bit your lip.

“Fuck, keep doing that baby, grope those fucking tits for me,” he moaned, his hands now stroking his painfully hard cock.

“I wish you were here to do it for me baby, I love the way your tongue flicks my nipples,” you said.

Your hand went down your abdomen and you heard Nicholas moaned, his movements speeding up. Swiftly, you slipped off your shorts and your panties, your pussy glistening in the light.

“Fucking hell baby, I’m gonna be so fucking deep inside that wet pussy when I see you,” he gasped, his hand moving to caress his balls.

“I’m gonna ride that cock so good, make you cum deep inside me.” You moved your fingers to collect the wetness onto your fingers before rubbing your clit. Your back arched off the bed and you did what you could to make sure you moans were soft enough so only Nicholas could hear.

“Fuck, I need that so bad right now baby, keep rubbing that clit, tell me more.” He spread his pre cum on the tip, a sweet whimper leaving his lips as his body shuddered.

“I want you to choke me while you fuck me, hard while you tell me how much of a slut I am,” you murmured, rubbing your clit in rough circles.

“I can do that baby, I can tell you how much of a dirty slut you are, fuck, you’re such a slut right now for doing this with me,” he said. The words uttering his lips were foreign to him, he was more inclined to have you do the degrading and taking the lead—unless you asked of course.

“Oh— baby, I wish you were here to fuck me hard from behind, I know how much you love this ass slapping against you,” you breathed out, your efforts speeding up, you were right on edge.

“Make sure you keep that same fucking energy when I see you, ‘cause I’ll be the one in control,” he said, tilting his head back slightly as his eyes averted to your fingers moving between your legs and his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, “you see how fast I’m stroking this hard fucking cock? That’s how fast I’ll be fucking you.”

“Baby, I think I’m gonna cum, can I cum for you?” you asked, now slipping your fingers inside your pussy.

“N-not yet, take those fingers out and put them in your mouth and then fuck yourself with them again,” he demanded, stroking his cock even faster now, “then I want you groping your tits.”

You did as you were told, bringing your dripping fingers up to your mouth and moaning around them as you savored your own tasted. Your hand went to your boobs, groping them as you imagined they were Nicholas’ large hands. As you did, you slipped your fingers back into your pussy, the sound of squelching the only thing that could be heard apart from your boyfriend’s breathy moans on facetime.

“Fuck, be a good fucking girl and cum for me, cum for me baby,” he gasped.

“Oh, Nicholas,” you moaned, your back arching from the bed as you finger fucked your pussy. Your juices spurted from you, coating your phone screen and the pillow in front of you. You moved your fingers to your clit, rubbing and guiding yourself through your orgasm, trying your best to quiet your breathy moans.

“Fucking hell baby, you’re so hot, squirting like that—shit, oh God, I’m gonna cum, can I cum baby? Please, I’m your good boy, I wanna cum for you,” he gasped, his body trembling as his hands moved quickly up and down his shaft.

“Cum for me baby, let me see that load all over your hand for me,” you uttered, groping your boobs as you watched him through the phone.

You got more than what you bargained for as Nicholas came all over his hand and even more so on his abdomen. “F-fuck baby, that was so hot,” he moaned breathily.

You both took a moment, panting as you stared at each other, your naked bodies rising and falling.

“I really enjoyed that baby,” you smiled, “shit, my screen’s all messed up.”

He laughed, rubbing his cum all over his abdomen, “I enjoyed that even more sweetheart, but now we gotta get cleaned up and you need your beauty rest.”

“Well, I guess this is goodbye until I call you next morning?” you giggled.

“No problem baby, I love you so much, never forget that and I miss you so much, I can’t wait to see you,” he said, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

“I love you too Nick, I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you soon.”

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Not Your Savior Author's Notes: This was supposed to be short but I just kept writing. Also thanks to @wraithdance for helping me with this. Not very angsty in my opinion Warnings: MDNI, Angst?, Microaggressions/Racism

Johnny is a lover at heart. Sure he may be in the military, but how couldn't he? The world has always been kind to him. The least he can do is be kind to others.

Even if it's Americans who are trying to take the love of his life.

“Sweetheart, aren’t you gonna eat?” Johnny was going to gag. He should be focusing on his own work, but couldn't help eavesdrop on yours and Russ' conversation.

“Sergeant Russ, what have I told you about calling me sweetheart?”

“And what have I told you about calling me Sergeant Russ… sweetheart?” Silence followed before laughter came. Johnny hated it. 

In another life, maybe him and Russ could have been friends. But as of right now, Johnny just wanted to punch his stupid face. Because how fucking dare he get close to you. How dare he love on you when Johnny couldn't or at least shouldn't.

“I have to finish a few more things before I can eat.” Johnny could hear the distinct sound of your fingers tapping on your keyboard. He hears that more than your voice these days. 

“You know you can eat whenever you want, whether your work is done or not.” Your fingers stopped tapping. “You know that, right?” 

Silence.

“Keegan, c-can you please leave?” Johnny was taken aback. He has never heard your voice break before.

Did Keegan touch a nerve? Did you really think you didn’t deserve to eat? 

Now looking back at it, Johnny didn’t see you much in the dining hall these days. You normally sat with the 141 but after walking in the rain, you started to eat in your office. Or at least, he assumed you ate lunch in your office. 

“Only if you come with me to get lunch.”

“Sergeant Russ, I already—“

“No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no.” Johnny could hear some heavy footsteps. “Get up and let’s go.” The 141 sergeant distinctly heard the sound of your chair moving. 

“Keegan, let me go, you can’t just—“

“Stop fighting me and let’s go!” 

Even if Keegan has a point here, that doesn't mean he can just man-handle you. He shot out of his seat and rushed towards your office. However, before he could step inside, Keegan started to speak again in a much softer voice. 

“I don’t know what these fucking Brits told you but you deserve to be here.“ Johnny heard you take a deep breath. “They might not care about you, but I do, so please let’s just—“

“Keegan, respectfully, fuck off.” You cut him off. “You‘ll never get it, okay? You’re a white man. You've never needed to prove yourself. So don’t come in here on your high horse and try to be my hero. I don’t need saving, I just need teammates who’ll let me do my job.“

Johnny could hear you breathing heavily, but he couldn't understand why you were so worked up? Keegan was just trying to look out for you... what's so wrong with that? Also what do you mean he didn't have to work hard? Johnny had to work hard and he's a white man.

Johnny tries to peer inside your office but had to quickly pull back as Keegan walks out. His eyes followed the American out.  

“Sergeant MacTavish, do you need something?” Johnny jumps a bit after hearing your voice. He couldn't help but stare at you. It's been awhile since he's had you so close. Maybe this was his chance to show you he still cares.

"Y-y-ou should eat," he stutters out. Your eyes widen and you ask him to repeat himself. So he does. Johnny explains that despite Russ getting on his nerves, he's right. You should eat. And that you also should have been a little nicer to the guy, he was just looking out for you.

You weren't sure whether to scream or fight Johnny right now. Instead, like you always have, you take a deep breath and just leave. You didn’t have time for this anymore. You hear Johnny call out your name, but you ignore him. You just shut your door. Maybe this time, they’ll let you work. 

An hour goes by and to your joy, no one bothers you. A small part of you hoped Johnny would come in and ask more questions, but you quickly pushed it down. He hasn’t cared about you in over four months, why would he suddenly care now? Now with that report done, you rush to the restroom. 

As you walk back to your office, you fight the urge to look into the temporary office of the allied task force. They were an… interesting trio but you honestly didn’t want to entertain them. You were not going to make that mistake twice. 

You swing your office door open and stop in your tracks. Sitting on your desk was a plastic bag with take-away boxes clearly in it. You slowly approached it and grab the note stapled on the bag. 

It read: eat it now or later, totally up to you. The boxes are safe for the microwave.

Sorry, your teammate, Keegan. 

You really couldn't believe it. You pointed out this man's privilege and told him to go fuck himself. Any one else would have had a fit and probably reported you, but instead he bought you lunch and apologized.

This had to be a trick… right? No one is that mature. You grabbed the bags and marched to the makeshift office.

And as you fly past a certain Scotsman's office, Johnny couldn't help but peak outside his door. For a moment, he was ecstatic to see a bag of food in your hands. But when he realized you were headed towards the new guys office, he couldn't help but feel nervous. What were you going to do?

"Sergeant Russ?" Johnny floats close to make sure everything goes well.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"What's this?" Johnny connects the dots and realizes that Russ must have bought you food. Fuck. Why didn't he think of that?

"Lunch... or dinner. Up to you."

Your scoff rings out the door. "Why?"

Johnny hears Russ take a deep breath. He's probably annoyed. Now Russ is going to lash out when this could have all been avoided if you just had accepted his --

"Because you were right." Johnny hears a chair scrapping the floor before Russ continues. "I won't ever get what it's like to be you. And I can say all that I want but it won't change the fact that the rules are different for you and I."

"Keegan, I--"

"Please let me finish here." A heavy silence fills the air before Keegan continues. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to try to help you. And no, that doesn't mean I'm going to try to save you, because I know you can do that yourself. You've been doing that. Just... just let me help my teammate in any way I can." Johnny hears a few heavy steps. "Is that okay with you sweetheart?"

Johnny couldn't understand what just happened. Keegan was just trying to be nice and you get annoyed. Keegan leaves, buys you lunch, and then apologizes. What was going on here? Did Johnny miss something here?

He must have, because he couldn't understand why you would just say,

"Well, Keegan, help a teammate out then. I'm feeling like an early dinner tonight."

Word Count: 1231

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[tender-rosiey]

sick — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: taking care of gojo cause he deserves it my baby :((

satoru forces his eyes open with a great struggle, but seeing your face makes it worth it. he presses a kiss to your forehead, before, reluctantly, peeling off the covers and heading to the bathroom.

his steps are heavier and his mind is a bit hazy. he figures quickly that he‘s caught a cold. but, like the idiot he is, he brushes it off cause what’s a little cold to the strongest sorcerer?

small coughs escape his lips every now then as he gets ready. he applauds himself for being able to do everything—despite the coughing fits—without waking you up.

finally, he tiptoes his way to your sleeping form to give you a kiss on the forehead once again. he takes a last look at your face and he smiles, one reserved for you only.

and so the routine is done! he is satisfied as he walks to the door, ready to act like his normal self that definitely doesn’t have a fever that is worsening by the second.

his hand reaches for the doorknob and, “satoru, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

he turns to you, a grin plastered on his face as he tries masking his coughs, “hey, hun! lovely morning, isn’t it? I was about to—“

“sit your ass back down.”

“yes ma’am,” he mumbles, looking like a kicked puppy.

you roll your eyes before pulling him back to bed. but, of course, he tries to fight it, “y/n, I am fine, really!”

“no, you’re not,” you huff as you make him lay down on the bed and cover him with the blankets, “your breath is heavier and your face is flushed.”

you press a hand to his forehead before gasping, “satoru, you’re burning up! and you wanted to work like this?”

