#and let's talk about the knife just a second. it was a pocket knife! like. a tiny ass Swiss pocket knife too?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, I’ve never actually sent a request before so hopefully this is okay, but maybe Hotch’s adult daughter calling him dad for the first time when she’s in trouble or hurt which could also open up an opportunity for Hotch to see her mother for the first time since he found out about her

You’re gonna throw your pants in the trash when you get home. The blouse is a loss —getting blood out of champagne material is a pipe dream. But the pants were unscathed until now.

“Can you look at me?”

You lift your pounding head. The EMT cups your cheek, her lips quirked into a deep frown as she raises a small flashlight to your eyes. “Just gonna check your pupils again,” she murmurs, shining the light in your eye.

Each flash has a heated knife of pain slamming into your brain. You moan in pain and tip your head forward, wanting more than anything to lay down.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” the EMT asks.

“I want to go to the hospital,” you say. Surely they can fix the carving agony behind your face.

“I know. As soon as the ruckus upstairs is clear, we’re going to take you there.”

“I don’t want to sit here.” You grimace at the clammy stone under your legs. The subway is not a good place to touch things.

“It’ll be over soon. There’s a heavy police presence. You’ll be okay.”

“Got blood on my shirt,” you mumble.

“I’m sure someone will wash it for you.”

“My dad,” you say without thinking.

If you asked, Aaron would wash the blood from your shirt. He could buy you a whole new wardrobe and he would if you let him, but he would just as happily stand at the sink scrubbing away your stains.

“Ah, Mr. Hotchner,” the EMT says. “I’ve heard about him, I think we all have. He’s a very important man.”

“He’s just my dad,” you whisper.

You’re not really talking to her anymore, the thumping pain behind your eyes a wave you can’t get past. It hurts with every breath. When you hold out your hand, the EMT knows without asking that you’re going to throw up.

She’s more alarmed after that. “Okay, I’m gonna take you upstairs now, okay? I’m sorry there’s no gurney, but we just have to get to the top of the stairs.”

Each step sucks. You taste blood and vomit alike on your tongue, the daylight is too bright as you ascend the steps, and the EMT isn’t taking enough of your weight. You moan something incomprehensible even to yourself on the second to last step and cover your eyes, aware of the sirens, the roaring crowds, glass shattering at your feet.

“Shit,” the EMT says.

You search for your phone blindly, your hand lost in a pocket full of gum wrappers and tissue. “I don’t have my bag... I want my phone. Need to call my dad.”

“It’s okay,” she says, giving you an encouraging jostle to look out at the clearing sidewalk. “I can see him.”

Aaron is speed-walking through the crowd. He’s surrounded by people in Kevlar vests, but he himself wears nothing more than his usual suit and tie. His face changes when he sees you from glaring to a strange flitting panic.

“Are you all right?” he asks, jogging those last few metres to take you by the elbows. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

Your eyes are tired. “Somebody hit me,” you say.

“I know.” His sympathy is warm, his hand smoothing up your arm as he turns on the spot. “Morgan, can we get better access down this street?”

One of the Kevlar vests doubles back the way they came. You’re trying to make sense of who you’re seeing, and what’s happening, but the confusion since you got hurt is enthusiastic. You can’t make sense of anything but the splitting pain in your head.

Aaron’s talking five miles a second and ushering you up those last few steps, a gentleness to his touch that’s absent in his barked commands.

You’ve never heard him shout like that. You can’t help staring at him.

“This is an attempted insurrection. The aggression is only going to get worse. JJ, see if you can coordinate with metro PD, make sure there aren’t any other injured civilians in the subway. Dave, I need you to run the operation while I go with her.”

“Aaron,” you say, watching his frown deepen.

“Reid, you’re with JJ. Prentiss, I want you to find who laid hands on her–”

“Aaron,” you say again, shocked.

He gives your arm a placating squeeze.

“They could still be here.” Everything he says is unarguable. He’s suddenly a monolith, and he’s freaking you out, and you’re no closer to being in the back of the ambulance than you had been ten minutes ago. “Have Garcia pull the security footage–”

“Dad,” you say in a short breath, your hand grasping weakly at his arm.

He falls silent for a moment. The agent you’re unfamiliar with becomes the man who brings you teddy bears at dinner and sends encouraging missives in the morning.

“What, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks. Not gentle, but hushed.

“I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

The EMT passes you a paper bag.

—

You could hear a pin drop in your hospital room. Your broken nose has its own heartbeat, but that’s a feeling, rather than a sound. Aaron hasn’t spoken in a long time, he just sits there with his hand on your arm, waiting for a cue you don’t give. You’re so embarrassed about calling him dad you’ve decided to never speak to him again.

His hand occasionally comes to life, giving your arm a soft up and down.

It’s strange to suddenly have a father, but not bad. His paternal caring is a comfort with all the pain, and it doesn’t feel stilted. With Aaron it never has, he found out you were his and he immediately began to act like it, though you suppose you’ll never know how he would’ve loved you as an adult if he’d known you as a child. This feels genuine. Careful, but genuine.

“Time to take it off,” he says.

You meet his eyes.��

“The ice pack,” he explains.

You drop it onto your leg, and he takes it and sets it on the rollover table instead.

“You can come and stay with me for a few days,” he suggests quietly.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Your mom’s working. I can take the time off.”

You give him a dubious look. “And then you’ll get called away and it’ll be just me and Haley in the house. That won’t be awkward at all.”

He shakes his head. “You’re hurt. You’re gonna feel dizzy for at least another day, and that’s not thinking about how hard it’s gonna be to breathe for a while. I’ll stay home, and you can get familiar with my guest room.”

“You don’t have to look after me.”

“But I want to.” He holds your wrist. “I know we aren’t a conventional father and daughter…” His brow furrows, and he looks at your hand just below his rather than your face. “I want the chance to look after you. How many times were you sick as a kid? Hundreds of times. Mostly colds, a runny nose. Maybe you– maybe you broke your arm, I don’t know. But I wish I did. I owe it to you to take care of you now.”

You give him a small smile as he raises his head.

“Just think about it,” he says, “we’ll be here all night anyways.”

“You can go home.”

“Don’t be difficult,” he says, his sincerity swapped for teasing as he stand. “I have to go find you something to eat.”

He stoops to give you a warm hug across your shoulders. You should want it to be over quickly, you smell like blood and sick and sweat, your clothes are ruined, and you’re not used to him seeing you like this, but let the feeling of his hand on your back persuade you into closing your sore eyes.

“Okay?” he asks.

“I’m okay.”

“Okay. I need to do a lap before your mother gets here anyhow. I might… be more unkind than I plan on being, otherwise.”

You laugh at his half-joke and hurt your face. He is very sorry.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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iamred-iamyellow · 3 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Don’t Prove I’m Right - [Part 4]

♥ prev

♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ series synopsis: you didn't think twice about the dj you hooked up with until you found out you were pregnant. turns out the man wasn't just some dj but a famous formula 1 driver.

♥ chapter synopsis: after his reckless decisions, lando attempts to make it up to you. it took some convincing from oscar but you eventually gave in and had a conversation with him.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: its been MONTHS since the last chapter I am so sorry lovelies!

liked by logansargeant, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, and 120,538 more

yourusername ever since @/logansargeant and @/oscarpiastri got camila these plushies she’s been obsessed with them

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yourbestfriend please don’t tell me the deer is being replaced 😔

yourusername camila would never

lilyzneimer shes just too cute to not spoil

user1 haven’t seen lando in any of her posts recently 😕

user3 they did JUST get back to Monaco so I wouldn't be worried

user6 they're not dating either so I don't see why he would be

user4 we need a godfather reveal

logansargeant it’s me

oscarpiastri its me

carlossainz55 … it’s probably not me 😕

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

It had been a couple of days since your last conversation with Lando and a knock on your door drew your attention away from your phone.

A giant box was sitting on the doorstep alone with no sender information. You hesitantly brought it into the living room and grabbed a pocket knife to cut through the clear strip of tape. The box quickly burst open from the pressure of the deeply packed objects—about a dozen jellycats and an apology note placed on top.

It was clear to you that this package was from Lando, and it was a very sweet gesture. He’d clearly seen the post you made the previous day and was trying his best to make up for his mistakes. You sighed and folded the note up, setting it on your couch. You pulled out a soft pink bunny from the box causing Camila to squeal and hold her arms open.

You still hadn’t checked your texts from Lando, but Oscar was right. You couldn’t ignore him forever. Lily offered to take you out for the night in order to clear your head. You were extremely grateful for Lily’s support and generosity ever since you met her. She had truly become one of your best friends throughout this experience.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lilymhe, carmenmundt,, and 102,843 more 102,473 more

yourusername girls night

tagged; @/lilyzneimer

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lilyzneimer <3

user1 we love a self care queen

user2 she’s so pretty

alexandrasaintmleux we should all hang out together <3

francisca.cgomes i second that

yourusername i’m so there

user7 i love that the wags include her 🥹

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

You sat next to Lily with a glass of white wine in your hand, conflicted. Of course you were. Like Oscar said, you had to confront him at some point, but it was going to take a lot for you to trust Lando again. You pulled your phone out of your purse.

You got the response pretty much immediately.

You sighed and turned to Lily, "I'm gonna go talk to Lando."

"Good luck," she said with a smile, and took another sip of her drink.

You picked Camila up off the couch and bundled her up in a small yellow blanket.

You were at his apartment in about twenty minutes. You knocked hesitantly, tapping your nails on the case of your phone and jangling your keys in attempt to reduce your anxiety. Lando opened the door in silence, letting you into the room. He sat back down on his couch and you followed, cradling your daughter in your arms and choosing to stand up as you spoke.

“Listen Y/n, I know what I did was-“

"I'm not going to take your child away from you,” you stated, cutting him off. “You said you want to be in her life, but you have to keep that promise."

He nodded and ran his hands across his face. You wanted to get straight to the point with no excuses. You had heard all of his apologies already.

"Lily talked to Kmag and found her a babysitter, so we're good on that end. But, you still have to earn back my trust to be alone with her and if anything like this happens again I won't be nice."

He looked back up at you, “It won’t ever happen again, I swear. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

”I agree.”

There was some awkward silence as you gently sat on the arm rest of the couch.

You looked down at your daughter, “She may not fully get it yet, but you’re her dad and she loves you,” you locked eyes with Lando again. “You chose to raise her with me, so you need to take responsibility.”

He nodded, “I understand.”

"Good," you responded, standing back up and stepping towards the front door. You paused without turning your head back towards him, "Good luck in Imola.”

With that you were gone.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: this was short, I am aware! there was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but I decided to turn it into its own whole part lol :) I've already started working on it so stay tuned!

taglist; @hc-dutch, @papaya-twinks, @2pagenumb, @formulaal, @erin-odonnell04, @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, | @kissesandmartinis, @ironmaiden1313, @six-call, @wolflover384, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, | @ilivbullyingjeongin, @celestialend, @silentreader128, @wolflover384, @ellesssssxzxz | @clowngirlsstuff, @ln4smiamitrophy, @whoneedsgeorge, @chezmardybum, @warlike-morning, | @gigicisneros, @hard4ndsoft, @eveninggstar, @jolixtreesunn, @acesofspadess,| @formulaonebuff, @notpeachybby, @shesmugirl, @mxdi0, @ririyulife, | @kravitzwhore, @bellinghambby22, @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug, @maplesyrupsainz, @harrysdimple05, | @pippyth3hippy, @noneofyourfbusinessworld, @littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06 | @weekendlusting | @landossainz,

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@harrysdimple05, @toriiez, @theonottsbxtch, @fastfactory

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loonylupinblack3 · 3 months ago

Text

Powerless

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: extremely toxic!rafe, violence, swearing, many threats issued

Summary: you hate being a Pogue. Hate how vulnerable and weak and powerless it makes you. Rafe reinforces this for you.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: heavily based off of season 1 episode three of obx when pope is delivering groceries and Rafe jumps him. also the ferrari sf90 spider is actually my favourite car so i yapped about it a lil bit :)

You were helping Heyward load the grocery bags onto the boat alongside Pope and JJ, stacking the bags of food and other knick knacks in the middle of the vehicle.

“You kids get these groceries over to Figure Eight,” Heyward instructed, grunting as he lifted a pair of heavy bags off the dock and moved over to the boat, Pope, waiting at the ready, taking them from his father. “Get straight back here when you’re done.” He gave you a pointed look. “No fishing.”

You grinned at him, saluting him as you grabbed a pair of bags from him and placed it on the boat. JJ was right next to you, with Pope behind, the three of you working in tandem.

“I promised delivery by this afternoon,” Heyward continued. “Rich folk don’t want to wait for you lazy sons-” Seeing JJ with his arms already outstretched waiting for another bag of groceries and a beaming smile on his face gave Heyward pause. “Oh, JJ, thank you.” As soon as JJ grabbed the groceries he continued. “-sons of bitches.”

He glanced at you. “Excusing you, of course, Y/n. You’re always a delight.”

You beamed at him and JJ gave a scoff. “How come you get all the praise and I get nothing?”

You sniffed, flipping your hair to the side. “‘Cause I’m better.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are-”

Heyward interrupted the two of you. “Hey, alright enough. No bickering. Get your asses moving and deliver these groceries.”

You all gave the man a salute and entered the cabin part of the boat as Pope started it up. Heyward didn’t trust JJ enough to drive the boat and knew you’d end up going the wrong way with your poor sense of direction, so Pope was in charge of steering the vehicle.

You drove through the river, leaving the Pogue side behind and entering Figure Eight, the Kooks domain. You noted the large houses, clean and tidy, and the smooth way they all seemed to be running with enough electricity and clear running water to their heart's content.

“Doesn’t even look like the storm hit there,” Pope exclaimed in indignation. No doubt he was thinking about your own houses, all of them damaged in some way and not yet fixed.

JJ twirled a pocket knife in his hands. “That’s because they got generators, bro. Get used to it.”

You scowled, shaking your head. “And then they say the juice will be out all summer at the cut.”

Pope shook his head, jaw clenched. “Nice to be a Kook.”

You nodded your head in agreement as JJ said, “lucky bastards.”

“One day I’m gonna become a Kook,” you said. “Dunno how yet, but I’m gonna go full Kook, with a pool, mansion, Ferrari SF90 Spider.”

JJ and Pope both groaned as you mentioned your favourite car, again. Sometimes they found you just never shut up about it, going on about the horsepower, the V8 engine, the fact it was the very pinnacle of Ferrari technology, with the thrill and versatility of open top driving.

“Time for you to stop talking,” JJ said, commandeering the conversation. You didn’t mind, content to listen to him for the rest of the way to Figure Eight, where you docked the boat and divvied out the grocery bags between you.

You and Pope were gonna go together, with JJ taking the rest and heading in the other direction. You bid each other quick goodbyes and hurried with Pope, walking around the unfamiliar streets. Everything looked so much nicer here, from the pavement to the shops lining the streets, everything inside looking like it cost more than a week's worth of your pay.

You took a shortcut, walking through the golf course instead of around it. The employees let you through without a second glance. It was surprising what you could get away with as a Pogue working in Figure Eight. The two of you walked on the side of the golf course, talking under your breaths as you looked around cautiously.

“I’m also going to golf here every week,” you stated, watching a particularly fit woman swing a golf club, her muscles flexing with exertion.

You could almost imagine it being you, the golf club, hat, skirt, everything. If you really thought about it, the girl almost looked like you, similar hair colour and figure.

Pope laughed. “You hate golfing.”

You shrugged, swinging the bags in your hands slightly as you walked. “Yeah, but it's what Kooks do isn’t it?”

“What is your obsession with being a Kook?” Pope asked. “I get being rich, everyone wants it, but you seem almost obsessed with it.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself when movement caught your eye. You involuntarily recoiled when you recognised Topper and Rafe heading towards you. Pope noticed too, muttering swear words under his breath and advising you to just walk past and ignore them.

“Hey what’s up guys?” Rafe asked, putting up an innocent facade. He used his golf club to stop your walking, pressing it to the box of beers in Pope’s hand. “Hey how much for one of those beers?”

Pope turned to the side, trying to push past. “They’re not for sale.”

Rafe made a tutting sound. “Wait, wait, wait.” He stopped Pope as he tried to pass, forcing the two of you to stay there. Topper was standing directly in front of you, creating a barrier of sorts across the pathway. “You can just give us one, then, right?”

You wanted to snap at him. Wanted to ridicule him, ask him if he knew what not for sale meant. You were scared though, and you knew it wouldn’t help you or Pope standing up to him like that.

“Or you can order one like everybody else,” Pope replied, again trying to push past.

Rafe was rougher this time, ignoring Pope’s struggles and shoving him back. The coil of fear in your gut tightened. “Listen. Wait, wait, wait, you’re not listening to me. Um…” he gestured with his hands. “You’ve got so many bro, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Got nothing man,” Topper chimed in.

You scowled. “They’re not ours, they’re already paid for.”

Rafe looked at you, surprised you spoke, and then all of his attention was on you. You regretted even speaking, because his attention was like a guillotine, one wrong movement and the blade would fall.

“Oh, already paid for?” Rafe asked. “Knowing you Pogues, you probably stole them, right?”

Before you could stop him he was in front of you, his golf club snagging at the plastic bags in your hands as he pulled. Everything fell to the floor, and you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering.

“What the hell Rafe?!” You cried. “You owe us for that!”

He laughed, getting all up in your space. “Oh I owe you do I? I don’t owe you shit, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin, his fingers forcefully curling around your skin.

“Hey, get off her!” Pope yelled, grabbing Rafe’s shirt and yanking him back. You were grateful for the space, rubbing your jaw as the fear weighed you down, down, down.

Rafe spun around, “don’t fucking touch me you Pogue.”

“Come on man,” Topper said from his other side. They had him surrounded. “We just want a beer.” He made a lunge for it. “Just give us one of these.”

Topper and Pope were full on wrestling with the box now, and the fear was in your throat, especially when Rafe joined in, tripping Pope up and making him fall to the floor with a slam, rolling over a few times.

You gasped, going to him, but Rafe got there first. He had a bruise on his head, looking red and scratched. He scrambled upright, a hatred kindling in his eyes as he threw a punch. Rafe was ready though, avoiding it easily and using his golf club to slam into your friend's stomach. When he was bent over Rafe slammed it down again, Pope crumpling to the floor.

You couldn’t watch it anymore. As he raised his club again you moved forward, shoving him to the side. You only managed to move him because he wasn’t expecting it, and even Topper looked surprised, doing nothing to stop you because really, how much damage can a girl do?

You planted yourself in front of Pope, and when Rafe, laughing in disbelief, walked up to you, you were ready. You swung your fist but it was in poor form, Rafe catching your wrist mid-movement. His grip was tight enough to make you wince.

“Getting involved?” Rafe asked you, moving forward until you were chest to chest. “That’s cute.” His voice was low and mocking. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

You yanked your arm back. That was the second time he’d grabbed you and your skin felt dirty, his fingerprints crawling all over you. Rafe just seemed amused, a cruel delight in his eyes. There was no fear in his expression and why would there be? He was a Kook. He had his friend right behind him ready to defend him if needed. His real competitor was still on the floor, pain immobilising him. No, there was no fear in his expression, only a sick satisfaction of knowing exactly how much control he had over this situation.

