#but her uniform is kicking me up and down the hall

[hyperfocusthusly]

I have been gripped to draw that incorrect quotes comic but I realised I’ve never drawn Suki before so rip me

[evaslytherpuff]

Press Play

18+ Theo Nott X Innocent F!Reader (College AU)

Plot: You were just trying to do your duties as a Prefect. After catching Theo stealing from the potions closet, you had no choice but to report him. Now, Theo is out for revenge! You become his latest target and he’s willing to do anything to make sure you learn your lesson. Never snitch on a Slytherin.🐍

CW: Blackmail, Toxic Behavior, Manipulation, Teasing, Masturbation, Oral (F!receiving), Dubious Consent, Recorded interactions without consent! This story is not intended for Minors! Read at your own risk!

“Detention for a month! A fucking month!” Theo growled as he stormed into Herbology and took his designated seat next to Draco who was swatting at his Dittany plant.

“Damn, I feel sorry for you mate.” Draco chuckled with a shake of his icy blonde head. Theo wasn’t in the mood to laugh, smile, or joke around in the slightest. All he could do was stare daggers in your direction. The person who got him in trouble in the first place by being a little snitch. You had caught him stealing ingredients out of the professor's potions closet and immediately ran off to tell Slughorn what you witnessed. You claimed that you only did it because you were supposed to, you’re a prefect, it’s your job to report when students break the rules. Theo didn’t want to hear any of it as he left the professor’s office, his body trembling with rage.

You must have felt him glaring at you because you looked up and locked eyes with him. Your face grew pale and you quickly looked back down at your textbook, pretending to not notice the death stare you were receiving. Theo smiled to himself. Good. You should be intimidated, maybe even scared, you may look sweet and innocent but he didn’t care. He was now out for revenge.

When class was over you had tried to flee as quickly as possible but Theo was a lot faster and cornered you outside of the greenhouse. His hands were placed on either side of your head which caged you in and prevented you from escaping.

“You know…I always thought you were so kind and a girl who usually minded her own business. Now, all I see is someone who has a big mouth!” He growled in your ear as he leaned over you. “You didn’t have to say a damned thing to Professor Slughorn and yet…you did.” He sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “You snitched on me, got me in trouble, almost kicked off the quidditch team and for that…I want revenge.” His jaw clenched tightly as he stared into your frightened eyes.

“Is that a threat?” You tried your best to sound strong and powerful but he could hear the fear in your voice. It was obvious that his words freaked you out. He dropped his arms and stepped away from you with a vicious grin on his face.

“No. It’s a promise.” He spat with a glare before turning around and walking away.

Merlin, or the devil, must have been on his side the very next day because you had a huge accident right in the middle of the great hall during dinner. A clumsy Hufflepuff was switching seats at their table and ran right into you with a plate full of food. Your uniform was ruined and you were covered in a plethora of messy cuisine. Completely shocked and mortified, you fled from the hall holding back tears. Theo had to admit that he felt bad for you, maybe for a split second, but he also saw this as an opportunity.

“I’ll see you later.” He said with a pat to Mattheo’s back before he left the hall as well. He jogged to his dorm to search for what he needed and felt a sense of mischief wash over him when he found what he was looking for. A video camera.

He was fascinated with gadgets and gizmos muggles were always using, he even used magic to fix or improve them, and he knew that this device would come in handy. Feeling giddy and still angry, he set out to find you, already having a clue as to where you might be.

His hunch was absolutely correct and he found you alone in the girls locker room taking a shower. He cast a silencing charm on the door to remain as quiet as possible and a disillusionment charm on himself so he wouldn’t be seen. He crept up to the stall you were using and turned the camera on. Theo tried to be as silent as humanly possible as he stuck the lens of the device through the side of the shower curtain. He watched the display closely as your body came into focus and had to do a double take. He wasn’t expecting you to be so…sexy.

He swallowed hard as he gawked at your wet figure gracing the screen of his camera. You typically wore a school uniform that was two sizes too big for you and it was clearly hiding your mouth watering shape. The water shimmered off of your beautiful breasts, cascaded down sensual curves, and created a wet vision he thought he could only dream of. There you were though, in all your soaked glory, like one of his wildest fantasies.