“hey! nothing the strongest—“ he coughs in between, “—can’t handle,” he smiles, trying to assure you, but you don’t buy it.

and you are about to retort, but satoru’s phone rings, cutting your thoughts off. the caller is one of the higher ups.

before your husband gets the chance, you snatch the phone and answer the call instead, “can I help you?”

satoru has given up fighting about it anymore and simply accepts his fate. he snuggles closer to your chest while you listen to whatever the old man is yapping about.

then you respond, “satoru’s not going anywhere,” you tighten your hold on him and he feels his flutter a little at your secure hold. when was the last time he felt protected?

the old man’s yapping turns into barking and his voice is like chalk scratching the board so you sigh and reply, tone giving no room for further discussion, “he is sick. also, why don’t you up your game a bit? you’re maybe double or triple his age? shouldn’t you be able protect yourself? anyways bye! rot in hell!”

you end the call with a smile before tossing the phone to the side. satoru smiles into your shirt, “that was hot of you.”

“oh shut up,” you grumble as you pat his head, “how did you get sick anyways?”

satoru takes a deep breath, brows furrowed before he replies, “one of the curses was related to ice…or whatever,” you hum in response and he snuggles into the crook of your neck.

seeing satoru all weak, maybe even helpless breaks your heart. he is usually so loud, so bright, but now he looks so tired, frail even.

you sigh as your fingers card through his hair. you would’ve preferred if his day-off was spent with him being his usual self rather than all sick like this.

though you can’t deny that a part of you feels a little happy because he trusts you enough to be completely vulnerable with him.

so you press a kiss to the top of his head and he stirs around a bit, words a little slurry, “…what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, but I have to go and make you some soup, satoru,” you say while trying to get up, but his hold on you tightens.

he voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, “…stay.”

your heart clenches at the soft plea, but you know that he needs to be well fed so he can recover quickly, “satoru, honey, you need to eat so you can get better,” your hear him groan before reluctantly pulling way.

still, his hand is holding onto your own, and he looks up to you, eyes barely open, oh how you missed seeing those blue gems shinning as usual, even if they scared the shit out of you at night, “just don’t take long…please.”

you nod and press a kiss to the top of his head, “look at you being so polite.”

he grumbles, making you giggle.

you finally make your way to the kitchen. you hope that satoru can sleep a bit till you’re done with the soup.

you don’t feel the time as it passes, already invested in making the best soup for your sick husband.

after a while, you’re finally done. you give yourself a pat on the back before carrying it to the bedroom. you speak, voice low, “satoru?”

he turns in his sleep and slowly opens his eyes, smiling a little, “you’re back?”

“of course, I am, silly. I would never leave you,” and both of you know that those words hold much deeper meaning than it looks like.

you set the soup on the nightstand, “come on, you need to eat, honey.”

he stretches a bit before sitting up—the movement seems to cause him pain but he hopes you don’t point it out—, a wide smile on his lips as he looks at you, “my pretty wife made soup, just for me?” he coughs a little, “I am flattered.”

he sounds better, you note. that sleep must’ve done him good so you hope the soup will make him feel even better.

you take a hold of the bowl and satoru opens his mouth, expectantly. you quirk an eyebrow at him, “what are you doing?”

he closes his mouth with a pout, “you’re not going to feed me?”

he is finally back to his antics, you think as you narrow your eyes, “and why would I do that?”

“because I am your very sick husband who only wants to be pampered by his pretty—“ he is cut off by you shoving the spoon in his mouth.

he swallows the soup, satisfied, and with a grin so wide you’re thinking of smacking him for looking so smug yet so cute at the same time, “thank you, honey!”

you roll your eyes, albeit fondly, “yeah, yeah,” you huff as you feed him another spoon and the smile never leaves his face.

you also notice the little kicking of his feet. does being spoon-fed by you really make him this giddy?

“y/n, you know how everyone boasts about my strength?” you feed him another spoon and he hums in contentment before continuing, “I think my only weakness is you.”

“doesn’t that make you scared?” you inquire as you set the empty bowl aside and satoru wastes no time as he hugs your waist as snuggles into your chest, his favorite place, “having a weakness and everything.”

he shakes your head, “nope, it just makes me want to get even stronger so I can protect you.”

he thinks for a moment, “you got me wrapped around your pretty fingers and I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he then grins, looking up at you.

it’s silent for a while before you speak up, “satoru.”

“hm?” you practically hear the smirk his voice.

you deadpan, “did you just fart?”

“honey, I could never!” and satoru thanks the heaven that he is sick cause he knows that he would’ve been hit by every single pillow on this bed otherwise.

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[ckret2]

Chapter 87 of human Bill Cipher in drag as his cishetsona, Sexygirl McGovernment-Seducer: in which he attempts to get intel out of Agent Powers during a dinner date using the feminine wiles he's totally pretending to have but definitely doesn't.

Spoilers: he's not going to help Powers solve the mystery.

(warning this chapter for some mild sexual content, although it's all non-explicit and nothing happens on screen.)

####

Soos drove Bill to Greasy's Diner half an hour before his scheduled date. Before Bill got out of the truck, Soos put a hand on his shoulder. "Dude. Wait a sec."

"What."

Soos opened his mouth, and then didn't say anything.

"What?"

Soos nervously wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Uh..."

Oh, come on. Teeth gritted, Bill snapped, "What."

Soos rummaged around in his cargo shorts, pulled out a slightly sweat-damp envelope, and offered it to Bill. "Here. Just... just in case."

"What is it?"

"Um."

Bill peeked in the envelope. Oh. Protection. Intimate protection. Not like he'd asked for it, but—yeah, sure, Soos was the only human in the house currently getting any action, of course he was the only one with supplies. Bill nodded solemnly. "Message received." If the possibility came up, it might make for a useful persuasion tool.

And besides that, Bill needed it. Not as ravenously as he'd needed it two or three weeks ago (something to do with this stupid body's stupid hormones, no doubt), but he needed it. His little tryst with his worshiper last weekend had only served to whet his appetite. Having been reminded said appetite existed—and that there was a slim chance he might finally get it satisfied—he could feel it low in his abdomen. It felt like someone had emptied a can of soup, heated the empty metal can on a stove until it was red hot, and then teleported it into Bill's flesh beneath his small intestine: searingly hot and empty—

Bill pushed aside his discomfort and tried to cover it by making someone else even more uncomfortable. He shook the envelope. "But you think I'll need six?"

Soos looked out the windshield, studiously avoiding Bill's gaze. "Um. I thought, 'hey, uh... better safe than sorry,' right?"

"Sure." Better than pleading with his captors for a pharmacy trip. He checked his dress for pockets, found nothing, and stuffed the envelope in the folds of his umbrella instead. "Better add more to my part of the grocery list. Ya know, for the future," he said. "Ribbed. With that tingly lube. If they don't have any with that lube, just throw in a poblano and I'll figure it out myself." If he was going to have a sex life in this body, he was going to enjoy it properly.

Looking out the windshield wasn't enough, Soos was staring at the truck's roof now. "Okay," he said weakly. "You got it, dude."

Bill knocked his umbrella on the passenger door. "Now let me out of this sardine tin."

####

"Bill Cipher is on a date," Ford said. "With a government agent who's privy to all kinds of classified intel. Totally unrestrained and unmonitored. No supervision. No magical handcuffs." He took a deep breath. "And I'm fine with it. I'm just fine."

Stan glanced over from the TV. Ford was laying on the sofa, perfectly straight, hands laced over his chest, staring at the ceiling, like he was expecting a heart attack any minute and had decided he might as well prepare his body for the casket. "I can tell," Stan said. He elected not to try to reassure Ford until the next commercial break. Cash Wheel was on, and it was nice to be able to get in some guesses without Ford blurting out the answers first.

Sitting on the floor with Mabel, Dipper said, "It's not the first time Bill's been outside without restraints. The handcuffs came off during the eclipse, and he didn't cause any trouble."

"Plus," Mabel said, "he just escaped the shack and came back voluntarily! Because he trusted us not to kill him! We can show him a tiiiny bit of trust in return, right?"

Ford groaned, pulled the baby blue doily off the back of the couch, and covered his face with it.

"Besides, he's not totally unsupervised!" Mabel held up her phone, beaming. "Let's just say, there's a good reason I made sure he'd go to Greasy's."

####

Every time the restaurant door opened, Pacifica's head whipped around to see who was coming in, and so far she'd only been disappointed. She'd picked up an extra shift this evening just because Mabel had texted to say her personal makeup project would be taking his date here, and so far all she'd gotten was lumberjacks and some of Spiderwebs' weird prison gang pals.

She was busy passing out plates to the elderly throuple that came in twice a week when the door opened and Pacifica finally caught a flash of golden hair from the corner of her eye. There they were. (Ooh, and the government agent was tall, too.)

Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw Lazy Susan approach them first. "Heeey, I haven't seen you two before! Welcome! Booth for two?" Susan turned slightly to glance over her shoulder at Pacifica.

That woman was a treasure. Pacifica nodded subtly—yes, this was the couple she'd been talking about all afternoon.

Susan nodded back, and led the couple to Pacifica's half of the diner. "This way! Your waitress will be with you in a minute. What can I get you two to drink in the meantime?"

While Pacifica was wrapping up with the throuple and passing their salad dishes to the kitchen, Susan had brought out their drink orders, and now was saying, "Say! Have you got a funny eye too?" She lifted her eyelid with a fingertip. "Wink!"

Goldie laughed. "Yeah, and they take turns being funny." He switched which eye he was squinting shut. "Wink."

"Really? Oh how silly! Mine stays on the same side." Susan left their table. "You two enjoy yourselves!"

Voice low, the agent said, "I meant to ask yesterday if you'd hurt your eye, when you were wearing an eyepatch."

"Nah, it's a condition! If I use 'em both for too long it gives me a migraine. Usually the eyepatch is for afternoons," he rested his chin on his laced fingers and batted his eyelashes, "buuut I wanted to look nice for you." (For which Pacifica was grateful—she hadn't spent several hours teaching Goldie and Mabel just for him to smear his eyeshadow under an eyepatch.)

Finally, she'd offloaded her plates and could rush over to their table. "Hee-eeyyy guys, my name's Pacifica, welcome to Greasy's I'll be your waitressss." She gave them both her best waitress smile.

Goldie's brows shot up in surprise—Mabel must not have told him she worked here—but the agent squinted at her in concentration. "Aren't you the Northwest girl? Pacifica Northwest?"

Pacifica froze. Her parents worked with some government people; she didn't know whether this agent was one of them. With no change to her singsong customer service tone, she said, "Please don't tell my parentssss." She gave them both her stiffest waitress smile.

The agent shook his head. "None of my business."

