#and i turned off beta and everything to get purple

[joelmillerisapunk]

Escapism

Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 5,733

Summary: The grumpy Joel, one bed, who did that to you trope fic no one asked for/ Ellie matchmaking for Joel

Warnings: 18+, smut, joels a grump, ellie's there, reader experiences a tiny bit of ptsd from being captured prior to meeting joel and ellie.

Notes: Ty to @evolnoomym for the moodboard and beta reading and @syd-djarin & @joelslegalwhre for the beta read. and @saradika-graphics for the divider.

The world changed in the blink of an eye. Civilization, with all its comforts and securities, crumbled under the weight of a relentless pandemic. The infected roam the earth, their minds and bodies ravaged by a virus that turns them into mindless, ravenous creatures. Humanity, once the masters of their domain, is now just another prey in a landscape that has turned savagely against them.

You are on your own for months, ever since the virus claimed your sister and the raiders took everything else. Your husband and son, Ethan, are lost to the chaos, leaving you with nothing but the clothes on your back, a backpack filled with meager supplies, and a book - "No Pun Intended: Volume 1" - a cherished memento of a life that once was.

The days blur into a testament to your will to live. You scavenge for food, avoid the infected, and keep moving, always moving. The world is a graveyard of memories, and you are just another ghost haunting its ruins.

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you find yourself in the remnants of a once-bustling town. The buildings stand like skeletons, their windows shattered, their doors hanging off their hinges. It is here, in this desolate place, that you decide to make camp for the night.

You choose a spot behind an overturned bus, its rusted shell providing a modicum of shelter. You gather what little dry wood you can find and build a small fire. The can of beans you scavenged earlier in the day heats slowly, the metallic smell mingling with the scent of smoke and decay that seems to permeate everything.

As you wait for your meal, you allow yourself a rare moment of stillness. The book lies open in your lap, its pages a portal to a time when puns and laughter were the greatest concerns of the day. You are so lost in the world of words that you almost don't hear the low growl that signals the approach of danger.

It happens in a heartbeat. One moment you are alone, the next an infected lunges at you from the shadows, its bloodshot eyes and snarling mouth a terrifying vision of death. You have no time to react, no time to defend yourself. The creature pins you to the ground, its fetid breath hot against your face.

Panic surges through your veins, a scream lodges in your throat. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you brace yourself for the end. But then, the deafening crack of a gunshot splits the air. The weight of the infected creature collapses onto you, its lifeless body trapping you beneath its bulk.

For a moment, time stands still. You lie there, stunned and gasping for breath, the world around you reduced to the pounding of your heart and the ringing in your ears. Then, as quickly as the nightmare has descended, the weight is lifted from your body. You scramble backward, your hands and knees scraping against the rough ground, until you reach the sanctuary of your sleeping bag.

Looking up, you are met with the imposing figure of a large, rugged man. His rifle is still smoking from the shot that has saved your life. His eyes, hard and suspicious, bore into you as he demands, "You bit?”

Your hands shoot up in surrender, tears threatening to spill as you vehemently shake your head. "Please don't shoot, I- I wasn't bit," you plead, your voice quivering with fear.

The man nudges his gun towards you, his voice gruff as he commands, "Get up slowly."

You rise to your feet, hands still raised, and perform a slow pirouette to prove your uninfected state. Satisfied, he lowers his weapon.

"I totally could have done that," a smaller, younger girl boasts as she steps out from behind him. His daughter, you presume, exudes a mix of bravado and youthful naivety. 

"I told you to stay in the woods," He chides her.

The girl ignores her father's reprimand, instead, bounding over to your belongings. "No fucking way!" she exclaims, holding up a book that clearly means something to you. "No Pun Intended - the first volume." She chuckles, turning to the burly man. "Can you believe it?"

You rush over, snatching the book from her hands. "That was my -" Emotion chokes your words as you clutch the book, a tangible piece of your past. "It was my sister's," you manage to say, hastily stowing the book in your bag.

The man surveys your camp, his expression a mix of concern and disapproval. "Ya know it ain't safe to be camping out in the open like this," he remarks. You follow his gaze, taking in the vulnerability of your setup, and release a heavy sigh. "I - I know. There used to be more of us - a group. We traveled together, always finding safer places to go. But now - now I'm on my own, alone and..." Your voice trails off as you turn away, taking a seat by the dwindling fire. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not gonna survive too long out here alone. It's only a matter of time. If you weren't here, I'd have been dead already. But thank you for your help. Help yourselves to some food, I don't have much else to offer you."

Abruptly, the girl's head bobs up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come with us, oh yeah, it's going to be a blast. Finally, another girl around here!" Her voice rings out with a mix of eagerness and camaraderie.

"Ellie, quiet!" the man snaps, then pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, a clear sign of mounting frustration. "We don't have the space for anyone else."

You stand by, a silent observer, as the man and his daughter, Ellie, butt heads over the possibility of taking you with them.

"You're just going to leave her here alone," Ellie emphasizes, her voice sharp as a knife, "to die? Come on, Joel." Her plea hangs in the air, reminiscent of someone who's just found a stray puppy and can't bear to leave it behind.

Joel's gaze flickers to you as if searching for a reason to abandon you. He heaves a sigh so heavy it seems to carry the weight of the world. He turns back to Ellie, frustration etched on his face, then looks at you once more. "You have five minutes to pack your things, and then we're leavin’. With or without you." With that, he strides off into the thicket of trees, leaving Ellie behind with a look that speaks volumes of his exasperation.

"Sorry, he's not always so grumpy... well, actually, he is," Ellie admits with a sheepish grin. "Don't mind Joel; he's just set in his ways. I'm Ellie, by the way."

You can't help but giggle, kneeling down to gather your belongings. "It's nice to meet you, Ellie," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of relief and curiosity. "But why do you call your dad by his name?"

"I ain't her dad," Joel's voice cuts in, as he reemerges leading a horse by the reins.

"He's not my dad," they echo each other, their voices intertwining in a strange harmony.

"Oh," you reply, hurriedly stuffing your meager possessions into your sister's old backpack—a white and black checkered bag adorned with random sunflowers. You hoist the thick black straps over your shoulders and roll up your sleeping bag, tucking it under your arm. Rising to your feet, you dust off your flared blue jeans. "Sorry, I could have sworn you two were related, the way you bicker like that."

Ellie nudges Joel with her elbow, a playful smirk on her face. "It's just Joel. He's old and cranky."

Joel stands there, stoic and unamused, the reins held firmly in his grip. "Need to find shelter before nightfall," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Why can't we just stay here?" You ask, genuine curiosity lacing your words.

"The fact that you almost got killed by one of those things, and you couldn't even hear it creeping up on you, should make it pretty damn clear why not," Joel retorts, his voice rising as he gesticulates wildly, emphasizing the danger lurking in the shadows.

"Be fucking nice, Joel!" Ellie interjects, smacking his arm with back of her hand.

"I am being very nice by lettin’ her come with us. Now why ain’t we movin’?" he asks.

"I have no idea where we're going, lead the way, cowboy." 

"Actually, Joel was a contractor before this, super cool, right?"

You can't help but laugh. "Yeah, totally."

"What's so funny?" Joel asks, his brow furrowing as the three of you begin to navigate the rugged terrain.

"You actually managed to make being a contractor sound like the epitome of cool to young Ellie here?"

Joel's patience wears thin. "Can we all just keep quiet until we find a place to hole up for the night?"

Ellie clears her throat, her curiosity piqued. "So, what's the story with your group?"

"Ellie, you don't go asking people you just met that stuff." Joel snapped. 

You let out a soft chuckle, the memory of your past still vivid. "It's alright. My sister got bitten. I had to...you know, in the middle of the night." The weight of that memory tugs at your heartstrings. "My husband and son, Ethan, they were killed by raiders who tried to overrun our camp. They took me captive, but I managed to escape. And now, here I am." You pause, the chilling recollection making you shudder. You shake off the dark thoughts, not wanting to dwell on them now.

Ellie offers a sympathetic smile, and you catch the hint of one on Joel's face too. "That's rough. I'm really sorry that happened to you," Ellie says, her voice gentle.

"Thanks, Ellie," you murmur, your gaze falling to your boots, a mix of gratitude and embarrassment washing over you.

You look up at Joel, who seems to be wrestling with his own thoughts. "So, where are we actually heading?"

He takes a moment, staring off into the distance before heaving a sigh and meeting your eyes. "My brother and his wife are part of a large group just north of here. We can make it there. It's not far—a couple of days' travel at most."

"We should find a spot to camp soon. It's getting dark," Joel suggests, scanning the surroundings.

With the three of you working in unison, the camp comes together quickly in the shelter of the woods, hidden from any unwelcome eyes.

"Wanna get the fire going?" Joel asks, kneeling on the ground and rummaging through his bag. He extends his hand to you, offering a small amount of kindling and a pack of matches.

"Uh, sure," you reply, your voice tinged with uncertainty. The truth is, you're still pretty green in this post-apocalyptic world, and tasks like starting a fire are always more challenging than they seem.

You step forward and accept the kindling and matches from Joel, then set to work. Carefully, you arrange the kindling, trying to remember the techniques you've been taught. You strike the first match, the flame flickering to life. With trembling hands, you bring it close to the kindling, only for the wind to snuff it out.

"Shit," you mutter, hoping no one noticed. You try again, but the result is the same. On the third attempt, you realize Joel has been observing you all along. Each failed attempt makes him wince. Finally, on the fourth match, he's seen enough.

Joel stands abruptly and strides over to you. He takes the matches and kindling from your hands and, in one swift motion, ignites the fire. "Just go set up your sleeping bag," he says, a sigh of exasperation escaping him as he avoids your gaze. The sting of being a burden weighs heavily on you.

You rise slowly and move toward your sleeping bag and backpack, which are nestled beside a tree just off to the side of where Joel and Ellie are sitting. You drag your things closer to the newly lit fire and spread out your sleeping bag. As you search through your bag, you pull out a small handgun and begin to load it.

"Whoa, cool!" Ellie exclaims, bounding over to you and eyeing the gun with interest.

"It was my husband's," you tell her as you finish loading the weapon. "I'm going to get us something to eat." With your bag slung over your shoulder, you head toward the edge of the camp. But before you can leave, a hand grips your upper arm, halting your progress.

You turn to face Joel's frustrated expression. "No, absolutely not. You can't even start a damn fire. How are you going to shoot us something to eat?" he challenges.

You pull your arm free, determination flashing in your eyes. "I can handle it myself. I did fine before you came along, and I'll do fine after you're gone." You resume your course, but Joel isn't done yet.

"I'm not letting you go out there alone. I saved you once; you don't get another chance," he calls after you.

You turn back, extracting your arm from his grasp for the last time. "I didn't ask for your saving or help. You have no obligations to me. Thank you for saving me once, but I don't need it again." With that, you continue into the dense woods, leaving Joel standing there, conflicted. He returns to the camp, muttering to himself, "Fuck sakes. You stay here. Don't fucking move. I'm not in the mood to save two of you today." He grabs his rifle and follows you into the woods, the setting sun casting long shadows across the forest floor.

A few moments later, he hears your gun go off, and panic starts to seize him.

After about five minutes, he finds you huddled over something, "What the hell? You can't just go shooting your gun off like that. Raiders, fucking infected, someone's gonna find us." His voice is laced with urgency.

As he approaches, he sees you covered in blood, and fear races through him. But then he realizes it's not your blood. You've actually killed a deer.

You turn around to see Joel standing near you, his expression a mix of relief and irritation.

"So now what? You even know how to skin it?" Joel challenges.

You shake your head, "No."

"What was your plan then? To just try and drag it by yourself back to camp?" He's exasperated, but there's a hint of concern beneath his gruff exterior.

You shrug, admitting your inexperience. You've always known you're not very good at hunting, but the desire to contribute, to ensure a decent meal tonight, drove you to try.

"Come on, I'll teach you," Joel says, resignation in his voice. He shows you how to skin and butcher the deer, his frustration still evident. It's clear he resents the extra burden you represent. 

After you've all eaten your fill and packed away the rest for tomorrow, you and Ellie crawl into your sleeping bags, while Joel takes the first watch.

—

In the dead of night, a sound pierces through the silence, and you jolt awake. You see Joel leaning against a tree, his vigilance unwavering. As you approach, you offer, "Here, let me take over. Get some rest."

He turns to meet your gaze, "No. I don't know you, can't trust you."

"I don't know you either, and I trusted you to keep me safe," you rebut. 

"I think saving you before I even knew you is proof enough of my trustworthiness. You've done nothing but add extra work for me since I've been here. I'm not lettin’ you keep watch. You couldn't even hear the damn thing when it was close." Joel's frustration is palpable.

Your eyes narrow as you step into Joel's space, "Fuck you, Joel. I never asked for your help. If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and I'll go." Despite barely knowing the man, his words sting.

Joel rolls his eyes, a silent admission of the care he feels for you, a care he'd never voice. His tough exterior belies a growing attachment, one that complicates his solitary existence. He avoids looking at you, his gaze skittering away whenever your eyes meet. "Go to bed, please. I've got this," he says, his voice a low rumble. Joel doesn't turn his attention to you until you retreat to your sleeping bag, where you curl up, seeking warmth and comfort. As you drift off to sleep, he watches over you, a silent sentinel in the quiet night. There's a palpable sense of relief that washes over him when you finally succumb to sleep.

The next morning, the sound of footsteps rouses you from your slumber. You blink against the bright morning light, using your arm as a shield. Rolling over, you're greeted by the sight of Joel's back; he's crouched, presumably packing his bag for the journey ahead. The remnants of sleep slowly clear from your mind as you extricate yourself from the sleeping bag and roll it up. To your right, Ellie lies fast asleep, her soft snores a gentle backdrop to the morning.

You leave Ellie to her dreams and approach Joel. He's focused on his pack, his shirt inching up to reveal the taut skin of his lower back. You catch yourself staring and quickly bite your lip, a futile attempt to redirect your thoughts.

Attraction? No, that's not it. He's infuriating, self-centered, and yet here you are, sharing this strange journey with him and Ellie, who might as well be his daughter.

Joel looks up, his eyes betraying a deep exhaustion that seems to have settled into his very bones. "We're leaving once the sun's up. Make sure you're ready. We'll cover more than half the distance by nightfall," he informs you, rising to his feet and hoisting his pack over his shoulder.

You find yourself captivated by his deep brown eyes, noticing for the first time the kindness hidden beneath his gruff exterior. A silent exchange passes between you, a moment of unspoken understanding, before Joel clears his throat and breaks the connection, turning his attention to the horse.

The tension in the air is almost tangible as you both look away. Once Joel has secured everything onto the horse except for Ellie, he gently wakes her.

The three of you fall into a rhythm, traversing the desolate landscape. The day stretches on, filled with endless walking. As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the land, fatigue sets in. But Joel, ever perceptive, anticipates your need for rest.

"There should be a town up this road," he says. "We can find an old house to spend the night. No need for watches tonight; we all could use some proper sleep."

As night falls, Joel guides the horse with practiced ease over the unforgiving terrain. Before long, a small farmhouse emerges from the twilight, its isolation suggesting it's been long abandoned.

Ellie's voice cuts through the stillness. "Is this the town you were talking about? It's tiny, Joel. There's barely a house here."

Joel just chuckles, a soft sound that carries the weight of countless stories and experiences. "Sometimes, the best places are the ones that are hardest to find."

The three of you brace yourselves for the night, the assurance of safety and rest offering a much-needed refuge from the relentless challenges of your travels.

"This isn't the town, but it's likely safer to camp here. Raiders might be patrolling near the town. Now go inside and get settled, Ellie, help me with the horse."

You move silently into the house, scouting for a suitable spot to bed down for the night.

Ellie and Joel lead the horse towards the barn at the back.

"So, you planning to make a move, lover boy?" Ellie abruptly inquires, her voice laced with playful mischief.

Joel's eyes narrow in confusion, "What?"

"Ugh, it's so clear you two are head over heels for each other. It's adorable how you bicker." She giggles, mimicking air kisses.

Joel dismisses her with a shake of his head, "Mind your own business, would you?"

"So it is true! You like her... ha! I knew it. Can't wait to spill the beans."

Joel's eyes widen with a hint of panic as he secures the horse to a post, "Ellie! Cut it out, this isn't the time for matchmaking. I'm not in love. I wouldn't bat an eye if she left."

Ellie smirks, her eyes gleaming with a devious spark. "Oh Joel, dumb dumb Joel. Don't worry, I'll help you out." 

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, "Ellie, please, just drop it, head inside. I'll be there shortly. And don't say a word to her!"

By the time he finishes, Ellie is already darting back to the house.

Upon entering, you're arranging an old, grimy mattress when Ellie bursts in.

"Hey, lucky for us, there's another mattress upstairs. I figured we could each -"

Before you can finish, Ellie dashes up the stairs, calling out, "I'll take this one!" She pauses at the top, looking back, "And tell Joel I'm really upset with him and I don't want to talk."

Perplexed, you try to stop her, but she's already disappeared, the door shut behind her.

As the door closes, Joel steps in, and you turn to face him, "What happened with Ellie?"

Joel looks up, puzzled, as he sets his gear aside, "What do you mean?"

"She just bolted upstairs, saying she's upset and doesn't want to talk to you."

"She's a kid, I don't know. So this is the only bed then?" 

"Well, you must have done something to upset her. She dashed upstairs and staked her claim on the other mattress."

The realization dawns on Joel. "Goddammit, Ellie! Get down here now!" he yells, but his call is met with silence. He races up the staircase to the closed door, pounding on it. "Ellie, come out here. We need to talk."

"No! I'm not talking to you. I locked the door, you can't come in," her voice is muffled but defiant. Joel continues to pound on the door. "Ellie, get out here."

"I can't hear you..." Ellie's voice trails off, barely audible.

Frustrated, Joel descends the stairs, his gaze shifting between the bed and you. "You can have the bed. I'll just crash on the floor in one of the sleeping bags."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by his offer. "Just get in the damn bed, Joel. We're two grown adults; we can share a bed for one night, can't we?"

He looks like he's about to argue but then relents. "Fine... whatever." He grabs a sleeping bag from his pack and tosses it onto the bed. You slip under the covers, turning away from him. As Joel settles down to sleep, the room falls silent.

After a few minutes, you hear him chuckle softly to himself.

"What's so funny?" You turn to face him, a hint of irritation in your voice.

"Nothin’, just thinkin’," he replies, the chuckle turning into a full-blown laugh.

You sigh and turn back around, but his laughter is infectious. "Seriously, Joel, if you don't stop, I'm going to punch you in the face." You turn to face him again, trying to suppress a smile.

"It's Ellie," he says, the laughter subsiding. "I know why she's upset."

"Then why aren't you talking to her about it?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

He studies you for a moment, his gaze intense. "It ain't that simple. She thinks she's doin’ us a favor by making us share a bed."

Your cheeks flush with warmth. "Oh."

"So I guess that means it's your fault," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips. The atmosphere shifts, becoming both more relaxed and more charged at the same time.

"How is it my fault?" you challenge, playing along with his playful tone.

"If I didn't have to keep saving your ass, we wouldn't be in this situation," he jabs, his tone light and teasing.

"I think you owe me, if anything, for that deer I killed," you retort, a small smile tugging at your lips. The tension that's been building over the past day begins to dissipate.

"Oh yeah?" he says, inching closer to you on the bed.

You swallow hard, your heart rate picking up. "Mhm, you sure owe me big time."

His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes. Suddenly, he leans in and kisses you, his hand cradling the back of your neck while the other pulls you tightly against him. The kiss is gentle and sweet, causing your thoughts to scatter as you surrender to the moment, pressing closer to him. 

 In the quiet hush of the room, you pull back slightly, your gaze meeting his. Joel's face is mere inches from yours, his eyes brimming with unspoken desire.

Nervously, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, whispering his name like a secret, "Joel..."

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he slowly leans in, closing the distance between you. His forehead gently meets yours, a tender gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"God, I've wanted this since the moment I saw you," he confesses, his voice a low rumble that resonates deep within you.

Without warning, his hand shoots out, capturing your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip. He pulls you towards him, your bodies aligning, pressing tightly against each other.

Your lips find his again, this kiss more urgent than the last, fueled by a hunger that has been building since your first encounter. Joel's lips move against yours with a newfound intensity, his tongue exploring, claiming every inch of your mouth.

You surrender to the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours. His hands begin to roam, tracing the curves of your body, eliciting a soft moan from you. The sound seems to spur him on, and he deepens the kiss even further.

You can feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles beneath your hands. His grip on you is firm, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He breaks away from your mouth, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. His hot breath against your skin causes goosebumps to rise in its wake.

His hands slide lower, gripping your hips with a possessive intensity. Joel lifts himself off the bed, pressing his body against yours, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable.

A gasp escapes you as he grinds against you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, while his hands explore the softness of your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. A whimper slips past your lips as he teases you with a gentle squeeze.

You can feel his smirk against your neck as he continues his descent, leaving a trail of kisses and small love bites in his wake. The sensation of being consumed by him is intoxicating, and you find yourself yearning for more, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

"Joel...please..." you beg, tugging at his shirt, eager to remove the last barrier between you.

He chuckles at the desperation in your voice, a sound that only fans the flames of your desire. His lips return to yours, and he begins to move his hips in a rhythm that matches the urgency of your kisses. Your body responds instinctively, arching against him, seeking friction.

"Ahh..." you groan as his bulge hits just the right spot, causing your body to tremble with anticipation.

"Shh... just relax. I'm going to make you feel so good," Joel whispers, his voice a promise against your ear. He quickly strips you of your shirt, tossing it aside, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

You bite your lip, your eyes fluttering closed as the sensation of his hands on your skin sends you reeling. His touch is electric, igniting a fire within you that only he can quench.

"Look at me," he commands, and your eyes snap open to meet his intense gaze. His face is a portrait of desire, his eyes dark with need, his hair tousled from your eager hands. His fingers find the hem of your pants, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation as he peels them off your legs.

He plants a gentle kiss on your belly, causing you to sigh with contentment. His lips continue their journey downward, and you can't help but arch your back, moaning softly as his fingertips graze your sensitive flesh. His tongue darts out, teasing you, tasting you, driving you wild with need.

The years of longing, the pent-up desire, it all comes crashing down as his tongue delves into your core. You can't hold back the moans that escape your lips, each one a testament to the pleasure he's bringing you. He continues to tease you, his hands tracing a path back up to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples into hard peaks.

The sensation of his mouth on you is almost too much to bear. You come undone, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Joel's mouth is relentless, his lips and tongue working in unison to draw out every last ounce of your pleasure.

As you come back down to earth, your breathing slowly returning to normal, Joel pulls away, his lips glistening with the evidence of your desire. He wastes no time in shedding his own clothes, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

He positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his shaft teasing you, promising you the release you so desperately crave. And then, with one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely.

The world around you fades away as Joel sets a punishing pace, his hands gripping your hair, pulling just enough to send shivers of pleasure down your spine. You match his rhythm, your bodies moving together as one, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Sweat beads on your foreheads, your chests rising and falling in sync with each other's breaths. All you can see is Joel's face above you, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a passion that takes your breath away.

"Joel..." you whisper his name, a benediction, a plea, a promise. Your fingers thread through his hair, caressing his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips.

With a final, powerful thrust, Joel reaches his climax, his body shuddering against yours. You hold him close, feeling the aftershocks of his release mingle with your own.

For a moment, the only sounds are the ragged breaths filling the room and the pounding of your hearts. In this moment, there is nothing else—just you and Joel, two souls intertwined in the most intimate of dances.

You lie there, your breaths heavy as they echo in the quiet room, your gaze fixed on the ceiling above. In the stillness, the sound of your own ragged breathing mingles with Joel's intense scrutiny of your body. It's then that he notices the jagged scar marring your torso. His fingers trace its length, a silent question hanging in the air. "What happened?" he asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

The question yanks you from the serenity you'd found, hurling you into a tumultuous sea of memories. "Uh - it's nothing, just a battle wound," you reply, your voice trembling despite your attempt at nonchalance.

He looks at you, his eyes probing, seeing right through your facade. "Who did this to you?" he presses, his tone insistent.

Tears well up as you feel the rough pads of his fingers grazing your scar. You pull his hand away, sitting up on the bed's edge, turning away from him. A heavy sigh escapes you before you begin to unravel the story.

"When the raiders took over our camp, they brought me to some abandoned warehouse a few cities over. They held me there for weeks, torturing me, starving me. They left bruises everywhere. Every night before they would sleep, they would have their way with me." you confess, your voice wavering. "One night I guess I fought them a little too hard and I was awarded this fucking thing as a lovely reminder."  You gesture to the scar on your abdomen with a trembling hand.

Joel moves closer, his cool hands unexpectedly cradling your face, turning you to meet his gaze. He wipes away your tears, his eyes locked onto yours. "I'm here now, baby girl," he assures you, his voice firm with conviction. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to you like that ever again, you hear me?"

A small, sad smile tugs at your lips as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. He then reclines on the bed, drawing you into the sanctuary of his arms. Your head finds the rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby that resonates against your cheek. In this moment of vulnerability, you allow yourself to trust in his promises, your defenses crumbling as sleep claims you, cocooned in his embrace.

—

"I knew it!"

Suddenly, a sharp whisper slices through the silence, "I knew it!"

Joel startles awake, his heart pounding in his chest. There, at the foot of the stairs, stands Ellie, her eyes wide with the realization of the scene before her. He glances down at you, still nestled against him, and for a moment, time stands still. With a quick gesture, he signals Ellie to be quiet, his finger pressed to his lips. "Go back to bed," he commands softly.

"But I'm not tired -" Ellie protests, her voice a whisper in the dark.

"Now," Joel repeats, his whisper now a stern command. Ellie sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, but she complies, her footsteps retreating up the stairs. "Jeez, okay, lover boy," she mutters under her breath.

Relief washes over Joel as he watches Ellie disappear from view. He turns back to you, your peaceful slumber a stark contrast to the tension that just gripped the room. He gently kisses your forehead, his whisper barely audible, "I got you, baby girl."

[todoriin]

now he's in your bed, laying on my chest. | reo mikage, 18+

no explicit nsfw but still mdni, aged up characters, reo down bad, not very realistic s3x but alas, reader's feelings are ambiguous but they eventually get their hesitation fked out, no pronouns or specific body parts mentioned, not beta read sorry.

It's 10pm and there's a purple-haired, billionaire athlete on your doorstep, knocking a little too eagerly on the door.

"There's no one in there." You interrupt, spinning your keys on your finger and Reo turns around, shocked to see you in front of him. "So banging on my door like a madman won't be productive, I'm afraid."

To your dismay, all he says is an apology when you wanted him to explain why on earth he was here.

"Are you looking for Nagi? Try somewhere else, don't think he'll ever come around again," you murmur before pushing in front of him to unlock the door. The key enters, as it always does, your door hinges creak when you open it, as it always does, and you turn around to face Reo, who has never looked as frazzled as he does now.