Pope gave a groan, attempting to pull himself upright but Rafe didn’t even glance at him. His focus was zeroed on you, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach churn. “What’s it like, being a Pogue? Being powerless?”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say something humiliating and knock his ego down a few inches, anything to stand up against him. Rafe seemed to know you too well though, grabbing your jaw in a bruising grip, his fingers cold and rough. More threat than affection. “You’d be better off with me, y’know that?”

It wasn’t a flirtation he spoke to you – it was a threat. You could hear the danger in every word, the treacherous promise that he’d never leave you alone, that this sick game of his would only end on his terms. You could see the lines between desire and control blurring, and nauseatingly realised that Rafe’s affection for you might be even more dangerous than his fists.

You tried to jerk away, revolution surfacing inside you but Rafe only tightened his grip. “Nah, don’t do that,” he warned almost lazily. “Don’t make me hurt you too.”

You wanted to cry. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall. You’d hate to give him the satisfaction of seeing them roll down your face. All of this was a game to him, a test to see how much fear he could wring out of you. The worst part was you knew he would do it, just because he could.

Your gaze darted to Pope, your friend just managing to sit upright. Topper was standing to the side, an uneasy expression on his face. You didn’t want Rafe to escalate things any further, because you knew he would, just to prove a point. He noticed your line of sight and forcibly pulled you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

“You’re lucky I like you,” his breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. An edge of cruelty laced his tone, as did delight, the same one a kid would get from playing with their toys, which was what you were to Rafe. “Otherwise you’d be right there next to him.”

Before you could answer he shoved you back, hard enough to make you stumble. A sickeningly smug smirk was on his face as he picked up two cans of beer off the ground, chucking one to Topper.

“Catch you later Sweetheart,” he called to you, going as far as sending you a wink, acting like everything had just been harmless fun, which you guessed it was to him.

You watched him saunter away, leaving a mess in his wake that he seemed to do everywhere. Except this time it was worse, because with a sickening dread you realised the next thing he’d leave a mess would be you.

And you suddenly had an answer to Pope’s earlier question. Why did you want to be a Kook so badly? It was simple, really. This whole interaction had just reinforced the feeling that you were too vulnerable, too weak. And the answer appeared from the ashes of Rafe’s destruction, a truth you guarded with your heart.

You didn’t want to be powerless.

#rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #toxic rafe cameron #fanfiction #fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #outer banks x reader #rafe outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #pope heyward #jj maybank #pogues x reader

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whyyousoloudfor · 23 days ago

Text

TikTok Prank.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: ????

Peaking your head into the kitchen, you see Lewis’ back is turned causing you to smile mischievously. This is perfect for the little prank you have planned for him. It’s a trend on TikTok you’ve seen girls try on their boyfriends and you thought it was hilarious, so why not try it on yours. You step into the kitchen, unlocking your phone camera before propping it up against Lewis’ water bottle that’s study enough for the phone to not tip over. You make sure the camera is angled perfect then press the record button. Lewis’ is so focused chopping up vegetables for dinner and softly singing to the music playing in the background, he barely knows what’s going on behind him. You sneak up to him and snake your arms around him from behind, your cheek pressed again his t-shirt clad back.

“Hi baby.” You say sweetly, tightening your around him, snuggling into him. He slightly jumps, startled by your actions then relaxes in your touch putting down the knife to gently grab one your hands bring it up to his soft lips. “Hi, my sweet girl.” He responds back in the same tone. He places my hand back down and resumes chopping the veggies. You bite down on your lip holding back your laughter for what you’re about to say next. In a serious tone you say, “Honey, we have to talk. I have something to tell you.” You remove arms from around him and wipe your palms down the legs of your jeans before placing them in your back pockets. He drops the knife on the counter again turning around to give you his undivided attention, his facial expression laced with concern. Looking down at your feet, you avoid looking up at him because you know if you look, you will feel bad enough to back out of the plan. Lewis takes a few steps towards you, cupping your face in his hands making you look up at him. His eyes intensely watch you as his thumbs stroke your cheekbones.

“What’s wrong, baby? You pregnant or something? Somebody died?” He pauses for a moment. “If it’s about your leftovers you had in the fridge, it wasn’t me, it was Roscoe!” You both burst out into laughter. “Poor Roscoe, it be your own dad. But no, it’s none of that.” You say, getting back into character. “Then what is it?” He says, removing his hands to grab both of your hands, intertwining y’all fingers.

“I can’t pay the mortgage this month.”

You stare up look at him waiting for his reaction. His eyes are focused to the view behind you through the large glass slide door that leads into the backyard. He stays silent for a few second, his eyes cut back to yours narrowing with his head tilted slightly. “What did you just say?”

“Babe, I can’t pay the mortgage this month. I’m sorry.”

His head jerks back and drops your hands placing a tattooed hand over his heart. He’s offended. “Angel? You? Pay a mortgage? Be so fucking for real.” You try to hold back a giggle, watching him start to pace and forth around the kitchen. You walk up to him grabbing his hand to bring him back into the camera. “Lew, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his waist again resting your chin on his chest. “Sweetheart…” he starts. “Do you even know what a mortgage looks like? Do you even know what a damn bill looks like? Don’t embarrass me, baby.” The answer to that is No. You don’t know what any of that shit looks like and you don’t want to. Lewis wouldn’t allow it anyway. He continues his rambling, “I’d rather mop the fucking ocean than let you pay any bill around me, don’t piss me off, Y/F/N.” You reach up to cover his mouth with your hands before he goes any further. You couldn’t help but break character and burst into fits of laughter.

“It’s a prank, baby! Off TikTok.” You say hunched over as you continue to laugh and point at the phone recording on the counter. Lewis looks over at the phone. He brings a hand up to his chest letting out a sigh of relief, pulling you in to him by your waist. He plants several kisses on your forehead then mumbles, “Angel, toktik almost got you knocked out.” You smile, leaning into him as you feel his lips on your skin. The prank was a success.

“I know and it was worth it, your reaction was priceless.”

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave your thoughts, comments and feedback in my inbox. I’ll even take requests.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black reader #sir lewis hamilton #x black fem reader #x black reader #f1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton x reader #x black oc

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vivwritesfics · 6 months ago

Text

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

Zac Brown ruled the McLaren empire. His daughter was constantly getting into trouble, getting herself kidnapped and whatnot. But she was pretty good at getting into those situations. Oscar was hired so that she wouldn't get into said situations. She thought he would be easy to break. But there was a reason Zac hired Oscar. He was the best of the best and he wasn't going to fall for her shit.

6.5K

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, mafia fic themes, smutty themes and talks of sex (but no actual smut) guns and death (nobody important)

Another dingy warehouse. Another splintering wooden chair. And another ugly man giving her father demands over the phone.

Demands that wouldn't be met. The fact that he was even trying was laughable. Demands hadn't been met since she was fifteen years old. Her father would rather receive her head in a box than meet the demands that would have saved her life.

She tested the rope tying her wrists behind her back. it was a good, sturdy knot; she'd be the first to admit that it was a well tied knot. Grabbing the end of the rope, she tugged. It didn't budge.

She didn't panic. If she was to panic, it would have made things so much worse. Oh, her dad was gonna be so mad when she got home.

Her captor ended the call and let out a breathy, terrifying laugh. He slipped the phone into his pocket and turned on his heel to face her. "Sounds like daddy isn't going to come and save his little princess."

She simply raised her eyebrows at him. Clearly, he hadn't heard of her reputation. That was fine. She wasn't salty about it.

"Should we send him one of your ears? Show him just how serious we are?"

The rope gave slightly, allowing her to slip her hand out. She didn't, not yet, not while he was watching her. "Who is we?" She asked, pretending to look around the warehouse. She knew exactly how many people were watching her.

Barking out a laugh, she slipped one hand out of her bindings and grabbed the rope before it could fall, maintaining the illusion that she was still tied up. She stopped her eyes from moving to the men standing in the shadows. If they had weapons, she couldn't see them.

"Fuck it," she said and unravelled the rope in her hands, keeping it hidden behind her. "Let's do it, let's cute off my ear. Maybe then you'll get your money."

The grin that came across her face was sickening, but she steadied her nerves. He kept staring at her as he reached behind him. "Someone give me a knife," he said.

There was a moment before either of the men in the shadows moved. But then they strode closer and placed a knife into the bosses hands. He whispered something to him, and she didn't need to hear it to know what it was.

"I got it," the boss said, shrugging him off. He retreated to the shadows as the boss approached her knife balanced between his fingers. "Do you think you'll still be pretty without one of your ears?" He asked, his grin showing off his too white teeth. So white and perfect that they couldn't have been real.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Probably," she answered.

A hand hit her cheek. Her nostrils flared as she stared at him, head tipped to the side and cheek stinging.

He leaned down, knife held out. Before the sharp metal could make contact with her skin, she grabbed the rope in both hands and kicked him away. He stumbled back in surprise and dropped the knife as she stood up.

The second she was on her feet, she wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled him towards her. The knife was beneath her high heeled shoe, keeping it away from the men that rushed towards them.

"I wouldn't," she said, tightening the rope around the bosses neck. "I really fucking wouldn't. Holding both ends of the rope in one hand, she pulled him around just enough for her to pick up the knife. "This your only weapon?" she asked as she looked at it.

The other men looked at each other and raised their fists. She couldn't stop her loud, mocking laughter. "You guys are fucking stupid," she said and stabbed the boss in the thigh.

He fell to the floor with a cry. "Here's how this is gonna work," she began, "I'm gonna walk out of here and you guys are gonna get him medical attention." She reached down and stabbed his other thigh. "And if any of you want to stop me, I can always give you guys the same treatment."

Silently, they stepped to the side and allowed her through. She kept a hold of the knife and held her head up high as she walked out of the warehouse.

***

Daniel Ricciardo was so dead. His whole job was to take care of her, and she had disappeared.

He'd turned her room upside down, looking for her. When she got back from whenever she was, she was going to kill him for the state he'd left her closet in.

At least her dad didn't know.

Holding his phone up to his ear, he tried calling her. Again. And again, she didn't pick up. At what point did he start panicking? At what point did he stop searching and inform her father that she was missing?

Daniel didn't have to think about it for too long. His heart leapt into his throat when there came a knock at her door. "Darling?" Came the voice of her father, Daniel's boss. "Can I come in?"

Panic held him in a vice as he climbed over her things, scattered all over the floor, and pulled open the door.

"Sir," Daniel said, holding the door just open enough to show his face. "How can I help you?"

Zac frowned at him. "Tell me honestly, is she in there?"

Daniel's answer was to swallow.

Zac pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're fired, Daniel," he said and strode away, phone pressed against his ear.

She strode into the house just a few minutes later. Feet bare and dirty, high heels dangling from her finger by the straps. Her wrists were rubbed raw and there were splattering of blood on her skin.

"Shit, kid," said Daniel as he pulled her in. "I was so damn worried about you."

She kissed his cheek and then reached up to wipe away the lipstick left behind. "Sorry, Danny," she said with an amused smile. "I got bored."

She grabbed his hand to pull him along. After her evening she just wanted to sit Daniel on her bed and ride his cock until she forgot above everything.

There was a distinctive click, a revolver being cocked. "You're fired, Daniel," came the voice of her father. "Get the fuck out of my house."

She pulled her hand out of Daniel's and looked at him. "You got fired?" She asked, heels swinging as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"He did, Princess," Zac answered, his gun still pointed at Daniel. "His one job was to protect you, and he failed," he finished, pulling his daughter behind him. "He needs to leave before I blow his brains out."

She rolled her eyes. Her dad was so damn dramatic sometimes. There was no way Daniel, or anybody else, would have been able to stop her from sneaking out when she wanted to.

Daniel looked at her, desperation in his eyes. But she was too busy picking at the blood beneath her nails. So, he turned his attention to her father. "Zac, please," he tried, stepping forward. "I just want to protect her."

Zac pulled the trigger and the bullet lodged itself in the wall beside Daniel's head. Daniel knew just how good a shot Zac was, knew he was missing on purpose. He adjusted his aim slightly. "Five." Daniel's eyes went wide. He turned on his heel and began rushing through the house. Zac followed, but he stayed at a walk and kept his aim trained on Daniel. "Four."

She'd had so many bodyguards in the last few years. When she was a little girl she'd had Lewis watching over her. And then she had Jensen for a good few years, and then Fernando. When Fernando left to work under a different boss, to work for the enemy (as her father said), Carlos watched over her.

She'd liked Carlos, had pulled him into her bed. He'd kissed her sweetly and taken her virginity, the two of them hidden beneath the sheets of her big bed.

It had gone on for a year before her father found out. Carlos had been her first everything. The first man to kiss her, the first man to see her in a state of undress, the first man bring her any sort of pleasure. She had really, truly loved him. She had wanted to run away with him.

But when her father was found out, Carlos was sent away. He was sent to work for someone else, someone that they had something of a partnership with. She had loved Carlos, and her father had loved him, too. He'd loved him with a son, and that was why he couldn't kill him. If it had been anybody else caught in his daughters bed, he wouldn't have hesitated.

As her father followed Daniel out of the house, she turned on her heel and marched towards her bedroom, humming to herself. All she needed now was to scrub the other man's blood from her skin and find something to soothe her wrists.

"What the fuck!" She cried as she pushed open her bedroom door.

Her room was a state. Her drawers had been emptied, things pushed from their shelves. Her wardrobe had been emptied, the clothes either crumpled on the floor or thrown over her unmade bed. It was like a hurricane had torn through the room.

If her dad didn't kill Daniel, she certainly would.

She ignored everything but the wardrobe. The rest of it could be dealt with tomorrow, but her poor wardrobe. That was her space, her creative space, and Daniel had defiled it. How dare he.

As soon as her wardrobe was back in order, she walked into her en suite and turned on the shower. A yawn left her lips as she stripped out of her dress and climbed under the steaming water.

The rest of her night was a blur. She yawned again as she washed her body. Ready to sleep, she climbed out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. She fell into bed, crawled beneath her blankets, and immediately found herself asleep.

While she was sleeping, Zac was hard at work. He had people to do these things for him, sure, but he did it himself when it came to his daughter.

There must have been somebody that could look after his daughter. Someone experienced, like Fernando, or Lewis. Or Carlos.

He called Andrea, his right hand man, into his office. It had been Andrea's idea to look into their juniors, to see if any of them would be good enough to protect his daughter. That was how they got Lando, their best man

None of their juniors were. So, they looked a little further afield, at rookies working for other... empires.

Oscar Piastri. He had incredible statistics, stats that Zac and Andrea shouldn't have had access to. But they did, and they wanted him.

Andrea was privy to certain information about the different empires. He kept the secrets about his own empire, the McLaren empire, well guarded, but knew all the dirty secrets about the Ferrari empire, about the Williams empire, and, most importantly, about the Alpine empire.

He knew how staff were treated, knew what was expected of the juniors. That was why Oscar Piastri had such good statistics, because of how hard Bruno pushed him. Andrea and Zac both knew that Bruno was a piece of work. They knew how easy it was going to be to get Oscar away from him.

They sent him one message, holding nothing more than a job offer, and waited with baited breaths. Nobody else got to see this side of the boss, holding his hands together as if he was praying as they waited for Oscar to reply.

Three grey dots appeared on the screen. Oscar's reply appeared, only holding five words. The reply wasn't surprising: What's in it for me? Clearly, Oscar was a smart kid, Zac and Andrea could tell.

They laid it out for him, the benefits this job would come with. He'd be working for a bigger, more powerful empire, he would get paid more than he would working for Alpine, and there was more they could provide him with. Food and lodgings, anything he could have needed.

Interviews in this line of work wasn't an easy thing to arrange. But, as a junior, Oscar operated with a curfew. The interview was arranged for after the curfew. It was awkwardly done, a video call while Oscar hid himself in the junior barracks bathroom.

They outlined the job as much as they could with Oscar being part of the McLaren empire. Zac gave no information on his daughter as he tried to outline the requirements of the job. He made it clear that it wasn't going to be easy, and Oscar made it clear that he wanted the job.

All he had to do to accept the position was to show up at the house. Well, show up at the location provided that Zac and Andrea had given to him. The little café in the heart of town. A sweet little place, not the sort of place he would have expected to meet them.

They set Lando Norris, the best of their men, to pick him up. Lando took his favourite car, his baby. It was fast and sleek and far too expensive. It was an intimidation tactic, and it was working.

He pulled up, sunglasses covering his eyes as he climbed out of the car. The way he looked around was lazy. He pulled out his phone when he couldn't immediately find Oscar. Oscar couldn't tell what he was doing from where he was sitting. But he pulled his sunglasses down his face and looked around again.

Straightening up his tie, Oscar slipped out of his seat. He abandoned his coffee and strode over to the car. He had no doubt who this person was. His number plate was LAN, for goodness sake.

Lando stared at him as he approached. "Good weather we're having," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket.

"I think it might cloud over soon," Oscar answered.

Neither of them were looking up at the sky.

Lando checked him for weapons and listening devices as discretely as he could. When he determined that Oscar was clean, he gestured for him to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Oscar climbed in. He looked at Lando, staying quiet as he looked away. Lando was the best of the best, rivalled only by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. Being in the car with him was surreal.

The drive was silent. Lando fiddled with the radio until it played something softly. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove through Woking.

He pulled up to the house and parked his car up alongside more expensive cars. His car, which had once been the most impressive vehicle Oscar had ever seen, looked like crap compared to these.

"Good luck with the Princess," said Lando as he climbed out of the car.

Oscar swallowed and followed his lead. He climbed out of the car and walked up to the house. When he raised his fist to knock, he looked over his shoulder at Lando.

"Just go in," said Lando as he stroked the hood of his car.

Steadying his nerves, Oscar walked in.

***

This day was bullshit.

Her father kept her in his office for the day. As hard as she tried to leave, one look and he pulled her back, sitting herself in that little seat just behind his desk.

She could only file her nail for so long before she was completely and utterly bored. Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head. "I'm gonna-"

"Not until your new bodyguard starts," her father said, not even bothering to turn around.

She groaned and threw herself back onto her seat, hands dramatically covering her eyes. "Dad, I'm literally dying of boredom out here," she mumbled and groaned again, this time louder. "When is he starting?"

"Soon," Zac promised as he straightened out a stack of paper. "Andrea is just putting him through orientation."

She groaned again, for the third time in the space of a minute. "Quit bein' so dramatic," her dad said, shaking his head. "We wouldn't be having to do this if you didn't sneak out the other day."

Her gaze settled into a glare. If her new guard didn't show up soon, she was gonna steal her dad's gun and just leave. But her dad seemed to know what she was thinking. He pulled his gun from his belt and shoved it into his desk drawer.

Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Touch my gun and you're dead," he said as he stood up. Still wearing that glare, she threw her nail file at him. It didn't go very far, fell to the floor just in front of her seat.

Her father opened the door. "Oscar Piastri?" He asked, holding his hand out. From her seat, she couldn't see as her dad shook the young man's hand and welcomed him into the office.

He was pretty, she could tell that immediately. He was pretty, but he looked easy. Easy to manipulate, and that was the most important thing. "Oscar," her father said, leading him across the room, over to her. "This is my daughter."

She stood from her seat and folded her arms over her chest. "You're my new bodyguard?" She asked, clearly unimpressed.

"I am," he said and held his hands out towards her. "I'm Oscar."