The agent ordered the meatloaf; Goldie ordered a club sandwich with fries, and Pacifica kicked herself for not advising him on proper dinner date etiquette. Girls should order salad on the first date, her mom had drilled that into her head, guys don't want to watch a girl actually eating. If you didn't think you could survive the night on a salad then you ate before the date so you could pick at your lettuce without looking ravenous—and of all other options, a sandwich was the worst, crumbs all over your hands and it was so inelegant to tear off chunks of bread with your mouth... She uneasily remembered Goldie's sneer as he told her she was one wrong jab away from an eating disorder, and decided he probably wouldn't have listened to her advice about proper date foods anyway.

Still, she had no idea what to make of the fact that Goldie had also requested maple syrup, grape jelly, and "the hottest hot sauce you have" on the side. She prayed this wouldn't be a disaster. She was invested now.

As she left, she heard Goldie gush to his date, "So tell me all about your investigation...!"

####

"This isn't public knowledge," Powers said, "but as a matter of fact, there is a little more to the investigation than a few power surges and a couple of gravitational anomalies."

Bill nodded, the perfect picture of fascination. "You don't say?"

"Perhaps I should... tell you a little more about my work," Powers said. "The Bureau of Covert Investigations isn't exactly a secret agency, but it isn't widely advertised to the public. We don't even have a website. We don't accept job applications, either; the only way agents join is by being recruited from other departments."

He decided not to point out that he already knew way more about the eagles than Powers was telling him—including the fact that they were under the Department of Cover-Ups, which was top secret. (Of course, Powers was covering that part up.) "Sounds pretty elite! Where'd you get recruited from? FBI? CIA?"

"The Criminal Investigations department of the IRS."

Bill choked back a laugh. 

"We're dedicated to investigating reports of potential domestic threats within the United States that seem... too absurd for other departments. Including reports that might be considered... paranormal."

"So, when you say there's more to your investigation than a few power surges... I take it you're not talking about checking the local power plant for OSHA violations."

"Precisely," Powers said. "Most of the time, our work consists of uncovering hoaxes, or finding natural scientific explanations for supernatural-looking phenomena. But this one..." He lowered his voice, leaning further across the table. "I've been working the Gravity Falls case for years. It was my first assignment when I joined the bureau in the 80s—and I became convinced that something odd is happening in this town, just under the surface. Over the next few years, my investigation uncovered irregularities in the town's historical records, strange localized effects on magnetic fields, a disproportionate amount of reported sightings of things like Bigfoot or UFOs, occasional tourist disappearances far above the statistical average for this part of Oregon... The original case I was assigned to investigate went cold, but I remained certain that Gravity Falls is the key to something big."

(Uncovered irregularities in the historical records? So the bureau hadn't just told him about the irregularities. He really wasn't part of the Trembley cover-up. Bill nodded enthusiastically, go on.)

"But the anomalous power surges stopped, and I was forced to put the Gravity Falls case on the back burner for lack of any new evidence," Powers said. "Until last summer. When we picked up readings identical to the ones we detected in the 80s. We discovered that they coincided with localized fluctuations in gravity, as well. At last, I had the resources and manpower to pursue the case in earnest."

Bill considered cracking a joke about Manny Powers's manpower, then decided there was no point if Powers wouldn't even find it funny. "And what happened then?" With the core of their knowledge of the case having been ripped out by the memory gun, Bill was really curious how the agents remembered that whole incident.

Powers looked embarrassed. "Well... we... didn't find anything, I suppose." He cleared his throat. "But—in spite of last summer's... lack of success, I'm sure something is happening in this town. If anything, I'm more convinced now than ever before."

"Really? More convinced?" Talk about a backfire. Ford might've been better off erasing the eagles' memories of the entire case... but then, once they got home, whatever information they still had on file at their headquarters would've reactivated their memories. In this situation, there really was no winning with the memory gun, no matter how carefully tuned it was—with so many people involved and so many disparate sources of information, the Pines couldn't have kept everything secret. "How come? Didja find any evidence?"

"Nothing concrete, but..." Powers made a noise of irritation. "The locals seem normal enough, they'll tell you there's nothing strange about their town—but talk to the visitors who pass through, and they all seem to feel that something eerie is going on."

Bill considered that, trying to find an angle to nudge Powers away from Gravity Falls. For a man employed to investigate the paranormal, he seemed like a pretty rational, logic-driven guy; maybe a logical argument? "I did say the town feels spooky to me too, but... if even you couldn't find any evidence, I've gotta wonder if it's just a psychological trick making us think Gravity Falls is a bigger deal than it is."

"How so?"

"Think about it: how many reasons do people have to visit this place? The one road into town dead ends at The Club—which I'm convinced is only visited by locals and the Northwests' business guests—so they're not getting traffic through town. There's the lake, but there are plenty of other lakes around more popular tourist towns in the Mount Hood area. (Personally, I'm fond of Pyramid Lake—no particular reason.) If you want a mall, you'd get more bang for your buck driving a couple hours to Portland than going to Gravity Falls'. The Tent of Telepathy shut down in under two years. Nobody's gonna visit the history museum unless they're already in town. So the biggest draw in town is... the Mystery Shack. You hit the turnoff for the shack before you even reach the town. It's no wonder tourists feel like something weird's going on!" Bill scoffed, "Maybe that's the real reason your anonymous tipster said there's someone 'dangerous' in the shack. They coulda been talking about our pal Sascrotch."

"You do make an excellent point," Powers said. "But reports about the town's strangeness extend beyond the tourists. Truckers who stop in at the Triple Digit Truck Stop claim that this stretch of Route 14 is haunted. And out-of-town loggers say that the loggers in Gravity Falls are... skittish."

"Oh, that's just Dan," Bill said. "Tough guy, but he's nervous about the things in the woods."

"You know Dan?"

Right, Bill was supposed to just be a tourist. "I've been in town long enough to notice him. Hard not to notice him, he's built like a bonfire!"

Powers nodded slightly, accepting that. "But don't you think it's odd for a lumberjack to be nervous around trees?"

Bill didn't have time to think of a response to that before Pacifica came by with their meals. "Here you go, one meatloaf and one club sandwich. Everything great so far?" She directed the question toward Bill.

He flashed her a bright grin. "Terrific. Thanks."

She looked relieved. "Great! You two just let me know if you need anything."

"Will do!" He could use a break for dinner, anyway. He'd hit a dead end; he needed to think up a new angle.

But he'd find something. He always did.

####

From the far end of the restaurant, Pacifica clapped her hands over her mouth in horror as Goldie drizzled maple syrup over his fries. The agent stared in silent fascination as he added grape jelly and hot sauce to his club sandwich. What was he doing. No wonder this guy was friends with Mabel, he was just as silly as her and twice as oblivious to it. He was ruining everything.

As Pacifica watched, he emphatically offered the maple syrup to the agent, who looked dubious, but tentatively drizzled a tiny bit on his mashed potatoes and tried a bite. He looked pleasantly surprised. Huh. Who'd have guessed.

They had their dinner; Pacifica took care of her other customers and checked in on them a few more times; and as Pacifica took their plates back to the kitchen, Susan, who was sweeping behind the counter, asked, "Sooo? How are the lovebirds doing?"

"I... guess not bad." She had to admit that Goldie looked like he had that agent wrapped around his finger. The agent's gaze hadn't strayed from Goldie's face once. Which was impressive, since Pacifica had learned from experience that when Goldie was looking at you, making eye contact felt like trying to stare down the sun. "I mean, I know my makeup tips were good, but I'm really surprised Goldie's doing this well."

"Oh? Why's that? I thought she seems nice!"

Pacifica winced. Frankly, because—in spite of his reassurances that the agent was into him—she still couldn't quite believe that the agent wasn't grossed out by the fact that he was fat and had weird eyes. But that also described Susan; so instead, Pacifica said, "Ummm... Because she's... kinda weird?"

"Oh, well that's fine!" Susan said. "Guys like girls that are a little bit out there, haha."

Pacifica had to fight to smile instead of grimace. "Yeah... sure." Guys really didn't, though. And Pacifica wasn't sure Susan was qualified to talk about what guys liked, considering she'd never been married or anything.

Lazy Susan was really a sweet woman. She'd immediately taken Pacifica under her wing when she was hired as a waitress—teaching her stuff like the regular customers' orders and how to balance tall drinks and heavy foods in the middle of the tray. She always intervened to take the creepy customers, keeping them away from Pacifica's tables; and she helped out behind the counter whenever the usual counter waitress's trucker fiancé made a rare trip into town for lunch, so she could slack off and talk to him. She'd never been weird about the fact that a few months ago Pacifica's weekly allowance had been more than the restaurant's weekly profits, unlike some of the other employees, and she was patient with Pacifica's clueless rich girl moments. She never had anything snide to say when Pacifica was a little naughty and ordered chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks for her mid-shift meal, and whenever Pacifica was going from the restaurant to her ranch instead of home, Susan insisted she take a slice of marionberry pie.

But, for all her virtues, Pacifica had to reluctantly admit that Susan had some blindspots, insensitive pun unintended—particularly when it came to her own appearance and understanding how your appearance affected how other people treated you. Sure, it was a nice break for Pacifica to get out from under the scrutiny she got around her mom, but Susan wasn't doing herself any favors with that obliviousness. Pacifica would love to help her overhaul her wardrobe someday, as thanks for everything Susan had done for her; she just needed to think of a way to offer it that wouldn't insult her. Not everyone was a former pageant kid who could take Pacifica's blunt critiques and be just as blunt in return.

Susan slid a slice of cherry pie across the counter. "You should give 'em a slice of pie! On the house! Dessert's romantic! And those government guys just love the pie here." She leaned on the counter and said in a loud conspiratorial aside, "There's one slice and two forks so they have to share!"

At least that was a sound idea. It was a flirting tactic her parents would look down on, but Pacifica knew sharing a dessert was something commoners found romantic. "Thanks, Susan." She put on her customer service smile and carried the plate over to their table.

####

In the past two hours, the only "fact" Powers had "learned" about Bill was that he was in town for the summer and had rented a cabin in the area, and Bill had only offered that lie to justify why he'd been able to immediately recognize another couple of names Powers had mentioned. Powers didn't notice he hadn't learned anything else about his date; it had only taken a little prompting from Bill and he'd been all too eager to just keep talking about the case he was enthralled with.

No, not enthralled. Obsessed.

"I feel as though there's a... a hole, right in the middle of everything I know about Gravity Falls." Powers was hunched forward with his elbows on the table, brows furrowed, rubbing his forehead as though he could reach into his brain and grope around for the missing piece. "If I can just fill in that hole, then everything will fit together. But..."

But. Unfortunately, there was a hole in the middle of his knowledge—a Mystery Shack-shaped hole—and Bill could not let him figure that out.