"I'm not looking for Nagi," the athlete mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I'm looking for you."

"Well, here I am. Aren't you supposed to be on a flight across the world right now?"

"I'm flying tomorrow morning."

Such dry and icy responses, what's up with him this evening? Reo's always so talkative but you wonder where his words and usual mannerisms have wandered off to tonight. Perhaps he's holding a grudge against you on behalf of Nagi after your breakup.

"Have a safe flight. I'm gonna go now, see you-"

"-Can I come in?"

You narrow your eyes at him, alarms blaring in your head, flashing vibrant hues of red. Still, you step aside and let him inside your humble abode. He takes off his shoes at the entrance, letting you turn on the heaters and boil some water for tea.

He takes a seat on your couch, watching you in the kitchen that's adjacent. The loud noises from the kettle fill the silence that would otherwise be too awkward, giving you time to think about why Mikage Reo would seek you out at a time like this.

It's not like you were close friends. You were only friendly with him due to his position as Nagi's best friend, and you had barely spent any time together alone before. Even now, it feels like there should be a third presence, spread out and lounging on the exact couch that Reo sits on.

"Green tea," you mutter when you place his mug in front of him. The purple-haired thanks you silently, bringing the cup to his mouth and you two remain sitting in silence.

Are you going to have to carry this conversation when he's the one that intruded?

"Why are you here, Mikage?" You question.

"Why did you really break up with Nagi?"

Count on Reo to always be so brash and straight to the point. Time is money and there is no time like the present.

"I... didn't," you explain. "He's the one that broke up with me. Just... called me one morning and decided it was best for us to go our separate ways and that was it."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. I was surprised too, I thought things were going well between us. Guess not."

"Do you resent him?"

"No."

"Aren't you going to ask me how he is?"

"Life is bigger than being curious against people who come and go. I just hope he is well and happy with where he is."

"But you aren't happy."

You meet Reo's eyes with a bewildered stare, taken aback by his boldness to assume something and speak it outright as a guest in your own home. You fear you don't have anything nice to say, so you don't speak at all, opting to drink your tea instead.

"Did you come all this way just to interrogate me about Nagi and I's breakup?" You ask.

"No, I wanted to come and check on how you were. He didn't tell me much about it, didn't even tell me how you reacted, all he said was that 'you broke up' and that was it..."

Humiliation settles itself deep in your gut. You know of Nagi's infamous nonchalance, but after everything you did and experienced together, you'd like for him to show at least a little bit of sadness. But it seems like that is still too much to ask for.

Rubbing your eyes, you will yourself not to cry. You haven't shed any tears for him yet, not wanting to do so over someone who can't even break up with you in person. In fact, you thought you were beginning to get over it, going out with a few friends tonight for dinner to try and relieve your mind of overthinking too much. Why did Reo have to come by and ruin it?

"I thought he loved you, said he wanted to marry you too," Reo murmured.

That was your breaking point and you clench the pillow in your hands to stop yourself from throwing it at him. "Yeah, well, he didn't love me enough to stay," you spit with venom dripping from your tone, rushing to the kitchen with your now empty mug.

After a moment, you hear Reo's footsteps follow you and he places his empty mug next to the sink. You don't look at him when he leans against the counter with his arms crossed.

"Do you resent me?"

"Why should I?"

"By proxy. Just 'cause ya know, I'm his best friend."

"I don't resent you Mikage, if I did then I would not have let you in my home."

Two beats of silence pass before he speaks again. "I didn't come by just to check up on you."

The sink screeches when you turn it off and the newfound silence envelopes the atmosphere like a blanket of snow. "Go on."

"Don't tell him I said this but you've always been too good for him. You deserve someone better."

You scoff. "Like?"

He steps closer and you have to crane your neck to look at him properly. You don't back down, trying your best to breathe through the heavy air as he scans your expression for any hint of rebellion.

"Me," Reo's voice is unwavering, firm with his declaration. Determination sets his indigo eyes ablaze and his hair falls to frame his face perfectly, the light of your kitchen hitting his skin in all the right places.

Then you realise just how built he is. Broad shoulders, wide chest, and he towers over you so easily, all features that come from years of athleticism. You could fall for his trap, line, hook, and sinker, but whatever little integrity you had remaining keeps you on your feet, reluctant to fall.

His thumb comes to brush your cheek and your knees buckle instantaneously. "Isn't this against 'bro code'?"

"Nagi doesn't have to know."

Oh, but it's been so lonely recently and Reo is so warm, the fabric of his sweater feels so soft, and you just want someone to take care of you, but letting that person be Reo is too risky.

Still, you trail your hands up to rest on his shoulders. "This isn't smart."

"I'm just followin' my heart, pretty."

You're the one who kisses him, pulling him towards you with a tug and his hands slam onto the counter on either side of you. It's sweet, but so short that you don't even give him a moment to close his eyes and savour the feeling. Now you're pulling away and Reo is desperate to keep you close.

With the inch you've given, Reo steals the mile, sealing your lips with his again. It gets heated too fast and now he's everywhere, hands leisurely exploring your sides as his leg settles between yours, effectively trapping you against your kitchen counter.

"Reo," you whisper weakly as he's pressing kisses against your nape, but he stops as soon as his name slips past your lips, head retracting so he can look you in the eye. "Bedroom, please."

After Nagi broke you the way he did, you felt unlovable. As if the reason he left you so suddenly was because there wasn't anything good left about you for him to continue loving. Yet, Reo clings to you like an oath, hurried hands grabbing and squeezing everything and anything he could touch.

Where Nagi was lazy and unrushed, Reo acts like you could slip away from his touch any second, but he doesn't hurt you. He never grips hard enough to leave bruises no matter how much you want him to, and he never strays too far.

Slowly, he strips you of your clothes, taking the time to appreciate you as if he'll never get the chance to see it again. His pupils dilate with every piece he gets to remove and he hovers over you before leaning down to kiss every inch of your bare skin.

Gratitude oozes off him like honey, like he's thankful that you're granting him the luxury of the sight before him, like he's the lucky one out of you two.

Reo presses into you in all the right places and doesn't suffocate you with his weight. It's mind-numbing, he's making you feel so good and you curse yourself for choosing the wrong one and losing the time you could have had with Reo instead.

Every part of you erupts with bliss when he's finally inside. It's warm everywhere, he fits so perfectly that you wonder if you were meant to find heartbreak first so you can appreciate this blissfulness even more. When you arch your body moulds perfectly to his chest, and you can't remember what you were even worried about at the beginning of the night.

The more you kiss him, the more of him you feel deep inside is like a chip to your armour.

Pure euphoria flows through your veins, intoxicatingly slow. You never want this to end, even as you gasp for air, even as your throat turns dry and scratchy and your legs lose feeling, every climax causes you to pray that he won't leave. That just because you're spent doesn't mean it is the end of the night.

As if he can hear your wishes, Reo's craving is insatiable and his warmth never strays from you.

The clock strikes 02:30 and on a normal day, perhaps you would have been asleep, preparing for the day ahead. Except tonight there is a purple-haired athlete splayed on your chest, bodies coming down from the multiple highs you've experienced together. Oddly enough, this feels like the most intimate part of the night as his chest moves in unison with yours, idle chatter filling up the space as both of you drift off.

Reo tells you something before you fall asleep but you’re too close to unconsciousness to remember, eyelids heavy and senses dulling. “My flight is early in the morning tomorrow. I’ll be gone before you wake up.” 

True to his word, he isn’t there beside you. There’s a noticeable dent in the sheets that traces his silhouette but excluding that, there’s hardly any evidence of his presence at all and if it weren’t for your sore muscles, the flicker of doubt in your mind wouldn’t have been extinguished so quickly. Then your eye catches sight of the exact sweater he wore last night, the same one that you tugged off him impatiently, it feels like a promise that he will return.

© todoriin 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site

[sixpennydame]

Part One: The Feint

Pairing: Boxer!Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Word count: 4.5k

Summary:

Choso's life is simple: eat, sleep, train, fight. But everything changes when a mysterious doctor comes into his life.

Author's notes: This is me, branching out and writing for something other than Attack on Titan! But I just love me a dark-haired, misunderstood man. Thank you to my beloved @littlerequiem for beta reading.

Series content/warnings: No curses AU, bare knuckle boxing, violence (in the boxing ring and out), mentions of blood and broken bones, eventual smut

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

AO3 | Playlist

Line dividers: @saradika-graphics

The first time you meet Choso, he’s covered in blood.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’re a doctor.

Or rather, you used to be. It was all taken away from you. Now you’re forced to treat fighters in an underground fighting ring, patching up broken bones and open wounds.

This was your life now, and you’d resigned yourself to that.

You hear your door slide open. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you say, your back turned.

“Ok...” you hear a low voice respond, “but can I sit down? I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

You look over your shoulder to see a tall man, blood oozing from a wound to his head, the rag he has pressed against it drenched.

“Oh - yes, of course! Let me just...” 

You grab sterile gauze and your other instruments from the cabinet and run over to him as he sits down. He looks lethargic, and a little disoriented. You remove the soaked rag, assessing the large gash along his eyebrow.

“That’s deep,” you remark, “you must have been hit pretty hard.”

“Wasn’t too bad. I just bleed a lot,” he answers nonchalantly.

The blood from his head runs down and mingles with blood on his chest.

He notices your downward glance. “That isn’t all my blood.”

“Ah,” is all you can think to say.

You’d hate to see what the other guy looks like.

“Well, let’s get you stitched up then.”

He follows you to your examination table and sits down. You start by cleaning off the blood around the wound, gently dabbing the area while keeping pressure on it. His eyelid is already starting to swell, the deep purple bruising spreading under his eye and to his cheekbone. As you clean his face, you notice that he has a long, dark scar that goes across the bridge of his nose.

“Have you had any blurred vision? Vomiting?” you ask, going through the checklist of a concussion. 

He shakes his head. “Nope. I just need you to stitch me up and then I’ll be out of here.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that. I need to check that you’re ok.” You turn on your examination light and he squints, then you prepare a needle with local anesthesia.

“This might sting a bit,” you warn, and when the needle goes in, he winces for a moment, but his stoic expression soon returns.

You get right to work on the wound, silently putting in one stitch, then two, then another, concentrating on mending the skin together.

“I haven’t seen you before. You new?” His voice breaks the silence and your concentration.

“Yeah…I’m just here for a little while.”

He hums a response, and you can feel his eyes glance up at you. 

“That’s good. Nobody should stay around here for too long.”

“And how long have you been fighting here?”

He sighs. “Too damn long. But fighting is all I’ve ever known….I can’t really do anything else.”

There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. You know what it feels like to be trapped, to not have any other recourse. It’s what got you here, afterall.

You make the final stitch, tie the knot, and cut the thread. 

He makes to stand up, but your hand on his shoulder stops him.

“I need to check for any signs of a concussion,” you say.

He sighs, but with a nod, he settles himself back down. You put your hands on each side of his head, turning it from side to side gently.

“Any pain?”

“N-no..” His dark brown eyes are looking everywhere but at you.

You go through the rest of the list, checking his vision, coordination, and balance—-he passes it all without a hitch.

This guy can really take a punch, you think to yourself.

“Am I good, Doc?”

“It would seem so, but you need to let that wound heal for a week or two before you fight again.”

“Nope, can’t do. I don’t get paid if I don’t fight.” 

He jumps down off the exam table and walks towards the door.

But you grab his arm, pulling the man towards you.

“Hey. You might not care what happens to your body, but I do. And if you’re going to be under my care then you’re going to follow my instructions. No fighting until you get the all-clear from me.” Your voice is forceful and authoritative, and the surprise in his eyes shows that it was not what he was expecting from you.

“Yes…ma’am…er, doctor…” His phrasing is suddenly polite. “I understand. No fighting.”

At that, you let go of his arm. “Good. Come by next week and I’ll see if I can take out those stitches.”

“Next week. Will do, Doc,” he says before walking out the door.

But the following evening, he’s back in your office, straddling one of your chairs and leaning on its back.

“I’m bored...” his low voice whines.

“And so you decided to come here,” you reply dryly while wiping down your examination area.

He doesn’t take the hint, merely watching you as you do your work. Last night, his hair was up in two pigtails that spiked at the top of his head; today, his black hair flows down, almost touching his shoulders. Cleaned up, he’s handsome, even with the swelling from the black eye.

You walk over to him with a small bag of ice. “Here. If you're gonna just hang around here, we might as well take care of that swelling.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He takes the bag, putting it on his still tender bruise. 

“I’m not a doctor.” 

He furrows his brow at your statement.

 “Not fully, anyway. I’m a doctor in residence.”

Was a doctor in residence, but you leave that part out. It’s better not to tell him too much.

Your words seem to be an acceptable explanation. He leans his arms on the back of the chair, then his head. “Well then…what’s your name?”

You tell him. There’s an awkward silence.

“And what’s yours?”

“Choso. Choso Kamo.”

Normally, you don’t bother learning the fighters’ names, or even asking. What would be the point? They’re either too punch drunk to answer you, or they’re in and out of your office without a backwards glance. 

But it wouldn’t hurt to get to know this guy a little more, right? The night’s been slow, and it doesn’t seem like he means to leave any time soon.

“And you said you’ve been fighting for a while?” you ask while attempting to grab a jar of cotton balls on a high shelf.

“Yeah. A couple years. I’m paying for my brothers to go to a boarding school outside the city. The public schools are shit here, and I want them to have better opportunities than I did.” He suddenly becomes quiet, contemplative. “I don’t want them to end up like me.”

That was not the answer you were expecting from him. You’d assumed all the fighters here were adrenaline junkies or extreme pain addicts, with overinflated egos to match. But Choso didn’t seem to fit any of your preconceived notions. He’s fighting for his family because he feels he has to.

So you’re not the only one who feels trapped in their circumstances.

He walks over to you, looking down and smiling. “Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I chose this life.”

There’s a silent energy between the both of you as you meet his gaze, but it’s gone in an instant when he looks away, reaching up and getting the jar.

“Did you need this?” he asks, his voice suddenly low and sweet.

“Yeah.... thanks.” 

Your fingers graze his as you take the jar and there’s a flutter in your stomach. For someone so beat up and bruised, there’s a gentleness about him; you can see it in his eyes.

The moment between the two of you, however, is cut short when the door is kicked open and a bloodied and bruised fighter is rushed into the room. 

By the time you get them bandaged and stitched, and your workspace clean, Choso is gone. 

Ah well, you think, better not to get too attached anyway.

But the next evening, he’s back in your office, just like clockwork, leaning in a chair or sitting on a counter, just ever so slightly in your personal space. You use it as an opportunity to check his wound, reprimanding him for not regularly putting on antiseptic ointment. 

Your leg brushes his as you dab the ointment on, attempting to ignore that he’s once again watching you silently. 

You clear your throat. “You need to take better care of your wounds, Choso, or the scar isn’t going to heal properly. Or worse, it’ll get infected.”

”I don’t really care about scars. I’ve always had them, it seems.”

You look into his eyes, then down at the scar across his nose.

”How’d you get that one?”

“That?” He points to his nose. “That was an unfortunate incident with my father and a metal baton.”

He then tells you about his life, about having an abusive father and an absent mother, and about raising his younger brothers practically on his own. As a teenager he’d given up on school but had found an aptitude for fighting, first in back alleys and parks, and  now, in his early twenties, in the underground bare knuckle boxing matches run by various shady gambling organizations. 

The gambling here was somewhat legal, but the matches were anything but, pitting fighter against fighter in a bloody free-for-all where the only rule was don’t hit them hard enough to kill them. The fact that Choso was still alive and fighting after all these years was impressive.

Slightly masochistic, but impressive. 

From here on, every evening, Choso would come like clockwork. He’d find his way to your office, where you’d assess his wound, put on more ointment (he would always forget), give him some ice for his bruising and just listen to him talk. The man was an open book to you, and after a few days, you felt you had a good idea of who Choso was and what made him tick.

Like how he hates confined spaces but has no problem with heights; that if he’d gone to college, he would have been a preschool teacher because he loves kids; how he likes board games but gets too competitive.

He was odd but sweet, carrying himself in an unassuming way that contrasted vastly from the other fighters that passed through your door. Even though he was part of such a cruel world, he seemed so… innocent, as if he was experiencing life for the first time. 

You, on the other hand, kept information about yourself general and brief during your talks with Choso. To tell him about yourself and your life would mean that you trusted him; that he was more than just another fighter coming through your door. 

Even moreso, you were afraid of what he’d think if you told him what got you here in the first place.

And so every question Choso asked was met with a quick answer or total silence; that didn’t seem to stop him from asking questions, however; the man was as relentless with curiosity as he was with fighting stamina.

And when seven evenings had passed, you could tell the man was aching to get back into the ring.

“It’s itchy,” he said, gently patting the healing wound with his fingers, just like you’d taught him to do when he felt the urge to scratch it.

The bruising and swelling around his eye and the side of his face had gone down considerably in the past week, faster than you were even expecting. 

Something else you didn’t expect was the fact that you really enjoyed his presence in your office every night, so much so that you felt a small pang of longing every time he left.

“Come here, then. Let’s have a look at it.” 

He walks toward you, reaching up to pull his hair back into a ponytail, his shirt raising just enough to show his toned stomach. You quickly turn away to reach for your glasses.

There’s a crinkling sound behind you as he sits on the tissue paper covering the examination table. You can feel his eyes on you and you take a few breaths before turning around, avoiding his gaze.

You’ve been this close to him countless times, but why does it suddenly feel different now?

There’s cheers coming from the arena down the hall, and that usually brings commentary from Choso about the fighters, but right now, he’s quiet. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

“You look cute in your glasses,” he says in a low voice that sends vibrations to your core. 

“Stop it. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“But it’s true.”

”Shhh...” you command, but his comment has you visibly flustered. You clear your throat as you assess Choso’s wound.

“I’m going to take out the sutures now. It shouldn’t hurt.”

Your examination light clicks on above the two of you and you tilt his head up slightly. He smiles boyishly before looking away.

Realizing it’s pointless to ignore whatever is happening between the two of you, you prod, “Was that your way of flirting?”

”I’ve never been very good at that,” he confesses. “Just stating the facts. One of my many observations of you this week.”

”Oh yeah? And what else have you observed?”

”You purse your lips when you concentrate.” 

You suddenly relax your lips as you start cutting the threads of his suture. “I don’t do that.”

 He smiles. “And you do this little throat clearing sound when you’re nervous.”

As if on cue, you clear your throat. He smirks triumphantly.

”See?”

”So you’ve discovered every one of my physical ticks. You have them too, you know.”

His eyes glance up to you. “And they are?”

”Well…you...” you snip a few sutures, pausing to pull them out and put on a tray, “...sigh loudly.”

”I… sigh loudly?”

”Yeah…as if you’re bored or tired or something.” Snip goes another suture. “And you have the most expressive face I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you’re physically capable of hiding any of your emotions.”

”Unlike you. You’re like a stone wall. You get defensive and distant every time I ask a personal question.”

“I do -” your words come out clipped and harsh, and he gives you a knowing look, “-not..”

Snip.

Silence.

“Ok, fine. What do you want to know?”

“You’re not wearing a ring, so you’re not married. Boyfriend?”

“No.” You want to leave it at that, but that would just prove him right. “I don’t really have time for…relationships.”

Desperately wanting to deflect, you ask, “What about you? I’m sure you have a hoard of fangirls.”

“Me? Fangirls?” He laughs at that and you give him a reprimanding look to keep still before you continue your work. “You clearly haven’t been to any of the matches. It’s mainly old men drunk off their asses. And I don’t really talk to…girls.”

You take out the last suture and dab at the slight bleeding. 

“I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

Your brow furrows at that, and so he adds, “I want to talk to you. And it’s a challenge.”

“A challenge? In what way?”

“No matter what I ask, you’ve barely told me a thing about you.  But there’s some things I can tell.” 

His hand reaches out and pauses for a moment, before his fingertips caress your face. 

“You seem sad,” he says gently, “and alone.”

“What does that mean, alone?” You back away from him. “I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you to pity me.”

“That’s not what I meant -” 

He walks toward you, but you turn away.

“Your wound is healed and your bruising has gone down. You should be fine to fight now, so there’s no more reason to come here.”  

You can feel his presence right behind you. He says your name but you don’t turn around.

It’s time to stop this. There’s no use in letting someone into your life.

There’s a loud sigh, and then you hear the door to your office open and close.

——

“Goddammit, Choso, why are your hands not taped? Where’s your head been lately?”

Choso stays silent. Was he really gonna tell his trainer that he’s been sidetracked all week because he was thinking about you every moment? 

That would get him a slap across the face, and he’d like to avoid that.

This is the first time he’s been back to the arena since that last night he saw you. And every day he’s thought about whether he’ll catch a glimpse of you walking to your office, or in the hallway. After things fell apart so terribly, he wonders if he’d even have the nerve to talk to you again.

Choso’s trainer pushes him out the door. ”Go to the doctor and ask to borrow their tape. Surely she has some.”

Shit. 

The cheers and boos of another fight echo against the brick and metal of the hallway as Choso makes his way to your office, each step making his heart beat just a little bit faster. 

Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe you’ll turn him away. 

(Of course, if he got injured tonight, you’d have no choice but to treat him, that thought had crossed his mind.)

Just as he makes it to your door, it flings open, nearly hitting him in the face. He stops it right as a man with long blue hair slinks out.

”Oh! Sorrrry man!” His voice is innocent, child-like. “You almost got knocked out before you could even fight.” He smirks while holding open the door ceremoniously. “The doctor will see you now.”

Confused, Choso watches as the man practically skips down the hall but his concern quickly changes when he sees you slumped over your counter.

”Doc…” 

He cautiously walks towards you.

”Go away.” The words are harsh but your voice is weak and defeated.

Choso gently puts a hand on your shoulder to turn you towards him, but you refuse to look him in the eyes. He lifts your chin up to look at him.”What happened?”

That’s when he sees it. Your bottom lip is split and bleeding.

Choso’s eye squint, studying the wound. “Who did this to you?”

You say nothing, but with the freshness of the wound, he puts it together. And suddenly, he’s seeing red.

He turns on his heels, ready to burst out the door and catch that blue haired bastard who hit you, but you grab his arm, pulling him back to your side.

”Don’t, Choso!” You plead. “Please...”

Your eyes well up with tears and Choso’s hand instantly cups your face.

“What happened?”

You hesitate, as usual, but then, “…I’m in trouble...”

”What kind of trouble?”

You look down, grabbing some gauze on the counter to put on your lip. Once again, Choso is met with silence to his questions.

”Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

”Why do you keep coming here, Choso? No matter what I do…you just keep coming back. I don’t get it.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I like you.” The words come out of his mouth so naturally, words he’s wanted to tell you for days.  “You are one of the only people here who is kind to me. I could tell that you really cared. I don’t get that often, if ever.”

He moves closer, placing his hand on top of yours. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Outside the doors of the office, the voices of the gamblers in the arena raise to a crescendo. A muffled sound announces the next fighters.

But here, it feels as if time has stopped. Choso can’t hear anything but the pounding of his own heart in his ears getting louder and louder. His focus becomes completely on you, as if the rest of the world has melted away. It’s the same feeling he gets right before a fight, but this time he’s not looking to conquer anything.

Or maybe he is.

He brings your hand off your face and leans down, his lips mere millimeters from yours. 

“Let me in.”

Your breath is ragged and uneven and if he closed his eyes, he swears he’d be able to hear your heart beating as well. But after a few seconds, when neither of you move, he begins to doubt himself. 

Then your voice - your sad, soft voice - breaks the silence.

”Choso...”

That’s all he needs to hear to have his lips crashing into yours. It’s a desperate kiss, a hunger arising in him that he’s never felt before. Your arms wrap around his neck and he lifts you up and onto the counter, pressing himself between your legs. He can taste the blood from your lip and it seems to spur a deeper want of you inside of him. His hands roam under your shirt and you moan into his mouth. He wants to touch you, taste you, know everything about you - 

“Choso!” A loud voice resonates outside the office.

Both of you break away from the kiss, breathless.

“Shit. I’ve gotta go.” He looks at the door, expecting his coach to barge in any second; when he doesn’t, he looks back at you. You look so vulnerable right now, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to see how much further this can go, how much more you’ll open up to him, but he knows he can’t miss a fight.

“Wait for me. It’s not safe for you to leave by yourself tonight. I’ve just gotta.…go do this real quick.”

This. As if his livelihood doesn’t depend on it. 

“Alright,” is your answer.

And with that, it feels like Choso has been hit with a shot of adrenaline. He kisses you again, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically, because he hears you suck in a breath. 

“I’ll be right back.” He looks down and sees some medical tape on the counter. “And I’ll return this.”

He runs out the door and down the hall, the tape in his mouth as he winds it around his palms and knuckles.

You’re gonna wait for him.

He’s never wanted a fight to finish so fast.

”Choso! Where the hell have you been? You’re up!”

He ignores his coach and starts warming up, jumping a bit and then throwing a few punches. Just outside the door beyond are the lights, the cheers, and his opponent.

But right now, all he wants is you.

”And weighing in at 187 pounds….the man who always brings a bloodbath…CHOOOOSOOOOO!!”

——

You hear the announcer scream Choso’s name and the cheers that follow. 

Let me in… he’d said.

You’re not sure if you’re shaking from being hit in the face or from the intense kisses that you shared with Choso just moments before. Maybe it’s a little of both. 

You wring your hands and pace the floor, your mind racing, trying to understand everything that just happened. Sooner or later, you knew the people you agreed to work for would come to collect - but no matter what you did, it never seemed to be enough. They take and take and take…

And that man with the blue hair - it seemed like he’d taken such joy in hitting you, seeing the fear in your eyes when he made his threats. 

Maybe you should just leave, right now. Pack up your stuff and get out of the city, leave everything behind. 

But it would be no use, you knew they’d eventually find you.

And Choso…he told you to wait for him. It felt so good to be in his arms, touching you, kissing you. He made you feel wanted and safe, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’ve never been interested in watching the matches before, but now you find yourself walking down the hall and into the dark and crowded arena. The crowd is lively, throwing out words of praise and curses at both the fighters. You stay in the back, and through the clouds of cigarette smoke, you see him. 

It’s only been a few minutes since the fight started, but Choso’s body is already coated in a layer of sweat. There’s a wild look in his eyes but his face is serious, almost calm. He weaves and bobs in between his opponent’s punches, getting his own punch across his cheek, then one to his chin. Choso takes a few steps back as the man ambles forward, shaking his head a few times while his trainer yells something to him from the ropes. 

The opponent lunges toward Choso but he puts him in a headlock and starts punching his face repeatedly. In an ordinary fight, a referee would break them up, but there are no referees that you can see. The man eventually works himself free from Choso’s grasp, his nose bloody and more than likely broken. He attempts a jab but Choso counters; he hits him hard across the cheek and the man falls to the ground.

”Finish him off!” “Beat him to a pulp!”