He couldn’t fight the hard on that was raging in his pants as he watched you bathe, your palms roaming all over your alluring body. He was never envious of soap before until tonight. His free hand traveled down to rub his length through the fabric of his trousers. His eyes were glued to the screen of his camera as your hand slid down the front of your torso and stopped just above your pretty pussy. A sigh left your lips before you dipped your fingers between your folds and Theo’s eyes grew wide over the realization of what you were about to do. Soft moans floated through the air as you began to rub your sensitive clit in steady and firm motions. His hand ran over his aching cock as quickly as you worked your precious cunt. He bit his lip to stop the groans from escaping his mouth as he watched you masturbate in front of him. Sweet and innocent my ass, he thought, as he stopped himself from cumming in his boxers. A delicious scheme popped into his mind as you covered your mouth with your other hand and your climax overcame you. A wicked and cruel idea that would guarantee his revenge without a doubt. He would get you back for snitching on him…but he would also get what he now wanted more than anything.

Theo paced his dorm anxiously. You had received his note in class that demanded you meet him after detention at 9pm. If you didn’t show, his initial plan ultimately failed, it would also spell disaster for you. Deep down inside…he was hoping you’d knock on his door.

As if on cue, a gentle tapping echoed throughout his room. He took a deep breath before yanking open his door and smirking down at you as you stood in the entrance.

“Come in.” Theo gestured for you to step into his private dorm. You hesitated but walked inside with your hands clasped behind your back. Your nerves were plastered all over your face as your eyes scanned his bedroom. He had cleaned it, making sure it was utterly spotless. He didn’t want anything giving away what he was truly up to.

“Theodore…please accept my apology. I really am sorry that I reported you to Professor Slughorn. I was just doing what I’m told. I had to say something because I thought you…might be up to no good. I didn’t even stop to ask you what you needed the ingredients for. I just made assumptions and that was wrong of me.” You frowned and started to fidget with the hem of your skirt. Theo’s eyes couldn’t help but drift to the glimpse of your thighs that was revealed in your motions.

“You really got me into a mess. I hope you understand that. It’s great that I have…a way with words, and convinced our professor to just give me detention. He was going to kick me off the fucking Quidditch team! He mentioned possible expulsion! Do you really think “sorry” is enough to fix this? It’s not!” He paused. “I have something in mind though. Why don’t you take a seat.” He waved towards his bed and leered at you while you sank down on the edge of his mattress.

He had you right where he wanted you. Things were going perfectly and according to plan. Theo was practically vibrating with excitement over his possible win. He sat down beside you and noticed how you flinched as he reached behind you for the remote on his pillow. He stifled a chuckle as he placed the device in your hand.

“Why don’t you press play, Cara Mia.” He whispered in your ear and took in how you shivered beside him. Your hand shook uncontrollably as you raised the remote and aimed it at his television. You were reluctant to press the button until he cleared his throat which caused you to click play quickly.

He had his gaze glued to your face while you were focused on the TV. He took in each and every expression you made as tears welled in your pretty eyes and your breathing became erratic. Your hand covered your mouth in horror over your shower video that you were currently watching.

“Who knew you had all of that hidden under your uniform, Bella.” He cooed in your ear and you flung yourself away from him and stood up from the bed.

“You—you recorded me? Why? I already said I was sorry!” You shrieked as tears streamed down your adorable face.

“You can prove just how sorry you are to me. You almost got me expelled! You nor Professor Slughorn asked what I even intended to do with the ingredients I stole! Right away you saw me as the bad guy! Well…now I am the bad guy. Sit! Down!” He shouted and you swiftly obeyed as he turned off the television. He moved to kneel down on the floor in front of you and reached out to wipe the tears from your face but you smacked his hand away. He sighed in frustration after you turned down his attempt at kindness so he gripped your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him.

“You are going to do everything I tell you until my revenge is complete and it won’t be finished until I say it is. You won’t protest, you won’t say no to me, no ifs ands or buts. If you defy me in any way…I’ll show your little video to everyone in school. Do you understand me?” He growled in your face and you nodded frantically against his palm. He released your chin and gently brushed his thumb over your cheek.

“Wha—what do you want me to do? I—I’ll do your homework, I’ll give you my notes, I’ll help you study. I—I’ll assist you in any way just please, I’m begging you, don’t show that video to anyone. Please, Theodore.” More tears spilled from your eyes as he stood up to look down at you.