Most victims of Spectacles's memory gun never questioned the gaps in their recollection; usually only the ones with damage as extensive as Specs himself ever even noticed there was something missing. But Powers was different. As he told Bill about his case—as he bumped up again and again against the things he didn't know—it was clear just how aware he was of the information he should have but didn't. He knew he'd gone undercover several times last summer to conduct his investigation covertly, but he couldn't remember what exactly he'd been looking for that required such subterfuge. He remembered that he'd come to town with Trigger to conduct the initial investigation, and then had called in a whole team for backup... but he couldn't remember what he'd thought he needed so many people for. He remembered attending Northwest Fest—he even remembered that the party had been attacked by a ghost—but he was almost positive encountering the ghost had been a coincidence and he'd been at the manor to investigate something else... but what?

It was fascinating, watching this human groping around the edges of his damaged memory, like a blind man feeling along the cliff above a canyon, looking for a bridge to the other side that had been burned down.

The mind of a typical memory gun victim simply frayed around the ragged edges where the missing memory had been snipped out, slowly unraveling further over time. Bill had seen that damage in its most extreme form, a fully unraveled mind whose loose threads cut at Bill like razor wire.

But from what Powers had told Bill about the case, it seemed that over the past year he'd mentally run around and around and around the place where his missing memory had been, so much that he'd inadvertently hemmed the loose edges of his mind. He'd defined the edges clearly enough to recognize the negative space. He was so close to realizing that the hole in his recollection wasn't something he just hadn't yet learned about the case, but something he'd forgotten.

What Bill wouldn't give to be able to hop into Powers's head and prod around the damage himself, see what was happening inside his brain. His mindscape had to be fascinating.

Bill took advantage of Powers's distraction to shake a little pepper and hot sauce onto the cherry pie slice and steal another bite. "Maybe you can't fill that 'hole' because whatever you're looking for isn't in Gravity Falls? Whatever's happening here might just be a small part of something bigger happening in other places. If you look for patterns—maybe other places with power surges..." Humans loved patterns.

But Powers was already shaking his head firmly. "No, I'm sure it's here," he said. "With everything else you know, I suppose there's no point in hiding what we're looking for in the Mystery Shack. Last summer, we... misplaced the flash drive with all our ongoing reports and case notes."

"Misplaced?"

"It should have been taken back to Washington by one of my superiors. But it must have been dropped—dropped or stolen—because we picked up its signal in the Mystery Shack. The signal's gone today, but..." He sighed. "Maybe if I could look over our reports from last summer, I'd notice something I missed."

(Boy, Bill bet he would.)

"I just don't know why we hadn't already submitted those reports. We're supposed to submit daily reports and back up all documents at headquarters. The only reason I'd ever ignore our usual filing procedures would be if, per agency guidelines, we were dealing with an emergency of sufficient magnitude that we couldn't waste any time on something as trivial as filing. But...?" He flung up his hands in frustration. "I don't remember any emergencies! I don't know what I was thinking. Was it the summer heat? Am I just getting old?"

"Hey, don't say that," Bill said reassuringly. "You're not that old. I'm sure you've still got a good nineteen years left in you, maybe even nineteen and a quarter!"

"I appreciate it."

Bill was beginning to suspect he wasn't getting Powers to leave town. Without more time, resources, and allies than Bill had at his disposal, he didn't stand a chance of convincing him there was nothing going on in Gravity Falls. His next best chance was convincing Powers something was going on, but it was something other than it really was. But what?

How he missed who he was supposed to be. This should have been easy for him. If he had all his billions of borrowed eyes, if he had a clear view of the whole expanse of the future and all its shining branching timelines, if he had a body made of light that could slip into Powers's dreams... He wanted to claw off his skin, shed this burden of a body, rise up electric and perfect.

That would probably be a dinner date faux pas. He distracted himself from the urge by drumming his scarlet fingernails on the table. He needed to buy more time.

"Is everything alright?" Powers asked.

"Fine, I'm fine. I'm just puzzling over this mess, too," Bill said. "I think it'll drive me crazy until we figure out what's happening in this town."

"I'm sorry for burdening you with it." He shook his head. "I spent all dinner talking about work, didn't I?"

"Because I kept asking you questions!" Bill waved off the apology, "Don't worry about it, I love a good mystery. I bet I could even help you solve it!"

"Do you?" He considered that; then sat forward, lacing his hands together on the table. "Do you have any relevant skills?"

This guy loved collaborating with local informants. "I know a little something about just about everyone in town. I know gossip about some of 'em they don't even know themselves! I'm pretty well-versed in local history. I'm an expert in cryptology—"

"Really? How much of an expert?"

"Enough of one to know that there's a cryptogram stitched in the back of your jacket that says 'Government property: if found, please return to the Bureau of Covert Investigations, P.O. Box..."

Powers started. "How—?"

"You adjusted your jacket when you sat down! I got a glimpse of it!"

"That could only have been a split second. You must have decoded it instantly."

"It's just a simple substitution cipher! It reads like plain English to me." The better question was why they'd encoded the instructions on how to return a lost coat. Probably the end result of a long bureaucratic decision-making tree involving a dozen people who didn't talk to each other. It was a problem in any government department, but especially in a department where all the employees were trained to keeping secrets—even from each other. "Like I said, I'm an expert. Cipher's my last name."

"Isn't the phrase 'middle name'?"

"Sure, whatever."

Powers stroked his chin. "I might have to take you up on that. A surprising amount of this town's founding documents have passages written in code, and I don't currently have a cryptologist with me. We could use the help."

Ah, good old Quenty and his proclivity for hiding important information behind codes and treasure hunts. One of humanity's greatest and most unappreciated geniuses. He'd been ahead of his time. (And his time wouldn't come until Bill finally got Weirdmageddon going again. Bill really hoped Quentin survived that long; humanity's psychopomps were so stodgy, and getting a spirit out of one of Earth's afterlives was a bureaucratic nightmare he'd rather not deal with. He'd do it, but what a pain.)

Bill said, "Say, you've got some kind of case file on this town, right? I don't mean that drive you mentioned. You must have had records back at headquarters from the past thirty years—plus whatever you found on this trip. If I'm going to help you, maybe I should see everything you already know."

At that, Powers finally looked uncertain. Apparently telling Bill all about his case was fine, but showing him classified documents was beyond the pale. "I uh, don't have it with me," Powers said. "I left it in my motel room."

"Did you." He laced his fingers together and propped his chin on his hands. "I would," he said, "love," he said, "to see that file."

It took Powers a moment to raise his gaze to meet Bill's. When he did, the look in his eye—the disbelief, the hope, the eagerness—

He graced Powers with the tiniest smirk; and Powers's eyes widened and cheeks reddened as he realized he hadn't misunderstood Bill's offer.

Got him. A lonely, affection-starved man would do whatever it took to feel like he was wanted for a few hours.

(A lonely, affection-starved triangle would, too.)

####

Bill flashed Pacifica a thumbs up as he passed, his umbrella cane hooked over one arm and the other arm conspicuously looped around a rather flustered-looking Powers's. As soon as the door shut behind them, she whipped out her phone.

PACIFICA: Ok stop blowing up my phone, they just left.

MABEL: How did it go?????

PACIFICA: Really good, I think. I don't think the government guy can smile? But he didn't stop looking at Goldie and they talked the whole time.

PACIFICA: And he left a big tip. Always a good sign.

MABEL: 😻🎉🎉🎉

MABEL: Did you hear what they talked about?

PACIFICA: Mostly his work I think?? Which is fine, guys like to talk about themselves on first dates. I didn't get the details.

MABEL: That's great!

MABEL: Soos said he was gonna wait for Goldie down the street where the agent won't see him. (LONG story! 😹) Can you let Goldie know where to find him?

Pacifica slid into a booth to peer out the window. There he was, across the street and about two blocks away. But as Pacifica watched, Goldie looked toward the truck, made direct eye contact with Soos for several seconds, and then wordlessly turned away from him as the government agent let him into the passenger seat of his own car. (The agent had a crummier car than Pacifica had expected.)

PACIFICA: Actually, he and the government guy left together.

MABEL: Ooooh.

MABEL: Cool cool cool

MABEL: did they say where they're going?

PACIFICA: No clue.

MABEL: That's fine!!! I'm sure it's fine.

####

The last time Bill had paid attention to this corner of Gravity Falls, this block had been occupied by the Twin Bed Motel. Since then, the long one-story log building had been replaced by a two-story brick building, the Roamin' Holiday Motel. As they drove into the parking lot, he saw a car in the parking lot with two bumper stickers: one from Gleeful Auto Sales, and a simple black and white one with no text—a flat horizontal line followed by four triangles, starting short and obtuse but growing progressively taller until the sequence ended in an equilateral. Well, well. So this was where his gals were staying. Good to know.

Powers parked his own Gleeful Auto junker at the far end of the building. "Well. Here we are," Powers said.

"Here we are!" Bill agreed.

"I could bring the case file out to the car." Powers swallowed hard. "Or, if you'd like—perhaps it might be more comfortable for you to come inside...?"

What a gentleman, giving Bill one last chance to turn him down—but it wasn't gonna happen. His body had caught on to his brain's plans, and during the seemingly interminable drive from Greasy's to the motel, the metaphorical metal soup can in Bill's abdomen had melted down into a crucible of liquid aluminum that threatened to leak out and set the car on fire. He ground his knees together as though that would help contain his anticipation, and he tried to ignore how the movement had been automatic in spite of how alien it was. "I'd love to come in!"

While he waited for Powers to open the car door, he double-checked to make sure the envelope Soos had given him was still stuffed in his umbrella.

####

It wasn't the best human-on-human action he'd had in the last ten thousand years, but it wasn't the worst. It was certainly better than some cramped backseat fumbling.

Bill missed hearing my god, my god, my god; and he missed the taste of tears. But at least this human wasn't afraid to touch Bill's body. Longterm 

And he was happy to let Bill take the lead. Powers hadn't had a longterm relationship since college, had given up on dating in his 40s; he was so lonely, so sure he'd be lonely forever, so grateful for the attention; he probably saw some pretty gal eagerly taking control, and mistook it for being wanted instead of being used.

####

"There's something wrong with this town." Even at a whisper, Powers's voice was clearly huskier than it had been earlier. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, only half re-dressed.  "I can feel it whenever I'm talking to the townspeople—as though they're hiding something. Do you know what I mean?"

So many humans could rub together a couple of poorly-placed flesh accessories for an hour and suddenly feel like they could trust each other. Like baring the most secret parts of their bodies was equivalent to baring the most secret parts of their souls. It was so funny.

So useful.

It was like a dam had broken; and Bill was keen to see what came pouring out.

He was sitting in the center of the bed, legs crossed lotus style, the sweat still drying on his skin, staring at Powers's back. He hadn't bothered to redress yet; he was hyper aware of every cubic inch of his alien body, and covering up wouldn't fix that, so he might as well take advantage of the temporary socially-sanctioned excuse to not bother with human clothes. "I know exactly what you mean. I swear, it feels like they're all in on it. I don't think you can trust anyonein this town." The manipulation came easily; he didn't need to slip into Powers's skull to know how his words would rattle around in his mind, like knocking a pool ball around a table until it finally fell into a pocket. "Have you asked anyone if anything weird happened here last summer? Try it. They act like they didn't even hear you. It's strange."