For a moment, she just stared at his hand. Oscar kept it held out, waiting for her to shake it. "Oh, boy," he heard from his right as her father sat back in his seat.

Keeping her arms folded over her chest, she marched past him, her shoulder hitting his. Oscar allowed himself to be pushed out of the way. With her father there, he wasn't going to dare to do anything but go with what she wanted. As she strode out of the office, her hips swaying, Oscar followed.

He kept his eyes on the back of her head. Don't look down. Don't look at the way she's moving her hips. Don't look down.

She knew what had happened, why she needed a new bodyguard. Even with everything Andrea had told him, Oscar didn't think she could be that bad. He was very, very quickly proven wrong.

"Where are we going?" Oscar asked as she pushed her way into her bedroom. Maids had cleaned up since Daniel had torn it apart in an attempt to look for her. Her pyjamas were on a heap in the floor, one she stepped over to get to her black purse.

"Out," she said, the first word she'd spoken to him, as she placed the bag on her shoulder and strode past him.

Oscar followed, keeping close to him. Too close, and he had five seconds to fix it. But he didn't fix it. He stayed walking far too close to her, so close she could feel him breathing down her neck.

"Fucking hell, stop," she said and Oscar stopped. She turned on her heel, turned towards him, and held out her arms. At first, it was just to see how close he was. When her arms hit him, she pushed so that he stumbled back.

He steadied himself and stepped towards her again. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest and glaring.

"I've been hired to protect you," said Oscar, keeping himself calm.

Her glare was nasty, vicious. "You need to stay three paces behind me, okay?" She stepped closer to him. "I'm gonna get on and do whatever the fuck I want to do, and you're gonna let me, okay?" They were stood chest to chest. Her fingers touched his chest, danced up towards his neck while she let a coy smile grace her features.

He held his breath until her nail dug into his throat. Oscar reached up and grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling it away from his neck. "I've been hired to protect you," he said again. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

The smile dropped from her face, replaced with a glare. She turned back around and marched away, steps quick to get away from him. Oscar stayed just a pace behind her.

Oscar hadn't been ill prepared for this job. Andrea had given him plenty of warning of just how much trouble she was going to be. But he was prepared.

She didn't speak to him for the rest of the day. That was fine, Oscar was happy to follow her around and watch her antics. He followed her to a café, where she met with friends, followed her out to the park and listened to their chatter and gossip. He didn't take in much of the information, not unless he thought it was important.

Not until they started whispering about him.

His cheeks blushed red, but he stayed standing there. If he wasn't watching her, he was looking around, looking for any sign of danger. She whispered to her friends, giggling behind their hands. What they were saying, Oscar didn't care.

She still hadn't spoken to him as he drove her back to the house. Her car was a dream to drive. She handled beautifully, better than anything Oscar had driven when he was with Alpine. He couldn't hide his grin as he drove towards the house.

As soon as the car had stopped, she climbed out and marched towards the house. Oscar parked as quickly as he could and climbed out of the car, following her up the stairs and into the house.

She disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door in his face. Oscar let out a breath and raised his fist, knocking on the door. "Hey," he called and tried the handle. "Let me in!"

Nothing. Of course it didn't work. It shouldn't have been surprising. Oscar didn't panic. He did what he was best at and stayed calm. Shrugging off his jacket, he left it by the door and walked out of the house.

It was a gamble, whether her window was open or not. He walked around the back of the house, counting the windows until he found hers.

Oscar wasn't built to climb. He wasn't good at it, but he still tried, using the window ledge beneath to climb up to her own. His knuckles it the glass before he tried to push the window up, but it wouldn't budge.

Fuck.

He knocked away and watched as she turned around. Her eyes went wide but she didn't move, took a moment to watch him. Oscar tried again to open the window.

Finally, she walked over. She pushed open the window, allowing Oscar into her bedroom. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asked, heading towards her wardrobe as Oscar grabbed his jacket from outside of her room.

She couldn't deny that he looked good. With his jacket hanging over his arm, she could really see him, and she appreciated it. He was no Carlos, but he'd do.

Grabbing a dress from her wardrobe, she held it up to her body. "Did you ever think that maybe I shut you out of my room because I didn't want you in here?" She asked as she hung it over her wardrobe door and went digging for some shoes.

"Did you ever think that I can't trust you enough to leave you in here on your own?" He responded as he leaned against the wall.

She scowled at him as she stepped back out of the wardrobe, a pair of high heels hanging by the straps from her fingers. "Fucking creep," she mumbled and pulled down the zip on her skirt.

She didn't look away from him as she pushed her skirt down. Oscar didn't look away. She was challenging him, he knew, and he wasn't going to let her win. Once her skirt was on the floor, she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall away from her shoulders.

She stepped towards him, much like she had in the corridor earlier. "Do you know something, Oscar?" She mused as she stepped closer to him. He kept watching her, eyes locked onto her own. "I always get what I want. Do you wanna know what I want right now?"

His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at her. Even when she settled her arms on his chest, moving them up to his shoulders, he remained stoic. "What?" He asked. His wife didn't betray just how nervous he was feeling, just how much he was sweating.

Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "You."

Oscar took her arms from around his neck. He kept a hold of them as he walked her back, so that she was sitting on her bed. "You're a brat," he said and stepped back, leaving her there.

Their interactions through the evening were very limited. Any attention she wanted, Oscar wasn't going to give to her. That she caught onto very quickly.

Daniel had been the same when he first started. Of course, he'd never resorted to climbing through her window. Oscar was dedicated, and that made him a problem.

A problem that wouldn't let her sneak out, a problem that wouldn't sleep with her.

She was in agony.

The next day followed much in the same pattern. Oscar walking too close, Oscar watching everything she did. She couldn't escape his watchful eye. When she went to the bathroom he was standing outside, periodically nodding.

On her third day with Oscar guarding her, she was bored out of her mind. When she want to the bathroom, he followed to stand guard outside of the door. This was becoming her normal and she hated it.

There was a window in the bathroom. Small, too high for her to reach without assistance. For a moment she contemplated it. Contemplated how she was going to execute this admittedly stupid plan.

Beneath the sink was a little step stool. It was from when she was younger, when she was too small to reach her tooth brush in the cabinet above the sink. She pulled it out and positioned it beneath the little window.

It didn't give her much height, just enough to grasp the window ledge and hoist herself up.

There was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" She called back, but it sounded weird. She hadn't been this... polite to him since that first night in her room.

She hurried herself up. Pushing open the window, she slipped out and dropped down onto the gravel below.

The stones bit into her skin. But she didn't care. Pushing herself up and wiping the stones away, she could hear Oscar pounding on the door. When she didn't reply, the knocks became something more. Louder, harsher, his entire body pushing against it.

She didn't stick around long enough to find out. Straightening up her skirt, she walked around from the house.

The cameras were following her, she knew. Security guards must have been watching her, must have been radioing Oscar of her whereabouts.

She didn't bother running. There was no point when the gates would have taken their time to swing open. No, she walked calmly, like she had all the time in the world.

Suddenly, her feet were no longer touching the floor. A grunt left his lips as he picked her up and turned her around. "I don't think so," he said and put her back down.

She stared up at him, arms folded over her chest. He could see the indents of the gravel against her arm, the grazes on her skin. But then she stepped around him.

Oscar picked her up again. He scooped her up and placed her over his shoulder, ignoring her shriek as he carried her back into the house.

"Fucking put me down!" She shouted, fists pounding against his back. "Oscar! Put me down! Now!"

His only response was to tighten his grip on her and march through the house. He didn't care as he took her past her fathers men, past Lando and Pato. When they sniggered at her, she held up her middle finger towards them.

Once he got to her bedroom, Oscar put her down. She glared up at him, arms folded over her chest. "I need to use the bathroom," she said.

Oscar grinned down at her. She looked somewhat embarrassed, unable to meet his eye. "Come on," he said and gestured for her to lead the way.

She walked down the hall, wearing a nasty scowl and looking at the floor. As soon as she got to the bathroom, she turned to shut the door, to try and lock him out. But Oscar shouldered his way in. "Hey!" She cried and tried to push him out of the bathroom. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He grabbed the step stool, folded it up and tucked it beneath his arms. He pulled the window shut and locked it, pocketing the key. "I'll be right outside," he said and placed a single pat to the top of her head. It was condescending as all hell and she wanted to kill him.

***

A year had passed. An uneventful year. For six months she'd attempted to sneak out. The first month of that was to get away from the house, to get out to the club and see her girl friends on the nights that Oscar said no.

But those other five months weren't because she wanted to get away. Whenever she snuck out, Oscar would be the one to carry her into the house. It was like he didn't trust her to walk back on her own. That was how she ended up over his shoulder or in his arms, being carried like a princess.

The kidnapping attempts had stopped, too. There had been a couple sicne Oscar started his job as her bodyguard. But he had thwarted all of them, kept her safe when somebody tried to climb in through her window.

On this day, Zac called Oscar into his office. He gave him a time and Oscar readied himself for it. He spend his morning with her, following her as she ate her breakfast.

She no longer tried to fight him at every turn. Oscar was grateful for it. He was able to see how pretty her smile was and that filled him with warmth. She was cute when she didn't want to kill him, he realised.

"Come on," he said once she'd finished her breakfast. He picked up her plate, dumped it in the sink, and offered her his hand.

"What do you think my dad wants?" She asked as she linked her fingers through his own.

Oscar pulled her out of the kitchen and through the house. He checked his watch. Just fifteen minutes until Zac wanted to see him. He swallowed. "I don't know," he answered and led her through the halls.

Maybe Zac wasn't happy with the work he was doing. Maybe he didn't think Oscar was doing a good enough job at protecting her. Maybe he didn't like that Oscar sometimes held her hand as they walked together.

He took her through the house and to the library. There Lando was sitting, tapping away at his phone. "Hey, Princess," he called as Oscar sat her down and squeezed her shoulders. "You sitting with me?"

"Looks like it," she mumbled and let out a yawn. She watched as Oscar disappeared out of the library, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, Lando leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of her face. "What's up?" He asked as she turned to face him. "What's got you thinking so hard?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sank down in her seat. "How long did it take for Carlos to fuck me?" She mumbled, resting her cheek against her first. "What, a couple months? Maybe less than that?" She mumbled.

Lando snorted. "It took him a month to fall in love with you," he mumbled, his foot knocking against her own. "And Daniel slept with you on his first night on the job," he answered, finally locking his phone screen and letting it fall into his lap.

"What's taking Oscar so long?"

He properly laughed when those words left her lips. "Oscar is too much of a professional to sleep with you," he said and mockingly wiped at his eyes. She scowled at him. "He's falling for you, though."

Her head snapped towards him. "Huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, princess." The name was mocking and she flipped him off. "Look, he wouldn't be holding your hand and shit if he wasn't, okay? That boy is falling for you. You need to trust me; he told me himself."

She leaned forward. "Lando, I need you to tell me exactly what he said."

Lando went to reply, but the library doors opened and Oscar strode in. "What now, Sweetheart?" He asked and offered her his hand.

She allowed herself to be pulled out of her seat and grinned at Lando. Sweetheart? He mouthed, and she let her tongue stick out from between her teeth.

***

Another dingy warehouse. Another splintering wooden chair. And another ugly man giving her father demands over the phone.

It had been so damn long since she'd gotten kidnapped, she was almost at a loss for what to do. Almost, but not quite.

The minute she realised she was getting kidnapped, she took a bobby pin from her hair and tucked it into the back of her skirt. The kidnappers slapped cuffs on her wrists and sat her on the uncomfortable chair.

She easily got her hands out of the cuffs, but these guys had weapons. They were certainly smarter than the last guys to kidnap her.

Oscar better get there soon.

She didn't know that as soon as they called to demand money, Zac had Oscar tracing the call. He let his computer do it's thing while he loaded his gun with bullets. He was going to do all he could to get her back.

As soon as he had the location, he set off with Lando and Pato. His knee bounced as Pato drove them, Oscar giving him the directions. God, they'd taken her so far away. There was no telling what they'd done to her for the time she'd been missing.

The outside of the warehouse wasn't well guarded at all. Lando and Pato counted all of the guards inside and Oscar caught sight of her.

The cuffs were still hanging from one of her wrists as she sat there. Why wasn't she moving? Why wasn't she getting up out of her seat and marching out of there like in all of the stories he'd heard about her?

"I'm going in," he whispered and pulled his gun from its holster.

But Lando pulled him back. "Wait," he said and gestured to Pato. "We'll make a distraction out the front and you go around the back," he said and Oscar nodded.

Lando and Pato's idea of a distraction was... interesting. At the sound of the music, several men headed outside. The ones that were left inside were easy for Oscar to take care of. When Pato started dancing, Oscar headed to the back of the warehouse.

He was a damned good shot. While Pato and Lando took out the men at the front, Oscar shot the others in the warehouse. When the first man hit the ground, the one who seemed to be running the operation pulled her out of her seat and pressed his gun to her head.

"Show yourself!" He demanded. He pushed the gun against her head more until it was tipped to the side.

Holding up his hands, Oscar walked into the warehouse. When he was told to put his gun on the floor and kick it away, he did. "You okay, Sweetheart?" He asked, looking at her.

"Never better," she answered, but her voice was shaking. Fuck, he needed to get her out of there.

"You're the big hero," said the man in charge. "You're here to save the day and ride away into the sunset." His laugh was utterly terrifying. "What if I just blew her head off right it front of you? Do you think this rich little bitch bleeds gold?"

Her eyes shut. This was it, she was going to die.

Red splattered across her face, but it wasn't her blood. The man in charge dropped his gun and slumped forward, the weight of his falling body pulling her to the floor with a shriek. Oscar shouted her name. He rushed over and pushed the dead body away from her own.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered and wiped at the blood on her cheek. Tears were falling and Oscar wiped them away as he checked her over for any injuries. Aside from a bruised wrist and trauma, she was okay.

Pulling her into his chest, Oscar looked past her. There was Lando, lowering his gun. His eyes moved to her, eyebrows raising in question. But Oscar shook his head and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Reaching up, she kissed his cheek. "Hey," Oscar whispered, pulling away from her. "C'mon, Sweetheart, not now," he whispered and pulled her to her feet.

She blinked up at him and wiped away her tears. "Come on, Oscar. Let me kiss you," she whispered, her lip wobbling.

His thumbs moved over the back of her hand in such a soothing manner. "I love you," he replied. "Really, I do. But I don't want to kiss you if you just want to sleep with me."

Her head hit his chest. "Don't do this now," she mumbled. "Not in this disgusting warehouse with a dead body behind us." She let her arms settle around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

The way he was looking at her, it had her ready to cry. She hid her head against his chest and shut her eyes, ignoring the way her heart was beating. "I don't want to just kiss you to sleep with you," she whispered and sucked in a deep breath. "I-I like you, Oscar."

His fingers touched her chin and tipped her face towards him. "Sweetheart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. And then he kissed her cheek, the one that wasn't covered in blood.

And then he kissed her, lips slotting against her own. She sobbed into his mouth and Oscar squeezed her tighter. It said all that it was supposed to. I'll watch over you, I'll keep you safe. I love you.

Taking her hand, Oscar led her out of the warehouse. In that moment he vowed to never let anything like this happen to her again.

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catcze · 1 year ago

Text

Spoilers for Wriothesley's backstory !! References to leaks of his backstory !!

When Wriothesley was younger and homeless on the streets of Fontaine, an orphan who ran from his foster home to fend for himself, there was no one for him to rely on. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and putting your trust in the wrong person could result in lying facedown in a ditch, just another casualty of the city.

Wriothesley was prepared to fight for himself for the rest of his life. Was prepared to sleep with one eye open, and ready to get stabbed in the back at any second. Everyone around him wouldn't cast him a second glance and wouldn't offer him a shred of help.

No one, maybe, except for you.

You were around his age— that much was evident from the first day he met you, when you found him crouched in an alleyway half-starved and soaked through by the rain. You were kind, if the umbrella you covered his head with was any indication. You had gotten soaked yourself, but you still smiled at him and told him to keep it, that he needed it more.

And lastly: you were born into good, good money. He found that out the next day when you bought him a packaged meal of warm meats and bread. Although he was hesitant to accept your kindness, cautious of what price you would attach to such a thing, the grumbling of his stomach won out and he finished the whole meal in less than five minutes. It was one of the best things he had ever tasted.

You said nothing as you sat beside him, uncaring of how the dirt of the sidewalk stained your clothes. When he was finished, you offered him a bottle of water. As he chugged it down, you gave him your first name, and when he hesitated to tell you his, you smiled and shook your head.

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me," you told him with a slight smile. And that was that.

From then on, you find him every few days at the same spot. He doesn't talk much, you discover, but he's always willing to listen to you talk. Anything under the sun— your lessons, your absent parents, the droves of socialites who try to butter you up with hollow words and false admiration— you can ramble about it for hours and hours and he'll sit beside you, interjecting on occasion, but generally letting you take the lead in conversation.

Once, you brought him a canister filled with tea, and watched as his eyes lit up at his first taste.

"This is some really good stuff," he told you, awe in his voice, already going for a second sip. You smile, seeing him so pleased.

"I'll bring you more next time. I'll try to make a different brew, too, to see if you'd like that even more."

When he gets scuffed from street fights, you're there to patch him up. Clumsily at first, with a furrowed brow and tangled strips of bandages, but you get better and better at it over time. He doesn't reject the help, and you don't scold him for getting hurt. It is times like these where your hands —only calloused by the grip of a pen and nothing more, unlike his that are so scarred and rough— make you both remember how different your worlds are.

One day, you go to the place you two had been meeting for nearly a year now, and it's empty. That's not particularly unusual— it's happened once or twice before where your friend couldn't make it, so it's no cause for concern. You merely leave the food and water in a little nook he had shown you before, and make your way home, hoping that he's alright and not too banged up.

When you get home, the maids and the butler all tell you of a recent incident that happened not too far away in the city— of an assault and a mangled body, of the perpetrator on death's door himself, barely rushed to the hospital in time. While you have dinner alone, they urge you to exercise caution if you go out tomorrow.

So you take heed of their words, bringing a new platter of food and hide small knife in your pocket as you head back to the same place yesterday. The food and water from before is still there, hidden in the little nook only the two of you know of.

Anxiety grips you, but you try to shake it off. You return the next day. And the next. And the next. Each day, the food you leave remains untouched every time.

You fear the worst after a week is up— you fear for his safety, for his health. You fear for the only genuine friend you had ever made, who had seen you as more than just your parents' only child. You don't leave your room for a week, poring over the newspaper and anything else you can get your hands on. The househelp thinks you're ill— and you are. You're sick with worry, sick with the late nights spent up as you stretch yourself thin trying to find something, anything about him. But when your parents learn of your seclusion, you're forced to give up your search. In the end, you're the only one left to remember the nameless boy with the soft smile and a love for tea.

It is years and years down the line. Wriothesley had been doing well as the administrator of the fortress— so much so that he had been invited to the Palais Mermonia to receive the title of Duke. He had barely managed to sidestep a grand investiture ceremony, instead opting to sign, take the relevant certificates, and be done with it.

When he enters the office of the Iudex, he's met with the man himself and a surprisingly familiar face. One that he had never forgotten, even on days where the ground threatened to crumble underneath him and the walls of his prison cell felt like they were closing in.

Your eyes blow wide, your grip on the documents threatening to rip the papers, and he doesn't miss the slight wobble in your lip as you gaze at him.