“Ha. You think I need help with school? No. No no no.” He tsked and peered into your eyes. “I want to have my way with you. You will meet me here every night exactly at 9pm and you will do whatever I say. There will be a few rules though. No kissing. Don’t leave any marks where people can see them. You can’t tell anyone about this. Finally, don’t catch feelings! After seeing your…video, how could I resist? You’re awfully tempting.” He helped you stand up as your face paled and jaw dropped. He couldn’t help but smirk when you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“What’s the matter, Bella? Cat got your tongue?” He taunted as he removed your robe and pulled your tie over your head. He started to undo the buttons of your top when you stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“Are—are you serious, Theodore? Sex? Th—that’s what you want?” He tilted his head at you when he noticed your lip quivering and fresh tears run down your devastated face. He felt a slight pang in his chest seeing how upset you were but he still wasn’t going to change his mind. You almost got him kicked out of school.

“Of course I am. I promise it won’t be so bad. You just have to do whatever I say. That’s all. If you misbehave in any way, I’ll share your video. All you gotta do is be a good girl and things will be fine. Okay. So…let’s begin.” He paused. “Take off your shirt.” He said sternly while you just glared at him, your expressions a mix of anger and distress over your new situation. Your hands trembled as you slowly undid one button at a time then hesitated before you slid the top from your shoulders and let the material fall down your arms. Now, you were just standing in your bra and skirt and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He loved how your lace bra perfectly hugged your breasts and his fingers itched to cup and play with your tits. He stalked closer to you and gently clasped your throat in his hand, your eyes growing wide as you gasped, before pushing you down to lay on his bed. Your legs still hung off the edge of the mattress as he moved to lay beside you. He took a moment to really take you in while he was propped up on his elbow before releasing your neck to run his fingers over your collarbone. He ran the back of his knuckles slowly up and down your chest. He repeated these soft motions hoping that it would help you relax but your body remained tense and you refused to look at him.

“Look at me.” He murmured softly in your ear. You shut your eyes tightly before turning your head to face him. You took a few deep breaths before opening your eyes for him. His hand finally cupped your boob and you hissed in a breath. He groaned over the softness of your breast blending perfectly with the texture of your bra. He palmed and caressed your chest as you trembled beside him. He switched to your other boob and you tried to hold back on a whimper.

“Merlin! You’re so sensitive. It’s okay…you can let it out. I want to hear you. Remove your bra for me, Bella.” He breathed in your ear and watched goosebumps spread across your skin. You stared up at the canopy of his bed as you lifted yourself up a bit to undo the clasps of your bra. You slipped it from your body and quickly covered your chest with your arms. He rolled his eyes as you laid back down next to him.

“I’ve already seen them before or should I play the video again to remind you?” He smirked and leaned in to pepper your neck with kisses.

“No! I just—I’m nervous alright!” You groaned in frustration as you slowly removed your arms from your chest and glued them to your sides. Your eyes were shut firmly and your breathing was shaky as you displayed just how nervous you were, your body stiff as a board.

“Relax, Bella. I’ve got you.” He whispered as his gaze drank in the beauty of your chest exposed to the cool air of his room. Your pretty nipples pebbled from the cold right before his eyes and his hand reached out to pinch one between his fingers. He brought his head down to slip the other into his mouth and you yelped from the warmth of his tongue. He pulled away from your body with a glare.

“Damn woman, you really are sensitive. Are you alright?” He asked with sincere concern.

“No! I’m not alright! That’s such a ridiculous question! This is just…it’s just too much for me. I said I was sorry and it didn’t help. Look at where my actions have gotten me.” More tears formed in your eyes and a part of him knew he had to comfort you. Sure he was pissed at you for snitching on him but something about you tugged at his heart. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Look, I accept your apology. Try to see things from my perspective. You almost got me expelled. How would you feel if you were me?” He asked as he moved to lay over you. Your face was inches away from his and you frowned.

“I wouldn’t do this to someone. I wouldn’t blackmail them. I—I don’t know what I would have done.” You said softly and looked away.

“Try and see it this way. The two of us are just blowing off steam and having a good time. No strings attached. You could do whatever you want to me. Try something you’ve never done before. As long as you’re good, your video is safe with me.” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb and you bit your bottom lip.

“I—I’ve…never done…any of this before.” You said sadly and sniffled.

“Wait…are you saying…you’re a virgin?” He asked as he sought out your eyes. You refused to make eye contact with him but you nodded without another word.

That’s what it was! Your innocence is what drew him in. He loved your reactions to being touched and thought you were absolutely adorable. He felt such a rush after knowing he was the first guy to see you like this. The thought of being your first made his heart pound in his chest.