Powers sighed deeply, evidently relieved that Bill hadn't simply dismissed him. "HQ thinks I'm getting paranoid," he muttered. "They almost didn't let me come back."

(That was news to Bill. From all the signals Powers was giving off, Bill had thought he'd resented being sent back to Gravity Falls. He thought the only reason he was trying to solve the case was so the bureau would let him move on from it.)

"I'm afraid this town has... done something to me. Done something to all of us. All us outsiders."

Slowly, Bill slid to the edge of the bed to sit beside Powers. "Something like what?"

"Last year we came to Gravity Falls to investigate some odd power surges and gravitational anomalies—just like this year—and... nothing. It's not that we found nothing, I just... I can't remember anything we found out. I can remember being in town, where I stayed, what I ate, people I spoke to, places I went undercover—we all can, I've talked to all the agents that were assigned to that investigation—but—but it's as if I didn't find anything useful out for weeks." A frustrated growl entered his voice, "But I know I must have found out something! I don't remember not finding anything, I would remember if I'd not found anything—but I don't know what I found! No one from that investigation does! We handed our files, all of them, over to a superior officer—and when we returned to HQ, we were asked where our files were! And we couldn't name who we'd handed our flash drive to! Who knows where he went, I've checked all the agency personnel records that I have clearance to view I don't know how many times..."

"Did he have any distinguishing features?" Bill asked.

"I... He had a black coat, that's all I can remember." (It was something of a relief to know Powers hadn't counted the fingers, either.) "It's as if our entire team just... zoned out on the job for several weeks! All to be told by some superior officer we can't remember the name of that we'd been wasting our time chasing a meteor shower!"

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "We were heavily reprimanded—myself in particular, which I deserve, given that I was in charge. They almost took me off the Gravity Falls case entirely. Goodness knows I want to leave this accursed town behind. But I can't, because something happened to me here, and—I—need—to—find—out—what. But the only leads I have are the power surges, an anonymous tip saying there's someone dangerous in the Mystery Shack, and the signal from our missing flash drive."

He fell silent. Bill leaned against his side, sliding a hand onto his shoulder, reassuring (possessive, controlling).

Voice almost inaudible, Powers said, "Frankly, I'm terrified. At the thought that something might have been done to my mind."

"Of course you are." He ran his hand through Powers's thinning hair. "I can't think of anything more terrifying than having someone else's fingers inside your head, pulling the strings."

Bill almost felt bad for the big dummy. He was no great genius explorer-researcher, no intrepid paranormal investigator flying by the seat of his pants, no shaman nor scholar nor wizard nor psychic. He was by the books, methodical. He obeyed the rules, he filed his reports, he was patient with bureaucracy and trusting in the government.

He wasn't the kind of man who traveled to the bottom of a deep dark cave seeking a god of fire and sunlight who offered enlightenment. He wasn't the kind of human who called for Bill Cipher.

And yet... he had the potential to be an interesting person—and Bill did like to bring out people's potential. As staid and businesslike and dull as Powers was, buried beneath the tedium, he had that spark of curiosity that made a few humans so charming. The way he talked about Gravity Falls—the way its mysteries had pulled him in from the start, before it had scared the bejeezus out of him—Bill thought Powers wasn't driven to stamp out the strange, the way some eagles were. He just wanted to record it, quantify it, put it down in a little official report—see it.

Powers might appreciate a friendly muse pointing the way to the cave's exit and showing him the sunlight.

Unfortunately, there weren't any friendly muses in town. Just a dead triangle who didn't want to die again. 

Powers put his hand over Bill's. "I'm glad I found someone I can trust."

"So am I." Bill leaned his cheek on Powers's shoulder, paying attention to the angle he tilted himself at, careful to seem natural. "It's good to have you here, Manny."

"Please... I—I want you to call me by my real name," Powers said. "It's—"

"Gary, isn't it?"

Powers turned to stare at Bill's face through the dark. "Yes. How did you know?"

"You know... I'm not sure."

Bill had a plan now.

And he wasn't about to help Powers find a way out of the cave into the sunlight; he was just reflecting fires in funhouse mirrors to dazzle his eyes and lead him deeper underground. This was what he was good at.

It would be fun. Bill would enjoy himself. Still, though—it was almost a pity. He mighta liked to get to know the guy. He might've been a fun toy to play with a little longer before he broke it.

######

(Some chapters you finish; and some chapters you stick in the queue to force yourself to stop editing them. This is the latter kind.

Once again, the only significant TBOB-related alteration to this chapter was clarifying Powers's department's relationship to other departments. Initially I had specified it was separate from the Department of Cover-Ups; now that we know his bureau handled the Trembley case, I put it under the Department of Cover-Ups.

Anyway this is a chapter I've been greatly looking forward to getting to, so I'm eager to hear y'all's thoughts!)

[divadowndivadown]

Part three of the vampire’s maid

Here’s part one and part two if you haven’t seen it yet~

Author’s Note: Omg, thank you divas for all the support?!? Hello? This has been my favorite part of the story to write and I’m so excited to show you! (It might be a little rough) but I hope you’ve enjoyed this little trilogy as much as I have. This is the longest part of the story but it’s so worth it I promise and feel free to comment on the story 🥹

Warnings: smut, tons of begging, biting (no blood tho), praise, a lot of pet names, very sweet, teasing, slight cunnilingus?, bro is DOWN BAAAAAAAD, we love pathetic men here

P.s. During the last bit the reader is described to have female anatomy, appreciate you diva <3

You can feel your heart pounding harder than ever, is he being serious or was it just your imagination..? You could’ve sworn he was disinterested in you.. but he just kissed you.

Lungs burning for air as you look up at him, still slightly apprehensive, “I- I mean.. well, what type of reward are you talking about..?” You faltered, a warm blush growing on your face as his smirk grew wider.

“What reward do you think will be suitable for such a hard worker such as yourself, my sweet dove..?” He encourages quietly as he gently runs his thumb across your bottom lip. “I can feel your mind racing, my sweet… I implore you.. share your every thought with me.” His breath scorching as he leans in closer to you.

You take a deep breath and sigh shakily at the innuendo, “would you give me anything I wanted..? Anything at all?” You murmur softly, curiously testing the waters as your anxiety gives way to a new set of nerves…

Lord Damascus could have died happy, beyond thrilled when you asked, he couldn’t help but get excited. His cock eagerly throbbing as he thought of all the ways he could show his devotion, this passion that had drowned him into depths so deep, so far down he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He wasn’t even aware of how much emotion he could have for another, and it’s all because of you. He saw your big, curious eyes watching his every move, but he also felt as your trust in him grow and it made him exhilarated. How could he not be so delighted?

He wanted to taste you anywhere… everywhere if you would give him the opportunity. And he found his opening with your sly, innocent question. You were so delectable in that moment, so utterly beautiful in every aspect of the word, he wanted nothing but to start worshipping you the moment those teasing words left your soft lips. But he held himself back.

He was a vampire, for heaven’s sake. He was a dignified, elegant lord.. yet around you, all he wanted to do was fall to his knees and watch you come apart from his touch. With you in his hold, he felt completely enraptured by your aura as his soul, and cock, ached to never be away from you.

He needed to see how your face would twist in ecstasy, how sweet your moans would sound, to feel the heat of your warm, lovely skin glistening with salty sweat when you cum for him for the first time…

He salivated over thoughts of you riding him till he broke down in tears from the overstimulation, commanding him to please you till the sun rose, breaking him down into your loyal pet, teaching him everything you needed to experience to get you to near-heaven.

Lord Damascus was desperate, deplorably needy, and pathetic. Yet he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

He was intoxicated, and he would happily become your inordinate, mindless fool.

“Anything.” He practically croakes, looking at you with unwavering attention, it feels like he’s just waiting for your approval.

You can feel your heart race even faster as you gulp down the last bit of reluctance left in your throat and lean in till there’s only a centimeter of space between your face and his..

“..Show me how much you appreciate me.”

A deafening silence follows, but your anxiety doesn’t even get a chance to set in as a surprise yelp rips from your throat as he throws you over his shoulder.

Everything goes by in a blur until he gently lays you on a soft bed, cool silk sheets hitting your back as he crawls on top of you. “Please, please.. please let me touch you… please darling..” he cried weakly, his hair was unruly as his chest heaved from how he was losing his breath, and his hands unsteady as they trembled against your stomach.

Despite that, what really caught your attention was those menacing maroon eyes that struck fear and anxiety through your body, were now completely amorous as they were vulnerable.

And for the first time, you felt yourself disarm completely with him.

“Touch me, my lord. I… I want you to..” you murmur gently.

That’s all he needed to hear, because moments later all you could do is feel. His inhumane strength ripping away any clothing that had kept your warm skin away from him. Soft gasps escaped your throat as you felt his scorching touch run up and down your sides.

Your face blooming in a heavy blush as his lips find your bare neck, raising your chin slowly to invite more of his touch. Sighing breathlessly as his fangs drag against the expanse of your throat, little whimpers fall from your lips as his hand cups your breast, his thick tender fingers rubbing and tugging at your sensitive nipple.

“Lord Damascus-” you plead quietly, a sob of pleasure catching in your throat as he bites into your neck, the sting giving way to pure arousal from the tease of danger.

“My sweet darling… my beloved… you need work no longer… I will care for you.. now and forever,” he pledges against your skin as he licks the pain away. He was simply beatific, tasting your skin was more extraordinary than he could have ever dreamed.

His tongue and lips make slow work of your bare skin, licking and tasting up and down your arms as his hands were preoccupied with stimulating your senses. Making feather light caresses upon your skin as he sucked at your fingers while his hips grinded against your clothed pussy.

And it made your body outright restless, squirming as you tried to move your hips closer to his, aching for more stimulation. “My lord, please stop playing games with me…” you whine, groaning even louder as he stops all movement.

“You think this a.. game? A farce, little one?” He challenged, grabbing your cheeks and smushing them between his fingers so your pretty lips purse, leaving you entirely stunned and nervous as his stern voice tantalized your senses.

“No- I didn’t mean it like that-” you denied eagerly before he puts his hand up, silencing you as your panties grow wetter with your slick.

“Nothing about this is a.. game.. to me…. Enlighten me, darling. Do you want to gamble with your lord..? Because I will if I must… I could play your body like a fiddle, I could lit every single nerve ablaze.. I could make you ache.. and wait till your lips overflow with pleas for release.. and then refuse,” his voice a low growl in your ear.

He lets out a deep chuckle when he sees you bite your lip, impatiently shake your head no. Truth be told he was only joking, but seeing you as eager and desperate for him as he was for you had his heart soaring and his cock pulsating.