”Choso! Choso! Choso!”

The voices raise higher and higher, egging the victor on. But Choso merely walks to his corner, drinks some water, spits it out, and leaves the ring. 

In a matter of minutes, it’s all over, the loser in a pool of blood. 

You rush back to your office, knowing you’re going to have to set that man’s nose.

——

True to his word, Choso comes to your office at the end of the night. 

You’ve just finished treating his opponent and stitching up a cut on his right cheek before sending him away with his trainer and crew. You’d also noticed that the bruising on the man’s knuckles was deep purple and swelling fast; no broken bones, but it looked as if he’d hit something hard and immovable, not another human body.

When you look at Choso, who’s freshly showered and wearing a grey hoodie over a white t-shirt, leaning against your office door, he looks as if he’s just had a walk in the park.

You put on your jacket and grab your things before making your way toward him.

”Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” 

His hand, that just moments before had beaten someone to a bloody pulp, was now outstretched toward you.

An offering. And a surrender. 

You decide to accept.

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

Join my taglist!

@amywritesthings @nube55 @delirious-donna @moonchild-angel @littlerequiem

@mrsackermannx @romantichomicide95 @youre-ackermine @q-p-mayo @levispersonalslave

[dinogoofymutated]

When I say “eat the rich”, I mean getting a taste of those Warren Worthingtitties, leaving hickies all over him, and give him a good head 🤪🤤

Spicy!Angel/GN!Reader BET U DIDN'T THINK I WAS GONNA TURN THIS INTO A FIC DID YA? HEEHEHEEHHEEH. I've had this idea stuck in my head for days and ended up writing it while I work over some of the struggle I'm having with that wolverine fic! I've got one beta-reader (Kinda) so I'm using feedback from them and my drunk self to fix some things up! This is just a short little thing due to that, but it's food nonetheless!! It's WaTXM warren again sorry not sorry I'm obsessed. TWS: No explicit smut but this is fairly spicy. Sneaking off. Lipstick marks. As always, reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned. We smooch the rich boy. That's it. That's the plot. Warren is a switch and I stand by that.

    Warren’s chest is heaving underneath you. He’s biting onto his finger to muffle his sounds as you continue to kiss, nip, and suck at this exposed skin. His camel coat is unbuttoned from the waist up, his vest and shirt similarly disheveled with his tie almost completely undone. His jawline, neck, and collarbones are all dotted with red lipstick marks and fresh purple hickies. You’re unbuttoning just a couple more of his shirt buttons to kiss just a little further down his chest, nipping and sucking another hickey onto his pec as he gasps sharply, his wings fluttering and twitching underneath the tan fabric.

    “We really should… Get back out there…” Warren pants. You’re only halfway listening, too busy blessing his pale skin with evidence of your love and adoration for him. You slide your hands in between his inner layers and his coat, reaching behind him to bush your hands through the soft feathers of his confined wings. 

    “Can we just stay hidden for a bit longer?” You ask, leaning back up to draw him into a kiss, which he eagerly returns, chasing after you when you pull away. “-I know your dad is big on these galas and everything, but they’re just so…”

    “Stuffy? Annoying? An excuse for him to raise money for his bigoted campaigns?” Warren scoffs.

   “Yeah, that.” You giggle, leaning in for another chaste kiss. “And here I thought it was just me. I didn’t really grow up with these things, so it’s a bit of a culture shock.” Warren sighs at that, leaning his head against the wall you had him pushed against. 

    “Trust me, it’s not just you.” He frowns. He brushes a few stray locks of hair away from your face as his expression shifts into something a bit softer.

    “I told you that it was okay if you didn’t want to come. Don’t feel like you have to be here for my sake.” Warren murmurs. His soft tone of voice leaves you feeling a little guilty, and you set your hand atop his own as you frown.

    “I know… but I didn’t want to just leave you here all alone.” You say rubbing your thumb along his knuckles.  “…Besides, who else was going to sneak off with you?” Warren smirks at that, mimicking your own mischievous smile. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you into him, stepping away from the wall as he straightens up his posture and leans over you. 

    “Well, we could always take it up a notch. Not go back at all- not that I really could in this state.” Warren chuckles, looking down at his chest. You can see where each mark fades into a lighter color, having kissed your lipstick off completely as you lavished him with the act.

    “Sorry. I got a little carried away, didn’t I?” You say, only a little guilty about it. Warren chuckles again, cupping your chin in his fingers as he drags his thumb across your smeared bottom lip.

    “It’s not like I wasn’t begging you for it.” Warren hums deeply. You swear your heart stops beating for a moment. He pulls you back into one last breathtaking kiss, one that leaves you just a bit unsteady when he leans away from you, just as gone as you are,

     “Now come on, let's get going before my father notices we’ve left” Warren is tugging you further down the dark corridor, and you find yourself hoping that maybe the two of you would be leaving via the window rather than the door.

[ad0rechuu]

ᝰ MY OH MY. ━━ (029) balloon flowers versus roses

WORD COUNT. 1038

WARNINGS. a little timeskip from last chapter but only a couple days, yelling, arguing, just some pretty serious and mean spirited insulting, i was in really bad mood when i wrote this but let me just say again that this fictional and i know yj is better than this :]

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

SUNWOO WAS NEVER the target of the bet nor did he create it. Honestly speaking, it was never his issue at all.

Yet as he walked out of the familiar elevator, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders since the last time he'd stood in that very same spot.

The bet wasn’t technically his issue. Neither was your relationship with Yeonjun. But he could not have helped but insert himself in the very middle of it. It came down to the most important person in his life. What was he supposed to do?

Not many friends, especially best friends, would be this overjoyed that their dearest friend's relationship ended. Sunwoo, however, wasn’t like most friends. Because if it was up to him, he would lose the title of being solely your best friend as soon as humanly possible.

A smile took over his face as he turned the corner, his eyes fondly looking down at a bouquet of flowers— the very same flowers you got him too.

He hadn’t brought the balloon flowers in for any particular reason (even if he spent a greater part of the night researching the best florists near him). At first, confessing to you was on his mind. But eventually, he decided that after just coming out of a relationship like the one you had, maybe getting into another one right away wasn’t on most people’s wishlist.

And giving flowers with such a romantic meaning as a congratulatory gift for a breakup wasn’t ideal either.

So he decided that the fact that they might make you smile was enough reason for him. His own smile grew imagining your face already.

He looked up in front of him. A familiar figure making its way up to your door caught his attention.

As quick as his smile had grown, it dropped instantaneously, seeing the other visitor raise his fist to knock, roses in his free hand.

“Don’t!” Sunwoo exclaimed, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, rolling his eyes as recognition settled in.

Yeonjun straightened his back and sent a quick glance at the door before eventually facing the other man. Sunwoo walked towards him with an unreadable but dark expression on his features.

The former only chuckled, pushing his hand through his hair.

“Kim Sunwoo! Don’t you have a knack for always showing up on time to ruin the moment?”

The black, curly-haired boy move one step closer.

“I’m serious. Don’t knock. Don’t show up in front of her. Don’t attempt to get her back for the sake of a stupid bet. Don’t do that her.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do? You don’t know anything.” Yeonjun scoffed, crossing his arms.

Sunwoo paused for a few seconds, clearly in thought. He then reached into his pocket.

“Is it because of the money that you keep doing this? I was always under the impression that you were more than well off, but if you really need the money, I’ll give you everything I have. If it means you’ll stop hurting her and leave her life forever.” He said, looking down at the wallet before offering it to Yeonjun.

His expression changed from annoyance to pure anger. He roughly pushed Sunwoo’s hand down, speaking with the same rough caliber.

“Like I said, you don’t know anything. Stop talking like you do.” His hand came up to his beautifully sculpted face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about the fucking money man. I really do love her!”

“Yeah, right! How can you say that? I mean, you have done nothing but lie, cheat, and use her! You don’t love her. You just don’t want to lose the power you have over her!” Stepping even closer, the boy holding purple flowers now also raised his voice. “I bet you don’t even know what love is to her!”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes! Yes, I do! Better than you ever will.”

Both of their voices bounced off the walls. In any other context, Sunwoo would be worried about getting scolded for possibly disturbing your neighbors. But he was too busy shooting an icy glare at the boy in front of him.

As Yeonjun looked away first, a part of Sunwoo wanted to celebrate the tiny victory internally. But a sarcastic laugh took his attention.

“You think you know everything just because of your silly little crush on her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sunwoo’s eyes widened, blinking a few times as if it would make sure he heard him correctly.

“You thought I didn’t know? Ha! Everyone knows. I mean, you follow her around like a lost dog. She probably does as well.” Yeonjun smirked, at the shock at the other one’s face.

Balling his fist, he tried to recollect himself and attempted to ignore the implications of his words the best he could.

“N-None of your relationship was even real ever since the second bet! Despite that, I can give her the love you weren’t able nor deserve to give her. I truly love her!”

“None of it was real. Yet she was kissing my lips. She was going on dates with me. Despite everything, she still chose me, and she will again.” He clenched his jaw, spitting words like venom, made to burn deeply. Normally, Yeonjun wouldn’t go this far but anger took over after Sunwoo’s confirmation in form of a confession of what he knew already deep down. “But even if she doesn’t, did you truly think that you had any semblance of a chance, ever?”

“She’s never ever going to see you that way and you are never going to be worthy of her. You’ll be nothing but her friend until she inevitably gets tired of you and ditches you.”

This time, Yeonjun was the one who stepped closer, tongue as sharp as an arrow, not even stopping at the obvious nauseating heart break on Sunwoo’s face.

“Because you two are simply not on the same level like me and her are, she’ll never love you.”

Before Sunwoo get a word in, the two boys heard the door creak open, making both of them look up at the figure standing in the doorway.

‹ PREVIOUS ᜊ NEXT ›

NOTES. hehehhehehehhehehehehhehehehehhehehehe

make sure to participate the ask them anything event, it’s very important to me : it’s okay if you already send an ask tho, feel free to ask as many questions as you desire whenever you think of one

TAGLIST. @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @starryunho @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @felixsramen @aapplepii @juhakutie @gyumibear @alixnsuperstxr @atinyinateezverse @nyukyusnz @ghstzzn @blueresides @shakalakaboomboo @haechology @ahnneyong @atinycafe @i-luvsang @nasangel @asherthehimbo @marvelahsobx @blue-rainydays @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @evilsailorsenshi @allisonleannn @sunkitti @koizekomi @ms-no1kpopstan @marsvillee @tubatu-wari-wari @jazminethecreator @mitchko11 @daegale @wonwootakemyheart @ksywoo @dearly-somber @hxnnibxns @luvvsnae

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Lena!! ❤️❤️❤️

I finally thought of a request for my fav MPIND Matty 🤭

Maybe something with girlie using a toy on him? Maybe a vibrator? Overstimulation perhaps?

-Sugar-coat-it <3 <3 <3

@sugar-coat-it This was supposed to just be a short blurb but i got way too carried away xx. hope u like it!!

Rush! - Matty Healy

A/N: This was so fun to write!! MPIND Matty lives in a special corner of my heart i think i might never stop writing for him. @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff tysm for being my (half decent) beta reader and making sure this isn't totally shit. Enjoy!! (edit: this is non-canon, so it doesnt have anything to do with the plot of MPIND or its sequel, Before you go)

wc: 9k

content warnings: filthy, semi public?, but also not really, overstimulation, teasing, begging, dom! reader, most of the time, matty is a cocky piece of shite but we love him, grinding, bondage, marking, use of sex toys, specifically a vibrator, what else hmmm, both of them are high, so dubcon?, still in their right mind though, wow the content warnings are long

Everything reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, hints of Jimmy Choo’s ‘illicit’ lingering in the air around Matty. You scrunched up your nose at the scent, Matty obviously having doused himself in it while you were in the bathroom, straightening your hair. Soft music played in the background, Matty using his turn on the Ipod to put on some ambient stuff George had made (yup, George was a music producer now for some reason? Quarter life crisis vibes.) 

Adam was on his way, his little red Kia primed and ready for a good smoke sesh in some parking lot somewhere. It was nearly winter, which meant going outside was hardly an option considering neither you or Matty actually owned anything resembling warm clothing. 

“I'm not letting you wear my coat again. Remember what happened last time?” he says when he sees your ‘finished’ outfit; a pair of jeans and a sage green long sleeve top, adorned with white and beige rhinestones. How dare he even mention that day, the state you entered the house was completely his fault.

“That only happened because you booked it down the fucking street and left me there!” It was true. The two of you had been sharing his massive coat, both of your bodies easily fitting into it, up until he decided the last four blocks home were to be a sprint, and took his jacket with him.  

“Touché.” he grins as you shake your head at him. Fuck him, honestly. You tell him as much, his only reaction being a simple shrug of his shoulders, and his attention was back on his reflection in the mirror, carefully applying glittery purple liner to his eyelids, giving him a sort of emo-fairy look. Ross’d take the piss out of both of you, all dressed up to go smoke in a car on a wednesday evening, but you knew Matty already had some sort of comeback prepared, about how at least he groomed himself, and wasn't desperate to be a ‘proper’ lad (cue Ross chucking the nearest object he could pick up in Matty’s direction). 

Impatient as ever, you sigh loudly, trying to get Matty to stop hogging the shared vanity. You could always just go back into the bathroom, but his lightbulb was truly shit, and besides, most of the stuff he was using was yours anyway. 

Finally, you give up on trying to keep the piece, and promptly shove him off the chair 

“Stop doing yourself up and move-” he doesn't budge, hanging on to the edge of the desk for dear life, refusing to let you finish getting ready.  

“Violence is never the answer- Fuck off, christs sake, fine!” he whines like a child, getting up and throwing himself on the bed, and you cringe as it creaks loudly beneath him. 

“You love it when I hurt you, shut up.” you tease, watching the look in his eye dramatically change. “Not like this!” he shoots back, flipping you off before grabbing his Ipod, switching to something more punk, heavy drums and guitar filling the space. 

“Touché.” you repeat his own words back to him, and he rolls his eyes, sitting up. Taking the same brush, also using the same color, you frame your eyes with purple eyeshadow, trying your hand at a smokey eye. The two of you were matching more often than not, with Hann’s comments on it slowly getting on your nerves 

“You both look the fucking same, its like you’re clones.” he’d overexaggerate, just to get a reaction out of a easily riled up Matty. 

“D’you reckon Ross’ll have the good stuff this time? I can't deal with Hann’s bickering otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at Matty from the corner of your eye. Maybe Adam’s comment rang somewhat true, seeing as Matty was wearing the exact same color scheme you were. Green Jersey top, definitely stolen from George, paired with blue, seventies style jeans, white and red trainers peeking out from beneath the too-long pants.

“I dunno, but we could go to the shop if it's shit, maybe get some wine?” you suggest. It was always 50/50 with Ross, and bad weed always fucked Matty off to no end, making him unbearable. Almost finished, you look around for your mascara, hands rifling through the piles of makeup littering the desk. 

“Where’ve you put the mascara?” you ask, slowly getting annoyed. 

“Left.” he answered curtly, engrossed in the newest edition of vogue. Sure enough there it was, bots of product caked around the cap. Coating your eyelashes with it, you hear Matty stand up and walk over to you. Setting spray topped off your look, and you run your fingers through your hair, smoothing it out. 

Matty isn't particularly strong, but then again, neither are you, so the strong hand around your wrist was useless to fight against, and you let him pull you up. Face to face with Matty, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What was he playing at? 

“You look absolutely gorgeous, darling.” you blush at the compliment, quietly telling him to fuck off, smiling as you see him grin at you. His brown eyes rake over your body, giving you a slow once-over, savoring the sight in front of him. 

“Stop looking at me like that-” he cuts you off with a tug of your hair, smashing his lips against you. Surprised, it takes you a solid few seconds to properly kiss him back, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the kiss. His tongue immediately shoved past your lips, licking into your lips with fervor, drinking in every small gasp for air. 

“Taste like sugar as well, so sweet.” He pulls you back in, deliberately not giving you an opportunity to answer. You feel his hands wander, trailing down your back and under your shirt, caressing your bare torso. His fingers toy at the band of your bra, teasing the clasps. Refusing to let you go, he presses your body flush against his, and you can sense every inch of him on your skin, like electricity, the smell of him travels up your spine, intoxicating. 

The buzz of your phone snaps you back into reality. The guys, your plans. It takes every ounce of self control in your body to press your hand to his chest, effectively separating the two of you. Matty looks at you with a hurt expression, hands quick to cup your face, desperate to taste you again. Shaking your head, your voice is slightly as you tell him that the others are already outside. 

“I haven't seen George in like three weeks. You're not the only person in the world, you know.” George was up to his eyeballs in Uni coursework (yes, Uni), and hasn't been able to hang out since forever, making you really miss him. 

“I could make you feel like i'm the only person in the world, have all your attention on me.” he says with a wink, tracing your collarbones over your shirt. Matty was a hard person to say no to, with the way he peered down from above you, eyes wide, silently begging you to just stay.

“No.” you say firmly, grabbing your bag from the chair you were previously sitting on and slinging it over your shoulder. Instinctively, Matty takes it from you, holding it out of reach. 

“Can't have you carrying your own bags, what would people think?” he teases, pushing past you and out the door, his footsteps heavy on the carpeted stairs. You follow him, heartbeat finally starting to slow. Already at the front door, Matty waits for you to tug your boots on, leaning against the coat rack as you did. 

“What the fuck was that about, anyway?” The way he kissed you was passionate, hot, and definitely not something you just do on a whim. He tries to play innocent, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders. 

“Nothing, just wanted a peck.” he answered, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair, still not fully dry from the shower he had taken a few hours prior. You scoff, looking at him in a ‘are you serious?’ type way. 

“You fucking jumped on me, don’t be a such a dickhead.” you feel around for your cigarettes and light, smiling fondly as you realize it's the one Matty had gifted to you. “What was your end goal? You know we’re about to meet with the others!” 

“I’m sorry for kissing my girl, jesus,” he exhales sharply, hand reaching for the doorknob, a loud honk sounding from the other side. Swinging the door open, Hann looks truly fucked off as the two of you walk down the driveway and climb into the car. Now usually, you would sit in the middle, between George and Matty, letting you comfortably lean forward to talk to Ross and Adam in the front, but it seems as though Matty had other plans. 

Shoving past you, he settled into the middle seat, setting your bag on the floor next to your leather clad feet. George looks over, slightly confused at the new seating arrangement, but accepts it, going back to rolling the first spliff. The car starts, sputtering before actually turning on, Hann letting out a sigh of relief. There had been multiple occasions where his ‘precious baby’, as he called her, refused to start, leaving all of you stranded until Ross somehow managed to find the problem and fix it. 

“See, this is what I mean,” Hann gestures to you and Matty, facing primarily Ross “They look like fucking clones of each other, its weird.” Matty reaches past the headrest and tries to smack him, causing the car to sway slightly as his hands leave the steering wheel.

“I’m trying to drive, fucks sake.” Hann mutters, pissed off now that Matty had almost made him crash the car. You set a firm hand on the dark haired boy's shoulder, lightly pulling him back into his seat. His legs are firmly pressed up against you now, and you feel a familiar tingling sensation blossom under your skin. 

“Try to go steady, ‘m almost done.” George has this legendary talent of being able to roll the perfect spliff in even the most impractical situations, making him a god in Hann’s eyes. The car slows down slightly, and you see George lick the spliff closed, admiring his work. Matty immediately snatches it out of his hands, grinning from ear to ear as he sniffs at it, the smell filling his senses. 

“God, you’re so fucking weird, mate.” Ross grimaces as he eyes Matty, watching him try to evenly light the spliff, failing miserably. Both you and Ross couldn't stand the earthy, stuffy smell of weed, constantly begging Hann to roll down the windows whenever someone decided to smoke in the car. Matty, however, had some sort of hash-fetish, and absolutely loved the smell of it, hotboxes being his favorite activity ever. He thought it heightened the experience, which was a load of shite, but he believed in nonetheless. 

You were almost there, the Mcdonald’s parking lot being your end destination. Taking the scenic route, the five of you passed the spliff around, partially skipping Adam so as to not get him completely off his tits while he was driving. Matty agreed to rolling down the windows, seeing how nauseous Ross looked, with you not being far behind. Wind raked through your hair as you leaned your head onto the edge of the car.

Feeling at ease, peaceful and very, very high, you don't even notice Matty’s hand trailing up your thigh. He was just like that, touchy and overly affectionate with everyone, not just you, though, the type of affection did differ slightly. Scratching your skin lightly, you feel his fingers claw at the thin material of your jeans, grabbing hold of your panties through them. Your eyes snap up to meet his, and he pulls suddenly, letting go of the elastic. It hits your skin with a muffled smack, and you jump, noticing Ross’ eyes on you, peering over his shoulder. 

Slightly disoriented, you don't even register Matty wrapping his fingers around the base of your neck, pulling you in for a hot, definitely too passionate kiss. Yelping in surprise, you sigh, almost inaudibly, into the kiss, letting him take control for a few seconds. George groans as he spots the two of you, dramatically shielding his eyes. 

Realsing where you actually were, you pull away, shooting Matty a look that can only be described as ‘what the actual fuck was that?’. His skin is flushed, matching the color of his droopy eyes. Hann doesn't seem to have noticed Matty’s little PDA stunt in the back seat, blissfully unaware of the reason Ross was grimacing right now. 

“I'd rather not see you snog, thanks.” Ross spits out, making a fake gagging motion as his eyes meet George’s, equally as unsettled as he was. Adam hadn’t seen the two of you, but the mental image was enough to make him join the other two in their disgust. 

“What, you jealous mate? You can ask to join, it's no problem.” Ross laughs sarcastically, taking the spliff out of George's hands, taking a deep drag. He could sense Matty wasn't finished yet. 

“You’d have to shave first, can't have you shedding all over my girl.” You still weren't used to him actually calling you that. It felt off, especially with your three other best mates staring at the two of you, silently wishing Matty would just shut the fuck up, for once. He was killing the soft, chilled out atmosphere with his incessant loud babbling, making George roll his eyes until you were sure they were going to get stuck there.

Ignoring the various groans of protest, he pulls you back in, basically climbing on top of you now. You giggle, partially because of the distinct floaty feeling clouding your mind, and partially because of Matty’s complete lack of shame, making him snog your face off just to rile up his mates, not really knowing how much it affected you. You pretend to be annoyed, shoving him off of you, wiping your mouth to really drive home the point. 

“For the love of god, Matty, stop humping her, she's probably sick of you by now.” Hann says, making sympathetic eye contact with you in the mirror. He knew how you felt about the kissing in front of the rest of the group, not wanting to alienate them from you and Matty’s dynamic. The whole thing was a complicated mess. 

His hand is still on your thigh as you squirm around a bit, you manage to gather your thoughts and speak for yourself. 

“I quite am, fuck off, Matthew.” he tenses. 

Now, to anyone else, you sound completely normal, if maybe a bit fucked off. Purposefully putting distance between you two, Ross reaches back and hands you the almost done spliff, and you inhale lightly, finishing it off. Matty is uncharacteristically quiet and you know he can feel your eyes on him. A warning. 

He was prone to acting out like this, loud and obnoxious, almost bratty. To Ross, George, and Hann, this was normal, his fits a cry for attention, wanting all eyes on him, but to you, it meant so much more. 

Stubbing out the joint, you throw it out the window, dangling your arm down the side of the car. George was calm, collected, and seemed to be enjoying life as Adam finally parked in your usual spot, turning the car off. Spreading your legs out more, you bump your thigh against Matty’s, making him twitch slightly, a soft smile spreading onto your face. 

“Matty.” you say, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

“Mhm?” nudging him, you lift both your legs up and onto his lap, draping yourself over him. George is a bit startled, but guides you over his lap as well, letting your feet settle against the other side of the car, pressed up against the door. 

“Fag?” George asks, holding out a pack of cigarettes in your direction. You happily take one, and so does Matty. Placing it between your lips, you watch George as he hands Matty his lighter after he lights his. His fingers fumble a bit, before finally flicking it on and inhaling the smoke, letting the nicotine mix with the weed, his face nothing but blissed out. It reminded you of what he looked like when he-

“Here.” he mumbles, holding the lighter in front of your face. 

“Do it for me?” you ask sweetly, leaning your elbows against the back of your seat and the headrest of Hann’s, making yourself comfortable. His breath hitches as you shift, the bottom of your thigh pressing against his crotch. Two can play at that game.

The flame paints his face in an orange hue, and you feel the world close on around you. The way his delicate hand holds up the light to your cigarette makes your head spin, and not just from the weed. You feel George shift beneath you on the other side of the car, rifling through his pockets, pulling out a small baggie and rolling papers, getting to work rolling another spliff. 

Hanns voice rings dully in your ears, asking George to hurry up a bit, saying he was nowhere near the level of high he wanted to be at right now.

“Let me do it, stop nagging.” George's movements are slower, his motor skills definitely more than just slightly inhibited. 

“Good?” Matty asks, your attention turning back to him. His eyes are glazed over, red and half closed, and his hair falls over his face, indicating he’s long overdue for another haircut. Mattys hands settle on your knees, rubbing small circles over the bone, warmth blooming underneath your skin wherever he touches. You refused to let it show, opting to lean your head further out the window, admiring the stars glimmering above you, the cold of the night biting at your cheeks. 

Matty can tell you’re cold by the way you shiver slightly, and he feels a bit bad, even if he did tell you to bring some sort of extra layer. 

“I’m fucking freezing.” you state to the car, Ross turning around to face you, lowering his seat back a bit despite Georges protests. 

“There's a blanket in the back, I think.” Hann nods in agreement, confirming his statement. Knowing you wouldn't be able to reach, Matty blindly feels around for it, fingers meeting a slightly scratchy, but still soft, knitted blanket. 

Draping it over you, his hands linger on your waist, goosebumps forming on your skin as his nails graze your tattoo. 

George is finally finished with the spliff, and hands it to Hann so he can light it. He greedily inhales, letting the feeling overtake him. A soft groan leaves his lips and you see the back of his head slouch against the headrest, lolling off to the side. 

“This is some good shit, no wonder Matty’s so quiet.” Hann mumbles, half to himself. 

“Told you, my guy’s the real deal.” Ross says with pride, like he’d grown it himself or something. Putting his feet up on the dashboard, he leans back, head craning to talk to Hann. Their conversation is quiet, meaningless, with Ross going on about his stupid bass instruments and chatting pure shit to a half dozed-off Adam.

George is in his own world, gazing out the window and off into the distance. He was tired, you can tell by the way the rings under his eyes were dark and prominent, evidence that he hadn't been sleeping much these days. Uni was truly kicking him in the arse. 

A loud sigh from Matty makes you snap out of your thoughts, flexing your toes a bit, trying to stretch without bothering George too much. You feel a tap on your leg, telling you it's fine, and that you can move freely. George smiles at you from across the back seat, stoned out of his mind and looking like he was ready to pass out in the next five seconds.