"Good afternoon, I'm pleased that you could join us," says the Iudex. He sweeps one hand in your direction. "This is one of our top attorneys,assigned to assist with the processing of your documents and certificates."

Wriothesley smiles, wider than he has in a long, long time, and reaches a hand out for you to grasp.

"Hi," he says, never taking his eyes on your face. He squeezes your hand and feels you tremble in his hold. "My name is Wriothesley. It's nice to meet you."

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #Cw Genshin spoilers #Cw Genshin leaks #Wriothesley #genshin impact #When i tell you this started as a thought of 'oh what if the reader is the reason he likes tea so much'#and then. Next thing I know I've been sitting in my chair for half an hour typing this shit up.

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suguwu · 5 months ago

Text

this is messy but—

it’s been years since the flames dabi set in his father’s office turned on him. set their sparking teeth in his skin and refused to let go. it’s been years, but his scars never let him forget.

he’s out of prison now, but for all his counselor talks a big game, he can’t find a job. so instead, when the noise is too much, he takes refuge at the little flower shop around the corner from his rehabilitation center.

the mist in the air feels good on his scars and cools him off and the scent of earth is grounding. brings him back into his own skin. he lingers but never buys anything but you—the owner—never seems to chase him out.

you smile at him and bob your head in greeting before returning back to the bouquet you're making. it's like you trust him. maybe you do.

one day, he's running a finger over a leaf of a flower, one that blushes like the dawn, sweet, soft pink. he's afraid to touch a silken petal; thinks it will rot beneath his clumsy fingers, considering the way it ripples like a wave in the barest breeze.

"ranunculus."

he glances over his shoulder at you. "bless you."

you laugh.

"the flower," you explain. "it's called a ranunculus."

"oh."

"here," you say, picking one out of the bucket it's tucked into. the water sloshes; it gleams on the long, thick stem of the flower. "hold that for a second."

he blinks as you shove the flower into his hands. then you're plucking more flowers from nearby buckets, your hands moving like fluttering little birds. you gather more and more, until he can barely see you behind the greenery and the blooms. he recognizes some: proud, leggy irises; fluffy ball peonies, as white as driven snow; crimson tulips so dark they're almost black.

"c'mon," you say, heading towards your worktable. he follows, feeling a little ridiculous carrying a single bloom versus your meadow-like armful. you lay your wares out on the table and beckon him closer. he holds out the ranunculus. you flick off the end of the stem with your knife. he hovers, unsure.

"well?" you say. "are you gonna sit?"

he eyes you. you meet his gaze steadily, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

"feel bad for me?" he sneers. "that why you're being so nice?"

you hum.

"is putting you to work nice?" you ask, already on to the next flower. he watches the way you hold the knife, how it shines silver in the sunlight, how easily it slides through the thick stem. those hands of yours move with careful surety. he wonders if you do origami; he could see you creasing a thick piece of ornamental paper perfectly.

"i wouldn't call this work."

"no? then you shouldn't mind doing it."

he shoves his hands into his pockets. the misters turn on over the flower buckets; some of the spray settles against his skin, as if he's by the sea.

"fine," he says. "show me."

at the end of the day, you insist on paying him, despite the fact that he's cut a few of the stems too short—one of your bouquets is a little lopsided, but you have it displayed with all the others—and ruined a few blooms. there are petals stuck to his fingertips.

he goes home smelling of wet loam and your faint perfume. rei blinks her big doe eyes at his sudden appearance at the family dinner table, but she makes space for him all the same.

he goes back to your shop the next day. you smile at him, soft and pretty and a little bit sharp with knowing, and he ducks further into his hoodie so you can't see his scars.

"show me more," he tells you.

you tilt your head.

"alright," you say. "let's go."

and just like that, he has a job.

he makes it three weeks before he thinks about kissing you.

it's your hands, he thinks. they're careful and quick and fearless, despite getting pierced by thorns and clippers alike. you touch everything with a certain type of care.

including him.

he never had a chance against you. he thinks about your hands, about your lips, about the way you're so careful with him. not like he's breakable. he'd have left if you touched him like that.

no, you touch him the same way you touch your flowers: like he means something.

it's too much.

he stops going to your shop.

but he watches you, sometimes. you move like a dream, floating between the aisles, petals caught on your fingertips. you laugh with your customers; you chat with them as you roll their bouquets up tight in paper, tied off with a perfect bow. you smile at a man, as bright as the sun, and his hands tighten into fists. it pulls the scars tight enough to hurt, but he doesn't care.

he barges into the shop, shouldering the man aside as he tries to exit. ignores the disgruntled call from behind him. by the time he makes it to the register, you're watching him coolly.

he realizes he doesn't know what to say.

you reach out. he lets you slide that careful hand into the hood of his hoodie; lets you cup his cheek. your eyes don't widen at the rough texture of his scars against your skin. you simply smile at him.

"welcome back," you say, and he realizes he doesn't need to say anything at all.

#bee drabbles #kinda #do not perceive me

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fcthots · 1 year ago

Note

“I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.” with protective upset and slightly unhinged jason would be so so good oh my god. like if something bad happens to reader and he has to get violent to defend her… yeah.

-🧸

You were on you way home, out later than you should have been, but your friend needed moral support after a breakup and you lost track of time.

Unfortunately while both you & Jason's apartment and your friend's were just off the edge of crime alley, your friend's apartment was on the opposite end of you and Jason. All of this is to say, unless you wanted to be out after midnight, you had to pass through crime alley after dark. It was just a five minute walk there, when daylight spared you of most of the dangers of Gotham, but it was pitch black now. You should have driven, but at the time it didn’t seem necessary.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You walked as fast as possible.

You didn’t even have a purse on you. Your phone was in the leather jacket Jason had bought you as a present and you had 20 dollars stuffed somewhere in your pant pockets.

Were you supposed to turn left here? Yeah, you recognize that streetlamp.

You would call Jason, but your phone is fucking dead and it's not like you were gonna ask your crying friend for a charger. And you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside with no way to get back into your friends apartment.

You were in the home stretch, just in the outskirts of crime alley. Almost freedom.

Never let it be said that you were lucky. All of your luck was used getting your hot ass boyfriend. Luck gone.

The man had a knife and was screaming for your wallet. Your wallet that you did not bring with you.

"Give me the wallet or I'm gonna spill your guts on the fucking ground!"

Just because your boyfriend was scary looking, did not mean you were used to scary men, especially ones that yelled at you. Your hands shook and you weren't sure what to do.

"I don’t have it. All I have is 20 dollars, please."

"That's a fucking lie. I see your jacket. I know that shit is expensive. Lie to me again and I'll slit your throat."

Fuck. If you had to guess, it would be Jason that would find your body. You didn’t want it to be Jason. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing your lifeless eyes. You know what it's like to look into your soulmates lifeless eyes and realize they're gone forever; you were hoping Jason would never have to experience that.

"It's-"

"Tough luck... I guess I could accept other forms of payment."

He bares his teeth in a grin as he sees the look on your face.

"Unless you'd prefer that no one ever finds your body?"

You're really glad you told Jason you loved him before he left for patrol.

The man starts getting closer to you. You can't talk, can't scream, can't think. You were gonna die alone.

You think you mumble out a 'please' before your back hits the wall. His knife was to your throat, but all you could think about was Jason.

There was a bang that you didn’t fully register. Before you could think twice about it, your mugger was on the ground. You didn’t move. You stayed, frozen, silent tears running down your cheeks.

"Shh, it's ok. You're ok. It's me."

You finally focused your eyes and saw the white lenses staring at you, his arms in the air.

You babbled nonsense. You couldn't breathe.

You tried to back away from the man on the floor, but you almost fell. You swore your legs were going to give out. Jason was at your side in less than a second. He lifted you over the bleeding body on the ground, supported your weight as your knees buckled.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck and you choked on air.

"I've got you. Match my breaths, ok? Good. You're doing great. You're ok, I promise."

All you could manage to get out was his name.

"'M right here. Just breathe. Focus on that for me." His hand cradled the base of your neck.

Eventually you stopped crying. Eventually you could breathe again. Eventually Jason led your face away from his neck to look at you. Your whole body shook. You watched as he drew his hand up to his helmet and heard this hiss and click and he took it off. He took your jaw in one of his hands.

He wiped the splattered blood and tears off your cheeks with a gloved hand, traced the trail of fresh blood and broken skin on your neck from where the knife was pressed against you. “I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”

You looked into his eyes as they flashed an inhuman green, and you believed him.

Bonus:

"Wait, Jay. Did you just happen to stumble across me?"

"There...may or may not be a tracker in the jacket I bought you... You were in one place for too long."

"I hate that that makes me feel safer."

He smiles apologetically. "I love you."

"I love you too."

#tw: sa mention #tw: sa threat #I am the angst queen #saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst #red hood x reader angst #red hood angst #angst #🧸 anon

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

Text

Late Night At Fazbear's

Mike Schmidt x Fem Reader

Summary: Mike is an ex-coworker with whom you have a situationship with. Knowing about your interest in arcade games, he invites you to visit him at an abandoned pizzeria to check it out. Things get a little heated before you get a chance to look around.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were working on some last-minute statistics homework after you got out of the shower. It was a Friday night and even though you got an offer from your friend group to go out, you decided to stay home. Going to house party after party was getting annoying. Half the time, the only people there were drunk frat boys trying to get some before their whiskey dick kicked in. Being a wing girl for your friends was fun the first thirty times but now you’d rather stay home. Things in your life seemed so stagnant, it was like all you did was school, work, then bumming it at home. Like you were some uncharismatic dad in a sitcom. Suddenly your phone goes off, which breaks you out of the trance you were in. When you answered, you immediately recognized the voice to be Mike from the pizza place you guys used to work at together. You thought it was kinda weird that he was calling you so randomly but you did talk often when working together. For reasons that still are unclear, you answered.

“Hey! Sorry I know this is- it’s kinda random but can you talk for a second?” his voice spoke over the receiver.

“Yeah, I’m just hanging out at home. What’s up?” you asked, now standing up to pace around your room.

“Oh cool cool, so kinda weird to explain but bear with me here. Remember how you were super obsessed with the old arcade games we had in the back of the pizza shop? Anyway, I got this new job at an old pizzeria and there’s a bunch of old games and animatronics. I was thinking while I’m working the graveyard shift you could maybe swing by for an hour or two and check it out with me?” His voice was so sweet and soft-spoken that you couldn’t help but blush over the phone. You coiled your finger around the wire of the landline.

“Umm, yeah that sounds kinda fun actually, when are you there till?” you asked with a hint of a smirk on your face.

“My shift starts at 12 am and ends at 6 am, no pressure. Obviously, I’ll be here all night,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll call you right before I leave okay?” you asked softly.

“Yeah that’s perfect, I’ll see you then,” he said.

You put the phone back on its hook and check the time on your alarm clock. To your dismay, you’d been studying for two hours and it was 10:50. Luckily you’d already showered but that wasn’t the problem. Internally, you were going through a moral dilemma. Part of you was telling yourself that he was just a coworker that got attached and another part, wanted to do your hair and make-up and hair before going. Making sure that every strand sat just right as if he’d somehow notice. To make sure your eyelashes have the exact amount of mascara they need to be long but not clumpy. If you thought all these things, wouldn’t that mean you do care what he thinks of you? Although you were bubbling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you managed to finish getting ready. You start packing your bag, pacing around looking for all your items. Car keys, pocket knife, compact, body spray, and your wallet. As you went to take the cartoon of cigarettes from your bedside table, you thought about taking the joint that was rolled. Sitting on your knees in front of your nightstand, you start dialing Mike’s number to let him know you are on the way. After shoving all the contents into the bag, you make your way outside and start your Mazda. You were sitting in the car for a few moments, thinking about if you were really going.

Once you pulled into the parking lot, thoughts of regret started to bubble in your brain. You would have turned around if it weren’t for Mike’s car being in the parking lot. You checked the time on the radio and saw that it was only 12:57, was it weird that you were there so early? You were slightly worried that it would look desperate. Deciding to let that unneeded anxiety go, you get out of the car and lock your doors. Take a moment to take in the outside of the building. It appeared to be severely unkempt, brown vines covered most of the building. Due to the unsettling vibe of the building, the bear that was supposed to look cute and inviting was the exact opposite. Creating an ominous feeling as it waved at you. The walls were mostly a dull yellow color with red and blue accents and a black and white checkered line across the middle. One of the R’s of the sign was out, only adding to the sketchy feeling. You knocked on the big metal doors, wiping your knuckles off on your jeans. When Mike swung the door open, it made you jump and gasp. This caused him to break out into a fit of laughter. You playfully pushed his shoulder back.

He took you back to the small room where he was monitoring all the security footage. The room was more creepy than the outside of the building. You sat down on the desk and Mike plopped down on his office chair. He was completely slouched back, wearing a gray thermal and a dark hooded sweater. His hair was more curly than shaggy and he had a five o’clock shadow. You set your purse on the desk and stood up, looking at the security cameras. One of the first things you noticed was the group of animatronics that were standing on the stage together. It was then that you realized what you really had gotten yourself into.

He was surprised that you even came, yes you guys had become close while working together but he didn’t think it would lead to anything after. You were currently facing away from him, and he couldn’t help but admire you as you did so. He liked the fact that you were so well put together. Your jeans were fitted perfectly and your thong peaked out slightly from the top of your waistband. When you entered the small room, the entire space began to smell like apple-scented perfume. The white long sleeve was also very fitted, which brought attention to your figure. You turned around once you noticed it had been silent for a while. Grabbing your purse, you pull out the cartoon of cigs. Bringing the lighter to it and taking a drag to light it. After taking a couple of puffs you pass it to Mike who leans forward with a groan. As he took his hit, a piece of ash fell onto his pants. You leaned down and brushed it off his knee.

“So much for cutting back right?” he asked rhetorically.

“Oh yeah, I did switch to Spirits though. My grandma swore by these,” you said taking it back.

“Do you smoke weed?” he asked, you laughed and started digging through your bag and pulled out the Altoids container, grabbing the joint.

“Will you get in trouble? For like, smoking on the job?” you asked.

“Oh no, this place is abandoned. There’s usually nobody in and out of here that would notice,” he said.

You lit the joint and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke at his face playfully. He laughed as he took the joint into his hands and inhaled. You put the cig out on the glass ashtray that sat on the desk. He commented on how good the flower tasted which made you relieved knowing he didn’t think it was reggie. You guys started talking about memories of working together. You guys would always take smoke breaks together and go to lunch every once and a while. Mike actually listened to what you had to say. He wasn’t the type of person that constantly changed to a conversation with himself. A lot of guys you spoke with were usually just telling you whatever you wanted to hear. Everything you had to say was so fascinating and impressive because they were just trying to butter you up. Mike would actually give his opinions on things and would tell you if he thought what you were saying was stupid. It was refreshing, to be honest, to have an interaction with the opposite sex without them drooling on you. You glanced over at Mike, maybe it was the weed but something felt different now. The way his legs were spread so widely made something in you feel hot. Eyes were now bloodshot, making the hazel color stand out even more than before. When he reached for the joint again, his hand brushed over yours. This made you make eye contact with him but then break away once the awkwardness set in. You looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Are you still with Jackson?” he asked.

“What? Oh yeah, we broke up a while ago,” you said, rubbing your arm.

“Well, what happened? I mean… If you don’t mind me asking,” he said.

“No it’s- he just..” you took a deep inhale and spoke as the smoke poured out of your mouth, “he was really aggressive like, not just with his words. Not saying he beat me or anything but some things are meant to be more sweet and gentle. Sorry, I don’t know why I'm telling you this,” you said, passing it back.

“No, I’m the one who brought it up. He always was a little misogynistic when we talked, I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. You were sitting on the desk, you kicked off your sandals and gently swung your legs back and forth.

“Yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you sighed.

“For sure, you could do so much better than that,” he said.

“Oh yeah? When you say better what do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning over to grab the joint.

“Like if you said he was overly aggressive then you’ll find someone that is more gentle and shit,” he said, chuckling a little.

“Oh, I see,” you moved your foot so that it was resting on his inner thigh before continuing, “Maybe you could show me?” you asked flirtatiously, he looked up and looked at you with a shocked expression.

You used your leg to roll him closer to where you were sitting. He was now smirking, looking up at you. He let his hands slide up both your outer thighs. He pulled you off the desk so that you were now sitting in his lap facing him. You still had the joint in your hand, you took a hit before letting it sit on the ashtray. Your noses were touching and you were relieved to see that his breath was as fast as yours. Running your fingers through his hair, forcing his head to tilt back a little. You ran your bottom lip across his, arching your back and pressing your crotches together. He picked you up which caused you to wrap your legs around his waist. He set you on the desk again so that he was standing, hovering over you. You reached your hands down between your bodies, trying to unbuckle his belt. He stopped the kiss and chuckled at your eagerness and helped you. As you unzipped his jeans, one of his arms reached behind you and undid the clasps of your bra. The way he unhooked it with one hand made you throb. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans. He still had his jeans on but now that his pants were undone, you could feel how hard he was through his boxers. It was like the heat coming off his dick was making your stomach feel warm and tight. Before he buried his face into your chest, the look on his face was almost primal. Like it was taking everything he had to keep his hands off of you. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and sucked, biting down every once in a while. He reached into his backpack that was sitting on the desk and pulled out a condom. He was breathing heavily and a couple of drips of sweat were beading down his forehead. As you unzipped your jeans you looked over at the security camera and thought you saw one of the animatronics move from the stage. You pulled away for a second to show him,

“Mike, I know we smoked and everything. Oh my god, I know this is going to be crazy but I swear I just saw one of those… things moved,” you said as he trailed kisses up your shoulder.

“This is my third day here and I think that all the time. It’s just your head playing tricks on us because of how creepy they look,” he said, then tearing the foil package open.

“Are you sure because I could have..” you started but then were interrupted by Mike throwing the still-packaged condom onto the desk and pressing a button that made both doors close around you. He then got down on his knees and gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down. Instead of trying to pull your panties off of you, he simply pulls them to the side. Sticking his tongue in between your folds, massaging your clit. You had been in a dry spell since you broke up with Jackson and even then, he would never go down on you. The feeling of his mouth pressed against you was so euphoric, the moans that came out of your mouth were completely natural and unrehearsed. His pace was slow but he kept a steady rhythm which helped you chase to your climax. Instead of pulling at his hair, you cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows were furrowed but when he saw the look on your face, his eyes closed and he groaned loudly. He grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs back so that your feet were now on the desk. You grabbed two fistfuls of hair and threw your head back, moaning loudly. The pressure of the top of your thighs being pressed into your lower stomach. Crying out as you cum, the moans came out strangled. As you started to come down from the wave of ecstasy, you began to feel insecure about how fast he made you cum.

“God you are so fucking hot, like seriously I almost came in my boxers,” he said standing up and grabbing the condom. His lips were parted and his mouth was still covered in saliva. Without wiping his mouth, he slid the rubber onto his shaft.

“Sorry, do you want to keep going?” he asked, you didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you grabbed him by his shirt and smashed your mouth into his. He moaned the word ‘fuck’ into your mouth before continuing kissing. He broke away to look down and line himself up with your entrance. You were still wet and swollen from the previous orgasm, enabling him to slide in with you easily. He dropped his forehead down on your shoulder, mouth open and moaning as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you. You scooted your ass down so that you could fully be pressed against his hips. The desk was continuously banging up against the wall. Your foreheads were now pressed together groaning and growling into each other’s mouth. Everything suddenly came to a halt when everything went dark. You both jump and start looking for any articles of clothing that are nearby. The big metal doors on both sides of you slam open so loud, that your ears start ringing.