With a satisfied smile he goes back to worshipping your skin, but now it’s a little rougher, scrambling as he takes your nipple into his mouth, nipping on the bud gently before latching on and sucking as much boob into his mouth as possible.

Moans of satisfaction come out in cries as your back arches, chasing him and the pleasure he brings you. A thrilled smile grows on your lips as you watch him roughly shove off his tailored suit, squirming as he pulls back to finish undressing.

Drool collects in your mouth as you see his bare, sublime form. He’s broad, slim and not overly muscular, but you couldn’t care less as your eyes drop from his toned chest to his dick. Seven good inches of thick girth, slightly veiny and just slightly curved to the left.

“Fuck” is whimpered from your lips, thoughts of him stretching you out beyond capacity has your legs clenching together in excitement and slight worry, and he picks up on it immediately.

“Trust me, beloved… remember what I told you, hm?” He coos as he gently coaxes your legs wide open, growling as the scent of you fills his nostrils, salivating as he sees your glistening wetness coating your panties.

“You… you take care of the things that are yours…” you concede, mewling as he presses two, thick fingers against your covered folds.

“Yes.. I do…. Do you want me to take care of you my sweet..? You need me to quell the flames inside you? Admit it… tell me that you need me..” he entreats hopelessly as he leans down and presses his nose against your mound, whimpering at your perfect smell.

“Please, please take care of me! I need you.. I need your care, please my lord…” you cry out, your hips twitching up to grind on his face, your body and words begging so beautifully for him, how could he deny both of your needs anymore?

A sharp gasp leaves you as he rips your panties off with his fangs, grabbing onto his hair eagerly as he hikes your legs over his shoulders, mewls of bliss bubbling in your throat as he licks and sucks at your soaked folds.

Shivers running up your spine as he growls into your pussy:

Fuck..

Fuck…

“Fuck. You’re a dream, darling… my dream… you taste perfect for me… just me.”

His tongue is absolutely relentless, his attention on you couldn’t be broken, he was finally getting his wish and he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t. Paying attention to every minute detail so he could please you even better than the second before.

It’s unbearable in the best way possible as you get stuck between moving closer and running away from his mouth, as if he’d let you. He was devouring your needy cunt like it was his last meal, and he savored the symphony of wails and broken moans that ripped from you when he found your clit.

“Please” falls from your lips like a prayer as you got closer, restraint long gone as you desperately tug at his hair, thoughts melting away as your sensitive little bud gets the attention it deserves. Tugging harder at his hair when he gently tugs at your clit with his teeth before drawing circles on it.

Before you can even warn him, you’re already cumming on his tongue, and he was living in rapture. Greedily drinking down everything you could give him as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, slowly slipping his finger inside your sobbing entrance.

“One more my precious one… can you give be another beloved..? I know you can… such a good darling.. just let me do this for you” he begs, his mouth never leaving your clit as he slowly dips another finger into your cunt, whimpers of pure delight leaving his lips as he feels your drenched walls squeeze around him.

“It’s okay… s’all okay.. just let your master do whatever he wants… gonna take such good care of my pretty cunt..” he coos. Your pitiful cries and mewls echo through the room as his fingers slowly work you open, squirming and huffing out whimpers as you try to get away, but he has other plans.

He gives the side of your ass a firm yet careful slap, and grins as he feels your walls clench down on his fingers.

“Shhh… just breathe darling.. how are you supposed to take my shaft if you’re not prepared, hm..? I just want you to feel.. incredible my darling…. Do you feel incredible..?” He whispers against your skin as he kisses up your belly and chest to look you in your eyes, his fingers still gently opening you up, but you can see his genuine need to know how you’re feeling.

“..I’m.. I do feel incredible.. but.. just give me a second to catch my breath..” you pant heavily, your face becoming warm as his eyes soften and he peppers kisses all over your face, neck and shoulders, every kiss filling your heart with comfort and joy.

After a few minutes you take a deep breath and look him in his eyes, “I’m ready…” you whisper as your head unconsciously nods, and his grin grows wider.

“You’re certain, my darling.. because when we start.. I fear I won’t be able to stop for a long time… I’m holding on by a thread, my sweet…” he whispers back as he gently pulls his fingers out of you before positioning himself in between your legs, his cock practically leaking like a fountain at this point, his veins are even more pronounced now and it makes you that much more excited.

“Yes.. I need you now, my lord…” you plead, shivering as he lays you back down on the bed, tugging at your lip as he lines himself up with your sweet cunt.

“You have me, my dear… all of me.” He pledges, both of you whimpering in unison as he slowly pushes himself into you, the stretch is practically mind numbing as he takes his time sliding in with the last of his patience.

His hands grab onto yours and interlocks your fingers together as he pins them to either side of your head, helpless whines escaping both of you as he bottoms out and you can see tears of bliss well up in his eyes before he blinks them away.

“My lord…” you whimper weakly, your body trembling underneath his as your body adjusts and stretches around him.

“My sweet one… you are utter perfection. Do you hear me..?” His voice a hoarse, growling demand against your lips, and his cock throbs as you nod in agreement.

He tries to move slow, to savor every moment, but he should have known better. Your warm pussy sucked him into the trenches, and he never wants to leave.

Pitiful moans and cries catch in your throat as he pounds into your warm heat like an animal, his heavy balls slapping the swell of your ass with each thrust as his tip bullies your cervix.

Your hands cling to his for support as you both get close, your breaths intermingled in a heady haze as your shared whimpers get more pathetic and needy as his pace quickens.

He whimpers “mine” repeatedly against your lips, his mind lost in you as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate attempt of a kiss.

He clings to you like your a figment of his imagination, if he let you go you would disappear, croaking in your ear, “close… m’so close, darling… cum for me… I need you to cum for me…”

You nod eagerly and moan loudly as his fingers pinch and tug at our nipples, his hips pitifully rutting into you as he watches you with pure devotion.

And after a minute, a silent scream wretches from your throat as you cum, milking him for all he’s worth as he cums instantly after you.

Ragged pants is all that can be heard as you both come down from your high, gently rolling you over to lay on his chest, he slowly caresses your back, just completely infatuated by you as he makes sure you’re good and satisfied.

You give him a sweet smile and draw invisible, gentle shapes on his chest while he holds you. Comforting silence enveloping you both as you embrace your new position..

by his side, for eternity.

Dividers are from: @kodaswrld and @anitalenia

[thelov3lybookworm]

A Little Gift

Summary: Being late to a date is unacceptable, unless, of course, the reason for the delay is so adorable.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1846

Warnings: none, just fluff and rhysie being an adorable brother 🥹

A/n: based on this request 😋 @knoxic BESITE I LOVED LOVED LOVEDDDDDD THIS IDEA OMG I LOVE THIS ONE SM HOPE U LIKE IT TOO🤭

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Y/n, baby, are you sure you want this?"

Y/n pouted up at her brother, nodding. "He’s very nice to me."

Rhysand sighed, rubbing his forehead. He had been sighing a lot the past week, Y/n noted, since she told him the new HIgh Lord of Autumn had wanted to court her. Y/n knew none of the members of the inner circle liked the news, she could see the disappointment and doubt on their faces clearly. And it had saddened her deeply to know she had let down her family, who had been nothing but kind and loving to her after her parents and sister had passed.

Rhysand had been so loving, taking up the role of a doting big brother so seriously that at times people confused him for her father.

Not that he could have ever been as caring as Rhysand was.

Out of the three siblings, Ophelia had been the loudest, the cheeriest. She would always smile, no matter what situation she was in. Then was Rhysand, loud, but quiet when needed to be. And then Y/n, who barely ever spoke if it wasn’t in front of her siblings or mother.

And then Rhysand and Y/n were suddenly the only ones remaining alive, and she had drawn in on herself more than ever. The first few months, Rhysand was too busy wallowing by himself and trying to take care of the court, thrust into the new role of the High lord without preamble, to notice.

When he had, he had cried, holding his only remaining family tight.

Since then, he had made sure to give Y/n all the attention in the world, never raising his voice at her, knowing she could be ripped away from him too. He did not want to hurt her, when she was the only person who really mattered. He gave her everything she asked or, never saying no to anything.

So Y/n had known when she told him about Eris, that he would not outright refuse to acknowledge their budding relationship, nor would he get mad at her.

But he would try to talk her out of making a grave decision, in his words, and Y/n did not mind it one bit.

"I can’t imagine him being nice, in any world." Rhysand mumbled under his breath, glaring holes into his shoes as he paused his pacing.

"Rhys, can’t you just give him one chance?"

"One chance to do what, angel? Break your heart?"

Y/n leaned back in the armchair she was sitting in, waiting for Eris to show up so the two could spend time together, as promised in the letters exchanged the week before. She picked at the soft fabric of the skirts of her shimmery dark orange silk dress, chewing on her lip, trying to come up with something to placate her panicking brother.

"Y/n, he's late. The male can’t even show up on time. How can I bring myself to trust him with you when he is keeping you waiting?"

Y/n glanced outside, then back in her lap. He was right. Eris was late. Not too much, of course, but late nonetheless. It didn’t bother Y/n. She knew of the problems and responsibilities that came with being a new high lord, having seen her brother go through the same experience her lover was going through. She knew how meetings and tasks came up and demanded your attention even when you didn’t have time for them.

But Rhys wasn’t as willing to be lenient as Y/n, it seemed.

Once again, he sighed, dragging his hands down his face and walking closer to Y/n. She sat quiet, watching him move to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n. You are like my own baby, my child. I’ve seen you go through so much, so much pain, so many hardships, and I think you deserve to have a quiet, calm life where there’s no uncertainty. A life where you know you are loved, with someone who isn’t broken, who hasn’t been known to be hateful. I see Eris, Y/n, and I can tell his circumstances were not ideal enough for him to be able to afford being good, and I understand that. But what if his goodness now is overshadowed by his old habits? The things he’s been forced to do won’t leave him just like that."

Y/n’s eyes prickled as she nodded along, her grip tightening around her older brother’s hands. She understood what he was saying, of course she did. But that didn’t mean she wanted to accept it.

"I… I don’t-" Y/n paused, trying to understand what she even wanted to say.

"I’m not saying you shouldn’t court him, Y/n. Just- just be careful, yeah? Guard your heart until you are sure of his intentions."

Y/n nodded, leaning down to put her head on her brother’s shoulder. She blinked away the tears furiously while one of Rhys’s hands went around her, rubbing her back.

"Okay, enough emotional talk. Too much for my health."

Y/n huffed out a wet laugh, pulling away from Rhys to peer at Cassian, who pretended to gag and turned away.

"When did you come, Cass?"

"Yeah, why did you come, Cass?" Rhys stood, dusting off his pants and sneering at Cass, who offered him the kindest finger he owned.

"I came to see Y/n off. Where’s your mate?"

Y/n swallowed, glancing outside once more. "I don’t know."

His mouth dropped open in a show of exaggerated shock. "He’s making a lady wait? Absolutely horrendous."