“Y’alright?” you ask Matty, who keeps shifting around beneath you. One particular movement makes your legs spread, his big palms gripping the side of your left thigh, kneading the flesh. 

His eyes flash up to yours, and the look he gives you is fucking delicious. Lips slightly parted, wet and swollen from his teeth gnawing at them for the past half hour, the sight makes your thighs clench, a cough escaping your lips.

The spliff makes its way to you, and you take a drag, your lips wrapping around it as you make direct eye contact with Matty. Your lipgloss rubs off on the filter, and you hand it to him with a smirk.

“I’m fucking knackered, I need to sleep.” George's deep voice cuts through the silence, and Hann nods in agreement.

“We’ve been here like an hour! We never hang out, let's stay for a bit.” Ross protests, sitting properly and trying to face everyone at the same time. 

“Yeah, let's.” you side with him. Matty’s eyes widen at your statement, and he goes to speak. A sharp look makes him rethink his actions, and he slumps backwards into the leather, pouting at you. You grin at him playfully, seeing him start to do the same, before pressing your leg down, right onto his crotch. Underneath the blanket, not one could see what you were doing, giving you the perfect opportunity to fuck with Matty 

“Fine, but I'm driving home in 20, whoever doesn't want to walk is coming with.” The tinge of annoyance in Hann’s voice is painfully obvious.

Time passes at a snail's pace as you continue your movements, thigh pressing down onto his steadily hardening cock ever so slightly, not wanting George to figure you out.

“D’you reckon Britney’s a good shag?” Ross asks, and you realize he’s holding a magazine, Britney Spears plastered onto the cover.

“Mate, maybe you shouldn’t-” George starts, but another voice cuts him off. 

“Probably, I mean, just look at her.” it's Matty speaking, you realize. 

His voice is drawn out and deep as he holds out his hand, silently requesting Ross to give him the paper. He’s taunting you, and fuck, is it getting to you. The way his eyes scan over the cover makes your blood boil, and you stare him down, warning him to stop. 

“She’s fit.” He says, refusing to look at you as he takes a drag from the spliff, passing it on. His eyes finally dart over to yours, reading you like an open book. You were jealous, and he knew it. It was his goal, after all, to rile you up enough so you knew how he’d been feeling since that moment in your room. 

“Hey Hann? I'm feeling a bit shit.” you lie through your teeth “Can we go?”. Ross tries to stop him, but with the vote being 4-1, he groans as the car sputters on, and Hann backs out of the lot. 

You go to sit normally, putting as much distance between you and Matty as physically possible, not even looking in his general direction. Not really speaking to anyone, you listen to the soft sound of the radio, the music distracting you a bit. Matty’s eyes are glued to you, watching your every reaction, you can feel it. He silently begs you to stop being mean, ignoring him like this. You almost cave. Almost.

The drive feels longer than it actually is, George being dropped off at his house first. He waves goodbye through the window, which is the only reason you turned to the other side. Eyes avoiding the boy next to you, you blow George a kiss goodbye, hoping he gets some actual sleep tonight. 

You and Matty were now both facing forward, chatting to Ross. 

“Must be great, having an whole fucking house to yourself.” Ross grunts out, clearly still fucked off that you decided to leave so ‘early’. 

“It is,” Matty answers, telling him how nice it was to live without his parents and with you, even if neither of you had the ability to prepare an edible meal, or clean the house every once in a while. You chuckle as his words, painfully true as you think back on the state you’d left your room in, clothes and books and various items strewn about the place.  

Matty turns to you, your small giggles at his story making him think he was off the hook. You shoot him a look, and he immediately retreats, knowing it wouldn't be that easy. Not that he didn’t like a challenge, especially from you.

“Alright, you two.” Hann breathes as the car comes to a halt in front of the house. The soft rumble of the engine was deafening as you opened the door, climbing out of the vehicle. Matty followed quickly, almost banging his head against the roof, narrowly avoiding a small concussion. You tapped on the window, waving goodbye to both men in the car. Flashing a smile, you turn to Matty, grabbing his hand and leading him up the steps. 

Inside the car, the conversation quickly shifted. 

“What's going on with them? They’ve hardly spoken since he stopped trying to jump her bones in front of us.” Ross just shrugs, mind spinning different scenarios of what could've gone down. 

“D’you think they’re fighting?” Hann nods, noting that you did look a bit pissed off towards the end. 

“I dunno, it's weird though.. them being a thing.” Ross hums in agreement. 

“Just leave them be, they’ll sort it out.” 

The click of the door unlocking was as loud as a jet engine, and you push it open with your shoulder, Matty trailing closely behind you. You take your time, taking off your shoes, setting your bag down onto the floor next to the coat rack. He fidgets on the spot, not quite sure what to do next. 

Without warning, you spin around, shoving him backwards into the door, both your hands on his shoulders. The tension is thick, his heavy breaths loud and desperate for you to fucking do something. 

A beat passes between you before he finally speaks, stuttering over his words. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t h-have fucked you off, not infront of everyone.” you raise your eyebrows at him, a condescending smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“So you knew what you were doing then, trying to rile me up like that?” He nods, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows. He mutters out another “‘m sorry”, like it was going to save him at all. 

Your hands trace his collarbones, just like he had not three hours prior, and you see his breath hitch when you dig your nails into his skin, leaving behind red indents. 

“You wanna kiss me?” you ask, tucking his hair behind his ear sweetly, letting your fingers run over his jaw. 

“Yes.” he gasps, your chest now fully pressed up against his, your bodies now flush. Mattys eyes are filled with desperation, lust, thoughts clouding his mind and the sight of you wasn't helping him think clearly. 

“How badly do you want to kiss me?” he tries to speak, but you shush him. “How much do you want to touch me?” 

A guttural groan leaves his lips, and his hands find your back, grabbing onto your waist for support. You look at him expectantly, tapping his face to get his attention back on you. 

“Please, I'm sorry, just– fuckk, please darling.” His voice is small, soft, filled with want and desire. He pulls you in closer, and you feel him, fully hard, pressed up against your upper thigh. Your hand travels lower, pushing his shirt up as you go down, fingertips ghosting over his bulge, leaking and painfully hard. 

“This all for me?” Matty looks like he’s going to combust, but still, he manages to force out a small, choked ‘yes’. 

“You think you deserve it?” He freezes as you squeeze him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in your hand. A desperate whimper rips itself from his lips, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing shallowly.

“I’m sorry, just– please. I’ll do anything, just fucking touch me please, please, oh god–” 

You mouth at the spot where his neck meets his jaw, sucking an aggressive hickey into the skin, simultaneously stroking him over his clothes. Trying to seem unaffected, you pull away from his cock, placing that hand over his chest, hearing him whine at the loss of contact. 

“Upstairs. Wait for me.” Those four words manage to leave him absolutely breathless as he scrambles to tug his shoes off, throwing them into the corner. One last look is directed at you over his shoulder as he walks up the steps, almost tripping. Catching himself on the bannister, he disappears from view. 

You use the moment to take several deep breaths, steading yourself. Matty might be the more expressive one, but he had this effect on you, even if he didn't know the full extent of it. Every reaction you elicited from him made your knees weak, your façade of control slipping slightly. Running your fingers through your hair, you glance at yourself in the hallway mirror, making sure you look good. Good enough to send Matty fucking spiraling. 

The house is silent, apart from the odd creak of the floorboards underneath your feet. The door to your room crashes against the wall and you push it open, eyes immediately finding Matty.

Jesus christ.

Sprawled out on top of crumpled sheets, Matty’s eyes rake over your body, his cock visibly twitching in his pants at the sight of you. He had already taken off his shirt, the material bunched up next to him. The atmosphere in the room is heavy, thick with lust and desire and want and every other adjective that could be used to describe the fucking wet dream of a man currently sitting on your bed.  

His hands trail up his chest, toying with his nipples as he bites his lip at you, a wild look in his eyes. Your feet take you to the foot of the bed, kneeling down onto it, not quite sure where to look. His skin is flushed a deep shade of red, the blush spreading from his face down his chest, which was rapidly moving up and down as you reached out to touch him. 

“How do you feel?” your voice shakes, and you know he can tell. Does it actually matter to you at the moment? Absolutely not. 

An indecipherable sigh leaves Mattys lips as he looks at you, curls sticking to his forehead and his cock rock hard against the fabric of his jeans.

“I feel–” he starts, words getting caught in his throat as you trace the inseam of his pants. You still, motioning for him to continue.

“I feel so good, please touch me, I need you so bad. So gorgeous like this, love you so much– jesus.” 

You listen to his rambles as his eyes screw shut, everything being far too much for him. It's delicious, the way he squirms under even the slightest touch, involuntary noises spilling from his lips.

He trusted you, and you knew that well enough. Your entire relationship was built on a foundation of trust, a promise that you would never, ever, harm each other. Your hand reaches up to clasp his, squeezing gently. He smiles softly, wiping away the beads of sweat that had collected themselves on his forehead. 

Your eyes glance over to the nightstand next to the bed, the wooden exterior a stark contrast to the otherwise black furniture of the room. The bed creaks as you get up, slowly pulling the drawer open. Matty watches you move, fluid and sure, as you take out a vibrator, you hear a small gasp escape him.

“You want me, Matthew? Want to be good for me?” you grin at him, throwing one of your legs over his lap, settling right below his hips. The way his cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans couldn't be comfortable in the slightest, but you let him suffer longer, relishing in the way he whined whenever you shifted on top of him, just like he did in the car. 

“Will you let me use this on you?” That question is the final nail in the coffin, an animalistic groan ripping itself from the depths of Mattys throat as you palm him through his pants, beads of precum painting the front. 

“Please,” his voice cracks slightly, eyes silently begging for some sort of relief. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t have pulled that little stunt.” you speak, voice dripping with honey as you unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal making your heart speed up. Unable to speak, Mattys hands go to settle on your waist, gripping the fat of your hips. 

“No.” 

“W-what?” 

His chest heaves as you grab hold of his wrists, pinning them up above his head. The belt he wore with his pants, while usually completely unnecessary, suddenly proved quite useful. Your hands fumble a bit as you bring the leather up, binding his hands to the metal bed frame. The arousal plastered on his face was impossible to hide as he gives the belt a tug, sucking in a deep breath of air when he realized what you’d just done. 

“You’re so fucking– holy shit, you’re perfect.” his praises go straight to your core, and you grind down onto his thigh, feeling around for the vibrator that you’d placed somewhere next to you. 

Towering over him, you observe. 

It feels like you're daydreaming, the man in front of you just a figment of your dirty, vivid imagination. His skin glistened with sweat, and your eyes flicker down to the bulge in his black calvins. If there was a heaven, you’ve definitely reached it. 

Running your fingers up and down the vibrator, you grin at him, watching his thoughts run wild, every possible fantasy playing out right in front of his eyes. Clicking the toy on, you rake your nails over his chest, the loud vibrations filling the room. 

You had never done this before, but the utter look of devotion Matty gave you proved that he trusted you completely to do whatever you wanted to him. He follows your movements closely as you press the toy to the underside of his cock. Immediately, you see his eyes clamp shut, his hands instinctively pulling and fighting against the restraints. 

“You like that, baby? Feel good?” you coo at him, taking in every single twitch of his body, savoring it. He frantically nods his head as you move his boxers, letting his cock slap up against his stomach. The feeling of the vibrator straight onto his weeping erection felt like pure heaven, desperate moans spilling from his lips, unable to control his own actions. 

“F-feels so good, it’s so good, a-ah, fuck me–” he whimpers as you up the speed, your free hand cupping his face, smudging his eye makeup. Blissed out and shaking, Matty tries to hold off as long as possible, desperately wanting to be good for you.  

“I can’t– I'm so close, please, let me cum.” his eyes search your expression, begging for permission. Pleasure trickles up your own spine as a sudden movement of Matty’s thigh beneath you makes you grind against him again, a soft moan leaving your parted lips. You swear you could cum just from the sight of him alone, twitching and begging and so, so close to the edge he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

Shoving your fingers into his mouth, you watch as he chokes slightly, eyes welling up with tears. It's so unbelievably erotic, seeing him fall apart like this, all because of you. His dick twitches in the tell-tale way that lets you know he’s seconds away, just needing a little push. You lock your lips onto his neck, licking and sucking and biting marks into the skin, making him moan around your fingers. It's all too much for him, and his voice cracks once more before spilling into your hand, painting his stomach and the toy with ropes of thick cum, gasping and shuddering as you keep the vibrator against his cock, working him through his orgasm. 

You finally kiss him, fingers weaving through his hair as you lick into his mouth, his arms still helplessly trying to pull free. 

“That was– fuck– I can’t even describe it.'' His voice is raspy, sore. He looks utterly fucked out, a sly grin already adorning his face not ten seconds after you gave him the most mind blowing orgasm of his life.

“You dont think I'm done, do you? After the shit you pulled in that car?” 

Your sudden change in tone makes Matty’s eyes widen, his hips bucking up against you. The evil look in your eye as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss only makes him impossibly more turned on, fingers itching to touch you, a groan of frustration leaving his lips when he realizes he can't do anything but lay there and take what you give him. You move, one of your hands leaving his chest. 

“What are you–?” The click of the toy is impossibly loud as a wanton moan rips itself from his throat, his hips twitching away, the sensation overwhelming and raw, almost too much. You grin from ear to ear as you study his reactions, writhing and pulling at the belt holding him in place, eyes silently begging you to just let him go.

“A-ah oh fuckk, no- I can’t–” he cries, arching his back, exposing his neck even more, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to swallow down his sounds

“You can, I know you can.” you lick across the expanse of his collarbones, teeth grazing the skin harshly, the slight pain only making Matty thrash more, the leather of the belt digging into his wrists.

“It’s too much– jesus christ-” he chokes out as you tangle a hand into his thick curls, tugging his head forward, making him look at you.

“Look how desperate you are, you sure it's too much?” you press a kiss to his lower stomach, his muscles tense under the skin.

“I need you so bad, fuck,” he sucks in a deep breath, making direct eye contact with you.

“Look at what you do to me.” 

His sudden change in tone makes you take a second, truly taking in the sight before you. He smirks when he sees you staring, arching his lower back with the sole purpose of riling you up, knowing exactly how to get to you, and in turn, get what he wanted. 

“Such a slut, fucking begging for attention, aren’t you?” he nods slowly, winking at you provocatively as his eyes follow your movements. The name made his breath hitch, and the return of the toy back on his hardening cock feels like pure ecstasy, moans and whimpers spilling from his lips as you continued speaking. 

“Was it worth it?” he cocks his head at you, asking what you meant. 

“Was it worth it, fucking around in the car, embarrassing me like that?”  

“Absolutely, if it gets me this.” he purrs, trying to provoke you once again. You were going to make him eat his words if it was last fucking thing you were going to do.

“You have a lot of confidence for someone who was grinding against my leg under a blanket not even an hour ago.” A small laugh comes from Matty as he playfully tugs at the restraints, the sound morphing into a moan when you press the toy down harder, feeling him getting close again. 

“Gonna cum again, make a filthy fucking mess of yourself?” Matty is so far gone, his cocky persona falling away in bits as he bucks his hips against the vibrator, chasing his high. You watch him, sweaty and out of breath, his hands straining against the leather, the mix of pain and pleasure making his head spin. 

“I love you so much, please let me cum, please i’ll do anything, just let me cum–” there it is. Anything. He doesn't know the weight his words hold, willing to say everything and anything for you to let him fall over that delicious edge.    

“Cum for me, let me see you.” your voice shakes, one hand planted firmly on his chest for balance, while the other holds the toy to his cock, twitching and leaking all over himself and you as he cums, screaming your name loud enough that it echoed through the whole house. 

You watch as he shakes, gasping for air and writhing against the sheets, so overstimulated he could barely form a coherent thought. 

“Again.” you whisper as Matty shakes his head violently, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Do you want to stop?” he shakes his head again, hips bucking up against the toy, desperate whines and groans filling the room. His chest heaves, lungs expanding as far as they could go to try and bring some oxygen to his brain. Breathless and exhausted, he looks at you, eyes wet and pleading, the mix of pain and pleasure driving him insane. 

“Don’t s-stop.” he begs, voice sore and hoarse. Thoughts run widely through your mind, wondering how much more he could take before tapping out. “If you need to stop, tell me.” you say firmly, his frantic nods telling everything you needed to know. Clicking the toy back on, the reaction is immediate, visceral as he jerks under the warm feel of your lips on his jaw, pressing hot kisses down the skin, mouthing at his neck. 

Pulling back, you admire the deep purple marks you left behind, tracing them with your free hand. 

“You’re fucking glorious- I- I could look at you forever, so pretty on top of me, fuck, like a fucking wet dream, so perfect–” you listen to him babble through curses and moans, eyes drooping shut as he bucks up into your hand. 

“Yeah? You’re so gorgeous for me, taking everything I give you.” you whisper back, pupils completely blown out with lust, the high you were still yet to come down from heightening every feeling, every sensation, until you were grinding against his thigh, desperate for him. 

“I see you, baby,” your eyes snap up to his, a filthy smirk spread onto his face, “C’mon, use me like a toy, use me to get off.” his voice is sultry and low, working hard to bite back screams as you finally give in, sparks of electricity shooting up your spine as you increase the pressure on your clit, soft moans and gasps spilling from your lips as Matty tenses his thigh, lifting it slightly to meet your movements. 

“Don’t cum until I tell you.” you warn, refusing to give up power, even if Matty made it incredibly fucking difficult to not give in. His eyeliner was smudged, tears streaming down his face, your fingers wiping them away sweetly. You bring your tear soaked hand to your mouth, licking it clean while making direct eye contact with Matty, the expression on his face making the salty taste on your tongue completely worth it.

It didn't take much to bring you to the edge, the warmth in your core blooming everywhere else in your body, your blood feeling hot as you balance yourself. Being met with Matty’s smirk as you look up, the smugness quickly morphs into white hot pleasure when your hand finds his nipple piercing, giving it a small tug. 

You had convinced him to switch it out, the black metal ring being replaced with a purple barbell. It shimmered if you looked at it from a specific angle, a perfect contrast to his milky white skin, suiting him well. He gasps when you don't let up, tweaking the metal and rolling his nipple between your fingertips, an indescribable feeling radiating from his chest, making all the remaining blood in his brain rush down south. 

You were so close, you could taste it. Matty knew this, doing his best to get you there, just as you were doing for him, holding off his own orgasm. Filthy words leave his mouth, making you feel dizzy with pleasure, the feeling of his jean clad thigh against your clit making your legs shake on top of him. 

“So good, you’re so good– fucking marvelous, I could write a thousand songs about you like this.” he groans, eyes never leaving the spot where your core met his leg, watching closely. 

“I’m so close, fuckk.” you whine, your high pitched voice like music to Matty’s ears, his cock visibly twitching against the toy. 

“Cum for me darling, wanna see you fall apart on top of me.” he coos, and you feel your control slipping. It was all consuming, the pleasure making time slow as you barely manage to slow down to speak. 

“You first.” A relieved sigh leaves Matty’s lips, hips bucking violently, precum bubbling from his tip, coating your hand where you held the toy against it. One last arch of his back and he cums onto his stomach, painting his skin white. 

You groan at the sight, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train, vision whiting out as you buck against Mattys thigh, his eyes burning a hole into your skin. He watches in awe as you gasp and stutter, the visual of his third climax too much for you to handle, carnal desire overtaking your body. 

Collapsing on top of him, your chest heaves against his, everything blurry and disoriented. He tried to move his hands to your back to hug you, but realizes he’s still tied up, the leather really digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks. 

“Darling?” you look up, apologizing profusely as you undo the belt around his wrists, kissing the burns it left behind. Matty chuckles quietly, running a soft hand through your hair, pressing your face into his chest. 

“That was..” he starts, eyes still wide in disbelief. 

“Okay?” you offer a hint of insecurity evident in the way you speak.

“Fucking amazing, visceral, undescribable, life chang-” you cut him off with a firm kiss, silently telling him to shut up. He giggles into the kiss, his other hand pressing against your lower back, pulling you impossibly close. 

“It wasn’t too much?” you ask, gesturing to the marks on his wrists. He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He assures you it doesn't hurt at all, and besides, “You know I like it when you hurt me.” The cheesy wink that follows his statement makes you roll your eyes, leaning down to breathe in the scent of him. Fucking Jimmy Choo, ugh. 

“You have to stop using my perfume, you smell like a woman, it's unsettling.” you complain, wishing he’d use some sort of musky cologne instead. 

“I thought you liked it when i'm girly? Remember that time when I wore that skirt and you fucking mauled me–'' he tries to tease, being rudely interrupted by you digging the heel of your foot into his leg, making him yelp in pain. 

“That was different,” you mutter, avoiding his taunting gaze. 

“Was it?” 

“Absolutely, yes, now come here.” you grip his jaw, crashing your mouth against his, biting his lower lip, enjoying the small gasp he lets out. The kiss is hot, filled with love and trust, your heart swelling up in your chest. 

“Don’t ever pull that shit again, George could have noticed and that would've been a complete shit show-” you shudder at the thought of your mates knowing anything about your sex life, gagging inwardly.  

“You were the one grinding your leg down on to my dick, don’t act all fucking innocent!” he protests, a playful tone to his voice. 

“Imagine Ross knowing anything about what we do, he’d lose his mind.” you comment. Knowing him, he’d physically throw up and never speak to either of you ever again, the mental image having scarred him for life.

Matty is oddly silent, his hands fidgeting. Your eyes widen in realization 

“Dont tell me you fucking– Matty!” you shut your eyes, embarrassment flooding your body. 

“He’s my mate, and he asked. Who am I to deny him?” you hit his chest, propping yourself up as you laugh in disbelief. 

“Ross asking doesn't make it any better!!” you screech, watching him pull back at the sheer volume of your voice “For fuck’s sake Matty, what did you even tell him? I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again, fucking hell.”  

“Just about the camera, nothing else, I swear!” you cup your face, letting out a frustrated groan. 

“You know I can never speak to him ever again? The fucking camera, are you taking the absolute fucking piss?!” you throw curses at him as he giggles into your hair, muttering apologies and promising to never say anything again.

“‘M sorry darling, i won't give out the details of our sex life anymore.” he jokes, earning a choked giggle from you, unable to stay mad at him. 

Looking up at him from your spot on his chest, anger fades as you take in his features. You could look at him forever if he let you, drinking in every inch of skin, committing it all to memory. Your fingertips touch the top of his cheeks, wiping away any left over make-up, smiling fondly as you do so. 

Love. That's what you see in his eyes. Pure love, utter devotion. His breathing is slow, the soft sound of his heartbeat comforting as you lay back down onto him, nuzzling your face into his skin. You could stand the permeating stench of Jimmy Choo if it let you hold him this close to you. 

“You’re mine.” he mumbles into your hair, stroking up and down your spine, pushing your shirt up. 

“I’m yours,” you answer, this overwhelming feeling of adoration taking over your whole body. Matty was yours, and you were his, from the second he said the words ‘I love you’ that night on the terrace, overlooking the glowing city. 

Life with him seems so real. Growing up properly, getting your own house, getting married. It was all possible, still, it felt far away, a distant future. You let your thoughts spin in your mind until the exhaustion won, your body going slack against Matty, soft snores filling the room.

Matty lays awake beneath you, the darkness of the room enveloping his senses. 

“I love you so much,” he mutters under his breath, knowing you couldn't hear him anyway. That was the moment he knew, the moment everything solidified.

You were just kids, the pair of you, young and free, life filled with infinite possibilities. So much was uncertain, but he knew one thing without a doubt. Eyes flickering over to his coat, they fell on the outermost left pocket. It wasn't about the pocket itself, but what was inside. Dark red velvet, the same shade as your favorite color. A box. 

A small one.  

read part two here xx

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (20)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N BETA READER @seoul9711. YALL. No one told me I missed an update! MY BAD! I had the days wrong.

In a matter of minutes, all the boys had gathered in Jungkook’s room in no time at all. The boy had quickly showered to get rid of the bed smell. The others waited for his return inorder to tell you everything fully. However once he had finished and was standing patiently, they all just looked at each other, unsure how to start a conversation with you. 

“Well?” You question, waiting for them to answer you.

“Jungkook is awak-”

“We're all magical creatures.” Yoongi cut Jimin off. 

“Yoongi.” Namjoon groaned, rubbing at his forehead. 

“We were never going to get to it if you all stalled.” The pale man deadpanned. 

Everyone sighed as the truth was finally out. However you looked down, still contemplating everything. They had admitted it from their mouths but for some reason you still couldn’t really believe them. You couldn’t even believe yourself. There just wasn’t any plausible answer to all this. 

“Come here, little one.” Namjoon spoke softly, taking your hand and sitting you down on Jungkook’s bed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You frowned. 

“You sure?” Namjoon raised his eyebrow at you. “We just told you some important information.”

“Doesn't mean I believe you.” You quickly spoke up, looking at the tall man wide eyed. 

“She's denying it.” Yoongi glared. “Hobi, do your thing.” He lightly patted the man on the back.

“Why me?” Hoseok questioned. 

“Because your magic is the only one we can see.” Jin backed up. “Unless, Taehyung wants to do it.”

The boy had a grin on his face; his eyes showed his excitement over using his powers. However when they all suddenly began to feel Taehyung's energy crackle through the air, they quickly looked back to Hobi with wide eyes. 

Taehyung was a good natured boy but he struggled with keeping his energy in tack. Ever since the company has been tampering with his magical essence, he hasn’t been able to get a handle on it. While the boy knew how to use his magic properly when it came to energy manipulation he would have to pass on it. 

“I'll do it.” Hoseok sighed. 

You noticed Taehyung’s pout so you were quick to reach out for him. The boy took your invitation to sit next to you; with a smile on his face at your attention being placed on him. 

You watched as Hobi raised his hands up, fingers moving around like he was weaving something. You gasped out loud and held your breath as purple smoke began to swirl between his fingers. Just as a ball began to form in between his hands, you suddenly got a pain behind your eyes which caused you to wince. 

All the boys noticed, looking at you worried. “It’s nothing.” You spoke up, waving them off. The migraine disappeared the moment Hobi stopped, causing you to frown. “Just a headache.” You added. 

They all looked at each other for a second before you brought their attention back to you. “Your magic is purple.” You gave a wide smile. “What are you?” You asked Hoseok, giving him a soft look.

Hobi began to blush from the attention, laughing softly. “I'm a witch.” He told you. “I'm the only one here.”

“Only one?” Your eyebrows furrowed together. 

“The other patients are also magical creatures.” Namjoon answered. “There's a lot of different ones.”

“What other ones are there?” You turned to him, curiosity within your eyes. 

Namjoon laughed, enjoying the look you had. It reminded him of Taehyung, who seemed to also be intently listening even if he himself already knew the answer to your question. “There's some banshees, orcs, succubi, valkyries, werewolves-”

“Like Jungkook.” You interrupted, looking over at the boy. 

“Yeah!” Jungkook perked up, looking at you confused. “How'd you know?”