“What the fuck just happened!” you exclaim.

“The battery died,” he realizes.

“Well has that ever happened while you’re working?” you asked.

“No,” he stated.

“Holy fuck, do you hear that fucking music?” you whispered.

#fnaf fanfic #josh hutcherson fnaf #fnaf x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #michael schmidt #michael schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt

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ohbueckers · 3 months ago

Text

WHAT’S MY NAME? so i surrender to every word you whisper, to every door you enter i will let you in.

THIS IS PART SEVEN! pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, part seven is here by popular demand (the length makes up for the wait). just had to go through and edit some things :) eight will take me a bit idk but it’ll be here! warnings, angst, pure blondie delusion, cliffhanger.

paige could still hear the voices of a crowd as she made her way out of the locker room, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the edge of her jersey. the win had been good, but it felt hollow, like something was missing. and it was—liana wasn’t there. not at the game, or even just with her. not that she expected her to be, not after everything. she hadn’t heard from her since that night, and the silence was a way deeper knife than any of her strung apologies could be. it was like waiting for a storm to pass, but every day it only got heavier.

paige hadn’t said much to her teammates about the fight, but they weren’t stupid. they saw it in the way her game had shifted, the extra edge in her drives to the basket, the way she zoned out when they were all hanging out after practice. it didn’t help that she was still smiling, making jokes like everything was okay, but they surprisingly didn’t prodde, maybe scared of her snapping.

paige could feel everyone’s eyes on her. and as much as she’d proudfully like to say they didn’t know anything, they did, because her team knew her better than anyone. kk clapped her on the back, aaliyah gave her a knowing look, and azzi offered a casual, “we’re heading back before we go out for food. are you gonna come?” her voice was soft, like always, giving it her best attempt.

paige almost said yes, ready to lose herself in the noise of her teammates, in the laughter and teasing that usually took the edge off. but the nagging weight in her chest had her hesitating. “nah, i’ll just catch y’all later,” she muttered, forcing a half-smile and a shoo of her hand that indicated they could celebrate without her.

they didn’t push. kk just raised a brow and shrugged, as if to say ‘your loss,’ before leading the others out of the locker room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

moments later while packing up her things was when she heard it—her name, soft but unmistakable.

“paige.”

she turned toward the voice, her brows immediately furrowing as naomi stepped into the hallway from around the corner. of all people, she was the last person paige wanted to see right now. especially here. especially after everything. if she was honest, she hadn’t wanted to see the girl again the day after meeting her.

her back was half turned before she fixed her posture, taking a deep breath as if it would ease any of the tension in her body. “what are you doin’ here?”

naomi stalked towards her, hands in her pockets as a lanyard hung out of one. paige wasn’t even sure how she’d managed to get back here, but it was quite literally the last thing on her list of worries.

“i came to talk to you about liana.”

paige’s stomach churned at the mention of her name, scoffing despite that. “i ain’t tryna’ hear it. you don’t have to speak for her. she sent you here?” she didn’t think liana would stoop that low.

naomi’s eyes widened for a second before her expression shifted, hardening. “no, she didn’t send me here. she won’t even talk to me. i had to find out from mara what happened,” she explained, and paige could feel her shoulders drop a bit. it felt like less of a set-up. “i came because i care about her—because i know that she cares about you more than she ever will me.” she took a step closer, crossing her arms.

paige’s eyebrows furrowed, sizing her up. “you knew?“

naomi nodded, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips, like that was the stupidest question paige could ask. “yeah, i knew. we all knew. liana’s not good at hiding it. she’s never been good at lying about how she feels, but she’s good at avoiding it.” naomi had her head slightly tilted as she talked, and paige felt like she was on the outside of the greatest inside joke. this was the girl who really knew her through and through, just not on the same level paige did. she knew how she reacted in certain situations, her basic instinct, and paige had to find out the hard way.

“ted’s was the biggest giveaway. the way you looked at her, the way you looked at me.” she paused, her voice dipping slightly. “you didn’t even try to hide it. i saw it all over your face. and the crazy part? i don’t even think liana noticed it, but i did. i knew you were already in deep.”

paige’s jaw clenched, the memories of that night coming back in a rush—how she’d tried to keep it cool, tried to pretend like the sight of naomi standing next to liana didn’t make her blood boil. she barely knew her then.

“i’m not here to give you shit for it,” naomi added, almost like she could sense paige’s growing discomfort. “i just… i get it. i know what it’s like to want her so bad you can’t think straight. to feel like if you don’t lock it down now, someone else will.”

paige shifted her weight, eyes narrowing as she shrugged. “so, what? you’re here so i can feel sorry for you?”

naomi shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “nah. i’m telling you this because you’re acting like it’s just you. we were both pushy, both in the back of her head telling her things. shit, i know i wasn’t going down without a fight.”

paige stared at her, leaning against the wall now as she sighed. she didn’t want to think that she had any part in making this mess harder for liana, but the way naomi was breaking it down? she couldn’t ignore it. maybe it’s what she needed.

“you’ve been at her just like i was,” she continued, her arms folding over her chest as she stepped forward again, her voice low. “both of us trying to win her over, making her feel like she had to pick. liana’s not the type to make quick choices, and when she’s backed into a wall like that, she freezes. it wasn’t because she didn’t know what she wanted, but because she didn’t wanna hurt anyone.”

paige stood there, frozen in place, fists clenched at her sides. she wanted to argue, wanted to snap and tell naomi that she didn’t understand, that liana had been stringing them both along. but she couldn’t. she didn’t know why she couldn’t.

the locker room felt stifling, and it wasn’t the sweat. the weight of it all had dropped onto her shoulders at once, and all she felt was a strange numbness creeping in. history was more than just years; it was the moments that shaped someone. and no matter how many nights paige had spent with liana, no matter how deep their connection had felt in the moment, history still stood between them like an immovable wall.

she’d been so confident, so fucking sure of herself. too sure of herself. paige had been too focused on what she wanted, too consumed by her own feelings to recognize what it was doing to liana. pushing her, pressuring her.

this wasn’t just about liana not choosing. it was about paige making it harder for her to even want to choose.

“she just needs space,” naomi tried to reason.

space. i can do space.

saturday had rolled around quicker than paige had expected, marking the first, and last, free weekend before winter break that the women’s team didn’t have a game. for once, she wasn’t preoccupied with back-to-back practices, game tapes, or flight schedules. instead, tonight was about blowing off some steam, if the movie theatre counted. it really just sounded like sitting in a dark room, the only light coming from a screen the blonde had no interest in.

liana had somehow managed to stay out of paige’s mind, or at least out of the forefront, which was something she wasn’t used to. she’d been busy enough for it to be a constant distraction. she couldn’t even imagine what her life would look like right now without ball. probably ridiculously lonely.

naomi had pointed out the ugly truth: both of them had been pushy, both of them had backed liana into a corner, and that made everything more complicated. paige couldn’t shake the guilt of it, the realization that she hadn’t made things any easier. that talk had stuck with her, circling her mind, especially during the silence. who would’ve thought out of the three people involved in this situation it would’ve been naomi to come forward and be the most mature, the most real after finally coming to terms that she didn’t have liana anymore, and now neither of them did.

paige tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as she navigated through the city, her friends packed into the car. the drive was a little further out from storrs, the glow from the passing streetlights flickering over their faces. ice sat shotgun, occasionally glancing over at an oddly quiet paige, while aubrey, kk, and nika were laughing loudly in the back, talking about how expensive the movie theatre had gotten.

“what’s wrong with you?” ice said through a breathy laugh.

paige shrugged, shaking her head and keeping her eyes ahead. “i’m good.”

ice’s smirked widened, tilting her head up in the blonde’s direction. “nah, you ain’t good. you’re thinkin’ about her, aren’t you?”

paige shot her a look, but didn’t deny it.

the car rolled to a stop at a red light, and kk leaned forward from the middle, draping her arms over the front seats. “it’s been, what? a week since y’all talked?”

“five days,” paige muttered before she could stop herself, and the moment the words left her mouth, she winced, bringing a hand to drag down her face. here it came.

kk smirked, clearly amused as she glanced back at nika and aubrey. they’d all agreed to come out tonight, but it felt more like a paige patrol. operation make sure our captain gets out of her head and has some fun, even if there was absolutely nowhere to go, nothing to do. “five days, huh? you really got it bad if you’re counting like that.“

paige exhaled sharply, having a staring contest with the light as it turned to green. she pulled away, the engine humming softly as they continued toward the theatre. “don’t act like i’m the only one keeping track,” she said, throwing a pointed look at kk through the rearview mirror.

her grin widened. “girl, boo, you definitely are. we’re also down a tutor, by the way. now i gotta sit through trig without liana breakin’ it down for me.”

paige scoffed, rolling her eyes, yet the joke made a smile come through. not a very large one, but it was there. “maybe if you actually locked into those books, you wouldn’t need a tutor.”

ice and nika instigated, letting out some low-pitched ‘ooh’s.’ “alright, alright. pipe down, ms. five days,” aubrey teased through a laugh.

they always had a way of lightening the mood, even when everything felt like a mess. five days. it sounded so ridiculous when they put it like that, like she was counting down the seconds since she’d last talked to liana—because she was. and that fact stung more than it should’ve.

“and you’re definitely the only one keeping track,” nika threw out.

and if that was some veiled implication that liana hadn’t been thinking about her, it had definitely weighed heavy on paige’s mind for the rest of the night.

honestly, she’d checked out the moment she got in the car.

the ride back from the movie was quieter, everyone winding down from the night. paige kept her hands steady on the wheel, just like before, eyes flicking between the road and the dashboard. she wasn’t sure she even remembered half of the movie, her mind a big mix of half-formed scenarios of good and also bad things.

she tried to focus on the conversation around her—kk, aubrey, and nika talking about their favorite parts of the movie, ice was scrolling through her phone—but paige was just waiting for something, anything, to happen. her knuckles were turning white against the black leather of the wheel, and that was when her phone lit up on the dash.

a notification. a text.

liana.

paige’s mind went blank for a second. she furrowed her eyebrows, her heart pounding a little harder now as her eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror, hands instinctively moving to pull the cord out of her phone, disconnecting it from the car’s bluetooth system before anyone else could see. she swallowed, flipping it over so her case was on display in her lap as she adjusted her posture, turning to lean her arm against the car door.

it buzzed two more times.

she hadn’t seen any contents of the text. in fact, she had absolutely no idea what it said the entire drive back to the dorms, and it was eating at her.

God, why now?

she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for her on that screen was going to change everything, again. it always did. paige had learned that with liana, nothing ever stayed simple. it hadn’t been simple from the very beginning.

but right now, all she wanted was to look at that damn phone.

as they approached the dorms, paige tried to keep her expression neutral, the same way it had been nearly the entire night, though her mind was anything but calm. the moment they pulled into the parking lot and everyone began gathering their things and climbing out, ice turned toward her, eyebrows raised. “you comin’ up?”

“yeah, in a bit,” paige said, her voice casual, even though her insides were in knots. “i gotta take care of something real quick.”

ice raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue, and paige was glad nobody else did either, probably too tired to be their usual nosey selves. “alright, don’t take too long.”

once they were gone, paige let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, hand moving up to begin stroking her chin. she proceeded to lean back, hips thrusting upward as she got more comfortable in her seat.

paige wasn’t dumb—at least majority of the time. she knew how this would go before even seeing what she’d said. but she was also way past thinking logically when it came to liana. way past this whole space ordeal.

before she could take too long to dwell on it, knowing it wouldn’t make much of a difference, she turned her phone over, swiping up to reveal her messages.

I wany you to come over.

Want**?

Miss you so much.

she licked her lips, leaning her head back against the headrest, staring blankly at the ceiling of her car. she must’ve been at a party, somewhere with alcohol. paige could tell by the way the texts were written. liana wasn’t a partier—that much had always been clear. so the fact that she’d gone out tonight could only mean one thing—liana was trying to forget about paige bueckers.

paige let out a sigh as she typed out a response, only to delete it. she tried again. then deleted that one too. she couldn’t think straight.

her chest tightened, and without thinking, she opened the car door and stepped out into the cool air. she could feel her body moving on autopilot, her mind too crowded. she huffed, gripping her phone in one hand as she stared at liana’s messages again, specifically the last one.

Miss you so much. she could practically hear the words in her voice, all whiny and slurred. the thought didn’t make her decision any easier.

her thumb even hovered over the call button, swallowing hard. she shouldn’t be doing this.

finally, she made up her mind.

she tapped on the message thread and typed, her fingers moving almost without permission. I’ll be there soon.

she wasn’t strong enough to say no.

amara pulled the door closed behind her, pausing for a moment outside of liana’s door. she’d stayed long enough to make sure her friend was okay—liana had seemed fine, at least physically. emotionally, though? she could tell there was more to it, and that she’d never understand her situation. they hadn’t talked much on the ride home from the party, and liana had been quiet, introspective, and distant in a way amara wasn’t used to seeing. she had that look in her eyes too. the one that told her she wasn’t going to let the night end without doing something reckless.

amara sighed, adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, shaking her head as she made her way down the hallway. she cut out the lights and opened the front door, only to freeze when she spotted a familiar figure standing just a few feet away.

paige bueckers—liana’s paige—was standing there, hoodie drawn tight, sweats clad to her long legs, and hair pulled into a slick bun, face tight as she exhaled, shoving her phone into her pocket. she looked kinda rough, like the past few days hadn’t been great for her, but it was also kinda a given. of course she hadn’t been okay. neither had her friend.

amara’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms over her chest, and suddenly, paige felt like she was in some interrogation room. “what are you doing here?” she waved her hand dismissively then, quickly correcting herself. “actually, i know what you’re doing here. why are you here?”

paige blinked, her jaw tightening as she stuffed her hands deeper into her hoodie pockets. she hit me up, what do you think? but that wasn’t the answer amara was looking for, clearly. “because i can’t stop thinking about her,” paige muttered, her voice low, almost defensive. she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “that’s why i’m here.”

amara narrowed her eyes like she wasn’t buying it.

“amara, c’mon,” paige finally said, her voice a little rough around the edges. “you know how this is. you really think i’m just gonna sit back and do nothin’ when she texts me like that?”

amara uncrossed her arms, leaning back against the wall with a heavy sigh. of course it’d been her doing. “i don’t know what i think anymore.” her eyes softened for a second, then hardened again. “but i’m just wondering—are you even thinking? about what this is doing to her? or is this just about you?”

the question hit like a punch to the gut. paige’s chest tightened, her mouth going dry as she stepped back. is this just about me?

she hadn’t thought about it like that. not fully. every time she tried to step back, it felt impossible. like she couldn’t give her the space she needed even if she tried. but maybe that was the problem. maybe she was being selfish, showing up here, knowing they hadn’t figured anything out yet. knowing this would only complicate things more.

her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “it’s not just about me.”

amara stared at her for a moment, like she was searching for something in paige’s face, the way she let the words fall from her tongue. then she shook her head, turning toward the hallway. “i hope you’re right, paige.”

as she walked away, the blonde stood still like a statue, like she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. but as her eyes traveled up to the door, the gold 2c staring back at her, there was no way she was turning back around.

big mistake.

she turned the knob, walking in without a second thought, not bothering to cut on the lights. she slipped her shoes off, taking a look around as if she could really see anything, but she knew this place—she’d spent enough time here to know her way around. everything looked the same, just as expected, except for the blanket and bed pillow on the couch. amara must’ve been keeping her company.

paige sucked in a breath and quietly made her way down the hall. when she reached liana’s door, she hesitated, fingers gripping the knob tightly. she wasn’t ready for this—was she ever? the door was cracked open, just enough to give her a glimpse of light spilling out from the bathroom.

she could hear her moving around, the sound of water running in the sink before shutting off. paige stood there, waiting, watching as liana emerged, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, her hair still damp from what was probably a shower.

the blonde stepped forward, her hand still grasping the door knob like her life depended on it. “why did you call me?” she asked.

liana blinked, startled at first, before recovering with a nonchalant shrug as her eyes wandered to the ground. “i texted you.”

paige’s brows knitted together, clearly not amused. it the most unserious answer she could’ve found, like she was brushing it off. “liana.” her voice was completely serious, the type of tone the girl fell weak to everytime.

“i don’t know, paige.” liana stood there frozen for a moment, her guard still up, eyes darting to the floor. even as the words left her mouth sternly and full of attitude, they sounded empty, like a weak defense that wouldn’t hold. she’d clearly sobered up since being home, suddenly regretting the texts she’d sent. well, almost.

paige stepped closer, forcing liana to face her. “yes, you do. you always know.” her blue eyes were on lock, refusing to let her slip away this time. “even when you don’t wanna say it out loud. so what is it?”

why did you call her? liana let the question float around in her head. she knew the answer. she’d said it. it was painfully simple, and that’s what made it so hard. you miss her. you wanted her here. but wanting paige and letting herself have paige were two very different things, and she didn’t have the strength to deal with the consequences.

paige wasn’t making it any easier. she never did, really. but she couldn’t fucking help it—she was losing her patience, and the worst part was that she didn’t realize when she was doing it. why is she always holding back? why can’t she just admit it?

“i called you because…” liana started, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words just hung there, incomplete.

“because you wanted me here,” paige finished for her, taking another step forward, her breath now mingling with liana’s. her heart was pounding in her chest, but she masked it well. she couldn’t let liana see just how much this meant to her, how badly she needed to hear her say it.

liana’s eyes flicked up to meet paige’s, and for a second, she let her guard down. just for a second, but it was all the blonde needed. “i wanted you here. but that doesn’t mean it was the right call.”

there it was again—she was fighting. it was exhausting, the constant tug-of-war between what liana felt and what she allowed herself to act on. paige’s jaw tightened as she fought back the urge to let out a frustrated sigh, taking a look away instead. she knew she should’ve expected it—the guarded responses, the hesitation—but every time liana retreated, it hurt just a little more. because this time, paige could feel it in her bones.

this was the end of the line. they weren’t going to get another shot after tonight.

“always fighting, huh?” paige let her head hang low for a moment. a dry chuckle slipped out, and when she lifted her eyes again, liana was there, standing as rigid as ever, face set in stone, arms crossed tightly like she was trying to hold everything in. “you say you want me here, but the second i’m close, you act like you don’t. like you can’t. God, liana, i may be pushy but you’re impossible.”