Y/n shook her head, pushing to her feet, running her hands down her skirt. "It’s no big deal."

The next few moments passed quickly, as Y/n watched Feyre materialise in the doorway, Nyx and Nesta by her side. Then Azriel and Mor, and her brows furrowed. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for everyone to gather in the sitting room after breakfast on the holidays, lazing around until it was time for lunch, but… this gathering didn’t seem to be about that.

Were they all here to see her off?

Ridiculous busy bodies.

Before she could say anything about it, though, a knock drew her attention, and Y/n’s heart quickened, already predicting who it was.

But it was Rhysand, who hurried out to open the door.

"You’d think it was him going out with Eris." Y/n murmured, following him out into the foyer. Azriel made a noise of agreement, his arms folded across his chest as he walked behind her.

Y/n ignored his presence, pushing her jittery hands behind her hips, pressing her lips together before stepping fully into view of the door.

Eris wore a simple burnt orange dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbow and two buttons undone, showing off his, evidently, hard earned muscles. Dark brown slacks clung to his hips and thighs, matching with the dark brown long jacket he had draped over his shoulders.

Just the sight of him was enough to make Y/n drool. But she forced herself to look away, to focus on what her brother was saying.

"You understand me?" Rhys said his voice low, menacing.

Y/n didn’t even want to imagine what he was trying to make Eris understand.

"I understand-" Eris paused mid sentence, his eyes moving to rest on Y/n, widening ever so slightly. His gaze moved down to her toes, then back up again, snagging on her hair before meeting her eyes, offering her a small smile.

Rhys didn’t seem too bothered by Eris’s sudden lack of words, moving away from the doorway to grab Y/n’s long jacket before turning to her, waiting. Y/n hurried to put it on when her eyes fell to the way Eris held his hands behind his back. Almost as if he was as anxious to see her as she had been to see him.

"What took you so long?" Y/n pushed one arm through the jacket Rhys held open for her as Azriel prodded, curiously watching at Eris.

His cheeks turned a light shade of red, the freckles dotting his cheeks standing out.

"I, uh… had a little something come up."

Azriel raised a brow. "And that is?"

Eris glanced at Y/n, before clearing his throat. "I wanted to get her a gift."

"And did you?"

Y/n whipped her head to glare at the spymaster. "Azriel."

"No no, he has a point." Rhys said, resting his hands on Y/n’s shoulders.

Y/n sighed, exasperated, and pulled away from her brother. "Let’s go, Eris. Ignore them."

He smiled, the indent on his cheek making an appearance as he pulled his arms forward. In them, nestled, was a small, golden little pup, eyes wide yet drooping, a messy little red bow adorning its neck.

Instantly, Y/n’s heart melted, a soft gasp escaping her. Her focus zeroed in on the little thing, her brother and Azriel fading away into the background until all she could see were the innocent eyes, the small body, the soft fur and the wagging tail. She stepped forward as he extended his hands, letting the pup sniff the fingers she lifted to pet the little thing.

"What is this?"

"Your gift?" Y/n didn’t look up, but she could practically hear the look on his face.

"Eris- you didn’t have to." Y/n mumbled, feeling her brother peek over her shoulder at the animal she gently took into her own arms.

He shrugged. "I knew you liked cats but I couldn’t find a kitten so I just- got you him. I hope you like him." He paused for a moment, and Y/n could hear his smile when he spoke next. "He certainly seems to like you."

"Like him, Eris?!" She lifted her head and drew the animal close to her chest, her lower lip jutting out as tears gathered in her eyes. His eyes widened, a look of alarm crossing Eris’s face as his shoulders stiffened. "I love him!"

He exhaled a relieved breath, his small grin making an appearance again. "Well, I’m glad to hear that."

"Aren’t you supposed to go?" Rhysand questioned. When Y/n glanced at him, he didn’t even look up at her. His eyes were fixated on the whining pup.

Her eyes narrowed. "He’s mine."

Rhys rolled his eyes, reaching out to take the dog whose tail wouldn’t stop wagging. "Go on, it’s almost dinner time."

Y/n wanted to argue, but he was right. They were running late.

"See you later then." Y/n kissed her brother’s cheek, who simply waved her away, too busy cooing over the golden fur ball in his arms. She dropped a peck on his little head, too, before turning to Eris and pulling the door shut behind her, sighing.

His eyes twinkled as he extended his arm towards her, head tilted.

"Shall we?"

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

second chance. l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Summary: you broke up after a quarrel, now you've met again

Warnings: angst, mentioning drug addiction, crying, breakup, mentioned Santi, some fluff at the end

A/N: I had to clear my head. I'm not proud of it, but I had to write something. Be gentle. Thank you for being here and reading these scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Frankie Morales masterlist]

"Hi, you look good."

You didn't expect those words, but you knew that voice so well that your heart skipped a beat. A strange feeling filled your body, as if someone had suddenly stripped you of all your insides and left you empty. Even though the pub was filled with people, suddenly it was just you and him.

"Hi, Frankie." You replied, trying to keep your voice neutral. "You look good too."

A small smile appeared on his lips, he probably realized that it was just a polite greeting. A greeting for those who know each other. But you were more than that, right?

You didn't expect to meet him in this pub that evening. It was a strange assumption, because after all, you lived in the same city. However, when you break up with someone, and that breakup was like a hurricane and an earthquake in one, you don't usually try to meet them again soon.

And so it was with you and Frankie. Almost a year ago, maybe a little longer. And now he was standing in front of you. In a clean shirt and dark jeans, in a cap you knew so well. Brown eyes stared at you with the same attentiveness as before. He really looked good. Like he had a good night's sleep, eaten a few solid meals and... was clean.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, he noticed you looking around the crowd of people looking for someone with your eyes. "Um, are you here with someone?"

"With a friend." you replied. "Do you remember Sarah?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I remember. A girls' night out?"

"Something like that. But no, I don't come here often. I don't have much free time."

Frankie smiled, and a part of your brain woke up sending you a signal - you loved his smile so much.

"I always thought you worked too much." he said, winking at you.

"That's not it." you looked down and there was silence for a moment.

You felt embarrassed by his presence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. You had worked through all the bad feelings you had when you broke up, and you actually missed him a little. Did it make sense? You had broken your hearts, but you still missed him. Was it masochistic?

"I've been going to school for a while now. You know, I told you about it. Back in the day..."

Frankie's eyes widened with interest as he remembered what you were talking about. "No, shit! Really? That's great! You've wanted to do this for a long time, so good for you."

A warm feeling crept up the back of your neck, but you smiled widely. "Thank you."

Frankie bit his lip and nodded in appreciation. "I've always thought you were incredibly smart. So that's what's taking up so much of your time now? That and work?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I go days without a proper meal or... I'm sorry, that must bore you."

"No! Go on, darling."

The sweet nickname slipped out of his mouth naturally, and it was even more natural when he took your elbow and led you a little to the side so you could talk in peace. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you knew it so well. Your body began to react with pleasant excitement to his presence.

"And what about you? How's life?" you asked.

Frankie adjusted his cap and let out a breath. "Good. Quite good." he replied. "I changed companies, and now I have really good conditions."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I think so too."

It was late when he got home, but he could feel something was wrong from the very beginning. All the lights were on, and the noises coming from the bedroom were rather unusual.

Damn it, you should be asleep already. He didn't feel like starting another row, and they filled these walls almost every day. However, he dragged himself down the hallway and gently pushed the door open.

Frankie didn't expect this. There was an open suitcase on the bed. He noticed a bundle of your clothes thrown into it in disarray. The drawers in the dresser and the wardrobe were open.

He cleared his throat and took a step, but at the same moment you came out of the bathroom carrying your cosmetics in your hands. You stood there paralyzed when you saw Frankie in the doorway.

Your eyes were swollen from crying, but there was something else in them. Anger and stubbornness, determination.

"What's going on?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

You lifted your chin slightly. "What does this look like?" you asked as well, quickly approaching the bed and throwing your things into the suitcase. With a graceful movement you closed it "I'm leaving. It's over."

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He took a few more steps and put his hands on his hips watching you struggle with the latches.

"Come on..." Frankie began "It's late. Let's talk about this."

You didn't react. Something inside him boiled and he grabbed the handle of the suitcase, dragging it across the bed towards him.

"Leave it!" you hissed, catching it and holding it "I'm not joking, Frankie! I'm leaving! I've had enough!"

"What this time?" he replied a little too loudly "You're making a scene!"

Before the words left his mouth he already knew he had overdone it. Your eyes widened in a second.

You reached into your pants pocket and after a moment you threw something at him. The small bag bounced off his broad chest and fell silently to the carpet. He recognized it immediately.

"I found it in the car. You must have dropped it last time." you growled.

"It's not like that..."

"Bullshit!" Tears welled up in your eyes. "I've been hearing the same lies for months! I know exactly why you got fired! I wanted to help you, and you promised me you'd never... Ohhh!"

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it to the ground, then headed for the door. You pushed past him without letting him grab your arm. Frankie had taken you to the edge. You'd been together for almost two years, and you really loved him. But his addiction was becoming more important than you. You asked, you wanted to help.

The therapist you found for him told you that Frankie had only been to see him three times before he stopped showing up at all. He told you that he went there regularly. Then there were the problems at work and he got fired, he started coming home later and later, and when you were looking for something that had fallen on the floor of your car and you found that damn bag - you already knew.

Your heart was breaking with every step, but you knew that Frankie needed shock therapy. You knew you couldn't...

"Frankie!"

You almost reached the door when you suddenly lost ground under your feet. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and Frankie lifted you up. You started kicking your legs.

"Let me go!" you screamed.

"You're not going anywhere! You can't!" he thundered, putting you down and turning to face him "You have to listen to me, it's not like that..."

"Shut up! You've been lying all this time! All this time!"

"Not when I said I loved you, hermosa."

"Oh! Cut this shit! This isn't love!" your face was full of rage, you wanted to hurt him, to stick a needle in him so hard that it would hurt him for a long time "You just needed someone to clean up the mess after you! Someone to pat you on the head and let you do all this! You needed a pussy you could fuck!"

There was silence. Frankie's hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, his eyes darkened.

"You know that's not true." he finally said.

"Yeah? And what of what you're saying is true? Nothing. Zero. I wanted to help you, but you don't care at all." you jerked away "Let me go, Frankie."

"You have to listen to me..."

"Let me go! Now!"

His fingers loosened and you slipped out of his hands. You grabbed your suitcase again and this time you reached the door.

"I love you." his resigned voice reached your ears.

"I'm not so sure about that anymore."

You took a sip of beer while listening to Frankie. He seemed excited about his new job, and the energy that flowed from him was simply positive. His hand would occasionally brush your arm or wrist as you both burst out laughing, his eyes looking at you with the tenderness you knew from the beginning of your acquaintance.

"I guess I'll have to go back now." You sighed, glancing at your phone. "I have classes tomorrow."