“Fuck…you’re a gift, Bella.” He moaned as his lips claimed your neck once again. He buried his face against you, lavishing you with feverish kisses, as you whined and arched beneath him. He kissed from your neck to your collarbone down to your flushed chest. His tongue lapped out to lick and tease your stiff nipples, his mouth alternating from one to the other to suck on them hungrily. His hands gripped your sides to try and hold you in place but your writhing only turned him on even more. He stopped showering your breasts with attention and kissed down your stomach, his eyes falling on your skirt. You were panting and blinking rapidly as you lifted your head to watch him.

“Theodore? What are you about to do? What’s happening?” You looked so confused, disheveled, and aroused beyond recognition. Something in Theo snapped, in his eyes, you looked like a sexual goddess blessing his bed. For you, this was probably so overwhelming. So he made a decision in that moment. He would be merciful. He slid from the bed and knelt down on the floor between your legs. Your skirt shadowed what he desperately wanted to see, his hands snaking up your legs to rest on your thighs. You shivered from his touch and realization flashed in your eyes as you watched his hands slide further under your skirt.

“Call me Theo. I’m—I’m gonna make you feel good.” He murmured as he brought his lips to hover above your thigh, his warm breaths against your skin made your legs tremble in his hands. He gently caressed your thighs to attempt to soothe you but you still seemed to shiver no matter what he did. His hands explored the expanse of your skin as he reached under your skirt to wrap his fingers around the waistband of your lace panties. He tugged them out of place and you attempted to shut your legs around his head. He chuckled as he blocked you trying to shut him out with a firm hand on the inside of your thigh. You whimpered and covered your eyes for a moment as he moved closer and slowly lifted your skirt. He finished his work by completely removing your underwear and sticking them in his pocket. You frowned at him but didn’t protest as he moved further up between your legs.

“A man…has never tasted you before?” He asked breathlessly as he spread your legs even further.

“No.” You sniffled and watched him closely as he licked his lips. He brought his face closer to your cunt and smiled when he noticed just how wet you were.

“My my. For someone who doesn’t want this, you’re fucking soaked, Bella.” He chuckled.

“Shut up!” You huffed and let yourself fall back against his bed, your pretty face beet red. He placed one kiss where your beautiful leg met your glistening sex and you quivered as a soft moan escaped your lips. He leaned in and gently kissed the lips of your pussy and you gasped loudly, covering your face with your palms. Your wetness clung to his lips as he pulled away from you and he couldn’t help but lick them, his eyes widening over how sweet you tasted.

In that moment, he didn’t hesitate, Theo latched his mouth onto your dripping cunt and started to eat you out like a man starved. You tasted like the most delectable treat to ever bless his tongue and your scent was equally as intoxicating. He groaned into you as his hands moved to grip your hips. He was sure he left bruises on your delicate skin but he didn’t care, he felt utterly lost in you. Your moans echoed throughout his room, your hands were no longer on your face but gripped the sheets instead, your sensual body was writhing against him and his hungry mouth and he was savoring every second of it.

“You taste so fucking good!” He groaned against your dripping folds, your juices running down his chin to leave wet spots on his sweatpants. He let go of your hips to reach down and free his aching cock from his clothes. One hand wrapped around his length and started to pump furiously, matching the pace of his tongue. His free hand wrapped around one of your legs to reach your throbbing clit. His thumb rubbed circles on the sensitive bud while his tongue delved deeper into your innocent hole.

“Th—Theo! It’s—it’s too much! Oh fuck, I’m close! So close!” You cried while your fingers moved to grip his hair. Your hips ground urgently against his mouth and fingers and your desperate need had him stroking his cock even faster. He increased the pace of his thumb and watched as your back arched up from his bed. He quickly sucked on your aching clit and you cried out as you came on his tongue. With a few more pumps, his orgasm followed right behind you and he came all over the bedroom floor. That had never happened before. He got off just from eating you out. Something inside him felt hungry and primal and he just couldn’t stop himself. He gave your pussy one last kiss and you shuddered as he moved away from you to let you catch your breath.

He tucked his cock back into his boxers and looked up to gauge your reaction. You were staring blankly up at the bed canopy with your hand over your chest. He slowly moved to sit beside you and wiped your slick from his mouth as you tried to gain your composure.

“I—I can’t believe—that just happened.” You murmured.