“quit doing that, paige.” liana’s mouth moved before she could stop it. frustrated. annoyed, even. “just let it be what it was.” she scrunched her face up, eyes hardening as if she was trying to push the hurt away, to shove it down where neither of them would have to deal with it. paige would’ve dwelled on her tone, the way she said it if she wasn’t so focused on what was said.

liana took a half-step back, and the blonde was right there with her. “let it be what it was?” the blonde repeated almost immediately, squinting at the words like she had to wrap her head around it. they sounded so final. “that’s it? just like that?” her voice cracked.

liana met paige in the middle, eyes and body, her eyes narrowing, body stiff as if bracing for impact. she knew if she wanted paige to believe her, to accept what she was saying, she’d have to hold her ground, really look at her. her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenched, but there was something fragile in the way she stood—like she was holding herself together by the thinnest thread, and the wrong word, the wrong move would unravel everything. “yeah. just like that.”

paige stepped even closer, closing the distance liana was so desperate to maintain, the distance that had always existed between them, even when they were at their closest. skin to skin. her voice came out low, gravelly, raw with emotion as she reached out, her fingers grazing liana’s arm, a touch that begged her to stay. “stop.” the word was a plea. “stop pretending like it didn’t matter. like i didn’t matter.”

liana swallowed hard, and it was becoming harder to stand on what she said by the second. she wasn’t as unreadable as she wanted to be. paige could see it written all over her face, in the way her lips trembled just slightly, in the way her chest rose and fell unevenly as if she was struggling to hold herself together. “it did matter,” liana murmured, but it wasn’t enough.

paige leaned in closer, so close now that their foreheads almost touched. liana took a quick glance at the blonde’s lips, pulse racing, and paige could feel it—feel how badly liana wanted to keep pulling away. but she also felt the way liana’s body betrayed her, inching toward her despite the words she was about to say. “then why you acting like it don’t now, huh?” paige’s voice softened, but the urgency never left. she tilted her head, licking her lips. another glance down.

liana let out a shaky breath, her hands hovering in the space between them like she was deciding whether to push paige away or pull her closer. “we shouldn’t,” was all she said, the words weak, lacking conviction. her voice was strained, barely audible, like she was saying it just for the sake of saying it, but they both knew it wasn’t what she wanted. another glance down—and they lingered there a little too long before she caught herself, biting her own in an effort to distract herself.

paige edged closer, her lips brushing liana’s jaw, teasing but not quite kissing. not yet. “but you gon’ tell me you don’t want to?” she dropped her voice to a whisper, her fingers tracing a line up liana’s arm until they rested at her neck, her thumb skimming the soft skin just beneath her ear, right over her tattoo. “tell me you don’t want it.”

she couldn’t fight it anymore—the tension, the heat, the way paige’s body pressed against hers like she belonged there. and maybe that was the problem. maybe that’s why she couldn’t let herself have it. but God, she wanted it. she wanted her. she wanted paige so badly it hurt.

she shut her eyes. her breaths came out uneven as her hands instinctively gripped the hem of paige’s hoodie, her fingers tightening around the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her upright. she swallowed hard, eyes opening to meet paige’s, searching for a way out, for anything that could stop her from doing what she knew they shouldn’t. but paige’s eyes—those piercing blue eyes—were fixed on hers, pleading for something.

liana’s voice wavered as she managed to get out the words she thought she was supposed to say. they were so close it was almost inevitable at this point. “really shouldn’t…” her tone lacked conviction, though, and paige knew it. they both did.

paige didn’t move back; instead, she leaned in even closer, lips brushing the corner of liana’s mouth now, teasing, tempting. “we shouldn’t,” she repeated, her tone almost mocking, like she was weighing her options. her hand slid from liana’s neck to cup her jaw, fingers threading gently through her hair. “but you want to.”

liana’s lips parted slightly, lolling her head back as she leaned into paige’s touch. her lips were right there, hard not to look at, close enough that all it would take was one small movement, and she could have her. could taste her again. and for once, liana didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“paige…” her voice broke, barely audible, but it wasn’t a protest. it was a surrender.

the blonde could barely get any words out, too focused on the way liana’s lips moved. she moved her hand further into her hair, grasping for more of her. “just one more night,” paige whispered. the heat between them was thick enough to suffocate. “let me have you for one last time, baby. promise i’ll—“ paige trailed off, almost breathless, unable to finish the thought, because deep down, they both knew—what she was about to promise, she might not be able to keep.

“…i’ll make you remember.”

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shybluebirdninja · 2 months ago

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FADING BONDS: PART 1

Summary: Two broken souls—Logan, an aging hero, and a young woman overlooked by her own family—find solace in each other’s silent company, forming an unexpected connection that challenges their emotional walls.

Pairing : UberDriver!Logan x Fem!Reader

Genre : Angst, Fluff

It’s another shitty night. Work was slow, tips were bad, and you’re left with this hollow ache in your chest like always. You don’t even bother trying to smile anymore—it’s just you, some grease stains on your apron, and the endless comparison your family makes between you and your perfect sister.

She’s always had it together—looks, brains, a rich husband. And you? Thirty-five, slinging burgers for minimum wage and constantly reminded how you could be more. Should be more.

You shove your hands into your jacket pockets as you step out of the diner. The cold night air bites at your skin, and you almost welcome it. You don’t want to go home, but you don’t have a choice.

You call an Uber like you always do. You swipe through your phone, avoiding the group chat with your family where everyone praises your sister’s latest achievement. Whatever. You let out a long breath as the car pulls up—a beat-up old truck, not even one of those sleek Uber rides you see in ads.

The window rolls down, and you catch a glimpse of him. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Dark circles under his eyes, a wild mess of graying hair, and scruffy beard that’s seen better days.

His hands grip the wheel, knuckles pale, and when he finally looks at you, his eyes are sharp. Tired, but sharp. There’s something familiar about him, but you can’t place it.

“Get in,” he grumbles, voice low and rough, like gravel on pavement.

You hesitate for a second, but it’s late, and you’re too exhausted to care. The truck smells like old leather and cigarettes, and the seats creak under your weight. He doesn’t say a word as you buckle in.

You glance at him again. There’s something off about him—something different. But you don’t pry. You’ve had your fill of people digging into your life.

The engine rumbles to life, and he pulls away from the curb, driving like he’s got nowhere to be. The streets blur past, neon signs reflecting in the rain-slicked roads. You steal glances at him.

His hands on the wheel are weathered, like they’ve seen more than their fair share of violence. There’s a scar on his knuckles, deep and jagged, like someone carved it into his skin.

“Rough night?” you ask, trying to fill the silence. You’re not sure why you’re talking to him, but maybe it’s just the loneliness gnawing at you.

He grunts, which you take as a yes. His eyes stay on the road, though they don’t seem all that focused. Like he’s driving on autopilot.

“Yeah, me too,” you mutter, not really expecting a response.

Another grunt.

You lean back in the seat, staring out the window as the city slips by. It’s funny, in a way. You’ve felt invisible for so long, and now here’s this guy—an Uber driver, for God’s sake—who seems just as checked out of life as you are.

There’s something about the silence that feels heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like you’re both hanging on by a thread, but neither of you cares enough to grab onto something solid.

A few minutes pass before he speaks again, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife.

“Work at that diner, huh?”

“Yeah. Glamorous life, right?” You chuckle, though it’s humorless. “Just livin’ the dream.”

He huffs out a breath that might’ve been a laugh, but it’s hard to tell. “Could be worse.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Oh yeah? How?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers drum against the wheel, a small, frustrated movement. “Trust me,” he says, voice lower now, almost to himself. “It gets worse.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod, even though he’s not looking. The silence falls between you again, but now it’s a little heavier. You feel it, too—like he’s holding back something. Not that you have any right to ask. You don’t know him. Hell, you barely know yourself these days.

But then it clicks. The scars, the scruff, the broken look in his eyes. He looks like he’s been through hell and back. Like he’s got more stories than anyone should have to carry.

You’ve seen him before, or at least versions of him. The news, maybe? It hits you like a punch to the gut.

“You’re… Logan, right?” You ask it quietly, like you’re afraid to bring up the name. Afraid he’ll shut down.

For a second, he doesn’t respond. He just grips the wheel tighter. Then, without looking at you, he mutters, “Used to be.”

Your heart skips a beat. Logan. The Wolverine. But not the one you grew up seeing in stories. This man—this broken, tired man—is a shadow of what he once was. And for some reason, that hits harder than you expected. He’s not a hero anymore. Maybe he never was.

“So, what happened?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

His jaw tightens, and for a long moment, you think he’s not going to answer. Then, in a voice so low it’s barely audible, he says, “Life. Shit happens. People die.”

You swallow hard. You know what that feels like. Not the same way he does, but close enough. You don’t push for more. What could you say that would make a difference? You’ve both lost something along the way—him, more than you could ever imagine.

The rest of the ride is quiet, the rain tapping against the windshield like a heartbeat. When he pulls up to your building, you almost don’t want to get out. It’s strange, but this broken man feels like the first real connection you’ve had in years.

You linger, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t look at you, but you catch a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. Those eyes—once fierce, now dulled by time and pain.

“Thanks,” you mutter, opening the door.

“Yeah,” he replies, gruff as always.

You step out into the rain, and as he drives off, you realize something. You’ve spent so long feeling invisible, unnoticed. But Logan—he saw you.

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lila-lou · 6 months ago

Text

✨ His second exception - Pt. 2/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben, Ben loosing his shit- it´s STILL a fucking mess

Word Count: 5981

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 2 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, and the house felt eerily silent. Ben had been trying, so hard, to get you to talk to him, but you couldn’t. Every time he asked a question or tried to start a conversation, you barely managed more than a monosyllabic response.

You spent most of your time in bed, staring at the ceiling or out the window, lost in your own world of pain. You barely ate or drank, and your physical and emotional exhaustion seemed to deepen with each passing hour. The grief was all-consuming, a dark cloud that overshadowed everything else.

Ben was at his wit’s end. He wanted to help, to ease your pain, but he felt powerless. He had tried bringing you your favorite meals, but they remained untouched. He had tried sitting with you in silence, hoping his presence alone would be enough, but it seemed to have little effect.

On the morning of the fourth day, Ben decided he couldn’t let this go on any longer. He needed to reach you, to pull you out of this spiral of despair. He found you in bed, as usual, your eyes blankly staring ahead. With a heavy heart, he sat down beside you, his hand gently resting on your arm.

“Hey”, he said softly, trying to catch your gaze. “I know you’re hurting. I am too. But we can’t keep going on like this. Please, talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling”.

You didn’t respond, your eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. It was clear that you were struggling, caught in a web of grief and numbness. Ben’s hand tightened slightly on your arm, a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“Please, just let me in”, he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. I want to help”.

You turned your head slowly, your gaze meeting his for the first time in days. “Just leave me alone”, you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and frustration. “I can’t do this right now, Ben. Just… please”.

Your words cut through Ben’s usual cold and unhurtable demeanor like a knife. He felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had always been the strong one, the one who never let anything get to him. But now, seeing you in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it, he felt utterly helpless.

“Alright”, he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you space. But please, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know".

You turned away from him, tears streaming down your face, as he slowly stood up and left the room. The silence that followed was deafening, a reminder of the emptiness you felt inside.

Ben walked downstairs, feeling more lost than he ever had. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to release the frustration and pain that was consuming him. Instead, he walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, his head in his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring blankly at the floor, before he left the house.

Eventually Ben couldn’t bear the suffocating silence any longer. He stood up from the couch and left the house, feeling like a shadow of himself. On the way to his car, he pulled out his phone and texted you, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed.

“I’m heading to the tower. If you need anything, call me”.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and got into the car, the drive to the tower feeling both too short and agonizingly long. Each mile away from you felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was doing more harm than good.

When he arrived at the tower, he parked and walked in, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He needed to be Soldier Boy now, to bury his personal pain and focus on something, anything, that could keep him from falling apart.

As he entered the meeting room, he found Butcher and Annie still discussing the repairs. They looked up as he walked in, their expressions a mix of concern and surprise.

“Ben”, Annie said softly.

Ben's demeanor shifted almost instantly as he entered the meeting room. The weight of his personal anguish was momentarily pushed aside as he slipped into his Soldier Boy persona. He greeted Butcher and Annie with a nod, his expression now focused and determined.

"How's the progress on the repairs?".

Butcher and Annie exchanged a glance, recognizing the change in Ben's demeanor. Butcher leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Slow, but steady", he replied. "We're getting there".

Ben nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of logistics and strategy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of cocaine, setting it on the table him. Without missing a beat, he began to prepare a line, his movements practiced and efficient.

Annie and Butcher watched Ben as he prepared the line of cocaine, concern etched on their faces. Annie couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for him. She cleared her throat, her voice soft and tentative.

"Ben, are you… okay?", she asked, her tone filled with genuine concern.

Ben looked up briefly, his eyes glazed and distant. He flashed a strained smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Peachy", he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

As he rubbed the white dust from his nose, Annie exchanged another worried glance with Butcher.

Annie hesitated, sensing the tension in the air, but she pressed on, her voice gentle. "How's… how's (Y/N) holding up?".

Ben's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He snapped at her, his tone harsh and biting. "Everyone's fucking fine", he growled, his voice laced with anger. "Just pass me the fucking construction report".

Annie recoiled slightly at his outburst. It was clear that Ben was struggling, and they would need to tread carefully around him.

Without a word, Annie handed Ben the construction report.

After a while of talking about the rebuilding, Hughie and Frenchie stepped into the room, their eyes widening as they spotted Ben sitting at the table. They exchanged a confused glance, clearly surprised to see him there.

Frenchie couldn't hide his excitement, a grin spreading across his face. "Soldier Boy!" he exclaimed, his tone laced with genuine happiness. "You're back!".

Butcher shot Frenchie a warning look, silently cautioning him to tread carefully. He knew that Ben was in a fragile state, and they couldn't afford any missteps.

Ben's expression remained impassive, his eyes flickering briefly as he acknowledged Hughie and Frenchie's presence. "Yeah", he muttered, his voice flat. "Back".

Frenchie rambled on, trying to lighten the mood with his usual brand of humor. "Fuck, Butcher", he said with a chuckle, "you were a pain in my arse the last three days. I thought I was going to lose my mind without Soldier Boy around to keep you in check".

Butcher rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Meanwhile, Hughie made his way over to Annie, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "How are you holding up?", he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

Annie nodded in agreement with Hughie's question, her expression grave. "I can't lie, Hughie", she murmured, her gaze flicking towards Ben. "It's good that Ben's here to take a look over everything. The tower's been a mess the last three days, and we could use his leadership. But… he's not in a good mood".

Ben's grumble cut through the air, his frustration evident as he continued to pore over the report. "I can fucking hear you", he muttered under his breath, not bothering to look up from the papers in front of him. He grabbed another file and handed it to Butcher without a word, his jaw clenched with tension.

Annie watched Butcher carefully, then turned her attention back to Ben. "Ben", she began tentatively, "maybe you should take a break. You've been at this for hours".

Butcher glanced at Annie and then back at Ben, his expression unreadable. "She's right, mate", he said gruffly. "You look like shit. You need to get some rest".

Ben's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Fine", he muttered, his tone terse. "But get those files to A-Train and MM. They need to deal with that supe in Florida".

He handed Butcher the file and then turned to Frenchie, thrusting another folder into his hands. "And you", he said, his voice clipped, "go after the supe in that file. Take your… chinese chick with you".

Frenchie raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, nodding in understanding as he took the file. "Got it", he said simply, his gaze flicking to Annie and Butcher before he headed out of the room.

Annie exchanged a worried glance with Butcher as Ben stormed off, his frustration palpable in the air. It was clear that he was struggling, but for now, all they could do was wait and hope that he would find a way to cope with his grief.

Hughie shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Say what you want about him, but Soldier Boy sure knows how to get things done", he mumbled, his admiration evident in his tone. "Efficient as hell".

In his office, Ben went for another line, the bitter taste piercing through the haze of his thoughts. He followed it with a sip of whiskey, the burning sensation offering a momentary distraction from the weight of his emotions.

Ben descended to meet with the heads of the departments, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. He outlined the plans for the next few weeks, his voice steady and authoritative as he issued instructions and delegated responsibilities. Despite the turmoil raging within him, he remained composed, his determination unwavering as he worked to keep the organization running smoothly.

Meanwhile, back at home, you moved slowly through the house, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your grief. You found yourself standing in front of the door to the baby's room, a door you had avoided for the past three days.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was just as you had left it, filled with the soft pastels and gentle touches you had so lovingly chosen. The sight of the crib, the tiny clothes, and the toys you had carefully arranged brought a fresh wave of pain crashing over you.

You walked over to the crib, your fingers tracing the delicate patterns on the blanket. Tears blurred your vision as you sat down in the rocking chair.

It was late when Ben finally came back home. The weight of the day's responsibilities and the lingering grief pressed heavily on his shoulders. Part of him dreaded returning, unable to face the sight of your suffering and the possibility of being rejected again, but he knew he had no choice.

As he walked through the house, he searched for you, calling your name softly. There was no response. Panic began to creep in until he noticed the open door of the baby's room. His heart sank as he approached it.

He stepped inside quietly, his eyes quickly finding you curled up and sleeping on the rocking chair, the little plush eagle clutched tightly in your arms. The sight tore at his heart, the depth of your grief mirrored in your posture even as you slept.

Ben knelt down beside the chair, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He could see the tracks of dried tears on your cheeks, your expression troubled even in sleep.

For a moment, he just watched you, his own pain surfacing again. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, but he feared waking you and causing you more distress. Instead, he sat there, for a while, his presence a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter how difficult things became.

Finally, he reached out and gently touched your shoulder, his voice soft and filled with love. "Hey", he whispered. "Let's get you to bed, okay?".

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to find Ben's concerned gaze. The sight of him brought a fresh wave of emotions, but you were too exhausted to cry anymore. You nodded weakly, allowing him to help you up from the chair.

Ben wrapped his arms around you, guiding you back to the bedroom. He helped you into bed, tucking the blankets around you with care. As he moved to leave, you grabbed his hand, holding on tightly.

"Stay", you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please".

Ben's heart ached at the plea, and he nodded, slipping into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both lay there, enveloped in the shared silence of your grief.

The night passed slowly, Ben lying awake, his mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. He kept his arms around you, hoping that his presence might offer some comfort, even if just a little. But sleep eluded him, his eyes remaining open, staring at the ceiling as the hours ticked by.

When morning came, you stirred in his arms, your eyes fluttering open. The room was dimly lit by the early light of dawn seeping through the curtains. As you fully awoke and realized Ben was still holding you, you turned around, facing away from him, your back to his chest.

Ben felt the shift, a familiar pang of sadness settling in his chest. He understood that you needed space, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. He released his hold, his arms falling to his sides, giving you the room you seemed to silently ask for.

“I know it’s hard", he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to know I’m here. I won’t leave you”.

You didn’t respond, the silence heavy and thick between you. The pain of your loss was still raw, a wound that had barely begun to heal. Ben sighed, pressing his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to stay strong for both of you.

After a few minutes, he slowly got out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb you further.

Downstairs, he went through the motions of making coffee, the mundane task a small anchor in the sea of emotional turmoil. He poured himself a cup, but the familiar taste offered little comfort.

His heart ached, but he pushed the pain down, focusing on the present moment. You needed him, even if you couldn’t express it, and he would be there.

After a while, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw you standing at the foot of the stairs, looking as fragile as he felt. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and promise that things would eventually get better, but he knew words were useless right now.

“Morning”, he said gently, trying to offer a small semblance of normalcy. “I made coffee. Want one?”.

You just shook your head, the weight of your grief making it hard to form words. You wanted to leave the kitchen, to escape the suffocating memories that seemed to cling to every corner of the house. But Ben reached out, his hands gently grasping your hips in a tender attempt to connect.