You suddenly pressed your lips together, glancing at Jin and Hobi. “I read Hobi's journal.” You quietly answered, looking away.

“I knew it!” Jin spoke up.

“I'm sorry Hobi!” You cried, rushing up to the man. “I know, I wasn't supposed to snoop but I read the page about the sleeping spell and got curious.” You stressed, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Please forgive me.” You begged.

“We just told you about who we are.” Hoseok sighed, grabbing onto your hands. “It's okay if you read the journal now. However at the time it probably wasn't.” He lightly wiggled his finger in your face. 

“I'm sorry.” You pouted. 

“It's okay Hun.” He brought you into a tight hug. “All is forgiven.” He swayed you from side to side, cheek pressed to your head. 

When you pulled away, the curiosity had returned to your eyes. The boys all secretly cooed at you. “So all of you are actually magical beings. That's so cool.” You exclaimed. 

“We're glad to hear Princess.” Yoongi grinned. 

“I have so many questions.” You told them. 

“We have time.” Taehyung shrugged. 

“I'm assuming Jimin is a siren or mermaid with how much he spends in the pool. He’s also a really good singer.” You rapidly , smiling at Jimin. “Jin you liar, you said your ears were surgically made.” You gave the older boy a pout.

“Yes, I'm a siren Beautiful.” Jimin gave you a small smile, still feeling guilty over almost drowning you. “I would love to show you one day.”

“Would you have believed me if I said I was an elf?” Jin huffed, rolling his eyes playfully. 

“Does the light actually hurt you Yoongi?” You turned to the pale man. “Or are you just being picky? Because you said you don't actually combust in the sun; it's dumb of you to wear sunglasses but not cover your skin.” 

Yoongi glared at you. 

“Jungkook, do you actually turn into a wolf? Is it like–halfway like Teen Wolf or full thing like in Twilight?”

“You're talking too much.” Yoongi sighed. 

“I turn into an actual wolf, Tokki.” Jungkook smiled brightly, bounding closer to you. “He would love to meet you one day.”

You giggled, nodding your head at him. “Taehyung!” You gasped, turning to the boy. “Wings!? Like actual wings?” You couldn’t contain your excitement about them. 

“Big ones with feathers.” Taehyung matched your excitement. 

“Are you an angel then?” You chuckled. 

“No, I'm a faerie.'' Taehyung shook his head. 

“Like Maleficent!” You immediately thought of the Disney villain from the live action. 

“Exactly like her.” He nodded along with you. “Not all powerful though.” He quickly added. 

“Namjoon, can you tell me about you?” Your voice lowered as you moved to sit next to the leader of the group. “I honestly couldn't figure out what you are.” You told him. 

“It's alright Little one.” He smiled. “I'm a dragon; the oldest living creature in our world.”

Your head tilted to the side. “Your world?”

“It’s parallel to this one but with all of us in it.” Jin answered you. “Humans don't exist there. It's our earth.” He had a smile on his face, making you think he was probably reminiscing about his home. 

“What are you doing here then?” You questioned. 

“We aren't here for illnesses or diseases.” Namjoon sighed. “We were captured from our world and brought here to be experimented on. HYBE uses our abilities to create their medicine.”

Your eyes suddenly went wide as you took in his words. All you could think about was the boys being trapped in this place for the past 10 years. They were just teenagers; they were kidnapped. And experimented on?

“For 10 years? And no one thought about taking you out!?” You exclaimed. 

“We've come across kind people who would want to help but Hanseol would find out about them before they could. They would never get far.” Hobi told you sadly. 

“What does he do?” You asked. 

“He gets rid of them.” Jimin answers. “Sometimes he fires, other times he goes too far. He can't risk losing us.”

“I want to take you out-” You wanted to say.

“It's too dangerous.” Hobi immediately stopped you. 

“Let us come up with something before you get too rash. We knew you would want to but we have to plan first. We don't want to lose you.” Namjoon took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. 

You weren’t dealing with regular people anymore, you knew that much. If the boys told you to wait for a plan, it meant they knew how Hanseol was. It was clear he was also some kind of magical creature; one of which you had no idea how to handle. They were right to tell you to wait. However that didn’t mean you weren’t feeling scared for them. 

You hadn’t  known them long but ever since you met Jungkook, you had felt as though these boys deserved the world. Each one had their own way of viewing things and it brought a smile to your face to hear about each and everyone of their thoughts. They needed to get out of here. They have so much to give out in the world. 

Be it there’s or yours. 

“Okay.”

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @k-p0p-4ever , @shadowyjellyfishfest , @forestsquirrel , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @girl-nahh , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @oemmi2005 , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @girl-nahhtwo

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Four

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5214

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece- He's traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn't except is to meet you, his niece's school teacher who couldn't care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ blog; language, absent parents, abandonment as a child, anxious feelings, mentions of food and drinks, tiredness affecting life, mention of drug use but no actual usage, Dieter working with Sponsor and secular 12 step program, mentions of divorce, Dieter being a cool uncle, I think that everything and like always please let me know if I got anything.

A/N: We survived Chapter 3! It was a doozy of a chapter, but I was loving reading through everyone’s comments!! Starting this chapter, I was super nervous because it was already plotted out, but I was worried if it was going to flow well enough after our big blowup. We get lots of things this chapter though, so I didn’t want to scrap it. Big thank you’s to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a champ beta reader for me, and to @purple-elm for lending her knowledge in recovering/addiction- so appreciate you both. I’m excited for you all to read and can’t wait to hear your thoughts!! PS: reader finally gets her nickname next chapter!! xx

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

They say Rome wasn’t built in a day. 

The same could be said about your relationship with Dieter. 

Relationship?

Friendship?

Acquaintance-ship?

Two people forced into proximity, each attempting to mend their broken, dejected lives— owning their wrong doings through humility and self reflection. 

It had been weeks since the disastrous evening at Diem’s. You wouldn’t say the tension between you and Dieter had gotten better, but you could say it hadn’t gotten any worse. 

You had hoped the fog would have lifted with each passing day, but the more time went on, the guilt of your actions seemed to establish a spot within your mind, replaying each moment in a series of vivid flashes— a torturous occurrence. 

It didn’t help that you and Dieter now crossed paths on a regular basis. Him in your classroom for brief periods to drop off Wren. You at Diem’s place for your girl chats and the random movie nights. 

Each run in was cordial with minimal communication, mainly because you were terrified of saying something wrong, but then it became not knowing what to say at all—so you kept dialogue brief and to the point, never veering too far from your comfortability. 

*

Routines are an integral element to your everyday life. From the minute you wake, your body’s natural response is to begin working through each daily duty without a single thought. 

School mornings unfold in the same manner each day, from the moment you click off your alarm to stopping at the bakery for your breakfast sandwich, your routine has you feeling confident and motivated to tackle any challenges that may arise during the rest of your day. 

Routines work well, until they don’t. 

That first trickle of wakefulness, your hormones performing their cyclic functions, seeping into your listless body. The sound of the birds chirping and morning commuters rushing to their respective destinations has you rolling on your side. You groan at the vague memory of your sleepless night, playback of your fight with Dieter still haunting you in your dreams. 

A few cautious blinks, your eyelids working against the light filtering in from your bedroom window, vision slowly shifting into a clearer image as you focus on the red numbers on display— 

7:30

“Shit!” Your body shoots up into a sitting position, frantically rubbing your eyes in hopes that you had read the time wrong. 

7:31 clicks over. 

You overslept! But your alarm?? You check the little device that’s been your morning comrade for years, mentally berating it for not alerting you, only to discover it’s your own fault— setting the time for 6:30 pm instead of am. 

The first bell rings at 8:00, leaving you 30 minutes to race through getting yourself ready and to school on time to prep for class. 

There’s no wiggle for a shower or taking your time to properly wake up. It’s a mad dash to get dressed, only to find your usually clean and organized closet in a state of distress— clothes half hanging on hangers, mingled piles of clean and dirty clothes and no real distinction of which is what. Your only option is to pull from your weekend wear of very casual and not something you would ever wear to school, except for in times like this— desperate times call for your favorite vintage band tee and distressed jeans. 

A quick wash of your face and a few swipes of mascara before you’re slipping into a pair of your favorite sneakers and dashing to grab a cup of coffee. 

Upon your arrival into the kitchen, you notice that you had also forgotten to set your coffee maker before bed. You try to not let it frustrate you, but the thought of having to endure the day on not only a lack of sleep, but no caffeine as well has you on the verge of tears. 

Your shoulders sag, your head tilting back and eyes closed as a mumbled annoyance bubbles up from your throat. Accepting that you can’t change the outcome for your lousy morning, you lean into your optimistic thinking and wish the rest of the day goes well. You grab your school tote as you head to your car, thankful the drive there from your house is a short one. 

You don’t make a stop at the teachers lounge to say your ‘good mornings’ to the office staff or grab any important papers that might have been slipped into your teacher inbox since yesterday. 

It's a brisk walk through the school halls, avoiding any eye contact with your neighboring teachers, mentally crossing your fingers there’s no mention of your less than appropriate school attire. 

Door unlocked and propped open, a few switches flicked upward triggering the fluorescent overhead lights to flash on, you made it with merely minutes to spare. 

You take a moment to collect yourself, clearing your mind from the morning blunder before you put on your cheerful facade for 20 little humans. 

The classroom is filled with bits of your personality and things that bring you delight. Classic educational posters of shapes, colors, numbers and the alphabet mixed about with various paintings you had done to add more vibrant color to the otherwise boring beige walls. 

There was a small area of wall space next to your desk reserved for artwork that was gifted to you from your students. You allot time every day to share your love for art with them, letting them explore their creativity through drawing and painting. By the end of the week, you would have a nice little collection you would gather to take home to store for safekeeping. 

A few picture frames, a photo of your mom sat beside one of you and Diem from when you were celebrating her signing the purchase of the hotel, teaching tools and organization trays along with a computer all sat neatly on your desk. 

Your most favorite item that lived on your desktop was the little vase you filled every week with fresh flowers from the farmers market. Always a small bundle of poppies assorted colors, depending on the flower vendor. They brought you memories of your childhood, sitting on the front porch as your mom knelt in the soil-beds, planting and sharing her knowledge of plants and flowers alike. You glance at them throughout your school day, a quiet reminder of home. 

You begin to prep for your class, mindful of the fact you still need to unload your paperwork from your bag. A thorough cleaning of the whiteboard, writing out of the day’s assignments and activities, then pulling the read-aloud book of the day. 

As you’re sifting through your notes and paperwork at your desk in the back of your class, arranging in the order of your day’s lesson plan, your students start to wander through the door with vigorous hugs and enthusiastic goodbyes from their parents. 

“Good morning students! Go ahead and grab yourself a book and sit quietly on the floor up front.”

“Good morning!!” Their little voices ring through the room, the sound alone has redeemed the mood of the day. 

A glance at the clock and you have 5 minutes before the bell announces the start of school and the majority of your students are reading quietly. 

“I’m gonna miss Uncle Dude!! Can we still get ice cream after school?”

“Yeah, we can!”

“Yay!”

The conversation between Dieter and Wren grabs your attention as you continue your morning prep. 

Dieter and Wren were usually the last to arrive to class every morning. From your desk you would quietly watch their interaction, him kneeling to her level and her little hands resting on his shoulders— as if she’s the one coaching them through their departure. 

You don’t always catch much of their conversations, even knowing both of them on a personal level outside of your classroom, this brief moment together is reserved for them. 

Giving your agenda one last look and comparing with your lessons, you notice a single paper for the first assignment of the day— there should be a stack of 20 plus one. 

In your frenzy of a morning, it must have slipped your mind to check if any of your lessons needed to be copied and now with literal minutes before the bell you didn’t have enough time to run to the office and back, nor did you have anyone to watch your students while doing so. 

“Ugh! This can’t be happening?!” Thinking out loud your frustration, trying to decide if you can push the lesson off until later in the day or just scrape it all together. 

“You okay?” Dieter’s gruff voice draws you in, it’s honeyed and sincere as it floats through the air.

“Umm, yeah—“ His expression was undemanding as you took him in. His chestnut hair slightly disheveled, but with purpose. The amber of his eyes held your gaze, unequivocal as he surveyed your distress. “Actually, no I’m not. I way over slept, which means I didn’t get a chance to grab any coffee or make copies for this morning’s lesson—“

Ding

The ringing of the bell interrupts the conversation, your students scattering to put books away and await your instruction. 

“Please have a seat on the floor and sit quietly for a moment while I talk with Mr. Bravo.” You announce in your teacher-like voice.

“Go, I’ll watch them.” 

“What?” Your head snapping back over Dieter. 

“Go make your copies. I’ll watch them until you get back.”

“I can’t just leave them alone without a teacher.”

“They won’t be alone, they’ll be with me. Plus, I played a teacher on a tv show once— can’t be that hard doing the actual thing.” 

“I’m going to ignore that last part.”

You’re not sure why Dieter is even offering to help you, you don’t feel like you deserve it— but you really need it and he’s convincing in his own way. 

“Okay— but no mention of this to anyone! Don’t let any of them leave or talk you into anything— they can be very persuasive.”

“We’ll be fine! Go!” He gives your arm a little pat as he smiles, an authentic lopsided toothy grin— it’s been a while since you had seen him genuinely smile. 

Without a second thought, you grab the worksheet and make your way to the printer located across campus in the main building of the school. 

You ignore the questioning looks from the sweet office ladies, they know your presence in the office at this time is out of your usual routine. Thankfully, none of them decide to investigate the matter or mention anything about your attire. 

The giant printer takes its time as it spits out the warm, freshly inked paper into the tray, taking its sweet time. The whirring of the machine drowning out your thoughts of Dieter back in your classroom, hoping the kids aren’t wearing him down.

As you near the classroom door, you’re imagining your students overthrowing authority and running circles around Dieter with him tied to a chair— the imaginary makes you chuckle. 

What you’re met with is anything but a cataclysmic event, it’s far from it actually. You quietly lean against the doorframe, not ready to announce your arrival back, taking in the sight of your students still sitting in their designated spots on the floor as Dieter stands before them animatedly answering questions. 

“Okay, I’ll answer one more.”

“Uncle Dude!!” “Pick me!!” “Uncle Dude, me next” Each student’s hand shooting up at once, they’re little voices vying for his attention. 

“Kid with the funny haircut in the front, hit me with your question.” He says as he points to the kid who had a scissor mishap last week, resulting in a wonky style that he decided was cool enough to wear. 

“Uncle Dude, how much money do you have?”

“Uh, that’s a weird question, kid. Your haircut makes a lot of sense now.”

“Alright students! Time to say goodbye to Uncle Dude.” Pushing yourself forward as you make your way to the front and stand next to Dieter, saving him from any further innocent but invasive questions. 

“Noooooo!” They respond in unison to you cutting off their Q & A time. 

“Well, maybe we can have him come back another time if he’s not busy. Everyone get settled at your desks so we can get started and I’m going to say goodbye to Uncle Dude.”

Once you’ve made it to the back of the class, you wait for Dieter who’s giving Wren one last hug goodbye. 

In this moment you could feel that fog that had still been looming over the both of you, finally starting to burn off. And for the first time, you could picture yourself getting to know Dieter better, instead of wanting to run in the opposite direction of him. 

He catches you staring as he makes way back to where you’re waiting for him by the door. That lopsided smile etched across his face again, this time accompanied with a wink— your stomach spontaneously doing somersaults at his little quirk. 

“So, Uncle Dude?” 

“Mister is way too formal.” 

“Yeah, I guess it kind of is. Um— thanks for doing this for me, I know things between us are not—“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head as he cuts you off before you can really mention how strained things still are between you two. You don’t sense any malice in his response, so you try not to read too much into it. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, or something.” 

“Yeah— yeah. I’ll see you around. Thanks again, Dieter.”

Exchanging goodbyes, you both go your separate ways. 

You are so focused on passing out the freshly printed worksheets to your students, that you don’t catch Dieter standing in the doorway, unmoving as he observes you moving about the room so carefree in your element. 

Once the bell announces the first break for the day, you take the opportunity to head to the teacher’s lounge in search of a snack, realizing you hadn’t eaten breakfast or had any time to pack a lunch before leaving this morning. 

Arriving back to your class, with an orange and water bottle you grabbed, you’re grateful there’s still 10 minutes left of the break, plenty of time to sit and enjoy the quiet. 

You plop yourself down into your chair, eyes closed, taking a moment to breathe and daydream about what you’ll have for dinner. 

Deciding you wasted enough of your break, you set out to eat your orange, when you catch sight of a cup sitting on your desk that wasn’t there earlier. It’s obvious to you that it’s filled with coffee, but how it found its way into your life is beyond you. 

As you pick it up, its contents shift and its rich velvety aroma permeates the air around you. That first cautious sip is heavenly, an instant surge of dopamine the second the bittersweet liquid hits your throat. 

“Mmm.” Not even caring no one can hear your audible enjoyment. 

As you go to place the paper down, you notice black pen marks on the side. Twisting the cup to get a better look, you see a message written knowing immediately who left the coffee. 

You beam at the words and can’t help but think of this as an olive branch extended to you as a gesture of mending open wounds. 

“Let it Gogh. Hope your day gets better! - Uncle Dude”

*

“How did you feel after the fight, for lack of a better word?”

“I was pissed, angry, frustrated— sad.”

“Those are all reasonable reactions. Let’s focus on the sadness you felt. What were you feeling in that moment?”

“I think at first, I was sad that my sister thought so lowly of me— it hurt to hear her agree with this woman who I only just met.”

“Did that sadness change into something else?”

“Yeah— then I was sad at the realization that I had caused my sister so much pain over the years. That I was a selfish asshole— sorry.”

“You’re fine.” 

“That I was a selfish jerk who was so consumed by the chase of the next high and the high itself, that I couldn’t see how it was affecting anyone else around me.”

“Okay. Now, the anger part— do you think that feeling correlates with sadness? Maybe the anger you were feeling wasn’t directed at the right person, that deep down the person you are truly angry with is yourself?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense. I mean yeah I was pissed hearing the crap being said about me— but I guess, if I had been sober like I said I was, these things wouldn’t have been said to begin with.”

“How does that realization feel?”

“It sucks, but it’s the truth.”

“At any point following this argument, did you have the urge to use?”

“No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because, I want to stay clean— prove to myself, and my sister, that I’m stronger than my addiction.”

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that. Now, the goal here is to use your coping strategies to continue to help you when situations like this arise. How do you think you’ll handle things in the future?”

“Continue calling you regularly to stay in check, revisit my 12-Steps, use that 54321 Method, it has been helping me focus, and leaning on friends and family the most.”

“I can email you over a few book suggestions too that helped me get through some dark times if you’d like?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course, Dieter. I'm here to support you however you need it.”

The day following the blow up with you and then Diem giving him some hard truths, Dieter had reached out to the Sponsor he had been working with while in treatment. 

After their conversation, Dieter came to the realization he had no right to be upset with anyone but himself— a hard truth to swallow. 

Every week since then, he calls his Sponsor for a cheek in to review his Steps and see which areas he wants to improve on more until their next session. Afterwards he usually goes for a drive to clear his head before he heads back to Diem’s house. 

Tonight is no different, except when he pulls his car into the driveway, he remembers it’s movie night and he had forgotten to mention to Diem he’d be late to it. He takes a minute to himself, also realizing you would be inside too. 

The moon gives off an understated brilliancy as the silence coated the world around him, unguided thoughts streaming from his subconscious. 

While you both had been around each other and shared minimal words, there was still a tension among the two of you and Dieter wasn’t sure how willing and open you would be to talk to him about it. 

He recalls that one morning at school drop off, you had seemed a little stressed and tired, offering to help you seemed like a great way to initiate a good starting point in mending the situation between you. 

You were receptive, showing no signs of harboring any hatred towards him, a step in the right direction. 

The way you looked at him, sincerity washing over your features, he felt a palpable sense of relief— you must feel the same way. 

He didn’t push for more or beg for a chance to prove to you that he had changed, so he led by action and hoped you would see him, a man who was willing and capable to do the work he needed to make a change in himself. 

Shadowed movements float across the house window, a sign to make his way inside. 

There’s an even placidness when he walks through the door, the muffled sound of the tv hardly detectable as its display radiates a glow throughout the living room space. 

“You missed movie night.” Diem’s voice, barely above a whisper, alerts him to her presence in the kitchen. 

“Sorry. I had a call with my Sponsor then went for a drive— totally slipped my mind that it was tonight.”

“Don’t apologize— But maybe a text next time, so I’m not worrying you’re dead on the side of the road or something.” She joins in the entryway and engulfs him with a hug. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“How’d your call go?”

“Good— It was good. Some days I think I’m strong enough and don’t need to call, that I’m fully prepared to navigate through my shit on my own. And then I realize how dumb that sounds.” He huffs out a single sigh, a hand resting in his jean’s pocket as his other rubs the back of his neck. “But they help, so I keep calling.”

“That’s great.”

“How was the movie?? Wren asleep already?”

“Frozen 2 again, so I guess you really didn’t miss much.”

He already knows Wren spent most of the movie reciting her favorite lines and singing along to every song, she usually convinces them all to join in. 

“They’re still passed out though, I was just getting ready to attempt to put Wren in her bed.” 

He looks to where Diem is pointing, the couch where he hadn’t seen a heap of pillows and what he can only assume is you and Wren sleeping. 

“I’m going to wake them, hopefully Wren will go back down easily. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives a kiss to his cheek before making her way to where Wren is fast asleep in your arms. 

He watches as Diem slowly wakes you while untangling Wren’s little body from your arms, cradling her as if she was still a tiny baby and whispering to her sweet little praises, then disappearing down the hallway. 

A yawn escapes as you stretch from where you’re still sitting on the couch, twisting and pulling, loosening your joints and muscles for your walk home. 

Grabbing your phone and keys from the coffee table, you set out on your journey back to your house, but you’re startled when you nearly bump into Dieter in the middle of the entryway. 

“Easy there.” He steadies you, placing his hands on your upper arms as you find your balance. 

“Sorry, I didn’t even see you there. I must be more tired than I thought. You missed movie night, Wren had to carry most of the songs herself.” You voice is still laced with a small trace of sleep. 

“Yeah, I had an appointment and totally blanked on what day it was. I’ll be here for the next one though.” He notes the way your head tilts a bit when you’re really listening, the way your lips turn up just a tad, not a full smile but enough to convey the sentiment. “It looks good on you.”

“Hmm?” Your brain still muddled and drowsy, confused by his comment. 

“This—“ His hand reached out to you, his fingers flicking at the lapel of his brown fuzzy overcoat. “Looks good on you.”

You look down, realizing what you were wearing, a twinge of embarrassment filters through you. 

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, I forgot I had it on. I had forgotten a sweater and got cold, Wren brought it to me to wear. It was so warm, we fell asleep I guess.” Over explaining the situation as you begin to remove it from your body— he finds it funny that Wren immediately went for his coat before an actual blanket. 

“Keep it— It’s cold out, it will keep you warm on your way home. I’ll get it at some point.”

The fog has lifted, gone— replaced with an airy breeze that swirls in and around the both of you. 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Besides, I’m sure Diem will love not seeing it around for a bit.”

“That explains her eye roll when Wren came running out with it.” 

“Well, I guess this is good night then.” 

“Good night Dieter.”

He opens the door and you make your way out to the front porch, a gust of wind sweeping through has you immediately grateful for his coat. 

When you reach the sidewalk at the end of the driveway, something tells you to turn around. 

There, as if waiting for you to safely make it across the street in the direction of your house, Dieter stands watching. 

You give him a little wave, a final goodbye. 

When he waves back, you sense this might be the start of something new. 

*

Some weekends were extra work days for you, catching up on grading and planning out any projects that you had added to lesson plans last minute. 

There were times when you were caught up on everything, leaving you two full days of no plans or expectations. 

It was a beautiful balmy Saturday, the sun had begun situating itself at its highest point, the perfect day to explore downtown. 

After tending to your little garden, watering and pulling weeds, you had decided to walk down to Bart’s Bookstore to browse their intake of used books. 

Any free time you had, you always wound up at Bart’s, whether it was to pick up your next read or leaf through potential reads on their patio, enjoying an ice cold tea and sandwich. 

The outdoor bookstore was open concept, literally no walls, just a tin roof and shelves displaying their contents in an outdoor setting. While they did have operating hours, they also ran by the honor system if you came and found something after they closed— leave your money, take your book. 

You took your time perusing each shelf, hoping to come across something to replace the novel you had just finished. 

Making your way down another aisle, you spotted a familiar face sitting at a table, Dieter. 

From what you could tell, he was alone, reading but able to make out the title from where you were. 

This was the first time you had run into him outside of your normal setting of school and Diem’s house, not really sure if you just pretend like you didn’t see him or use this as an opportunity to sit and talk with him. 

Your feet decide the latter for you. 

“Dieter?”

He looks up, squinting as his hand attempts to block the sun shining directly in his eyes, that lopsided grin slowly widens at recognizing it’s you standing before him. 

The hem of your sundress billows as the breeze picks up, a small stack of tattered books tucked under your arms, he decides that you look ethereal as the sun drapes its glowing rays around you. 

“Hey! What are you up to?”

“I came to find a new book, just finished my last one.” Glancing down to the books you’re holding, in case he hadn’t seen them. 

“Find anything good?”

“Not sure yet, but they seem promising. You alone?” 

“Yeah, decided to get out for a bit, while Diem and Wren are out shopping. Seemed like the best place to be with this nice weather we’re having.”

You nod in agreement. 

“Would it be okay if I talk to you— if we talk… I mean— if you’re not busy, would it be okay if we talked for a bit?”

“Sure, take a seat.” Gesturing to the open chair across from him. 

Placing the books on the metal table, you sit in the chair, scooting it forward to the table as you find a comfortable position. 

“Thanks. I’ve been wanting to talk with you— I-I’ve just been so nervous and wasn’t really sure you’d even want to talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?” He leans back, a leg crossed over the other with one arm draped over the back of his chair as his forearm of the other rests against the table— his fingers rubbing against each other as he waits for you to share. 

“I’ve been wanting to apologize for what I said— screaming at Wren’s party and telling Diem to not have you stay with her. I should have never—“

“It’s fine. Water under the bridge.” His chestnut locks begin to move about as another breeze moves around, he tucks the loose strands behind his ear. 

“No, I need to apologize— you didn’t deserve how I treated you and I’m ashamed that’s how things went down.” 

“Thank you. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure— yes.”

“Why did you hate me so much? Diem mentioned something about your past— she wouldn’t tell me though.”

Your fingers toy with the edges of one of the books, you take a deep breath and decide to share with him your feelings behind being so harsh towards him. 

“This is going to sound so dumb, but my Dad was an actor— still is? I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in years.”

“Really? I did not expect that.” 

“Yeah. He left when I was little, maybe 3 or so. He had this wild idea that he was destined to be some big time actor, and was going to be famous— the works.” 

“What happened?”