“Are you alright?” Theo asked as he helped you sit up beside him. You nodded gently but wouldn’t make eye contact with him. You slowly stood up from the bed but he noticed the slight wobble in your legs as you moved to grab your bra and shirt. You eyed his pocket as you slipped on your clothes but he shook his head at you with a scoff.

“You’re not getting them back, Bella. I’m sure you won’t miss one pair of panties.” He smirked as you glared at him and put on your robe.

“Fine. Keep them.” You sighed heavily but he loved how your cheeks grew red over the thought of him keeping your underwear. He helped you walk to his door and he held it open for you.

“Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you blushed.

“I thought that…I thought you wanted to have sex with me.” You said softly as you finally looked into his eyes.

“Maybe another time, be glad I chose to be kind tonight. If I really wanted to, I could have had you screaming my name while I pound that pretty pussy of yours.” He smirked at you while your jaw dropped in shock.

“I—I can’t believe you just said that.” You said softly while your cheeks burned a bright red.

“I’ve got you thinking about now, don’t I?” He asked with a cocky smile on his face.

“N—no! I’m just—still shocked about all of this and what happened. I just wanna go to bed. I’ll umm—I’ll see you tomorrow.” You replied meekly and pulled your robe tighter around your body as you walked through his door.

“Oh! Don’t forget,” he called out to you, “make sure you don’t run into any prefects on your way back to your dorm. Wouldn’t want anyone catching you and thinking that you were up to no good.” He chuckled wickedly as your jaw dropped over his audacity.

He shut the door on you and listened as you stormed off down the hallway. When things were quiet, he quickly moved over to his television and moved a small plant he had on the stand. Hidden beside the leaves was his camera. He hit the rewind button then grinned when he pressed play and saw the video he had recorded. Everything the two of you had done tonight was captured on film and added to his list of blackmail material. He smiled viciously to himself as he put the device away. Yes, he was definitely going to have his way with you.

Tag list: @underthenightskydreamsneverdie @slytherinravebabe @helendeath if I missed any tags, please let me know and I will happily add you.🥰❤️

My first Theo fic! I hope you like it because I have plenty more to come. It feels good to be writing again.🥹❤️

[abiatackerman]

Interrupted by brats

The air in the mess hall cracks with tension as Jean and Eren square off. Their fists fly, and the other scouts gather around, placing bets and cheering like it is some twisted spectator sport. Mikasa’s stoic expression betrays her amusement, while Sasha bites on a potato, her eyes wide with excitement.

But then, the doors swing open as Levi and you step in. The entire scene freezes. Even the birds outside seemed to hold their breath. Levi's glare can melt steel, and the room temperature drops by a few degrees.

"Brats......"

He mutters, his voice is like a blade slicing through the chaos.

"What the hell is this nonsense?"

Eren and Jean stumble apart immediately and you sigh. They straighten their uniforms, faces showing pure fear as they avoid eye contact with their captain.

Levi doesn't waste time. He kicks Jean's abdomen, since he was the one who started the fight. Then he kicks Eren's ass hard making him stumble forward.

"You want to fight? Fine. I'll give you a reason to regret it."

His knuckles crack ominously and you sigh.

Levi's really pissed today. You just told him that you're leaving for a week since your dad has become sick and you haven't visited your family for a while. He's pissed thinking that it's gonna be a damn long annoying week without you. Just when you two were about to kiss, Historia rushes to Levi's office to inform him about the fight.  Levi is pissed about the interruption and now here he is, beating them up.

"Captain, I...."

Jean tries to speak but Levi stops him.

"Shut up!"

Levi snaps.

"And you, Jaeger."

He turns to Eren, who stands there massaging his ass.

"You're not innocent either. Next time you want to throw punches, do it in private. Got it?"

Eren nods so vigorously that his head may detach from his neck.

"Y-yes, sir!"

Levi stares at him for a while then looks at you again. You can tell by his looks he's thinking about punishing them. Your face softens as you look at Jean's and Eren's nervous faces, feeling sympathy for them.

"Both of you will clean this hall everyday for this whole week. One more fight and I'll increase the area of your cleaning also add daily laps to your lazy assed routine. Now all of you, out!"

Levi orders in his pissed tone as everyone rushes out of the hall. They all are relieved that Levi has just punished Eren and jean. Not them.

"Don't you think you are being too strict?"

You ask as the cadets leave the hall.