The touch, though well-intentioned, felt like a spark igniting a volatile mixture of pain and frustration. You snapped his hands away, your voice rising in a sudden, uncontrollable surge of anger and sorrow.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”, you yelled, the words echoing through the quiet house. Your face contorted with a mix of rage and heartbreak, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

Ben recoiled slightly, the hurt clear in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. “I just… I just want to fucking help you (y/n)”.

“Just leave me alone, Ben”, you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this with you. I can’t… I can’t even look at you right now”.

Ben’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again as he watched you retreat, your words like daggers stabbing into his already wounded soul. Once again, you had pushed him away, making him feel like everything was his fault.

He stood there, feeling utterly helpless, as the weight of his own grief threatened to crush him.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight with the effort to hold back his own tears. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away, his footsteps heavy as he left the kitchen.

As Ben turned away from the kitchen, the weight of your words still heavy on his heart, he paused for a moment in the doorway. His shoulders slumped with defeat, he mumbled softly, almost to himself, "I'm at the tower".

Without waiting for a response, knowing that none would come, he left the house, his steps heavy with the burden of grief and guilt. Outside, he climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life as he drove towards the tower.

When he arrived, he didn't waste any time. He quickly changed into his supe suit, the familiar fabric feeling like a second skin. It was a facade, a mask he wore to hide the pain and turmoil raging inside him, but it was the only way he knew how to keep going.

As the days passed, the chasm between you and Ben seemed to widen with each passing moment. At night, when the darkness pressed in and the weight of your grief threatened to suffocate you, you found yourself yearning for his presence, craving the comfort of his arms around you.

But as the sun rose and the day stretched out before you, the ache in your heart turned to anger, and you pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had left. You couldn't bear to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes mirrored in your own, so you shut him out, retreating into your own world of sorrow and silence.

For Ben, each day felt like a battle, a constant struggle to navigate the shifting landscape of your emotions. He wanted to help, to ease your pain and bridge the widening gap between you, but every attempt seemed to only push you further away.

He tried to give you space, to respect your need for solitude, but it tore him apart to see you suffering and know that he couldn't do anything to ease your pain. The nights were the hardest, when he lay awake beside you, listening to the sound of your uneven breathing, knowing that even in sleep, you were haunted by the ghosts of your grief.

But he refused to give up.

This evening was no exception. As Ben emerged from the shower, the towel loosely draped around his hips, he felt the weight of the evening settling around him. He glanced at you lying in bed, the distance between you palpable even in the dim light of the room. It had become a familiar routine – he was only allowed to be around you at night, while over the day you didn’t want to see him or talk to him.

With a heavy sigh, Ben walked towards the closet, his movements slow and deliberate. He could feel your gaze on him, heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

As he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear, he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the room. The silence between you was deafening, a stark reminder of all that had been lost.

Finally dressed, Ben turned towards the bed, his heart heavy with the weight of the evening ahead. He knew that tonight would be no different from any other night – the same silent longing, the same unspoken desires. But still, he couldn’t help but hope that somehow, things would be different.

As soon as Ben slipped inside the bed, you instinctively cuddled against him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. He felt a pang of both relief and sadness as you nestled closer to him, the physical closeness a stark contrast to the emotional distance that had grown between you over the past two weeks.

Unable to resist any longer, Ben finally broke the heavy silence that hung in the air. His voice was soft, tentative, as if afraid of shattering the fragile peace that had settled between you.

“Is this… Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”, he asked. He couldn’t bear the thought of continuing to drift apart, of living in this limbo where neither of you truly knew where you stood.

You didn’t respond immediately, your silence stretching between you like a chasm. Ben held his breath, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment, any indication of what was going through your mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Ben”, you said, the weight of your uncertainty heavy in the air. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were before”.

Ben’s heart sank at your words, the fear of losing you threatening to overwhelm him.

Ben sighed heavily, the weight of exhaustion and emotional turmoil bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He looked at you, seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on both of you. His heart ached with a mixture of sadness and frustration.

He felt utterly drained from the lack of sleep, from the constant back-and-forth of your emotions, from the feeling of helplessness as he watched you suffer. Each night, he lay awake, his mind spinning with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been.

He was exhausted from hearing your tears, from feeling your anger directed at him, from the overwhelming sense of rejection that seemed to seep into every corner of their relationship. But most of all, he was exhausted from the silent pain of losing a child, a pain that you seemed to have forgotten was his too.

As he lay there beside you, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness and resentment. He wanted to scream, to shake you and demand to know why you couldn’t see the pain he was in, why you couldn’t offer him the same comfort and support that he had tried so hard to give you.

But he knew that would only push you further away. So instead, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as if trying to bridge the growing divide between you.

It had been one month since the loss of your baby, and the house felt more like a ghost of the home it once was. Ben had thrown himself into work, spending long hours at the tower because you kept pushing him away. Meanwhile, you remained in your own world, a silent observer of a life that seemed to pass by without you.

You sat on the couch, curled into a blanket, staring out the window, lost in thought. The world outside moved on, but you felt stuck in a place of endless grief and numbness.

The front door opened, and Ben walked in, followed closely by Butcher. You barely registered their presence until Butcher's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"For fuck’s sake, Soldier Boy!", Butcher snapped, his tone filled with frustration and concern. "You need to sleep. You almost got yourself killed today".

Ben's eyes were dark with exhaustion, the lines on his face deeper than usual. He rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I'm fucking fine, Butcher. I can handle it".

Butcher stepped closer, his expression hardening. "No, you bloody well can’t. Look at yourself. You’re a fucking mess, and it's gonna get you killed if you don’t get your shit together".

Ben's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I said I’m fine", he repeated, his voice edged with irritation. "Just drop it".

You watched the exchange from your spot on the couch, your heart aching for Ben but feeling too numb to intervene. The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air.

Butcher glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. "You two need to sort this out", he said more quietly. "This can’t go on".

Ben turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he turned away, the pain in his gaze clear.

You simply stood up, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your shoulders, and walked upstairs without another word. The sound of your footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house, amplifying the silence that followed.

Butcher turned to Ben, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more defeated than Butcher had ever seen him.

“Ben, you need to face this head-on”, Butcher said, his tone a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “You can’t keep running on fumes and pretending everything’s fine”.

Ben dropped his hand from his face, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and helplessness. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Butcher?”, he snapped. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t want me around half the time. I don’t know what to do anymore”.

Butcher sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he looked at Ben. "I know it's tough, mate. But you can't keep going like this. You need to take a long-ass nap, clear your head, and try talking to her again tomorrow".

Ben nodded, the exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "Yeah, you're probably right", he admitted, his voice heavy with defeat.

Butcher clapped him on the shoulder, offering a small, supportive smile. "Get some rest, Soldier Boy".

With that, Butcher turned and left Ben alone in the living room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. He knew Butcher was right—he couldn't keep going like this. He needed to find a way to break through the wall of silence between him and you, even if it felt like an impossible task.

With a weary sigh, Ben made his way upstairs to the bedroom, hoping that a few hours of sleep might bring some clarity to the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside him.

As Ben lay beside you in bed, the weight of the past month pressing down on him, he felt a pang of sadness at the growing distance between you. Unlike two weeks ago, when you had sought comfort in his embrace, the last few days had been marked by a coldness that seemed to permeate every interaction between you.

With a heavy heart, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the pills Butcher had given him. He swallowed them without hesitation, hoping that they would bring him the elusive sleep that had eluded him for so long.

As he lay there, waiting for the pills to take effect, Ben felt the exhaustion of the past month wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyelids grew heavy, and he welcomed the darkness that enveloped him, if only for a few hours.

With a final sigh, Ben closed his eyes.

The next day, Ben woke up to find himself alone in bed. After taking a shower and getting dressed, he searched for you, eventually finding you sitting on the floor in front of the crib. He approached you cautiously, the tension in the air palpable.

"Hey", he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. "How are you feeling today?".

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the empty crib before you. Ben's heart sank at the lack of response, but he refused to give up.

"I know this has been hard", he continued, his voice filled with empathy. "But we need to talk about what happened. We can't keep avoiding it forever".

Still, you said nothing, your silence like a barrier between you. Ben sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"Please, (Y/N)", he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this alone. I need you".

You snapped, your frustration boiling over. "Just leave me alone, Ben!", you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion.

But Ben, no longer overwhelmed by exhaustion, refused to back down. His patience had worn thin after a month of trying to navigate the minefield of your grief.

"I won't fucking leave you alone", he snapped, his temper finally breaking. "I'm fucking tired of this shit! We need to face this together, whether you like it or not".

His words hung in the air, the tension between you thick and heavy.

Ben’s steps were heavy as he closed the distance between you, his frustration palpable in every movement. With a firm grip, he cupped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”. His voice cracked with raw emotion, a mix of anger and desperation lacing his words. “Baby, I can’t do this anymore", his voice breaking.

You pushed against Ben's grip, the overwhelming need to escape consuming you. With a determined strength, you stood up, ready to flee the suffocating confines of the room.

But Ben wasn't having it. In a swift motion, he grabbed both of your wrists, his touch firm yet gentle, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled against his chest, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you despite your resistance.

"Let me go", you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper, your heart heavy with sorrow.

But Ben held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, refusing to let you slip away. Your hands remained trapped between your bodies, a physical manifestation of the emotional barrier that had grown between you.

"Please", you whispered again, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I can't". Ben replied, his own voice choked with tears. "I can't lose you too".

As you wiggled free from Ben’s grasp once more, determination fueled your steps as you began to walk away from him, your heart heavy with the weight of your shared pain. But within seconds, the air crackled with tension, a palpable sense of impending doom hanging over the room.

All the weeks of Ben suppressing his emotions, of being unable to grieve openly, of shouldering the burden of strength for both of you, came crashing down in a torrent of rage and despair. With a primal scream of anguish, he grabbed the swinging chair nearby, his muscles tensing with the force of his fury.

In one swift, violent motion, he hurled the chair against the baby’s closet, the impact echoing through the room with a deafening crash. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass filled the air, mingling with your cries of shock and despair.

The closet collapsed under the force of the blow, its contents tumbling out in a chaotic jumble of memories and broken dreams. You stood frozen in horror, tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched the wreckage unfold before you.

As the chaos unfolded before your eyes, you screamed at Ben, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea for understanding. "What the fuck are you doing?!". Your voice echoed off the walls, a mixture of fear and anger fueling your words.

But Ben's rage consumed him, his eyes wild with desperation as he stormed towards the changing table. With a primal roar, he brought his fist down with a sickening thud, the wood splintering beneath the force of his blow.

You recoiled in horror, the sound reverberating through your bones as you watched him unleash his fury upon the furniture. But it was when he reached for the crib that your heart skipped a beat, a cold shiver coursing down your spine.

His hands hovered over the crib, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as his eyes landed on the little plush eagle nestled among the blankets. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken grief.

Tears welled in Ben's eyes, his chest heaving with emotion as he reached out to touch the soft fabric of the toy. And in that simple gesture, you saw the cracks in his armor, the raw vulnerability hidden beneath his facade of strength.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath mingling with the quiet sobs that wracked Ben's body.

The soft glow emanating from Ben's chest pierced through the haze of grief that had consumed you for four long weeks. In that moment, the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: Ben was hurting too. He had been shouldering the weight of your shared pain, sacrificing his own emotions to be strong for you.

With trembling steps, you approached him, the floor cold beneath your bare feet. You watched as he sank to his knees, the plush eagle clutched tightly in his hand, a symbol of the innocence lost and the love that still remained.

Your heart ached as you knelt before him, the weight of your sorrow pressing down upon you like a leaden shroud. But despite the heaviness of your grief, you reached out, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, offering what little comfort you could.

His body trembled beneath your touch, his breaths ragged and uneven as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Tears mingled with yours.

In that moment, you didn't care about the risk, about the possibility of his radiating chest exploding and engulfing you both in its fiery embrace. All that mattered was the need to hold him close, to offer him the comfort and solace he had so selflessly given you in your darkest hours.

With his face still buried against the curve of your neck, his silent sobs reverberating through your shared embrace, you pressed him closer to you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You could feel the warmth of his tears mingling with your own, a bittersweet symphony of grief and love.

Time seemed to stand still as you held each other amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, the world outside fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, Ben finally wrapped his arms around your small frame, pulling you closer against him and onto his thighs, his grip strong and unwavering. Without lifting his head, he held you tightly, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you forever.

———————————

A/N: Honestly, I fucking loved that chapter.. please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 3

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #angst #hurt/comfort #ben x you #ben #ben x reader #jensen ackles the boys #the boys hughie #billy butcher

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty As A Picture

Title: Pretty As A Picture

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Fandom: The Gray Man

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Warnings: Murder Daddy, gun, murder(not Reader), chase, knife play, kidnapping, pet names(gumdrop, princess), slight dacryphilia, Sir kink, blood, language, head injury, bondage, cutting clothing with a knife, DUBCON, unprotected rough p-in-v sex, pussy slapping, hyperspermia, slight aftercare, implied captivity

A/N: This is my late submission to @the-slumberparty’s Naughty or Nice Challenge. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You sit on the bench in the park, digital camera resting against your sternum as it dangles from the strap around your neck. The sky shines above you and illuminates the world around you as you look for something to capture. It’s been so snowy and the park’s surfaces are covered in white fluff. You had to wipe off the bench considerably to be able to sit down on the old wooden seating.

Your knee-length puffer coat is zipped and buttoned, but you still cross your arms to retain heat when the wind sweeps through, blowing snow in your face. You’ve taken about a handful of photos of empty swings and the slide that has become an ice luge. You hear voices nearby and turn toward the sound.

Two men are talking in the front seat of a town car parked on the edge of the park. Strange that they would pick here to have a casual conversation, but you can’t blame them. You came here for the peace too.

Curiously, you raise your camera and point it at the men. You zoom in, trying to read their lips, snickering when you see the younger man’s mustache. That was a choice. You catch little snippets here and there. But you can’t put all the pieces together. You are just about to lower your camera when movement surprises you.

You freeze when you see the man with the mustache on the passenger side bring out a pistol with a silencer on the end of it. He points it at the man in the driver’s seat and pulls the trigger. The mustachioed man then proceeds to wipe down the interior of the car and exits.

He turns to face the park, putting his hands in his pockets. He closes his eyes, tilting his head from side to side to relieve tension in his neck. When he notices you, you lower the camera slowly and wish upon wish that you can make it back to your apartment before he catches up to you.

You let your camera hang around your neck and rise from the bench. Turning on a dime, you race between the swingset and head for your building. You are barely past the seesaw when you feel the man’s body crash into yours. Air escapes your lungs as you hit the ground and your camera is whipped to the side of you. You are disoriented for a second before you are turned around and grabbed by the front of your coat.

“Well, what do we have here? A little spy, maybe?” The mustachioed man removes one hand from your coat to reach into his pocket and withdraws a butterfly knife, holding it to your neck, “Who do you work for?”

You squeak when the point of the knife meets your skin, the sharp poke keeping you from moving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just taking photos of the park. I didn’t see anything.”

He turns the knife slightly, the tip penetrating your neck. You feel the sting of the cut as a drop of blood slowly trails down the blade. He watches as you plead with your big doe eyes for him to let you go.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, gumdrop. Anybody who says ‘I didn’t see anything’ most definitely saw something. The question is: What do I do with Little Miss Photographer?” His tone could have been considered sweet, if not mocking.

“Please, let me go. You can have the camera. Just please don’t hurt me, Sir.” Unshed tears blur your eyes and you try to blink them away but they fall down your cheeks.

He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head slowly. “Calling me Sir and crying for me? I just may have an idea of how to...take care of you, princess.”

He pockets the knife, the pressure of it releasing from your neck. Standing you to your feet, he turns you to start walking to the left, away from the direction of your apartment. With one hand on your coat, he reaches down and grabs the camera as you walk, his long legs moving faster than your shorter ones.

Once you get to a car, he tries to put you in the front seat but you get the sudden urge to fight for your life. You let him open the door then you kick it closed, turning in his arms and scratching at his face. He jerks away when three nails make contact with his forehead and slide down to his temple.

“Fucking bitch!” Blood wells to the surface and starts to trickle down his face. He grabs you by the skull, bringing you toward him before he smashes your head into the passenger door. It slows you down and your head pounds. Your legs are out from under you as he picks you up bridal style and takes you to the back of the car.

You are barely alert while he speaks to you. “It didn’t have to be like this, gumdrop. All you had to do was get in but no, you had to be a brat,” He sets your feet down on the ground so he can grab a key fob from his pocket. The trunk opens and you are lifted inside, the zipper on your long coat being pulled down to reveal your clothing underneath. “Well know this. I don’t tame brats, ok? I correct them. Now, you get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” He taps the end of your nose and winks down at you.

Your vision swims but you register him leering at you while licking his lips. He’s kind enough to not close the trunk too hard. You hear his steps crunching in the snow as he walks around the car. A door opens and closes, the engine turns over. You lurch toward the back of the car when it starts to move away from the curb. The darkness of the space and the steadiness of his driving lull you to close your eyes, falling asleep soon after.

"...you there, Gumpdrop?”

You hear a voice that feels distant. Slowly, you pick your head up and open your eyes to see the man with the mustache sitting in front of you on a bed. He has two flexi-strips holding together the scratches you gave his face. Your coat is off, you are left in your fuzzy green sweater and black skirt. You try and move but you only wince when you look up to see your hands cuffed to the framework of the headboard. Your thigh-high sock-clad feet are left free and his hand idly moves up and down your shin.

When you try to move your leg away, he holds it back and squeezes your ankle as a warning. You don’t want any more head trauma so you resign yourself to doing whatever he wants.

“I am so glad you’re awake. You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself. Well, I did take these,” he reaches into a pocket and pulls out the familiar white panties, and waves them in your face, “Oh don’t worry, I didn’t play with that pretty little pussy. Wanted you awake for that.” He winks at you and stands.

You watch as he walks away, listening to his footsteps going and then coming back. In his hands is your camera, safe and sound. He brings it up to his face, the lens moving forward and back before you hear the snap of the shutter.

“God, you are too damn sweet, gumdrop,” he coos, kneeling on the bed between your legs. He lifts your skirt and snaps a few photos of bare pussy. He hums, letting the camera dangle from the strap around his neck. The butterfly knife is back out, you shudder and he puts a hand up. “Calm down, pretty girl. Just gonna cut these pesky layers off you so don’t move unless you want me to cut you.”

You shove fear down and nod, following as he cuts through your skirt and sweater like butter. When he gets to your bra, he hooks a finger between your sternum and the fabric, cutting into the center of the material. When you are laid bare in front of him, he cups his crotch and groans. He raises the camera again and snaps away.

He takes the camera by the strap off of his neck and sets it on the nightstand. As he moves his hand back, he takes the opportunity to squeeze your tits. Pinching your nipples, he chuckles when you whine.

“Please...um, Sir?” you blurt, a mix of pain and pleasure radiating through you. You wish you could close your legs to get some friction but he is back between them.

“Lloyd,” he offers, still tweaking your nipples, “You can call me Lloyd, gumdrop.”

“Lloyd…um, please… uh,” You subconsciously begin to twist your hips and he gets the hint.

“Aww, my little princess needs some attention on her little pussy, huh?” You’re only turned on by his mocking tone and condescending words. He leans in to kiss and nip at your neck while he grinds his covered dick against your now slippery folds. “Alright, alright. I won’t tease you anymore. I know you need this much more than I do, gumdrop.” He uses one hand to unzip his pants and pull out his stiff dick.