“He never came back. He called every few months, and sent my mom some money. But then the calls just kind of dropped off. After about a year of silence, my mom received divorce papers out of the blue. It was just her and I after that.” You take a minute, glance at him to see if you can get a sense of what he’s thinking— his expression empathetic towards the words you’re saying. 

“So, I grew up with an aversion for anything pertaining to actors and Hollywood. I decided they were all just out to better themselves, leaving their families for a better life.”

Your throat feels dry after baring yourself to him, grateful he gave you the opportunity to share this piece of your life with him in such a raw manner. 

“I’m sorry, about your dad. My parents are in the industry, and while they didn’t outright abandon Diem and I, they weren’t all that active in our lives growing up. I thought I could do it differently though— make it as an actor, but do it better. Upside to having famous parents is it’s a shoe in with getting booked, everyone already wants to work with you because of your name— no one cared if I was any good or not. So I had to work ten times harder just to get some sort of recognition for my acting skills. I think the attention and the fame eventually did get to my head— I lost who I was and why I wanted to become an actor in the first place. The drugs kind of numbed it all, made me think less about how I was hating everything around me and kept me going. And, well we all know how that ended.”

“I’m so sorry Dieter.” Your eyes fixed onto his and you grabbed  for his hand, giving a gentle squeeze, a quiet ‘thank you’ to him for sharing his story with you. 

He turns his hand and reciprocates the gesture, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of your hand. 

“You’ve already seen me at my worst, why not give me a chance at my best.”

Next

[whumped-by-glitter]

Chapter 2 Part 5: Laid Bare

⚠️CW: Institutionalized Slavery, Bullying, Torture, Sensory Deprivation, Public Humiliation, Objectification, non-con drugging (poisons). If I missed anything, you know the drill.

This marks the end of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 will be quite a tone shift. thank you as always to my lovely beta readers, @generic-whumperz and @3-2-whump.

This Section does have an extended addition over on my NSFW blog, if that style whump is your jam, if not, this is the "safe" version.

Masterlist

⏮️ Previous

Next 🔜

A pair of rough hands grabbed The Mutt. Electricity coursed unnecessarily through it, paralyzing it, a pointless show of power as it offered no resistance. It never offered resistance. From a young age it was trained to allow its body to be manipulated with no resistance.

The cold seeped further into its body as the meager clothes it wore were torn off. There were a few small gasps from the newer slaves who had yet to see its body riddled in scars. It could smell the newest girl, the one that couldn’t wield a whip, get upset. It gave a low warning growl, sensing she wanted to say something or do something. The growl was far too low for the Valten to hear, the rest of the slaves could hear the warning. Interfering would go badly for her. There was only so much Balor could do to Zan or it without consequence, many of the rest of the slaves did not enjoy such built-in protection though.

The cold pushed further into its core as its arms were wrenched from its sides and pulled taught. A position that left it completely exposed, unable to hide. It shivered slightly as the same process was repeated on its ankles, his legs being pulled apart. A deep breath, and then other, The Mongrel slowly sank into itself. ‘Just a tool, just a tool, just a tool.’ It repeated the mantra over and over again in its head.

Balor soon reappeared, and The Mutt’s heart dropped to its stomach then jumped back up to its throat when it saw what was in his hands, a small yet distinct vial. Divinity’s Downfall…..

Balor held up the vial to the group, “This is why my father spends so much time with this thing. Its not special or important, just a poison drinker…. A poison drinker and a monster!” He turned to The Mutt this time, “I order you to tell them. Tell us all exactly why my mother left 12 years ago. Tell them the truth sworn on the Goddess of Sin and Purity.”

“I swear on the Goddess, Kozula,” it whispered, barely audible. The Mongrel winced at the memory, causing it to hesitate slightly, the bands started to tingle and turn red. It gulped air and began to speak, the warm purple light the bands then started producing offered no comfort this time.

“I-it was given Divinity’s Downfall for the first time that evening. Master didn’t chain it like he does now.” A tear slipped down its cheek as it took a ragged breath. “No one knew that the poison would cause such powerful hallucinations. It stripped and ran off when the toxin took hold……” it trailed off.

“Then what did you do?” Balor demanded sharply.

“It was confused!” it admitted, starting to cry, only to be cut off with a backhand.

“Knock off your damn crying, continue,” Balor snapped.

The Mutt did its best to collect itself, putting its mask of void back on. ‘Just a tool, not a person, not a dog, just an object.’

It swallowed and continued. “It saw what it thought was a monster and attacked it. Then the monster turned into a flower so it watered it….. Only it wasn’t water, it found out later…. This beast clawed itself open and bled all over Lady Claudia. Its blood is toxic, and she got so sick she nearly died.”

The slave hung its head in shame. That evening had cost it everything. Its personhood, its friendship with Balor, even its sleeping mat and blanket. That warm summer evening was the day the world turned cold.

Balor turned to the group, now all were standing deathly quiet. “Now I’ll show you all what this piece of shit does under this poison, and I’m sure you all have your own grievances with it too.” He turned back to The Dog, “You haven’t had your lunch dose poison today, so I’ll give you a little extra.”

‘Not how that works,’ It thought but refrained from saying that. Maybe if it was lucky, Balor would accidentally overdose The Mutt and it could be rid of this cold lonely life. It obediently opened its mouth, catching 1,2, 3 drops of undiluted poison. Normally it only got 2 and it was mixed with food.

The bitterness made him choke and gag. It was unused to drinking it straight but managed to keep it down. Dread coiled around in its insides, roughly 30 minutes… Just 30 minutes perhaps sooner with 3 drops on an empty stomach, before the effects hit.

Before it had time to ruminate on it too much, a sharp prick to its chest jolted it to the here and now, as the world blackened. It took inventory of its senses, could still hear and smell and feel, it seemed like this pin only deprived it of sight. The pantheon above, it hated those pins.

A crack sounded, making it jolt in its restraints, moments before the searing, stinging pain registered across its back. It could feel wetness drip down its back. The closest smell to it was Balor, so it assumed it must be him administering the beating. It bit back a pained noise as best it could as the next crack registered a trail across its chest, startling it again. The smells didn’t change, it didn’t hear anyone walking from around it. Two whips?

Smells started to swirl and it could no longer tell where anybody was. Another crack sounded, fire melted through its body, as if the whip reached through it to hit its chest and back simultaneously. Sounds began undulating, quieting and getting louder again, like a heartbeat…. Like….like the air itself was alive. The black its eyes could see shifted to red. Pantheon, he was sure he was swallowed by some ancient creature. The burning came again followed by wetness. Digestive juices were burning him, he realized.

Fear gripped him for a moment but then he let it go. At least it was warm. Then he realized something…

“Tools can’t be digested, you picked bad food to eat,” The Dog spoke out loud.

He heard a rumble and the earth shook, as if the beast was laughing. He fell to his knees, but hadn’t he been chained? Then he realized the monster must have broke the chain.

A distorted growling came from the direction that must have been the beasts head, “--free to do as you like--,” the words cut off again until he heard one more word, “-Morning.”

That didn’t make any sense, what could he do? The stomach acid was now up to his knees, and continued to drip on him. It hurt, it hurt so much. This wouldn’t be over until morning? He wanted to sob.

---

It might have been minutes or years when fresh pain and humiliation stopped washing upon him, The Dog had no way of telling. Eventually though, it did stop, slowly becoming replaced with a pounding headache. His mind was gradually becoming clearer. He collapsed, exhausted.

He didn’t even have the energy to react when he felt a rough set grab him again. He heard chains clink as he was unbound. The Mutt then felt himself being moved. To where- he didn’t really know or care.

He was dropped with a thud on hard dirt. He heard the clink of chain again before footsteps of the person walked off. He curled into himself. He quietly wished he had just one person who cared.

‘so cold,’ that was his last thought before exhaustion won out.

Masterlist

⏮️ Previous

Next 🔜

Taglist:

@whumpsandbumps, @whumperofworlds, @skittles-the-whumpee, @3-2-whump, @wounds-seen-and-unseen

@generic-whumperz, @emptycalories-splitlip, @pigeonwhumps, @i-eat-worlds, @starfields08000

@onlywhump, @snakebites-and-ink, @aloafofbreadwithanxiety, @turvuren, @whumps-and-bumps

@paingoes, @spectral-whumpy-writer, @vampiresprite, @whumping-in-the-dark, @saffitaffi

@ichortwine

[3-2-whump]

You Told Me It Had Stopped

<prev next>

Hi again, everyone! Ready for more pain and angst? (I wasn't asking!)

So hard to believe we're reaching the end of this story! With only five more chapters to go after this one (unless I cram in more story at the last minute), things are only gonna get crazier from here, but hopefully, it'll be just as satisfying as the last few chapters.

Shoutout to my amazing beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz , this chapter would not be what it is without them!

This chapter will have links within it referring you to previous chapters. If you have not read In Vino (et Venenum) Veritas or Tying Up Loose Ends, I'd highly suggest you give those a peek

TW/CW: slave whump, intimate whumper, manipulative whumper, emotional angst, prostitution, dehumanization, blackmail, referenced noncon, forced to watch (though not in the traditional sense)

“GOAL!” the announcer’s voice rang out over the laptop’s speakers.

Nico and Khaled cheered in unison as Portugal secured its place in the quarterfinals. Nico wrapped an arm around Khaled to hug him close, but a flash of purple from Khaled’s shirt collar stopped him.

Khaled sensed the change in atmosphere immediately. “Wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, his smile waning slightly.

“Is that a hickey?”

The sounds of cheering from a stadium half a world away were forgotten as Khaled’s smile dropped completely. He instinctively tried to adjust his shirt collar, but Nico grasped his hands in his own before he could. “Is that a hickey?” he asked again, tone serious.

Khaled nodded as his eyes turned downwards. Nico let go of his hands, frowning all the while. “I thought it had stopped,” he said, letting the disappointment creep into his voice. “You told me it had stopped, Khaled.”

“It did stop,” Khaled answered, eyes still downcast. “But then… it started up again…”

“I thought he was paying you to be his executive assistant-”

“Oh he is,” Khaled replied tersely, “and he’s paying me for this too.”

Nico faltered. “But, how –why –how could you?” Nico told himself the anger he felt was supposed to be for the Boss, and that he was misdirecting it at Khaled, who was already going through so much already. Though, if he was being completely honest with himself, his anger at Khaled wasn’t that misdirected. He was so, so tired of being lied to. “Fuck the money, why would let him do it again?!” he demanded.

“Why would I let him do it again? Do you think I have any choice in this?”

“No –yes –wait, no?” Nico shook his head. “I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is, you could’ve turned down the money, couldn’t you?!”

“Like fuck I could!” Khaled argued. “Are you the one saving up for his freedom? Don’t talk to me about money, Nico!”

“What good is money and freedom when it means losing your self-respect, and your friendship with me, Khaled?!”

Khaled made an exaggerated snort. “Some friendship we have! Remember when you took me out drinking, and I got so drunk I told you everything?”

Nico cringed at the memory, and more importantly at what came after. Khaled noticed his discomfort right away and dug his claws in deeper. “And do you remember when the Boss paid you off to keep silent about me, and you fucking took the bribe?”

“He was holding my tuition hostage-”

“Your tuition –he’s holding me hostage!”

“-That was not a bribe!”

Khaled ignored the minute distinction. “It still hurt, you know!” And then, he locked eyes with Nico. “My first and only friend since I was stolen to this awful place turned his back on me, and all I asked myself was why wasn’t I good enough, why wasn’t I worth defending!” Despite the black flames of vitriol in his eyes, Nico could see a faint, vulnerable sheen of tears. 

“Wait, shit, no-” he began to apologize. The damage was done as Khaled shoved his coat on and walked to the door. Nico belatedly reached out his hand. “I’m sorry, Khaled! I didn’t mean to hurt you like that! Come back-”

“Go fuck yourself!” Khaled cried. “It’s not like you want to be friends with someone who sells themselves, anyway,” he murmured angrily as he let the door slam behind him.

Nico was left all alone with his regrets as the game played on his laptop in the background.

-

Three days after they had that argument, and Khaled had not seen Nico for lunch since. That was entirely expected though. He had hurt his friend immensely, and, three days later, he was still no closer to coming up with a sufficient apology for what he’d said. He decided to at least add the new mark to his log, although he regretted not being able to snap a covert picture of it to add to his records. He ducked into his backpack’s inner pocket to retrieve his flash drive, where he made it a habit of storing all evidence of Khaled’s abuse for future reference.

It was not in the inner pocket.

Well, maybe it’s in the bottom of my backpack? Nico reasoned. He methodically took out each textbook and groped around the bottom, shining his cellphone light down there, too.

It was not at the bottom of his backpack.

Where is it?! Nico tore through his backpack, searching it thoroughly, even so much as to turn it upside down and shake it. He checked every desk drawer again and again, and emptied every pants and jacket pocket. Still no flash drive.

A chiming sound from his monitor signaled an email, a high priority one at that. Nico paused his tearing apart of the guard shack to view it.

One (1) new message from The Boss

Nico clicked it.

Looking for something? Meet me downstairs to retrieve it.

It was succinct, yet it elicited so much dread. He gulped.

As if crossing the parking lot late at night in the dead of January wasn’t creepy enough, Nico stood at the top of the stairwell leading to the infamous T & I cellar, feeling the winter’s chill even inside the brick and mortar walls of the mansion. Even from the top of the stairs it smelled like dried blood, and the dimness of the room below made it look as if the stairs descended into an abyss. He steeled his nerves and descended into the abyss, step by concrete step, painfully aware of how much noise his shoes made in the quietness of the empty building.

Even though he had seen the T & I cellar in the security footage, Nico realized nothing compared to being down there in person. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps dangled unlit like limp, long dead jellyfish. The fireplace was concealed behind a large white sheet, stretched taut and glowing bluish white over the expanse of the wall. The opposing wall still boasted its rack lined with various instruments of torture out in the open. In the middle sat one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and large mottled stains of red that could be traced down to the concrete floors below. Nico thought he would be sick just looking at the bloodstains alone. There were chairs pulled up to that table, though, one of which was occupied by the boss Don Costa himself, looking mighty smug in the dimness of the room. Near the edge of the table was a projector and a laptop, operated by Khaled, who stood silently beside the table bearing his own bloodstains as if he weren’t affected at all. His dark brown eyes flitted to Nico once, possibly just to confirm he was there, before resolutely fixing back onto the laptop and projector in front of him. Nico couldn’t blame him for being mad at him still.

“Nico Clemenza,” Don Costa greeted, breaking the tension between the two friends, “do you have any idea why you’re here?”

I’m not in trouble, I’m not in trouble, I’m not in trouble -am I? Nico thought. That tone of voice and the whole context of meeting in the T & I cellar certainly seemed to contradict that. “You have something that I’m looking for, sir?” He didn’t mean for it to be asked like a question, but right now he wasn’t sure what the safe answer would be.

“That’s right,” his boss affirmed, smirking condescendingly. “I got a little tip-off from Bennie and Michael last weekend that you have been rather cagey about a certain flash drive.”

Dad and Uncle Mike? The last time Nico had seen them was when he’d just visited home last weekend. He had gotten into an argument with his uncle over Khaled’s treatment, and he had pushed his dad out of his room when he’d asked about the flash drive labeled ‘Saved Footage’. Did they go through my stuff when I wasn’t there? Did they find the flash drive and snitch on me?! He knew the oath of loyalty these men had taken, but the betrayal by his own family still hurt.

“I asked Khaled about it, but my poor pet didn’t seem to know what it was for, either,” the boss continued. “So you can imagine how he reacted –how both of us reacted, when we plugged it in and saw all that saved footage.”

Nico’s face paled in horror, eyes widening as he realized how years-worth of Khaled’s torture saved to his personal device must have looked out of context. He quickly turned to Khaled to beg for his understanding. “Khaled, I can explain, it’s not what it looks like!” he protested. His friend finally turned toward him, delicate lips downturned into a slight frown. “I don’t know what he told you, but please, believe me, I can explain!”

“Oh, we know what it looks like,” Don Costa sneered. “It’s funny, I always wondered why you were so interested in my slave, but now it makes perfect sense!” He laughed as Nico’s jaw worked up and down, sputtering in a pathetic attempt to verbally defend himself. Khaled meanwhile stayed still as a statue, focusing only on the laptop screen in front of him. “I could just get you your own once you graduate, you know, like as a graduation present. You don’t have to lower yourself to befriend mine.” He tilted his head toward the projector. “So, here you were, playing at being friends with my pet while stealing away all those moments caught on film the whole time, whether it be for your own pleasure or-” The older man raised his eyebrows as a mischievous sharpness glinted in those cold gray eyes. “-Maybe you’re uploading them somewhere for the pleasure of millions?”

Nico choked a little at the baseless accusation.

“But, whether you’re saving them for your personal spank bank or uploading them to a porn site, you are still called down here for violating your NDA,” Thomas concluded. He whipped out a stack of papers and dramatically slammed them onto the table, the impact echoing a bit in the otherwise silent room. Nico eyed the stack of papers warily. When he first started working for Costa Insurance, he did what anyone else would and skimmed the document for the right places to initial or sign. Now, as a nearly completed law student, he recognized the weight of the consequences that violating an NDA would lead to.

“Go on, have a seat.”

Nico approached the table like a death row convict on the way to his execution. He lowered himself into the chair and stared down at the document before him, thumbing through its pages as he now read every word. He obviously must have taken too long, as the man seated in front of him cleared his throat impatiently as he murmured, “Page eight, paragraph B.”

Nico flipped there. “There shall be no extraction or publication of client’s names, addresses, accounts, or other personal information outside the grounds of Costa Insurance,” he read aloud.

Before he could ask for an explanation, Don Costa turned toward his slave, who had remained silent throughout the whole thing. “Khaled, play February 9, 2018.” Khaled typed into the laptop almost robotically as he brought up the footage from the specified date. There, projected on the makeshift screen for all three viewers in the room to see, was footage of Khaled lying naked on the ground with his hands tied behind his back, a silk tie wedged into his mouth, and Jaime’s boot on top of his head. Nico recognized it from the Key Game era.

“See, there,” the boss pointed out, referring to a desktop screen in the peripheral of the video.

Nico scoffed. “But you can hardly even read that!”

“Nevertheless, there is sensitive client information on that computer screen that cannot leave these grounds.” He nodded toward Khaled. “September 24, 2018.” Khaled obeyed, his face a calm mask of detachment as he pulled up another video of his own tortures. The next scene featured Khaled, on his knees, sucking off Nico’s uncle as he and the Boss talked business. “There, on the coffee table,” Don Costa directed him. The list of phone numbers was slightly more legible than the previous leak of sensitive information. A pit of dread opened in the bottom of Nico’s stomach. How many more of these videos coincidentally contained sensitive information in their periphery? Were they placed within the camera frame on purpose?

“Khaled, November 21-”

“I get it, I get it,” Nico objected, palms raised up. “I fucked up, I get it. So, what do you want me to do about it, sir?”

Don Costa’s mouth upturned into a sickening grin. “Easy! Destroy the flash drive, take down whatever videos you posted, and, should this data leak come to bite us in the ass one day, take full responsibility for it and resign,” he explained.

Destroy all the evidence? Nico gulped. He wasn’t keen on losing years’ worth of documented human rights abuses, but he also didn’t want to deal with the threat of litigation.

“What are you willing to give to see Khaled happy and free, as he should be?” Julio’s question haunted him. Nico summoned his courage to look the bastard in the eyes. “And if I refuse?” he asked.

Khaled visibly perked up, shooting a questioning glance at Nico’s rare moment of defiance. Meanwhile, the smile dropped off Thomas’ face. “Then I reenact every single thing I’ve done to Khaled that you’ve saved on that little flash drive of yours,” he threatened. Khaled’s attention focused back onto his master, and although Nico may have imagined it, the young man trembled. “You have years’ worth of footage, and the night is still young.”

“You’re bluffing,” Nico replied, ignoring the certainty in his mind that this man was not bluffing. “You nearly killed him last spring when you carved his back open! Are you really going to take that risk again?”

The boss merely shrugged. “He survived the last time, why not?” he asked nonchalantly.

Khaled’s face paled, taking on a sickly color as his trembling worsened. Nico folded. “Okay, okay, fine!” The last thing he wanted to see was Khaled getting tortured and knowing he could’ve stopped it. Nico thrust forward a reluctant but outstretched palm. “Give me the flash drive, and I’ll smash it right here,” he promised.

Khaled breathed an almost-imperceptible sigh of relief, but the boss stopped him just before he could unplug the flash drive. “Wait, before you smash it, I just gotta know…” He smiled conspiratorially at Nico. “What part was your favorite?”

-

Nico waited patiently for the phone on the other end to pick up that night, drumming his fingers against his desk as he overlooked the city from his bedroom window. Eventually, the repetitive ringing was replaced by a very loud Pitbull remix, followed by a heavily accented “Alvarez Auto and Motorcycles, what do you want?”

“Yeah, can you tell me my status on my radiator hose? Did you use a 9-mm wrench?” Nico asked, well-practiced in the Juicio Divino code by now. The person who had picked up the call fell silent, the music thumped on in the background, and eventually a new voice carried over the phone.

“What are you calling me for, I told you only to call me if it was an emergency!” Julio yelled. There were light shuffling sounds, and then no background music at all, an indication that Nico’s partner in crime had moved to a more private place to talk.

“We need to try to kill him again,” Nico explained, getting straight to the point. “Things are getting worse on my end.”

“Worse, what do you mean worse?” Julio’s breath hitched a little. “Does he know you’re working with me?!”

“No, he –he found my flash drive,” Nico explained. “Made me destroy it. That’s four-ish years of evidence, gone.”

Julio went silent for a couple seconds before coming to the same conclusion. “You’re right. We need to kill him again. And this time, I won’t miss.”

“We won’t miss,” Nico corrected. “We’re in this together, partner.”

The static-y sigh on the other end of the line made Nico’s heart do something weird and tingly. “Yes we are,” Julio conceded. He hung up. Nico brought the phone down from his ear and caught his own reflection in the window. He was smiling.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

[project-lumen]

it's speculative lore questions time ... no need to answer, since these sort of questions can get spoiler-y, i'm just very much kicking my feet anf giggling about this game

1. Is Watcher!Grian a thing? Or does he have any other watcher-related history? Does WC know? Does anybody know? Would this have any effect on his, say, moveset or knowledge of things?

2. Either way, is Grian still the creator of the games? Have the Watchers hijacked it or was it all the Watchers in the first place? (Dude loses his game and goes whoops. Fuck me I guess. I suppose it's a torture maze now)

3. What about Martyn's Eyes and Ears AU? Will aspects be pulled from that? Say, for example, the falling scene - is that something we see, is that a relevant character who speaks to him? Or is EnE mostly ignored (bc. yk. it's technically an AU anyways)?

4. How do the Watchers operate? Are they like a big pantheon that works together or are they more individualistic? Or would you compare them more with a cult? Are the members often seen as Gods or are they just god-like entities functioning as a group? What about senior figures vs the WC - how do they treat each other?

5. crumbs for me ..? what does the watcher child look like ..? appearance description for a poor boy ..? sir, could i please have some more ..? my name is oliver twist and i like silly fictional character appearance descriptions ..?

Hi-hey-hello! Arto and group here to answer!!

Watcher!Grian isn't as much of a thing, but he is very much more aware about the Watchers and who they are compared to everyone else. There is a hint of Watcher relation at the end. Grian used to be a Watcher, but was more of an apprentice than a fully fledged watcher; in-between the stages of Watcher Child and an actual Watcher. He was rid of his powers as soon as he entered 3rd Life. But as the series goes on, he gets slightly more and more Watcher possessed---to become a window for them to watch and keep an eye on everyone. The only time he breaks away from it is Wild Life! Wow that was a lot of watcher in this paragraph,,

Grian was the suggester of the games, but did not run them. The Watchers took his idea and claimed credit, turning it into a torture game for entertainment. Of course, it wasn't originally meant to be, which is why Grian knows the rules but wouldn't expect the horrors to come like the rest of the group.

Martyn's EnE AU will have slight involvement, fragment-wise. Three hearts symbolizing their lives will be placed on different parts of their body (for example, for Third Life, Martyn's hearts would be placed onto his cheek, which is also where his fragment goes (I think? I don't watch Martyn as often)).

How the watchers function as a society is more so unrevealed. All you really figure out is about TOPTS, The One Pulling The Strings. TOPTS is essentially a Watcher hivemind, connecting everyone. Though it lives and breathes, it's not necessarily alive, but is the only thing above the Watchers. Inside of TOPTS belongs the Source Code, aka the Heart. Now I thought of the name Source Code, it felt really familiar to smth else so that name might change lol idk where I got it from. Anyways, the Source Code is the very thing that channels all life---the reason of the Watchers, Lifers, and other creatures' existences. But it can get corrupted, and everything can go awry, so it'd not invincible.

Well, it's more of a beta design (have to confirm with others), but this is how I draw them!

I forgot their little halo on the second one, whoops!

They are feminine, but not a girl whatsoever. Watchers don't really have a concept of gender because yk theyre kind of deities, but Watcher Children can have human ish traits as they're not fully fledged Watchers and can only take their Creature Form.

Another thing is that the Watcher Realm is so incredibly random, they try to create it off of Earth. So there will be fake, purple plants, and giant, "bustling" cities (that are completely empty) with "greenery" right next to a literal wasteland o a desert. And then right next to that, is a beautiful, even MORE fake ocean that doesn't even continue. It just stops really abruptly. Not really a lake, completely like an ocean, except at some point it just cuts off and theres just a wall of water. Its a bit hard to explain LOL but I hope your questions were answered!!

- Arto, Kori and Pinkish

[fandomnsfw]

Changes  Epilogue - Scott McCall x Reader

Paring: Scott x Reader

Prompt: Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur 

Warning: Labor and stuff... 

And a BIG thank you to my Beta who did this even though she wasn’t feel well! @lets-imagine-fanfics

Last Chapter! I hope youuuu enjoy!!

Pictures for this ending!

*****

It’s been months since you and Scott had complete the bond. Working out how it worked had been a task but you’d finally managed, with the help of Deaton to find out all the perks and downsides. You were currently sat in the school cafeteria with the pack.

The perks of being true mate are, you can speak to each other through thoughts, however, it does require concentration. Another perk is you can channel Scott’s True Alpha power if you need to, though you had only done it once and that was because Liam and Jackson had been fighting and bitching while everyone was trying to train and you’d had just about enough.  

Your eyes had changed colour after the bonding, which you found strange. Once you’d ask Deaton, he’d explained that an Alpha’s mate also known as a Luna, should have similar eyes to omega's except the blue is a lot darker. However, as a true mate, the most submissive wolf of the two gains the ability to channel the stronger wolfs power there for mixing the eye colours together.  

So the result was pinky-purple eyes. Personally, you found it weird but Scott always went on to say that you had unique eyes and that they were beautiful. Derek actually agreed, apparently, he thought to have eyes like yours meant you were special and being special was never a bad thing.  