"I mean this hall is huge... Cleaning it every day is tough by only two people."

You say softly as Levi walks towards you.

"Though their behaviours are shitty they have loyal friends. I bet they all will clean it together."

He says as he grabs your chin.

"You're just too kind, doll. They'll be fine, don't worry."

You nod and remove his hand from your face and hug him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You know? You looked so sexy and hot when you were beating them up. Everyone was looking at you with fear and you were the strongest intimidating leader, also your commanding voice... I did feel bad for them but... Shit... I'm fucking turned on."

Levi chuckles as his face is pressed against your head and he sniffs your sweet smell. His one hand wraps around your neck and the other one plays with your hair.

" Tch... You have a weird choice, but I'm not complaining."

He speaks in an amusing tone and removes his head from your hair to look at your face. He cups your face, his expression is soft with affection as he kisses your forehead.

"Just be safe for the week, ok? And make sure to come back to me unscarred."

He speaks, his voice full of affection. You chuckle.

"Even if I get in trouble, I'll use the combats you taught me. I'll be fine, don't worry."

You say smiling cheekily as Levi's eyes soften again. Your smile is his greatest weakness, he can't help but melt every time he sees it. And when he knows he's the reason behind it, his mind overflows with ecstasy.

He leans down and presses his lips softly against yours. You hum and close your eyes as you grip his shirt, only to feel his thumping heartbeat against your palm. His thumbs caress your cheeks as your lips move in a slow, soft and rhythmic way.

Just when Levi's tongue gently brushes against your lower lips and you are about to part your lips, suddenly, the mess hall's door swings open. Sasha and Connie stumble in, revealing Eren, Jean, Armin and Mikasa behind them. They freeze, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, as if caught in a forbidden act.

"Errr... Captain... we..."

Sasha tries to speak nervously, her cheeks pink.

"We were just..... Looking for the potato Sasha left behind."

Armin speaks shyly, his face flushed red. You try to suppress your smile as you look at the pissed expression on Levi's face.

"You shits were spying on us? What were you brats looking at? Never saw a man and woman kissing before?"

Levi speaks in a calm tone but you know he's fuming inside. Everyone turns red at his words, even Mikasa blushes.

"Eren and Jean will clean this mess hall, alone! And you all shits will clean the whole field. I'll check your work in the afternoon. If I see even a single darnel picking out of the grass, I swear I'll kick your lazy asses. As for the girls, you all will run 50 laps and no food until you clean your shits up. Mark my words!"

Levi speaks firmly as their eyes widened. You look at them sympathically as Sasha seems like she is about to cry.

"Out!"

Levi says in a slightly louder tone than usual making them flinch as they rushes out.

"Damn brats. What are they? 10? Bothering us like annoying bugs."

He speaks in a pissed voice as you sigh and hug his neck to calm him down.

"They are just kids, Levi. They probably got curious when Sasha came back here for her potato and caught us kissing. Forgive them."

Levi relaxes in you arms as he starts to kiss your neck.

"Tch, I shouldn't care for them like this when they're this annoying."

You chuckle and tilt your head to let him kiss you. You rub his back.

"You're a great father figure, Levi. They also knows it."

You giggle slightly at the tickling feeling as his breath fans over you neck and his lips keep caressing you skin.

"I'll try to be a good father to our brat too. I won't say shitty words and won't be harsh. I promise."

He mumbles in a low voice as his grip on your waist tightens.

"I know you will, love."

You say softly as he removes his head to look at your face.

"Tch, I'll miss you, smartass..."

He says softly as he kisses your forehead.

"Me too."

You say and he presses his lips against yours again. Though this time you two kiss each other for a long time without any interruptions.

And this time, no brats were peeking on you two either.

[eff4freddie]

Privates

Joel Miller AU x Javier Pena x AFAB Reader/You

Word count: 9k

Joel takes a second job at the local strip club, hoping to cover Sarah's fees for her fancy new private school. He just has to make sure no one's gettin' too rowdy, and watch out for the girls. It would be really simple. If it weren't for you.

Warnings: porn with plot, this is a Joel Miller story but it's about a strip club so obviously Javi is there, reader is a stripper, no shame get your dollars ladies, MMF, Oral (f receiving), slow burn then smut, also a couple of other cameos, reader has limited physical descriptions other than in reference to her lady parts, this is really filthy even for me, pining while Joel really trying to hang on to some semblance of morals, Javi says maybe two words? Explicit. Minors DNI.