Although it is obscured from your vision, by the way he has to tilt his hips, you can tell he is packing a sizeable length. Covering the tip in your juices, he taps it against your clit. When he enters you, the stretch has you hissing along with Lloyd. He tilts his hips away from you and then comes back, going a bit deeper inside you. Adjusting his arms, he wraps one under your head and the other hand goes to hold your side while your legs wrap around him.

By the time you are used to his size, his hips are slamming into the backs of your thighs. His hand is sure to leave bruises on your hip and you don’t give a fuck in the slightest. He’s already restrained you and cut your clothes off. Might as well be fully debauched, right?

“Shiiiiit, this pussy is squeezing my fucking dick so good. I can feel you holding back, gumdrop. Let go for me.” He lets go of your hip and uses his thumb to pay attention to your clit. While he leans on his other hand, he clutches the bedspread as his hips continue their onslaught.

Your climax was just out of reach, like a word caught on the tip of the tongue. Lloyd locks eyes with you and lifts his hand, bringing it down to slap your puffy folds. You squeal and it only makes Lloyd slap it again. And that is how you discovered that this was a kink for you.

The tight band that held together your resolve snaps and on the third slap, you lose all control of your body. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in a long moan, your legs clamping around Lloyd’s waist. Your walls flutter around his cock and your orgasm washes over you like a warm summer rainstorm, refreshing and necessary.

“That’s a good girl! Fuck, you are clamped around me like a goddamn vice. Oh, shit. I’m gonna cum, princess. Shit, shit shit!” Lloyd thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and fisting his dick until he’s shooting thick, white ropes across your belly, chest, and neck.

You stop counting the spurts of cum after eight, watching as you essentially get glazed like a donut. He squeezes the head of his dick, pushing out the last dregs of his orgasm. He grabs the camera again, his eye lining up with the viewfinder. “Smile pretty for me.”

You’re so fucked out that you smile when he asks. He snaps the photo and puts the camera back down. He leaves the bed and walks off, you hear him go down the hall and come back. He carries a wet washcloth and wipes you down, cleaning off the sticky substance before tossing it over his shoulder.

Lloyd opens a drawer in the nightstand, retrieving a small key, and unlocks your handcuffs one by one. He doesn’t offer to check your wrists for bruising, but you don’t expect him to. You’re more than surprised that he wiped his cum off of you, you didn’t want to push it.

“Now, gumdrop. So we’re clear, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m gonna keep you here with me. You’re gonna be my little playtoy. Whenever I need to take out frustration, I’m gonna take it out on this little pussy of yours. Or option B: I could kill you. Your choice.”

And just like that, your fate is sealed.

“Option A,” you mumble, tears line your eyes as you yawn.

“I knew you were a smart girl.” He pets your head and your eyes lose focus as you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

A/N: I really wish Lloyd would give me a break sometimes lol. I think I got this posted literally on the last day of the challenge.

**Tag List**

@cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @princessaxoo @gummydummy19 @posiemax @motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie @milknhonies @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#chris evans #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #dark! fic #dark fic #dark!fic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #pretty as a picture

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parkerpeter24 · 1 year ago

Note

this is my idea for the spider-man x fangirl thing

so peter and reader are best friends and reader always talks about how much she loves spider-man and peter always rolls his eyes and acts annoyed even though deep down it makes him happy. then one day reader was walking at night when she got like robbed or something and gets saved by spider-man. he swings her to someplace safe and when she calms down she starts freaking out that she met spider-man . you can add more but idk i’m not good at this but that’s jus like an idea??

let’s hope you guys enjoy this.

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader.

masterlist

“so you don’t think it’s like, a fifth date kind of revelation?” you asked peter as the two of you walked on the pavement. when a reply didn’t come out of your best friend, you looked to the side, only to catch him giving you the same look of exasperation, “what? oh, come on. i’m not in love with him!”

“you’re in love with him.” he concluded, “why do you even wanna know who he is?”

“i don’t know, i’m just-”

“in love with him.” peter reiterated, forcing you to give him a glare to shut up.

“curious.” you said, rolling your eyes.

the two of you walked in silence for a while as you made your way towards delmar’s deli. you had decided to go to peter’s for today’s study session and you were ready to eat off his ear again talking about spider-man. and he knew. he’d seen the new video of himself– the link to which you’d sent him– fighting off four guys at the same time.

you kept him updated on spider-man and even though he pursed his lips and rolled his eyes whenever you started getting all giddy about the new news, the only people who knew you had a crush on peter– well, spider-man– were himself and ned.

after getting your favorite sandwiches, you both made your way to peter’s place, a few blocks away. once you were inside, you made a beeline for his room, setting down your backpack on his bed.

“that’s new.” peter pointed, noticing the pop socket stuck to your mobile cover. you looked at it and nodded.

“there was only one left. i had to buy it.” you grinned as you sat down, pulling out your books.

“if you would just admit it, you’re obsessed.” peter chuckled, sitting down beside you.

“am not.” you raised your eyebrows.

“are too.” peter retaliated, making you roll your eyes at him again, “come on, it’s not a bad thing.”

you shrugged, “i just admire him.”

it was pretty late at night when you left his place, may was yet to come back and you missed her trying to make you stay for dinner. putting your hands in either pockets of your jacket, you began your walk to your place.

but just a few blocks down and you spotted a man in dark grey hoodie and torn jeans. you tried to walk past him but got worried when he started following you. as your steps quickened, his did too. just as you were about to run, the guy held your arm, pulling you into an alley.

you were shocked, he had pointed a knife right at your exposed neck. you tried not to move as he gave you an intimidating look, “hand me your money and we’re even.”

you trembled, trying to open your mouth. your mouth came out shakey, “p-please, i have nothing- j-just books.”

you felt the cold metal pressing against your skin, the slightest sting on your neck as you gulped, closing your eyes as tears pooled in them.

the next few seconds were very confusing. you were free, the pressure on your arm and disappearing as you heard a ‘thwip’. the knife was yanked out of the robber’s hand, and he got a kick to the side of his rib, making him fly further into the alley.

you gasped as your saviour landed in front of you, robotic eyes squinting at the guy, “come on, dude! ‘no’ means no.”

he yelled towards the guy before turning to you, noticing the tears in your eyes, “hey... are you okay? ...miss.”

your mouth opened, then closed. then opened. then closed again.

“it’s okay. i think you’re star-struck.” he tried to ease the tension. you noticed he moved his hands a lot.

“um... thank you for... knocking that guy out.” you wiped away your face and touched your neck, feeling the smallest cut, “i wasn’t planning on getting killed tonight.”

“you should clean that up.” you noticed he moved his hands a lot when he talked. it made your heart flutter a little. on the same night, the superhero had managed to save your life and make you feel all warm just by being the way you’d imagined him from the youtube videos.

you nodded at him, “i will...”

“you can call me spider-man.” he shrugged and you liked the idea that he might have been smiling at you under the mask. you noticed that he was making his voice sound thicker, putting on a heavy accent, but you tried to ignore it, following that he was in a full body spandex suit.

“i will, spider-man.” you smiled back.

“i... could walk you to the home.” he offered, almost immediately adding, “just to make sure you’re safe!”

you nodded your head, “well, unless you have to go save someone else...”

“i’m free for now.” he chuckled as as started leading the way.

as the two of you walked, a silence overtook the atmosphere. you tried to scan your brain for something, just so you could avoid the awkwardness, “i’m a big fan, by the way.”

peter wanted to laugh at your giddy voice. he’d never heard you be this shy around him– which, now that he thought, was making him a bit jealous of his alter ego, “thanks! just doing my job as the friendly neighborhood spider-man.”

once the two of you had reached your apartment complex, you faced the superhero, “thank you, spider-man.”

he did a little salute with two of his fingers, “glad to help.” and with that he took off, swinging away from you.

you sighed softly, feeling a little disappointed at his departure. you went inside and texted peter immediately– characters mismatched and all caps as you typed– ‘THETES NO WAY YPURE GONNA BELIEVE EHAT HAPPED!!!’

peter chuckled, watching the texts come through on his screen as he sat atop your building.

the brunette sighed softly, “man, tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #mcu peter parker #mcu spiderman #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x you

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usoinked · 2 months ago

Text

😈 “Behind Closed Doors” 💙

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summary: The tension between Jey Uso and Rhea Ripley is undeniable as they share a charged conversation backstage. Jey’s slow, deliberate teasing pulls Rhea in, but she’s not one to let him get too comfortable. Due to the unspoken desire between the two, they both step over the line and find themselves in a shower entanglement…

CW: Flirting/Explicit Tension, Mild Language, Power Dynamic, Sexual Undertones, Smut, 18+, MDNI

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The backstage area was filled with the low hum of the arena winding down after the night’s show. The sound of shoes tapping on concrete echoed softly through the halls as Rhea Ripley walked off the stage, adrenaline still pumping in her veins, but something felt different tonight. It wasn’t just the win—no, it was the charge in the air that had her senses tingling. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but she had a feeling she was about to find out.

As she turned a corner, she spotted him leaning against the wall—Jey Uso, as calm and collected as ever, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His chocolate brown eyes met her dark brown ones the moment she stepped into view, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Rhea,” Jey greeted, his voice deep and easy, laced with that quiet confidence that always seemed to come naturally to him. “You were fire out there tonight.” He had on a fresh blue YEET shirt along with his matching blue shades and bright white Nikes. And then the blue tips in his hair that matched it…and something about that crop top…it was a bit more high than usual she could’ve sworn.

Rhea raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a grin. “Cheers, Uso. You lookin’ for a fight, or you just here to give me compliments?” She let the Australian accent hang in her words, rolling the vowels, making it sound effortless, like second nature. The gold grills that hung over his bottom teeth while two of his top fangs were covered with gold was enough to keep her gaze fixated on him.

Jey let out a low chuckle, shaking his head before removing his shades. “Nah, I ain’t here to fight. I came to see what all that talk’s about. You wildin’ out there tonight, huh? Thought you was gonna run through that whole division.” Just keep talking, she seems like she’s starin’ anyway…but that smile along with her black lipstick contrasting with the white set of teeth she had underneath…damn.

Rhea smirked, taking a step closer to him. “Wouldn’t be the first time, yeah? You seen me do it before, Jey.”

Jey stood up from the wall, stepping into her space. His frame was broad, towering over her, but Rhea didn’t flinch. She matched his stance, their bodies mere inches apart. He looked down at her, his eyes softening for a moment before his signature grin returned.

“You know, I been watchin’ you for a while now,” Jey said, his voice dropping a few octaves, more serious. “Ain’t nobody work as hard as you do. But you know what? I been waitin’ for the right time to tell you somethin’.”

Rhea tilted her head slightly, curious but playing it cool. “What’s that?”

Jey didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped in closer, the heat of his body practically radiating off of him. He looked down at her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes. “You think you the only one who knows how to handle business, huh? You think you the only one who can run through this whole place like it’s nothin’? I see you out there, rippin’ people apart, but… I know what you need, Rhea.”

Rhea didn’t move, didn’t speak. She just stood there, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. His words lingered in the air, each syllable dripping with something more—something unsaid. Her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t about to let him think she was intimidated. Know what I need hm? Let’s see if he actually gets it right this time.

“Oh yeah?” she said, letting a bit of her Australian accent drawl through. “What do I need then, Uso? You gonna tell me?”

Jey leaned in closer now, so close that Rhea could feel his breath against her skin. “I think you already know, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice now dangerously low. “But you way too proud to admit it.”

Rhea’s pulse quickened, her breath hitching in her throat. She could feel the heat from his body, the overwhelming energy between them. He was right—she did feel something, but she wasn’t ready to let him see how much it was affecting her.

“I’m not too proud,” she replied, her voice steady, but there was a slight tremor she couldn’t hide. “I just don’t let anyone see what they wanna see.”

Jey’s eyes flickered, catching the shift in her tone. He took a half step back, watching her with that same intense look in his eyes, but now with something different—a challenge, an unspoken understanding.

“Oh, I see. You playin’ hard to get?” He grinned, his lips curling slightly. “I can work with that.”

Rhea’s lips parted for a moment, and she wanted to say something—anything to break the tension—but instead, she found herself frozen. There was a magnetic pull between them, an attraction she couldn’t deny. She felt his gaze move down to her lips again, his eyes lingering a little too long, and it made her heart race even faster.

Before she could speak, Jey stepped back again, as if he was giving her space to breathe—but it didn’t feel like space. It felt like a challenge.

“You know, Rhea,” Jey said, his voice low and steady, “I’ve been watchin’ you for a long time. I see the way you carry yourself, like you’re untouchable, like nobody can get through to you. But I know what it’s like to have to be on top of your game all the time. You don’t ever let your guard down, do you?”

Rhea shook her head slowly, her lips curling into a faint smile. “No. But you’re gettin’ real close, Uso.” She took a step closer to him, her voice almost a whisper now, teasing. “You wanna keep tryin’ to get under my skin?” The blush that hit his cheeks after that along with the way his expression changed…god this would’ve been enough to send the average person over the edge, thank god I was Rhea Bloody Ripley. There was nothing I couldn’t take….even him.

Jey’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening with something else, something that Rhea couldn’t ignore. “Oh, I love a challenge.”

They stood there, staring at each other, both of them breathing a little heavier than before. The unspoken words hung between them like a promise—like something waiting to break. Rhea’s chest tightened, her heart racing in her throat, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world outside of them had disappeared.

As the both of them stood in silence encapsulated by each other completely, they didn’t even realize that they both were leaning in. Instinctively Jey wrapped his hands around Rhea’s waist. God her tattoos, her eyes, the way she looked at him. Everything about this woman standing in front of him was nothing short of perfect.

Rhea thought the same thing about the tan skinned Samoan standing in front of her. His tribal tattoos were nothing short of art work, his mullet had been faded on the sides and it was wet as usual but looked so moisturized. The way his eyes glared with hunger and hers did the same. There was nothing but space and opportunity and she took it.

With a swift motion, her arms wrapped around Jey’s neck and she planted a soft but passionate kiss on his lips. That was all the motion Jey needed before he immediately returned it pulling her body closer to his as his tongue desperately made contact with Rhea’s lips asking her for permission. She of course provided it and it was a HEATED tongue battle. The fact that Jey didn’t have a match till next week, Rhea’s match already ended earlier tonight, AND no one was around meant that this could go for as long as the both of them wanted.

Her tongue ring collided with every inch of Jey’s mouth as a soft moan slipped from her lips due to how much fun this was. Jey was began to hunger for much more than this, so much so, that he even picked up Rhea without a second thought. Her legs instinctively wrapped around the man’s waist where she also felt Jey’s pants growing tighter and tighter between his legs. God he felt so huge already…but nothing Mami couldn’t take. 😈

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“Hngh! F-Fuck! A-ahhn-“ She moaned out loud before Jey’s hand covered her mouth for a small moment just before he shoved two of his fingers down her throat. Well let’s just say they were in his locker room in the bathroom. And Rhea Ripley was bent over, face against the hard white tiles of the wall, while Jey Uso was currently pounding her senseless from the back.

“Babygirl we gon’ get caught if you keep screaming like that.” He said before making another swift thrust into her that sent the woman’s eyes backwards. The sound of skin slapping and scent of sex filled the showers for a moment as the Jey felt Rhea’s body tremble against his cock. “That’s right, look at you trembling f’me” he said growled letting his other hand come crashing down on her ass loving the way her skin turned red before quickening the pace of his thrusts. Jey couldn’t help but feel how wet Rhea’s pussy got from him currently drilling a hole into it with his dick.

As Rhea let her mouth be explored with the man’s fingers she couldn’t help but do the one thing she knew that would send Jey to the fucking moon. Eye contact. If there’s one thing a man loved from Rhea, it was eye contact. But what made it even better is that she was currently a whimpering and moaning mess around that man’s fingers. Add onto the fact that never ending stare she had as she was being claimed by the man she had her eyes on for a while, could never NOT do something to him. She looked back at Jey once keeping her eyes fixated on the man himself but she also couldn’t help but notice the sweat dripping down his palm and down his chest as if he was glistening and had been basking in sunlight.

Jey must’ve noticed because the moment she did that he slowly took his fingers out of her mouth before positioning them over the woman’s clit beginning to massage the bud over and over again knowing full well she was sensitive due to her pussy currently being occupied with his dick. He wasted no time plunging himself deeper into her as he could feel her walls twitch and even tighten a bit the deeper he went.

“You gonna make eye contact with me? Huh Rhea? Keep it like that. Cuz I want to see your face when you cream all over this dick, you understand me? Huh? Let me hear you” he said before landing his hand on her ass harshly again. Her body was just as intoxicating as her stare, tattoos everywhere, her hair getting even messier by the minute from being against the wall, her breasts swinging back and forth freely with each thrusts and the sweat that lined her arms and chest made it even more mesmerizing.

The knot inside Rhea’s stomach was getting closer and closer to coming undone to the point where she could do nothing but let her legs helplessly tremble on their own. Instinctively she turned her body at an angle where one of her arms was onto the wall and the other ended up grabbing Jey by the neck. Jey must’ve taken the hint because he lifted one of legs over his shoulder further exposing Rhea’s shaved pussy.

“I c-can’t! I’m g-gonna c-cum, J-Jey!” She shouted as her breathing became more intense, the quickness of her stomach rising and falling was clear indication that her orgasm was just moments away. One quick flick of his finger on her clit one last time sent her over the edge completely as her entire body jolted her eyes getting even more cloudy by the second as she let out a loud strained moan and released all over Jey’s cock.

The look on her face and the jolting of her body made Jey’s cock twitch in desperation as he suddenly slammed into her a few more times with each thrust getting more and more sloppy before he released a loud moan himself due to spilling his seed inside of her completely.

Both of them rode out their highs with Jey being the one initiating a passionate make out session this time slowly pulling his hand away from her clit and began to trail it up her body over her breasts before twirling one of her buds in between his fingers causing Rhea to let out an gasp of pleasure before she gave Jey a death stare for a second.

Jey pulled away from the kiss chuckling knowing how sensitive she was. “Okay okay, boo. You alright?” He said making sure to slowly pull out of her even though a very soft pop was heard as Rhea let out a soft moan.

“I’m…fine. That was fun, Uso,” Rhea said letting out a sigh before replacing it with a grin, as she put her leg down and stood up before turning the shower tap on warm. She finally caught her breath, although all she could think about was the fact that she just got railed by a man she was begging to super kick her a few months ago. I guess time really does fly. Her eyes locked with Jey’s, and she could see the same satisfaction in his gaze. “Maybe we can do this again sometime” she suggested letting that sly smirk formulate on her lips once more.

“You’n even gotta to ask me Rhea, you know I’ll never say no to you” he said before planting a soft kiss on her forehead before excusing himself and grabbing two towels and a wash cloth for the both of them before handing one of the cloths to Rhea as they both enjoyed the rest of each other’s company with a nice shower to sooth both their bodies.

The End 😈💙

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Note: I haven’t written smut in a WHILE literally so bear with me 😭 (I also went for it cuz I didn’t wanna edge y’all…and myself 😗)

#jhea #jey uso #rhea ripley #smut #18+ mdni #wwe fanfiction #wwe raw #wwe fandom #mdni #aesthetic writing #yeet #yeetality #monjey night raw #monday night mami #main event jey uso #wwe

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