"Do you like it?" he asked, watching you text your friend back, informing her that you had to leave.

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him. Frankie shrugged.

"Your life. Now. Because it seems to me that you're different. More fulfilled? Happier?"

"I don't know, I haven't thought about it to be honest."

He nodded, his hand shyly finding yours. "Can I give you a lift home?"

You agreed. Maybe you shouldn't have, maybe it was a mistake. But Frankie had somehow found his way to your heart, and you didn't want to part ways with him yet.

"When you left..." he began as you drove through the empty streets towards your apartment "It hit me. Really hard."

You clenched your fingers, but you couldn't look in his direction. But Frankie clearly wanted to talk, maybe he had been waiting for this for a really long time and could finally get it all off his chest.

"I drank for three days. I don't remember much from that period. Santi showed up at my place and... He told me something I'll never forget."

You could barely recognize your own voice. "What did he say?"

Frankie cleared his throat. "He said it was all my fault. That I was dragging you down, and you were trying to keep us both afloat the whole time. He also said that if I wanted you back, that if I loved you at all, I should do something about it."

Something tightened your throat and your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. The car turned, you were already close to your apartment.

"I went to therapy. Santi took me there twice a week. It was a terrible time. He had to take my phone because I wanted to call you every day. I don't know how I managed to get through it without you."

"But you did it." You dared to look at him, a weak smile appeared on his face. "I'm so proud of you, Frankie."

"Thank you."

The car stopped. Your journey ended, and you got out, feeling like your legs were almost giving out under you. You whispered a quiet "thank you" and "I'm glad I saw you, Frankie." and then feeling like your heart almost jumped out of your chest, you headed for the door.

"I still love you."

You closed your eyes. His voice was clear, determined. You stopped, feeling like you could fall apart at any moment.

"Frankie..." you whispered, but he wouldn't let you do more.

He was right behind you now, you could feel the heat radiating from him. Your body reacted to his closeness.

"I knew you'd be at this pub today."

You turned around and looked at him, surprised. Frankie seemed embarrassed, but he continued.

"I met Sarah a while ago. We talked..."

He noticed a small frown between your eyebrows, "She didn't tell me anything..."

Frankie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged, "I begged her not to tell you. Listen, all this year you were the only thing that kept me alive. I wanted to be clean again, but I also wanted to be able to look you in the eye again. I'm sorry, hermosa... I'm sorry you went through all that with me. It was hell, and you tried so hard to save me."

You couldn't stop the tears that began to flow down your cheeks. You didn't even react when a warm hand touched your cheek and he wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"I still love you, hermosa." Frankie continued. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop. But I know I can't expect that from you, not after what I did."

"You hurt me, Frankie..." you sobbed, you saw the pain in his eyes, the same pain you still felt in your heart. "I wanted to save you, I wanted to save us... Maybe I wasn't strong enough?"

"No, it's not like that!" he shook his head, taking your face in both hands. "It wasn't a job for just one person. I understand that now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let you down so much."

You instinctively snuggled into his chest. Damn, you missed him so much this year. Almost every day you wondered what was happening to him, or you thought back to the times when everything was fine. There were days when you hated Frankie, when you resented yourself for always having him in your heart. But now you understood - you had to fall apart to understand what was truly important to you.

Frankie stroked your back, repeating silent apologies, and you felt as if all the tension that you had in your body was slowly leaving you.

"You okay?" he asked when you finally pulled away from him, wiping the last tears with your hand and probably completely smudging your mascara.

You nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Don't apologize, hermosa. You have nothing to apologize for."

There was silence for a moment. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, rather one where you were both trying to gather your thoughts. Finally, you were the first to speak.

"I'm so glad you managed to do all this. I'm really proud of you, Frankie. Now... Now your life will be different, better."

"You think so?" he asked, and you looked at him surprised. "I guess you didn't hear what I said earlier. I love you, and I don't know if I'll ever stop. But I know I can't force you to do anything. You listened to me, that's already a lot. Maybe that's all I deserve."

He must have already accepted it, except that he lost you, because before you could answer anything, he slowly moved towards his car. You watched him, feeling your heart pounding in your chest like crazy. You weren't even aware that you had opened your mouth, only the sound of your voice that cut through the silence brought you back to your senses.

"I'm finishing classes tomorrow after three. If you want to go for coffee, or..."

In an instant Frankie turned around "How about for lunch? You'll definitely be hungry, and you said you haven't been eating very well lately."

You smiled and nodded. "Lunch sounds good."

"Wonderful." He smiled too. That damn smile of his.

"So... Are we in touch?"

"Of course, hermosa."

With a slightly calmer heart you disappeared into the building, feeling that the smile didn't leave your face. 

Maybe a second chance really did exist? Maybe you too had a chance for a new beginning...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[inkyrainstorms]

The Martian Stan AU - The Apology - Excerpt

Ford was working as he always was nowadays, half listening to the radio behind him and trying to stop his heart from jumping in his throat every time that Stan stopped speaking for more than 10 minutes and nothing but static filled the room again. Ford wasn’t sure what exactly his brother was talking about anymore, as he welded a set of support bolts into place, but he nearly dropped the welding gun on his foot when Stan suddenly spoke after a long stretch of silence.

“Ford?”

Ford fumbled for a moment before shoving a stack of loose paper aside and  setting the welding gun down on the table beside him. He put his hands on either side of the radio on the same cluttered table and took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.

“Yes, Stanley?” He asked softly.

Stan, of course, didn’t hear him, but had paused as if waiting for a response before continuing anyway.

“I know, I know damn well you’re probably never gonna hear this, but I need to say it anyway before… Well. I don’t need to eat as often and shit and I know you’d love to figure out why but… I’m not sure how long I’m gonna last out here either way.”

Ford didn’t say anything, staring down at the wooden grain of the table like he could burn a hole clean through it with his thoughts alone. His palms ached from where he’d dug in his fingernails, and his shoulders mangled to hunch even further.

Stan laughed. It was a bitter, ugly sound.

“Ah, damnit. This isn’t about me. Can’t even do this right, you idiot” His brother took a deep breath. “ But Ford… I think I need to apologize.”

Some old, fossilized hurt in Ford’s heart snarked ‘you think?’, but Ford nearly gagged as he suffocated the thought before it could take root anew. He felt sick.

Oblivious to Ford’s turmoil —and of course he was, because he didn’t know Ford was right here, that Ford wasn’t going to let one of the last things he ever said to Stan be that he thought Stan was worthless— Stan continued.

“I don’t think I ever got to, back when… you know. What I said that night is a bit of a blur to me to be honest, but I know I was spouting nonsense and saying all the wrong shit and… Moses, Ford. I know it’s too late now but I’m sorry. I really am.”

Something in Ford simultaneously healed and broke in his chest at Stan’s words, but he didn’t get the chance to process it because Stan wasn’t quite done yet.

“And I need you to know it wasn’t on purpose. I’d never do that to you. Never. Why would I ever want to hurt you like that, poindexter? I just… I was scared and I didn’t want to be alone in Glass Shard Beach scraping barnacles off the Taffy shop for the rest of my miserable life and I wasn’t. Thinking.” Stanley’s voice had been rising in a steady crescendo, but suddenly got so quiet that Ford had to strain to catch the words in the buzzing static. “I’d… I shouldn’t have gone into the gym. I shouldn’t have even gone near your friggin project. I didn’t go there to break it, I would never—“ his voice broke. “I thought you knew that. I’m your brother, you dingbat, why would I ever want to hurt you?When did I ever not support you, man?”

“Then why did you do it?” Ford whispered back, just as quiet. That old anger he’d tried to push down rose up again, simmering. Stan knew he’d poured months of his life into the perpetual motion machine, that he’s shed more than a few tears and more than a little blood and sweat over it. And then he’d thrown it all away?

“I’d only hit the table, ya know. Didn’t think the grate’d pop off or anything like that. I tried to fix it. I know I should’ve told you, I know and I’m sorry, just…” I was scared, goes unspoken. Ford’s legs were shaking, and he tried to steadily himself by leaning further on the table. “I know I should’ve told you. I know. I messed up fuckin’ good, Sixer.” Ford flinched.

“I’m. I know you’re never gonna get the apology you deserve cause I was too much of a coward to actually call you and say something.” Stan’s voice was shaking. And I’m sorry for that too. And I’m sorry for not listening to you about your stupid book, and I’m sorry— ugh. We’ll be here all day trying to name my fuckups. That’s the last sorry you’ll ever hear from me you nerdy, uh, nerd.”

Stan sighed loud enough for the radio to crackle and screech. “Good going, Stan,” he muttered, his voice getting quieter as he evidently walked away, done.

And all that was left was static.

Ford pushed himself away from the table and sank into the rolling chair nearby, putting his face in his hands and trying to breathe as the chair was pushed back several feet from his momentum.

“He’s lying,” Ford tried to say, but it tasted like ash in his mouth. “He’s trying to make it so… so.” He faltered. “He’s obviously trying to deceive me.”

Trust no one.

But he had trusted Stan. And Stan got hurled into a Dimension of Nightmares for it.

Stan has no reason to lie, Fords mind whispered, because it was always against him no matter what stance he took. He doesn’t think you’re coming to save him. Why wouldn’t he try to explain the worst mistake of his life in a fit of guilt and complete loss of hope?

“Shut up,” Ford said intelligently, and he didn’t dare pry his face away from his hands, heels of his palms digging into his eye sockets and pushing up his glasses to his hairline

Stan had no reason to lie.

Stan came to help him at the drop of a hat after ten years of being too afraid to even call him. 

Stan… Stan didn’t mean to break his project. It was a stupid accident, done by a stupid teenager too afraid to admit his own failings. Stan didn’t betray Ford. Not like he thought his twin had, for all these years.

Ford was wrong. About everything. He was wrong about Stan and Bill and Fiddleford and, Moses, had he ever done anything right in his entire, miserable life? Ford didn’t know. 

The empty bunk bed beneath his own  for those last few fateful months before Backupsmore, the tears and screaming at a boat that never even left the shore, the years of resentment and refusing to believe he missed his own twin, what was it all for? Because Ford suddenly felt the sharp sting of grief all over again, throbbing with a ferocity he’d refused to acknowledge for the past few weeks. Years. 

It was like he was 17 years old again, mourning for all the wrong reasons and all the right ones too. For his brother. For his chance to become someone worthy of recognition, of love. For pushing away the ones who’d already loved him.

For the first time since the day Stan fell into the portal all those weeks ago, Ford pulled his knees up to his chest on the seat and, in the safety of his own arms, he wept.

The static crackled on, steady and unchanging. Unforgiving.

———————

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face @littlelilliana15 (if anyone else wants to be tagged pls let me know! I’m going to probably be posting more for this au sometime this week)

I have ideas for a mini comic and a whole animatic using Space Oddity so I’ll just have to see how far I get, really