He thought his hearing was bad before he took the job, that years of construction work; drilling, hammering, screaming at Tommy for fucking up the A-frame, would be the thing that robbed him of one of his more essential senses. But it turned out it wasn’t that, it was the incessant bass, the thrum of the sub-woofer reverberating around his skull. The way he felt it jolt his spine, Mikey the DJ hell-bent on obliterating the patron’s ability to think straight with sound alone, as if the watered down booze wasn’t toxic enough to cloud their judgement.

But Sarah needed to go to the fancy school, the one with the uniforms and the shiny brochures, and he hadn’t figured it would be all that mentally taxing. He could do without the late nights at his age, but he got paid after-hours rates to basically walk around and look menacing, and only once or twice a night did he have to actually step in and boot a guy. Sarah had just joined the debate team. Like she needed any help with arguin’.

He'd only told a handful of friends, Tommy so that he knew if he was late to a job it wasn’t because he was on a bender but just because he was working late, a couple of the guys at poker night because he thought they might get a kick out of it. They had, immediately asking him to get them in without the cover charge. He’d refused, but in a good-natured way, and so far they’d steered clear of the place.

He wasn’t sure why he was shy about it, if that’s what it was. Giving the air of authority, trying to be respectful while the girls did their work. He mostly ignored the stage, felt his cheeks burn if he happened to look up to see a girl bent over, thong waving in a guy’s face. He scanned the floor, walked the halls outside the privates, kept his eye on the clock and the bar, waited for his break so he could take a load off and get away from the kick drum assaulting his temples.

The guys kept telling him he’d won the lottery, lucked out on a dream job. And he would agree, except for you.

He’d met you on his third shift, right when he was allowed to walk the floor without a supervisor. He was already learning how to read the floor, how to pick up on cues from the girls that a guy was trouble, was figuring out that just standing with a scowl on his face and his black shirt on in a darkened room was often times enough to keep a blowhard in line. He was getting used to the girls tipping him at the end of a shift, although it felt weird to take their money when he’d just seen how they made it. He was getting used to the dull ache in his knees, in the soles of his feet, reminding himself not to complain when he saw the six-inch plastic heels the girls traded in.

He was learning that each girl picked their music, that often times the songs they chose reflected their dance personas, the girls dancing to pop songs going for the cutesy vibe, the girls dancing to heavy guitar riffs and shouty lyrics dressed up in black and red lace, dangerous and menacing. He was getting used to the way the room shifted in response to whatever was going on stage, was noticing he needed to pay more attention when the younger-looking girls, the blondes in pigtails, took to the stage.

He felt the room go quiet, a kind of hush when your name was called. The shift was enough to make him pause, mid-stride, moving his gaze from a man trying to buy a drink for a girl he suspected was under 21, to the stage. The heavy bass hit him in the chest, the stage lights purple and red, when you emerged, thigh first, from behind the tatty little red curtain. You were all hips and cleavage, all gentle curves and smooth lines, skin glowing and buttery soft under the stage lights. You moved slowly, your hands ghosting over your breasts, as you made eye contact with every patron in the room, your red painted lips curling into a knowing smile as you regarded them, as you took purchase of them, as you measured them and found them all wanting. You were selecting your prey, he could see it in your eyes, and he was fully prepared for your gaze to skip over him, to see his outfit of black and his number around his neck and know that he was a non-starter, except that as soon as your eyes landed on him they stared there, and he could swear you added an extra little wiggle in your hips for him, an exaggerated dip as you held the pole to you and swivelled around it, as you winked at him, fucking winked right there in public like it wasn’t the most obscene thing you could have done in this environment, and he felt it then, that the two of you were in it together, that you had let him in on the grift, that if you were his Bonnie he would do everything he could to be your Clyde.

He turned as you got busy, gave you the privacy he felt you deserved as you shimmied your skirt down, and he found he had no idea where to look now, had forgotten his rotation, had been thrown completely from his rounds. He wanted a shot of hard whiskey, the proper shit that they kept for the high-rollers, he wanted to go out the back to the employee bathroom and dunk his head into the sink. He wanted to march up that stage and pull you off it, bundle you into his car and disappear with you into the night, his fingers nestled in your wet, wanting cunt as he drove, claiming it back from all the men you’d ever shown it to.

He balled up his fist, wondering what exactly had just fuckin’ happened to him, lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you revolving around the pole, your legs curling into the air in front of you so that, if he were to look, he would get a perfect view of Eden between your thighs.