Your bond with the pack had grown through the past few months. The younger teens of the group now came to you for help or advice despite the fact that you are actually the newest wolf of the group.  

“Liam, get your ass of your brother before I decide you're not too god damn old for time out!” You snapped as you sat down with your glass of orange juice.  

“Sorry, mom!” Liam answered back cheekily, knowing it pissed you off.  

Melissa strolled into the room with a coffee and her work clothes on. She and Scott had recently been talking about moving into the Hale house permanently mainly because bills were too much and Scott wanted his mom not the work so much.

She sat next to you and held out her cup for you. You took it with a grateful smile but as the scent of the coffee hit your nose full force you began gagging. Melissa and Scott frowned as she followed you to the bathroom. She held back your hair as you threw up everything from this morning.

“Honey, are you okay?” She asked softly, stroking your face as you sat up with tears in your eyes.  

“This is the second time this week…” You muttered fearfully the only thought crossing your mind is that you caught some sort of fucked up werewolf disease.

“Y/N! BABY! YOU OKAY? I CAN FEEL YOUR PAIN AND SADNESS!” Scott screamed as he skidded down the hall before backtracking to see you sat there next to the toilet.

“Again?” He asked with concern lacing his voice.  

You shot him a nod as Melissa muttered to wait here before running downstairs. Scott bent down to hold you tightly against his chest as he muttered words of comfort. Melissa ran downstairs to see Chris and Derek were the only ones in sight.  

“You two!” She yelled as she pointed at them both. They looked up in shock before nodding and the same time.

“Go to the store and get loads of pregnancy tests!” She demanded with wide eyes.  

“Melissa don’t tell me yo-”

“Christopher Argent I went through menopause two years ago. Your sperm ain’t that magical.” Melissa sassed, cocking her hip to one side.

“So who?” Derek asked with amusement in his tone.  

“Chris doesn’t have super sperm but turns out my son might! GOOOOO I WANNA KNOW IF I’M GONNA BE A GRANDMA!” She yelled impatiently. Chris and Derek’s eyes widened as they took in what you said before they started scrambling about like getting that test was now their only goal in life.  

“Why is Der spazzing out like he switched places with me?” Stiles asked as he came into the room with Peter.  

“I think Y/N's pregnant.” Melissa puttered before telling them to keep it quiet.  

“OH MY GOD! YES!” Stiles screamed before glancing at Peter. He held out his fist and unexpectedly, Peter gave him a fist bump.

Five minutes later Chris and Derek ran in sweating and panting with two carrier bags. Melissa grabbed a plastic cup from the kitchen before making her way upstairs. She hid the tests in her room before taking the cup the bathroom.

“Sweetie, can you pee in this cup, please? I know it’s gross but I need to run a few tests and this is the easiest way.” You gave her a nod before she and Scott left leaving you to do what she asked. After you’d done she took the sample and walked to her room leaving you and Scott to worry.

Melissa dipped about 20 pregnancy tests in the sample before putting the lids on the end and waiting. She turned her back not wanting to watch but all the same wanting to watch every second. After she looked at her watch for what seemed to be the millionth time she finally deemed it time. She spun around and stared down processing what she was seeing.

There laid 20 pregnancy test and every single one was positive. Melissa tried to contain her excitement as she ran to yours and Scott’s bedroom you now shared. She was panting and had a giant smile on her face as she reached the door.  

“There is nothing wrong. You’re perfectly healthy just like a werewolf should be.” She said as she took a breath to calm down.  

“So why do I keep throwing up?” You asked with a frown.

“It’s nothing bad just you might wanna start eating a little more and coming to see me for check-ups.” Melissa gave you a small smile but her response made you worry even more. If nothing was wrong why would you need to go for check-ups? That’s when it clicked.  

Nothing wrong = This is good news

Eat more = Eating for two

Check-ups = Ultrasounds

“OH. MY. GOD. SCOTT MCCALL, YOU ARE DEAD!” You screamed as you launched at him with glowing pink eyes.  

“WHAT WHY!?” He screamed as he ran out the bedroom with you running after him.

“YOU AND YOUR DICK ARE DEAD!” You screamed as he ran downstairs in the living area where Peter, Derek, Stiles and Chris were sat.  

“WHAT THE HELL DID MY DICK DO!?” He squealed as you tried to hop over the couch to get to him but missed him by a hair.

“Y/N! Be careful!” Melissa scolded causing you to stop and realise, this wasn’t just your body anymore it was a shield that was protecting another life so you had to treat it differently.  

“Why am I being chased?!” Scott panted as he looked at his mom and mate.  

“I’m pregnant, dumbass.” You muttered a blush working its way to your face. Unlike how you imagined this moment to go later in life it was different. You didn’t have time to think about the usual stuff. Would Scott leave you? Would he make you abort? Does he even want kids? because as soon as you said it Scott picked you up with a giant smile.  

“Really?!” He asked as he stared into your wide eyes.

“Y-Yes at least that’s what I figured Melissa meant.” You glanced at her with wide eyes before she gave you a nod.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna be a Dad!” Scott chuckled his face lighting up like you’d never seen.  

“I thought it was the Moms who glowed during pregnancy, not the Dads?” You snorted before glancing at Melissa.

“No actually the Dads are glowing and the Moms always look like zombies. The back pain, the boob pain, the feet swelling, the throwing up, the eating of weird shit. You name it.” Melissa shot you a sinister grin and suddenly you felt the urge to kill your baby daddy.  

After 20 seconds you had Scott on the floor standing on his chest with one foot. When the front door opened you glanced over to see the Sheriff and shot him a sarcastic smile to let him know you were pissed.  

“Why is Scott being punished?” The Sheriff snorted as he stood and glanced down at Scott who sent him a wave.  

“I dunno should I tell him Scott? He is basically my Dad after all!” You growled as you applied for pressure to Scott’s chest earning a wince from him.

“Tell me what?” The Sheriff muttered with a glare quickly making it way to his face as he glanced at Scott.

“Papa if you’d be so kind as to hand me your gun first before I tell you that would be great.” You asked sweetly but he immediately passed his gun to you.  

“I’m pregnant.” Was all you said, before stepping away from Scott, with a smile on your face.

“I’m gonna be a grandad?” You gaped at the man who you classed as your father confused to why he wasn’t killing Scott.

“OH MY GOD! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO IS HAVING A HARD TIME ACCEPTING THIS?!” You screamed before storming up the stairs, placing your ‘Dads’ gun on the table near the front door before you went.

You stormed into Lydia’s room without knocking which resulted in a naked Aiden falling off the bed and a naked Lydia sighing. They both looked at you and kept their mouths closed before they began getting dress.  

“Honey, what happened?!” Lydia asked as she sat on the bed waving at you to come over. You glanced up at her from the door, tears streaming as you finally spoke up.

“I’m pregnant.” Aiden gasped whereas Lydia opened her arms and you ran into them.  

She held you as you cried never saying congrats or this is good news. She just held you and right now that is what you needed. Aiden moved to close the door before sitting back down and stroking your back.  

“I know its scary baby girl but listen to me when I say this.” She pulled you away and cupped your cheeks.  

“You will be a great mother.” That was the only thing you needed before you broke down completely.  

“You are not like your mother. You are kind and you’re fearless and above all else, you always protect your family. I know you’re scared and I know you want to run baby but right now I need you to think about your child. I know you’re 18 and haven’t even finished high school yet but I also know if anyone can do this…it’s you.” She whispered into your hair as you clung to the other girl. Suddenly Aiden shocked you into sitting up by speaking.

“This child will never go unloved or want for anything. We’re your family and we’re here to help you. No matter what Y/N.” You and Aiden always took the piss out of each other and teased one another but you had a bond that not many others could ever understand. He stared into your eyes, letting you know he was sincere and you gave him a small smile that screamed thank you.  

“I think you should go and talk to Scott.” Lydia stated as she looked at you with a smile. You gave her a nod before drying your eyes and making your way downstairs to find Scott.  

You found him sat in the living room with the other as his teeth worried as his bottom. He looked up before rushing over to you and hugging you so tightly. In that moment you knew you could do this because your family would never leave you and would always believe in you.  

….

“Lydia, I really don’t think we need a designer pram…” You muttered as you strolled through the shops with Derek, Lydia, Peter and Stiles.  

“Maybe, but it’s the first pack baby and if we need to we can put it in the attic for when another pack member has a baby.” Lydia argued as she glanced at Derek.  

“I hate to say it but I actually agree with Lydia.” Derek grunted as he glanced around the prams. You looked around and spotted a pure white pram that stood out to you. You strolled over to it but as you tried to check the price tag Peter grab your wrist and nodded to the Derek. Derek turned to the sales-person with a smile and handing over his card.  

“Peter! I wanna check the price first!” You snapped angrily but he just shook his head and began dragging you out the shop. The next shop was for clothes which you dread because you had yet to tell anyone but Scott, Melissa and your Dad the sex of the baby.  

“Right you’re gonna have to tell us the sex or this is gonna be difficult.” Lydia sighed as she glanced and the expensive multi-designer brand baby shop.

“Girl.” You muttered quietly but you knew she’d heard you when her and Stiles let out a scream before running off.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell her. Now she’s gonna buy so many clothes that are desi-” You looked to your side to see Derek and Peter had disappeared and were now cooing at baby Gucci dresses.

“Seriously!” You huffed before walking over to Derek.

“Do you not think it’s weird for a teen mom to have baby Gucci and baby Chloé?” You muttered as you approached Peter and Derek who was picking up a baby Chloé pink winter coat.  

“Nope, not when she has Hales as uncles.” Peter sassed earning a glare from you.

“I like this Gucci pinafore dress with this white shirt.” Stiles grinned as he approached you with a tartan pinafore dress and a white long sleeved shirt that had a lacy collar.  

“That is so cute!” You squealed as Lydia approached you with wide eyes.

“Christian Louboutin started doing baby shoes!” Lydia gasped as she pointed towards the large shoe section. She knew if there was one brand you couldn’t deny it was Louboutin’s.  

After shopping for a while long your feet started hurting so you decided to get the rest of the stuff online. Derek, Peter and Stiles carried in all the bags containing designer clothes and shoes with proud smiles on their faces.  

Peter had seen a princess hanging canopy that could go above the cot and insisted his little niece needed it even though you tried to deny it Peter bought it anyway. You sat down on the couch where Melissa and Chris were sat, letting out a loud sigh.  

“Oh my god!” Erica screamed as she held up the Gucci floral dungarees and white curved collared shirt.  

“It’s a girl!” She screamed as she fumbled through all the clothes with Melissa and Allison.  

“Welcome back. How are my Queen and Princess doing today?” Scott cooed as he walked into the living area. You chuckled as you stroke your large stomach.  

“Uncle Peter and Uncle Derek spent lots of money on you today didn’t they Princess.” You giggled softly, earning a kick from your little girl.  

“I can see…” Scott sighed as he stared at all the designer bags.

“Hey, stop it.” You scolded as he frowned.  

“I just wish I could buy her all this stuff…” Scott muttered as he looked through the bags.  

“Baby, she doesn’t need Gucci clothes or Louboutin’s from you…She needs your love.” You chuckled softly as you leant down to leave a soft loving kiss on his lips. You pulled back with wide eyes and glanced at Derek.

“How much was this sofa?” You asked Derek with a worried frown.  

“A lot.” He grumbled with a confused frown.

“You could totally afford another one, right?” You chuckled with a blush on your face.

“I mean yeah if I ne-Why?” His eyes narrowed as he scanned over you until he saw the wet patch on the sofa.  

“Did your…” Derek’s eyes widened as he glanced at you in panic.  

“What’s that smell?” Scott asked with a frown as the other wolves sniffed at the air.

“DID YOUR WATER JUST BREAK!?” Derek screamed clearly freaking out.

“MELISSA!!!!” Chris screamed as he started running around and grabbing the birthing bag you’d pack less than a week ago.  

“What!?” Melissa yelled as she ran down the stairs.

“MY WATER JUST BROKE!?” You screamed, watching as her eyes widened.

Everyone was running around calling Deaton, making sure they didn’t forget anything as Scott sat there in shock, holding your hand. You threw your head back and let out a pained filled growl as you felt Scott’s hand breaking under your hold.

Not 10 minutes later, Deaton bust through the door, medical bag in hand and eyebrows raised in urgency. He instructed Scott to carry you to the bed, as he followed quickly. You wished you could go to a hospital but as Deaton had said a few months ago. You are likely to shift if you're in pain, so you couldn’t go to a hospital.

Suddenly Liam ran into the room with his dad following him. You stared at him like he’d gone crazy before Liam’s stepdad stared at you.  

“I’m gonna have questions after this but right now we need to get this baby out safely!” Liam’s dad screamed before turning to Melissa.

“I need hot water and towels.” He ordered quickly before rolling up his sleeves.  

“Scott, I need you to take a deep breath and focus. Deaton do you have the stuff I’d need to do this?” Liam’s dad asked as he nodded to Deaton medical bag.  

“I have gloves and few bits and pieces in case we need to cut. She has supernatural healing and the wolves can take her pain that’s all you’ll need. Epidural won’t work on her.” Deaton stated as he checked your vitals.  

“Got it. Scott and Liam that’s your job.” He instructed earning a serious nod from both boys.  

Melissa ran in with towel while Derek followed in with a large bowl of hot water. Liam’s dad lifted up a pair of scissors and began cutting off your jeans knowing that right now it was urgent. Melissa threw a blanket over your bottom half to cover your dignity before bending your legs up and giving you a smile.

“Scott McCall, this is all your fault!” You screamed as you felt another contraction happening.  

“She’s 9cms already!” Liam’s dad yelled as he glanced at Deaton with wide eyes.

“Her water only broke 25 minutes ago!” Melissa screamed as she dabbed the sweat off your forehead.  

“Well apparently, this baby doesn’t care!” Liam’s dad yelled back as he looked at Scott and Liam with a nod.  

“Derek I need you to take over a minute.” Scott groaned as he collapsed to the floor in pain.  

“What’s wrong with your son, Melissa?” Liam’s dad sighed as he looked at Scott.

“Unlike most men, Doc, he’s actually feeling her pain. It’s a werewolf thing.” Melissa snorted as she let Chris take her son out the way.  

“Derek Hale, this m-might be a bad time to ask and I-I’m not religious b-but I’d be happy if you’d be the godfather.” You stuttered softly as he and Liam took your pain.  

“I’d be honoured Y/N but first let’s get you through this okay?” He muttered gently as he stroked your hair.

“Okay, I need you to push! SCOTT, GET IN HERE!” Liam’s dad yelled with urgency.  

The pain was unreal, causing you to scream but Scott held in his scream of pain and chose to peck your temple. His hand running through your hair softly.

“Come on baby, you can do it.” He whispered, his breathing as heavy as yours.  

“You know you can cut off the pain channelling. You don’t need to feel this too…” You whispered as you got a second to breathe.  

“We’re in this together baby if you have to suffer to birth our baby girl, then so will I.” Scott stated with a dopey lopsided grin.  

“I love you.” You stated before Liam’s dad told you to push again. Suddenly everything else disappeared as you heard a scream. You look up to see the Doctor holding your baby with a smile.  

“Congratulations it’s a baby girl.” He stated before he turned to Melissa and asked her to cut the cord. Everyone crowded around the room and the bed, sniffling and cheering as they all welcomed the newest pack member.  

At that moment you knew there was nothing you’d change your life for.

Part 7 <-

[chil-aglia]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 |ROTTMNT| (Leo X Male OC)

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Adriaen! Help us!” The wailing voice of Leo echoed out through the lair, Adriaen perks up from his bed. He had decided to relax in his room, mostly because he didn’t want to partake in Raph’s idea of teamwork. 

No, surely he’s not crazy enough to actually go through with that idea…

Loud and heavy stomps from inside Donnie’s lab was enough to make Adriaen grumble under his breath as he sighs and makes his way to the lab. “Guys? Is everything—“ He began to ask but was cut off when he backed up in shock to see the four brothers bound together in a huge white ball. 

“Adri! You’re here. Help us!” Mikey pleaded, as Adriaen blinked at the four.

Mikey and Donnie were the legs of the ball and Leo and Raph were the arms. Everyone’s head is poking out the top but each one only has one limb free, to function as one complete body. 

“You actually went through with the idea?” Adriaen shakes his head and looks to Raph who smiled both awkwardly but also proudly, “Wait, you knew this was going to happen?” Donnie narrowed his eyes at Adriaen who shrugs his shoulders.

”I mean…kinda? He told me about this because he wanted me to partake in…this. But I said no.”

”How come you’re allowed to say no?!” Leo whines as Raph sweats, “He’s very convincing.” He commented, gulping as Adriaen raised a invisible brow at him.

“I told him if he put me in a ball then I’d glue his mouth and nose shut.”

”See? Convincing.”

Leo sighs and gave Adriaen puppy dog eyes, “Can you please get us unstuck?” He asks softly but Adriaen crossed his arms and smirked at them.

Normally he wasn’t a petty guy, but considering all the trouble they dragged him into a lot, well…he could consider this as a little bit of payback.

”No way. Consider it both a punishment and learning experience.” He muses, turning away to walk but Raphael was quick to shout at him, “Wait! This is exercise is for you as well to work together with us!” He called out, but Adriaen wasn’t listening, ready to leave.

Leo narrowed his eyes before seeing handcuffs on the table that he recalled Donnie making when Raph asked him to build some for this very moment. 

Leo snatched it off the table and snapped one half of it on his wrist and the other onto Adriaen’s wrist.

”What the?!”

”Hah! Now you’re stuck too with us!” Leo muses, winking cockily as Adriaen glared and tried to free himself. “Oh uh, yeah, you need a special key to actually unlock it.” He informs, as Adriaen points his free hand at Donatello’s head.

”Tell me where the key is then.”

”Uh….”

Raph cuts them off, shaking his head. “Everyone let's just all calm down! This is supposed to be a team building exercise!” He announces, causing groans from everyone to be heard.

“Is this what it feels like to have a dad-bod?” Leo whined, glancing at himself in the mirror, Adriaen rolled his eyes, trying to cross his arms together but when he tried it only made Leo be pulled closer to him.

“How are we gonna get unglued?!” Donnie hissed out, only for Raph to smile in assurance, “Relax, I’m sure you have a formula to get us unstuck, Donnie.” He noted but the purple bandana turtle narrowed his eyes in utter annoyance.

“Actually, I do not have a formula. My FAB spray is still in beta.”

Leo tilts his head, “Fab?” He inquired which of course Donnie immediately went into monologuing about, “F.A.B. Foam agent bonding. It’s state-of-the-art. It could change the entire way we…” He continued on and on, Leo groans at his mistake of opening his mouth and hissed at Raph.

“Not this again. You see, Raph, usually when Donnie is in speech mode, I could just run away but now…” He let out a wry chuckle, “Ha-ha-ha-ha I’m stuck.” He pouted, pulling Adriaen closer to him, “Ow! Easy with the pulling Leo.” He grunts, tugging his arm back towards him, causing the four brothers to tumble down.

Whoops.

“Donnie detection: a crime is in progress.” The computer automated voice echoed to everyone’s ears, gaining their attention. “Yes! A mission! It's go time!” Raph perked up, but they all struggled to stand up to get to the computer.

Adriaen didn’t try to help, too petty at the moment to lend a hand.

“Stop! We need to work as a team to get to Donnie’s computer. Mikey, step.” Raph instructed, straining himself, Mikey steps with his left leg, “Donnie, step.” Raph ordered, a grunting Donnie following the instructions as he steps with his right leg. 

Together, Mikey and Donnie get the group upright and standing, Adriaen instinctively placing his hands on white ball so they wouldn’t knock him over.

“There we go. Teamwork!”

Together, they shakily walk to the computer, Adriaen of course had no choice but to follow unless he wanted to be yanked by Leo.

The computer asks for a password, to which they all glance at Donnie, who was sweating in panic.

“Donnie, what's your password?”

“I am not you telling that. Just let me enter it.”

Adriaen peeked over the white ball and at the screen. “You don’t have any hands.” He stated the obvious making Donnie gulp, whatever his password was it must be really embarrassing.

“Try ‘I_love_my_family’.” Mikey suggested, having Leo and Raph enter it but the computer declined it, letting out a beep noise.

“Try ‘I_love_my_brothers’.”

They try that too and get another error, Donnie had enough and snapped, “Stop! It's not that…it’s...it’s Bootyyyshakker9000. Capital B and three Ys in booty.” He admits, mumbling quietly and embarrassed but loud it was loud enough for them to hear.

The others couldn’t help but snicker, as Adriaen had to look away to not laugh out loud at the ridiculous password. “What? You know I love to dance! Not going to apologize for that.” He sulks, but once the password was entered the computer accepted it and they open Donnie’s app and read the notification.

Adriaen tilts his head when he read it out loud, “Someone is breaking into the Museum of Art and Framing?” He questioned the motive, as far he could tell, what thief would want to steal art?

“Ooh, art thieves!”

“Classay .”

Raph huffs in confidence, “Let's move!” He shouts turning around too quickly which had everyone fall over, “To the Turtle Tank!” He added, the group struggling to get up as they shakily made their way over.

Adriaen stood as far as back as could, watching the brothers try to enter the tank but their ball they were stuck inside together was far too wide for the entrance.

“Everybody, suck in. Adriaen get close to Leo.”

”Absolutely not.”

Leo chuckled and winks at Adriaen, “I don’t bite.” He teased but Adriaen just narrowed his eyes before he grunted and was tugged forward when the turtles inhale and hold their breath and try again, jumping forward but bounced out.

”Argh!” 

Adriaen groans when he was also pushed back and forwards from their attempts of getting inside the rank, he rubs his head and sighed at the four with heavy annoyance.

”That’s clearly not going to work.”

Upon his comment they hum in thought, Donnie was the first to speak up at an idea he brewed inside his head. 

“Let's use the Shell Hogs!”

Adriaen gazed at him and placed his free hand on his hip, “A what?” He asked, the others also staring at Donnie in puzzlement at what this ‘Shell Hog’ was. "Did none of you read the tank’s instructions manual I gave you?” He scolds at them; Adriaen didn’t even realise there was a manual. He tried to think if there was ever a sign of seeing a manual.

He recalled a brief moment of when he was walking past Leo, Mikey and Raph who were shredding some paper, with Leo and Mikey chanting the words; 

“Shred! Shred! Shred!”

Adriaen judged them for a moment but didn’t feel like sticking around and continued on his way to do whatever it was he was doing at the time.

Adriaen deadpans, he now realises that the paper they were shredding must’ve been the manual.

“It’s on my to do list.” Raph lies, clearly remembering what he and his other brothers did but had no heart to tell Donnie. “Yeah, sure.” Adriaen mumbles to himself, Leo tugging at their handcuffed hands and placed a finger to his lips.

With a heavy sighs, Donnie looks to Adriaen. “Just push that button on the side.” He tells, gesturing to the button on the tank that he was closest too.

Adriaen turns to the button and presses it, automatically having two extra-large shiny new motorcycles with massive wheels pop out of the sides of the turtle tank.

The three brothers gasp in awe and announce in unison at how awesome they looked.

“Awesome!”

Impressed as he was, Adriaen couldn’t help but notice that there was only two. “Donnie, either my math is wrong or there’s only two.” He eyed the brainiac of the group.

“I’m afraid I have not gotten around to making the rest. Maybe they’ll come out during the holiday season, so you know they’re special.”

Leo whistles and glides his hand against the seat of the shell hog, “Donnie, these are amazing! And I know everything I say sounds sarcastic, but I’m being completely genuine…this time.” He praises his brothers invention to which Donnie could only humph in confidence.

“Let’s ride.”

Adriaen didn’t quite understand how they were going to ride on the motorcycle, he had to climb on top of the white ball, holding onto Leo’s neck with his free hand as the cuffed hand was holding the handlebar of the bike, since Leo wouldn’t be able to steer it with no hand.

But another thing that proved to be a disaster was the fact that they fell over when starting the engine. They all groan before Adriaen gained an idea. A stupid one he admits, but it should work.

”All right, we're taking both of them.”

After some careful coordination, they boys managed to adapt and are now using both Shell Hogs, one on each side as they drive around New York. 

“If we make this work and stop these art thieves, we’ll be the perfect team!” Raph announces excitedly, the others didn’t share his enthusiasm and concentrated on driving.

”Turn left.” Adriaen instructed, guiding the others on where the museum was located, it didn’t take long to reach their destination, but the turtles came in too hot and didn’t have time to brake, crashing down, followed by a mini explosion.

Fortunately, no one was injured, Adriaen hopping down to walk beside Leo, as he follows the boys to the entrance. Once inside they flop on the floor out of exhaustion.

“Everyone, keep your eyes open. Let me know if you see anything suspicious.” Raph whispers, keeping his eyes and ears out. The others doing the same.

Adriaen perked up when he thought he saw something skittering over on the right.

Mikey and Leo also saw something as they both speak up, their voices overlapping with each other.

“I saw something move.”

“Over on the left.”

“Over on the right.”

This of course caused both brothers to get annoyed with each other, gesturing in opposite directions.

“No- this way!”

Well this is just great.

“Great plan, Raph. Now instead of being able to investigate two leads, we are stuck together.” Donnie sarcastically shouts, completely over this team building exercise.

“Shhh! No, this is what teamwork is.” Raph shushed as Adriaen glanced over to Raph to see him read something written on his palm. In a stilted voice he reads the notes he wrote on his palm. “We put aside our individual goals to do what’s best for the team.” He finished, Donnie quickly narrowing his eyes but since he couldn’t see what Raph was doing, he just had to assume his suspicions.

“Why do you sound like you’re reading?”

Raph doesn’t say anything more and points in the direction that Mikey gestured to earlier, “Let’s follow Mikey’s lead first.” He informs causing his brothers and Adriaen to sulk. Adriaen even sat on the floor, not bothering with this anymore.

Raph rolls his eyes and drags them forward with his arm anyways. Eventually though everyone got to their feet, well, Mikey, Donnie and Adriaen did, walking along the dark hallways of the museum.

They stuck to tip toeing through an exhibit of small statues displayed on pedestals, Raph whispering to everyone on instinct, “Careful. Don’t break anything.” He reminded his team, but of course with this clumsy body that they got stuck inside, Mickey’s foot slips.

“Ah!” 

They all wobble as Donnie's foot manages to stop them from falling into a statue. Adriaen grabbed a hold of Leo’s arm to keep him sturdy. 

They wobble around, hit a pedestal and launch a bust into the air.

“No-no-no!”

“Oh, no!”

Raphael and Leonardo fortunately catch it and everyone exhaled in relief. 

That would have been bad.

The two brothers carefully place it back on the pedestal before they turn around and accidentally bump the pedestal again with their increased width.

“Ah!”

Adriaen flinched and winced as he watched all the other pedestals topple over in a domino effect.

“No, no, no, no…”

“Oh! Whoa!”

“Oh, euh boy...aghh….”

Every single statue is toppled and broken, their pieces splattered on the floor as Adriaen crouched down and gently picked up a piece. ”Well let’s hope this museum doesn’t have a silent alarm.” Adriaen muttered, putting the piece down and turning to the brothers.

But then they perk up and turn their attention to see the silverfish on the other side of the room, politely eating treats on plates.

“Mutant silverfish? They’re into art?” Leo couldn’t help but inquire, puzzled and surprised at the sight. “This should be easy. Turtle FAB, attack!” Raph announces but before anyone could move a muscle, a poof of smoke on the second-floor balcony interrupts them and Hypno appears.

“Flawless entry. Now to—“ He began but was startled at the sight of the turtles. “Oh! What happened to you lot? Did some creepy doctor man chop you into tiny bits and then—and then sew you back together?” He asked which honestly Adriaen just had to question where on earth Hypno came up with such a horrific idea.

“What? No! It’s team building!” Raph hisses, seemingly to have Hypno sigh in relief as he hums, “Oh, yes. Team building. My former hippo assistant Doug and I used to love to team build.” He stated, reminiscing about the past.

“I’m givin’ you one chance to get out of here…before…we..” Raph was distracted when a purple portal opens behind them. 

The two Foot face guys walk out of the portal, looking around.

“Foot-face guys?”

“It’s those flame-faced Foot foes, fellas!”

The two strange flame headed Foot guys recoil in horror at the turtles.

“What happened to you guys? Did a doctor cut you up and then—“

Adriaen placed his free hand on his hip, tilting his head and staring narrowly at the two. “Is there a lunatic doctor runnin’ around chopping up people, that we don’t know about?” He sasses with a rhetorical tone.

“Ha-ha! Looks like you got to choose between me or them. A classic Wellington's choice.” Hypno laughs at the situation, running into the ‘Exhibit on Occult Devices’.

“He’s getting away to that exhibit on the occult. Quick! Follow him!” Donnie gasps, moving his feet to chase after the magician but stopped when they heard the foot faced guys.

“Hurry! Let’s get the device while these idiots are stuck together.” The smaller one grins, running off as well, Raph growls, flailing his arms about.

“It’s team building!”

“Why are we stuck together when there are literally three villains?” Mikey huffs out in frustration, Adriaen nods in agreement. Honestly, he would’ve gone after at least one of the villains if it weren’t for the fact that Leo handcuffed them together.

“Make that four!”

The turtles blink and turn around, gazing up at the balcony railing to see a talking…worm?

“Warren Stone—the biggest, baddest of them all is here to get in on the—“

Leo interrupted him with a calm voice, “Hey, guy? Can you give us a minute? We've got a lot on our plate here.” He shushed before the turtles revert back to arguing.

“We need to go after the flame-heads!”

“No, Hypno!”

“No, stop me!” The worm guy jumps up and down but was utterly ignored as Mikey and Donnie argue while alternating “Flame-heads!” and “Hypno!”. Being the legs of this monstrosity they each try to force the other to walk towards their preferred villain. Adriaen kept getting tugged around from the two and it was frankly getting on his last nerves. Raph must’ve felt the same as he cuts the brothers off their tug of war.

“Enough! We deal with the problem that’s in front of us.”

Adriaen glanced over to see him read on his palm, but whatever he was trying to read must’ve been smudged.

Like the perfect theme….theam?” He muttered in confused by his misspelled notes. Earning a strong groan from Donatello, “Well, that makes perfect sense. Okay, ‘theam’, what are we gonna do?” He huffs out, sassing Raph’s word as he eyed his brothers.

“We roll!”

“Roll what?”

“Us! Get on our side. It’s bouldering time.” Raph informs before he suddenly somersaults them all forward, rolling the group to charge the silverfish in an attempt to run them over. Adriaen gasp, his arm hurting when they rolled.

Ow, ow, ow!

He bites his lip to stop himself from letting out a twinge of pain. The silverfish scatter in terror after they hit a wall, naturally they then bounce off a pillar and bounce around the room.

They continue rolling around, Adriaen going a bit limp from the unnatural angle of being rolled. “Guys, uh—I don’t feel so good.” Mikey groans out, burping and face turns an unhealthy green.

Adriaen hadn’t even notice that the worm from earlier was stuck to the rolling turtle ball. The turtles pinball around the gallery to squash the silver fish, Leo glaring in annoyance whenever they missed the mutants.

“Whoa- just missed it!”

More pinballing as the panicked silverfish dodge them like a school of fish. The Turtles stop in the middle of the room and the silverfish stop running.

Adriaen pants, his arm twitching. He was amazed it hadn’t been broken yet. “Focus! We roll as a team.” Raph demanded from the group, they all nod and glance to Adriaen, to which he took a second to catch his breath.

”Okay…I’m fine.”

With that they work together this time and manage to squash more silverfish. They would roll at the mutants and stop as Adriaen would lash out and grab the silverfish, throwing them into a trash can. 

“It’s working!

“Oh, we’re doing it!”

“Keep rolling, boys!”

Not long later, they managed to defeat the remaining silverfish, Adriaen dropping the last one into a trash can. 

“Nailed it.” Mikey whoops, satisfied of their teamwork, “Good job, team. We saved the place.” Raph confidently declares out, Adriaen wondered if they forgot about the other two villains.

“Please never make me boulder again.” Donnie begged, Adriaen nodding in agreement with him. “Yeah…my arm feels like it’s going to fall off.” He informs, jumping briefly when an explosion comes from the occult exhibit on the second floor.

“Ha! Even Mount Ngauruhoe would be envious of that explosion.” Hypno’s voice distantly laughs, “Hypno! We gotta hurry!” Raph gasped as Donnie and Mikey’s legs raced up to the second level, Adriaen following beside them.

Upon reaching the room, they stop and see a sarcophagus that glows with an eerie green light. Six of Hypno’s razor sharp magic rings fly forward and start cutting into the sarcophagus.

“With the power of the first witch, I’ll be able to resurrect Doug! And together we can—“

“Okay, Hypno. Time to send you back to— I mean— Time to make you— uh…” Raph interrupted but couldn’t think of what to say, so Leo grins.

“Wait, wait, wait, I got it! Turn me.”

The group turns so that Leo can better face Hyno. “Hypno, time to send you back to—“ He began but was cut off by Hypno releasing a sonic hypnotising wave.

“Mezmer-roo!” 

Leo panics, “He’s gonna hypnotize me! Turn me!” He begs as the group turns, Mikey then panicked, followed by Donnie.

“Ah! Turn!”

“Turn!”

Next was the worm guy who was still stuck with the turtles, letting out a panicked gasp.

“Turn me!”

They turn once more, landing on Raphael to which the spell hits Raph and he’s hypnotized. “Now that you’re under my control, how ‘bout you leave this place and—“ Hypno began until he was cut off by Adriaen who tilts his head.

“We’re not under your control.” He stated until Raph spoke up in a dazed tone, his eyes completely white.

“Yes, master.”

Donnie exasperatedly groans, “Oh, brother.” He shakes his head, as Adriaen tried to wake Raph from the hypnotic dream he was having. Waving his arm in his face and clicking his fingers.

Well I got nothing.

“Guys, he can’t hypnotize us. Let’s get him.” Leo smirks, gaining an idea, he turns to Adriaen. “Adriaen think you can handle a bit more?” He asks, gesturing his arm, recalling how he said his arm felt like it was going to fall off.

”Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

With a nod of assurance, the four unhypnotized turtles began to slowly charge forward, building up speed. “Ah! That’s a little too close! Stop right there!” Hypno flinched, “I’m sorry, what? I can't hear you.” Leo taunted before he swings Raph’s limp arm to whack Hypno.

”Rah!”

Adriaen also decided to kick Hypno.

“Oh no, not again.”

With Raph’s arm and Adriaen’s kick, they send Hypno crashing through a wall with a groan. Raph immediately snaps out of his trance while shaking his head and looking around in puzzlement.

“Uh. What happened?”

“We stopped him.” Leo proudly pointed out, Raph beaming in astonishment, “Ah! Like the perfect team.” He smiles only for Leo to shut him down with the thought of a dream team.

“No! No more terrible team building ideas!”

Adriaen grabs their attention when he clears his throat, “Guys we still got those Foot faced people.” He informs, to which they quickly acted upon and started running off to where they could be.

They get to a room where the turtles see them holding a gauntlet that they took.

What the? That looks like the gauntlet from the store.

“One set of bad guys left.” Raph stated, grinning confidently, “Will this nightmare never end?” Leo whines before they all stare to see the larger footed faced guy stepping forward to them.

“This is really gonna hurt ya.” He puts on the gauntlet and it charges up with magical energy.

“That's not good.” Raph mumbled, Adriaen narrowing his eyes at the villains. “You think?” He lightly sassed before widening his eyes when the brute fires the gauntlet and the blast knocks the turtles into a stone wall. 

The ball they’re encased in breaks apart, setting the four turtles free, excluding Adriaen who was still handcuffed to Leo.

“Yes! We’re free!” The red slider cheered, hugging Adriaen who lightly groans, “I’m still attached to you.” He commented, but Leo didn’t seem to hear or care, hugging tighter, unaware that Adriaen winced a little, his arm throbbing lightly.

“That’s not good.” The larger villain gulps, realising his mistake. Mikey was hugging his own arms, sighing in relief, “I missed you guys.” He spoke to no one but himself as Donnie shivered.

“Ugh, no one needs to be that close to their family! No offense.”

Raphael mourns the ball pieces in his hands, pouting. “You moron! Blast them again!” The smaller villain shouted at his partner who fires again from the gauntlet, making the turtles jump and hide behind the displays.

“Ah! Oh, no.” Leo gasped, Adriaen grabbed him by the waist and shoved him down to hide behind a display. He winced again at his arm, placing his free hand on his shoulder.

”Ngh…” He grunted lightly, hoping no one seemed to hear or notice, which seemed to be the case. Leo was focused on Raph who was seen picking up the pieces of the ball sadly, not paying attention to the Foot Brute.

“Raph! What are you doing?!” Mikey shouted to him, but before Raphael could respond he gets hit by the blast, sending him flying across the room and into a wall.

“Oh! Ugh!” He let out a sob, automatically having everyone on guard as they run over to inspect the damage.

“Oh, no!”

“Raph.”

“Raph! Raph! You okay, buddy?!”

Adriaen take debris off of Raph who didn’t look physically hurt thankfully as he instead just sighs and looked more sad than anything.

“Yeah, man. I just— I just really thought this would bring us together. The FAB was a stupid idea. Let’s do your guys’ thing and split up.” 

Leo was first to reassure him, patting his arm. “No. Your plan worked. We’re a better team now.” He stated, gazing at his brothers and Adriaen who blink before realising that Leo was saying that to have Raph less tense and sad.

“Yeah...what if we didn’t split up?”

“What if we got the FAB four back together?!”

Raph perks up and gave out a weak chuckle, “Sure, but how?” He questions, the boys humming in thought. Adriaen looked around and spot a rope (Warren Stone) that they could use.

“Use this rope.” He assured, reaching out and grabbing it, he wondered why the rope felt strange but didn’t question it.

Adriaen helped the turtles start to put the pieces back together, using the strange textured rope to wrap them back into the white ball.

“Let’s do this.” Raph huffs out in confidence now that they were all stuck together again.

They launch themselves over the museum displays at the larger Foot faced human.

“Whoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Cowabunga!”

Donnie kicks the large guy in the face with Raph punching him. The team chest bumps the brute into a wall and knocks him out. Seeing his partner down, the smaller Foot faced villain crafts origami soldiers to attack, throwing the paper ninjas towards the mutant turtles.

“Let's shred, boys.” Raphael comments, smirking begore rolling forward very quickly, 

“This is my nightmare!” The smaller Foot villain yells as he watched the team knock out his paper ninjas before getting run over by the ball.

He goes flying across the room as the large brute is starting to make a portal.

“Stop that! Move out of the way!”

The smaller villain with the foot printed face crashes into his large partner, sending them both into the portal and disappear.

The glue ball breaks apart again, sending the turtles free once more.

“FAB Mode is awesome!”

“Now we are…the perfect team.” Raph smiles calmly, reading off his palm as the boys cheer and high-three, Adriaen winced when he felt a tug at his arm from Leo, hissing as he placed his free hand on his shoulder.

”Whoa, is your shoulder hurting?” Leo asks with concern, his hand hovering over Adriaen’s shoulder. “Yeah…I think with all the tugging and rolling, I might’ve pulled something.” Adriaen confessed, biting his lip whenever he tried to move his sore arm.

”Donnie, the key. Where is it?” Leo asks, glancing to Donatello who blinks, “In my room. Let’s go home and we can uncuff you two.” He assures, before turning away and heading off, exiting the museum.

Adriaen had no choice but to walk beside Leo who seemed rather guilty. “I’m sorry..for cuffing you.” The red eared slider murmured, earning a soft sigh from his crush beside him.

”It’s fine. Annoying, yes, but it’s fine.”

”You’re hurt because of me though.” Leo frowns, Adriaen stared at him before he reeled back his free hand and punched Leo in the shoulder as hard as he could.

”Ow! What was that for?!”

”Now you’re hurt because of me. We’re even.” 

Leo stared in shock before he couldn’t help but smile, letting out a small chuckle.

”Maybe we can handcuff ourselves together again.”

”Sure, if you want me to cut off your arm.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. 

Adriaen stop threatening to cut off Leo’s arm—

First Chapter here

Next Chapter here

[writings-ofthe-heart]

hello! may i request something where the reader is stargazing with ghost & they accidentally knock the telescope off the roof ?!

the way. i forgot. to save my draft and i was halfway finished. sorry this took a while anon, technical difficulties!!! thank you for requesting!! :3 xx

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (GN)

Reader decides to surprise Simon with a special date night but.. wait, oops, they might've ruined it.

or

Simon had been with his partner for almost two years now. He never realized how romantic they could be, or how clumsy they could be.

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗

TW? ; None, just fluff

Side notes ; No use of y/n, this isn't wattpad, no beta we die like men, use of 'you' in place of y/n

You were never quite the romantic type but today was special. It was your anniversary with Simon! After two years together, through thick and thin, you thought you might put in some extra effort tonight. It was all planned out in a grand scheme, starting with subtle hints.

"Si," You began, leaning on his shoulder as he was busy with paperwork.

"Yes?" He replied, Simon's mind went on autopilot whenever he did paperwork, so you made sure to get his attention by rubbing your cheek on his scruff for a couple seconds. When his blue eyes flickered to you, a ghost of a smile on his face, you knew.

"What's your opinion on stars?"

He looked back down to the stack of papers. "They're.. ok, I guess."

It was the perfect guise, Simon knew you liked to ask him random questions, out of the blue, when he asked you why, you would always just respond with, "'Cause it's fun."

You rolled your eyes at his uncertainty. "Just ok?"

"Yes, just ok."

With a deep, dramatic sigh, you stood. "Ok.. well remember our plan tonight! We're gonna go out on a drive. Dress nice and warm."

Simon shook his head at that.

The hours flew by and by the time the sun had began to fall, sweat was running down your face. Preparing everything had really been exhausting. The telescope had been stowed away but the most work was making the food. They were just snacks but you wanted them to look pretty. It didn't help that the house's AC broke.

Realizing the time, you put away the rest of the food in the basket and carried it to the front door. Running upstairs, you almost tripped on the stairs. A yelp of surprise made it's way to Simon and he got up, shouting out.

"Are you okay?!"

"Yes!! I'm fine!" With your reassured response, he promptly sat down and continued working.

You sighed, relieved. This day can't be ruined. As soon as you reached the room, you were hurriedly changing into the formal attire you had chosen.

When you finish, you walked down the stairs, shouting out, "Simon! Go get ready!"

He grunted in response, setting his pen down. Although his face didn't show it, he was a bit excited to see what you had planned.

You grinned, standing outside the house with everything packed up and ready to leave. Simon walked out of the house, quickly locking the door before turning to you with a ghost of a smile on his stubbled face.

"Ready to go, love?"

"Of course." You replied, heat rising to your cheeks. With that, you both got into the car and without more than a few words on how to get to the destination, he drove off. It took nearly an hour to which he began to ask, "How far away is this thing?"

"Not much longer, hun."

Once you had arrived, his breath was taken. The sun had fully set, a shade of purple filling the sky. You laughed softly, "Just wait, it gets better, come with me."

He grumbled something about how 'it's alright, I'm not impressed or whatever,' under his breath as he took your hand. You had reached a stray building, basically crumbling on the sides. It was very old, and Simon seemed a little shocked on how you even found this. So you explained after a couple raised eyebrows and inspecting the cracked, moss ridden walls.

"Well, me and my friends in college did this trip, we passed by here but everyone was curious about this building, it was in better condition back then, of course, but still. The view from the roof is probably the best thing I've ever seen."

He nodded, keeping quiet as you rambled, his heart expanding at the sound of your voice, the tone of remembrance. This while, walking up many flights of stairs. By the time you had arrived at the top, you were out of breath, a little giggly.

"... Ah.." You sighed, "They were really good friends, I miss them sometimes, but the life I chose is really good as well." Eyes stared up at Simon, love filling your chest. He only stared back, smiling softly.

"Well, let's go then, don't you have a surprise and what not?"

You broke the eye contact, nodding and opening the door. Quickly covering Simon's eyes, you chuckled. "Ok, let me set it up first then." He nodded.

"Do your thing, lovie."

It took about 25 minutes, to set up the blanket and food. Everything was going according to plan, the layout looked pleasant and wasn't cluttered. With a soft smile, you began to unpack the telescope. Simon groaned softly, "Are you still working on it?"

"Yes, just give me a few minutes, I'm almost done."

To that, he only could shake his head, exasperated.

Nearly finished, you put the telescope on the edge, and as you fished out the lens, you heard a 'woosh'

Crack! The sound echoed and you shrieked. "No! You've got to be kidding me." Already near tears, Simon uncovered his eyes scrambling to you. He dragged you away from looking over the edge.

"No,no,no, Simon! That was the whole point of this date! Oh my god, it was so expensive too and now we can't even look at the stars I didn't even bring my binoculars either aw fuck i'm so sorry hun I didn't mean-"

Simon put a finger on your lips. "Darling, listen," He wiped the stray tears from your face. "It's okay. Don't even worry about that. I'll replace it later, we'll see what happened to it after. You worked too damn hard on this for the night to be lost." Simon held you close, kissing the crown of your head.

"Are you sure? What are we even going to do?" You whimpered quietly.

"We can still see the stars, right?" He whispered, "Whatever we do, I'm just glad we're together."

Simon led you to sit down on the blanket, sharing the food you had made. The night was filled with laughs and soft kisses, promises made to fix the telescope and all in all, you enjoyed it.

When the sun began to rise, you and Simon had already taken everything and stashed it away, now you were just staring at the telescope. Its mirrors had all been shattered, the legs were contorted. It was just a big mess, your heart broke a little for it. Simon wrapped an arm around you, shaking you.

"It'll be alright. I told you I'll replace it."

You only nodded. And within a week, a brand new telescope appeared in your room.

[hopelesslonelyghost]

Mourning

the bad batch x reader (mostly hunter x reader)

warnings// ‼️SPOILERS FOR S2 FINAL TWO EPS‼️, angst, not beta read! any mistakes found are my fault lmao whoops

word count// 984

a/n at the end of fic!

Something went wrong. So, so wrong. You could have saved him. You could have done what you had always done and reached out for him and a single tug would have saved him. Instead you stood back and just watched. Watched as he shot himself free from the rail line. Watched as he fell alongside the cart.

It was all a blur. You don’t know how it happened but now you were back on Ord Mantell, sitting on the rooftop of some building, looking up at its purple, gloomy sky.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “Oh Master, please forgive me.”

Your mind wandered off to what your Master Plo told you after you ran off so eagerly to join the Clone Force 99.

“Remember, they are more than just a squad. They are more than backup. Keep them safe just like they will keep you safe. You will have each other’s backs and will be there for each other no matter what.”

You remember laughing, “Don’t worry, Master! We’ll be alright!”

You opened your eyes and looked at the stars, “Where did I go wrong? Why-”

A sob wretched its way from your throat and you threw your face into your palms. Ever since the Empire took over, you had to let go of your meditations, had to forget the way of the Jedi, had to let go of the Force.

“I became weak. When did I become so weak?”

It was as the universe was laughing at you. You had lost everything. Your home. Your family. Your friends. Your life. Everything was gone in the blink of an eye. A cloud of darkness surrounds you, and an evil rose. The Empire took over the galaxy and proclaimed itself its dictatorship over many planets. You were defenseless against it and all you could do was run away and hide. To keep low.

In the midst of the chaos, you ran away from your squad, but quickly reunited after you managed to communicate with Tech.

Tech…

New tears slipped from your eyes. He was gone now. Forever.

“I should have done more for you, Tech.” You whispered into the night.

“You couldn’t have done anything, General.”

You turned to look at Hunter, who was climbing up the ladder, making his way onto the rooftop.

You sighed again, “How’s Omega?”

Hunter stopped and leaned against the cement wall that you sat on, “Still unconscious.”

He turned his full body towards you, “How are you?”

You scoffed, “I should be asking you that, Sergeant.”

He hummed. You forgot he hated being called that.

“You know better than to call me that, Hunter.”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

You two stayed quiet for a bit, soaking in the tense silence. You could slice right through it with your lightsaber, if you still had it.

“He-” Hunter swallowed, “He always had a mind of his own. You cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“He’s gone, Hunter! This was just a mere decision. He sacrificed himself when he shouldn’t have! I should have caught him!” You buried your face back into your palms.

“You would have given yourself away to the Empire, and you know that.” His hand wrapped itself around your wrist and pulled your arm away. “Tech would have hated to see you get taken away if they had found out that a Jedi had survived and was now running around with a bunch of rogue clones. A target is already on your back, you can’t make it any bigger.”

Sniffing, you tried wiping away your tears to no avail as new ones were already forming, “You are all more to me than just a bunch of rogue clones.”

You turned to look at him, “You guys are all I have left. You’re all my family, Hunter. And to lose one of you is to lose a piece of me. I made a promise to you all, and I’ve failed you twice.”

He squeezed your wrist, “We made a promise to each other. This isn’t just on you. In our defense, we really never did know how to follow orders.”

“I know this may be easier said than done, but we need to focus on who we have left now. Omega needs us. We cannot give up now.”

He was right. She needed you. You could all mourn later once you had settled down somewhere safer.

“We need to go back to Pabu, Hunter. We cannot keep going on like this, not with her.”

You turned around and jumped off the ledge and next to Hunter, “We need to leave the life of soldiers behind. I cannot lose anyone else.”

He nodded, “Understood.” He turned to leave.

“Hunter.” With the sound of your voice he stopped in his tracks.

“If at any point in time, and I mean any, there is an opportunity for me to make things right, I will take it. No questions asked, no ifs, ands, or buts. I’m doing it.”

He turned to face you, eyebrows scrunched up, “What are you talking about?”

You stepped closer to him, taking his hand in yours, “What I’m saying is, if there’s any opportunity to go against the Empire, I’m taking it.”

His eyes softened at the realization, “You’d want to join a rebellion?”

You pursed your lips, “The Empire took everything from me. Almost everything. I can’t just sit back and let it happen to others. It’s not right, Hunter. Right now may not be the time, but I feel it. It’s my calling.”

Hunter sighed, “You were always one with the Force. And it seems it wants to become One again.”

You smiled sadly, “I just want to prepare you, so you know what to do when the day comes.”

“Why does this feel like a goodbye?”

You laughed, “Not yet, Hunter.” You pulled back, “Come, let's go check on the rest.”

“Right behind you.”

~~~~

a/n: ah yes, ‘tis I back from the dead. i finished school and i’m pretty much never home and always at work. anyways, i want to write more abt jedi reader. i want to explore her background with tbb but i have no timeeeeee it sucks. i wrote this all within the hour bc i was so SAD WHAT WDYM TECH DIESSSSS

I’m also sick so I might be more emotional than i usually am but that’s okay. it gives fics ✨flavor✨

i’m tired and i should be resting but instead i’m here posting this heh

[dalekofchaos]

Context

Context for choice 1.

We are going to find out about the other bullies. Cassie's dad is Bonnie Bully, Jeremy Fitzgerald and Beta tester Jeremy "REMEMBER JEREMY" Freddy Bully is Sammy Emily and the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment and the villain in this new story. Chica Bully is Fritz Smith and the new killer. Here is my pitch. Michael took Fritz Smith from his friend. Fritz was the one kid who took the fall for CC’s murder. Perhaps after all this time, he is let out or prison and Sammy is there waiting for him. Sammy offers him a job and a means for them all to atone for what happened to CC. Turn Fazbear Entertainment into a happy memory for everyone. But Sammy is lying. Jeremy’s fate we all know what happens in HW2. But The Mimic needs a new apprentice and what better killer to use than the person who took the fall for the Bite of 83.

Maybe Michael can come back. There is certainly evidence of Michael’s survival. Theory 1. Theory 2. Theory 3.

My pitch is this. Michael would find Vanessa and Gregory and help them. He’s been working on the inside of Fazbear Entertainment(his email in FNAFAR) to find out who and why is orchestrating everything since everything was supposed to die with him, William and Henry. The children are still here(Tangle) his father’s agony has infested Fazbear Entertainment and somehow his old friends are involved. At some point Michael is able to save Jeremy and Gregory and Vanessa can break through to Cassie.

The final confrontation would be between the four friends that started it all. Michael and Jeremy reach Fritz and leave Sammy down to die with The Mimic and burning them both together and Fazbear Entertainment dies with them, thus ending the nightmare once and for all.

Context for choice 2

In Ruin, if you look very closely, you will notice both Burntrap and The Tangle have purple eyes.

What if It was actually canon and Afton just transferred his remnant into The Blob and left The Mimic in his endo shell?

We do have a blink and you miss it cameo.

ALSO. The trailer lines

“You will do as I say, you will bring me what I want, and if you fail me, then you will–both of you–BURN!”

I believe Afton was the puppet master. Vanny and The Mimic were his thralls. The Mimic allowed Afton to use it’s body, and his resurrection was complete. And both Burntrap and Princess Quest endings were canon. First Gregory ventured down to the basement and then Gregory went back to complete Princess Quest. Gregory saved Vanessa, while The Blob took Afton away and as The Blob took Afton, Afton took control of The Blob and left The Mimic down in the basement.

And then, Afton left inside the Tangle's body. Slowly, but surely The Tangle becomes the Afton Amalgamation like in Princess Quest. Hoping it will look like this art by xXmissrosearts

But I believe all the Nightmarionne easter eggs is going to lead to Charlie coming back to kill William once and for all

Context for choice 3

Context for choice 5.

Gregory represents Freddy, Cassie represents Roxy and eventually we will get kids to represent Chica and Bonnie(I would've said Monty, but you know he's deader than dead atm lol) maybe they could you proto-Cassie be reused to be Chica's kid and someone new to bring back Bonnie.