He figured he should check the back room. It had probably been a while since anyone had.

--

You weren’t there every night. From askin’ around, none too subtly he suspected, he’d learned you were studying your master’s degree, taking classes in the daytime then coming by to work some shifts. You’d been there for a while, degrees are long and hard to get, and you mostly kept to yourself. Sometimes on slow nights you read your textbook in the dressing room until someone dropping cash came by. He felt his pulse quicken at this, at the earnestness of it, the innocence in it, and he resolved then that it would go no further. He would stop. He wouldn’t check the roster to see which nights you were working, wouldn’t watch the back door until he saw you appear, bundled up in a winter jacket and a heavy bag over your shoulder, in sneakers and jeans and somehow all the sexier for it, wouldn’t make shitty mistakes on the job site because he was distracted, waiting for your next shift to roll around, wouldn’t stalk the floor sullen and moody on the nights you weren’t in. He would do none of that, because he was too old for a schoolboy crush, because you were both working professionals, colleagues even, because it could never go anywhere without some sort of destruction, because Sarah was doing so damn well in her new school.

He watched out for you. That was his job, to watch out for all the girls. He watched out for you when you started to approach a guy who was already four drinks deep and threatening to get handsy, stepping in before you got to him to redirect him to a glass of water, then the door. He watched out for you when another girl got too drunk or too high and started causing a scene right beside where you were standing at the bar, pulling her away gently by the biceps before she could shatter a bottle and ricochet any glass into your general direction. He watched your back when you were in the privates, kept a respectable distance outside the open doorway, the little U-shaped couches meaning often times all he could see were the guy’s legs, sometimes the cream of your thighs as they dangled over his, the curve of your calf easing into the point of your heel. He watched out for you as you retreated to the dressing room for a break, kept an eye on the door to make sure no patrons tried to slip in while you were resting. He steered clear of the dressing room itself. That was your private space, you and all the girls. He had a little office back there, but he would just make sure to take everything he needed with him at the start of his shift, take his breaks in the back room amongst the toilet rolls and broken sound equipment.

He watched out for you when he wouldn’t let you tip him, figuring you needed it for school, gently pushing your hand away when you tried to pass him a twenty at the end of every shift.

--

Sunday nights were dead.  Most of the girls never worked it, preferring instead the busier nights, the bucks’ parties and the bigger crowds. There was only a small subset of girls who worked the Sundays, the ones who tended to have regulars come in to visit them, the ones who liked the chilled-out vibe a little more, who used the downtime to practice new tricks on the pole or discuss hair removal and boob jobs right there on the floor. Those were the nights when he felt everyone was a little more themselves, that the grift was a little lesser, when the patrons were generally more well behaved so the girls could let their guards down. No one felt like getting up to all that much bullshit on a Sunday.

But his feet didn’t know any of that, protesting all the same despite the more relaxed vibes, and he was hovering behind one of the booths on the floor resting his hip on it to ease the pressure off one foot for a moment, before shifting his weight to the other. This little method meant he could stay standing, more or less in the same position, for sometimes up to an hour. But on the quiet nights, with so many empty booths around, it was all the harder to resist just sinking down into the cushions and stopping the blood pooling in his shoes.

Candy Jane was on stage, shifting her hips without much conviction, a couple of regulars already with their girls. He could see you, propped up in a corner booth, your eyes on the stage but unmoving. He thought you looked tired, wondered if your feet were hurting as much as his were, and he thought long and hard about sliding in beside you, pulling you into his lap and nudging your head onto his shoulder.

You looked up, then, swivelling your eyes to him and he felt his stomach drop. He was about to start another round of the privates just for something to do but you were getting up on your feet, strolling over to him, the singles and twenties strapped to your thigh by your garter.

‘Joel,’ you said, grabbing his hand and pushing him into a booth behind him. ‘Come sit by me, I’m bored.’

He had seen you flirt with the patrons, a kind of hyper-sexualised bunny thing that promised them every sexual desire they could ask for without ever actually delivering, the art of the tease so acute in you that none of them seemed to even realise they’d been played. He marvelled at that, always kind of admired it, at the street smarts of the girls extracting money from the men who thought they had any power in the situation. He looked at you now, sitting an arm’s length away from him, and felt almost entirely under your spell.

‘Not s’posed to sit on the floor when I’m workin,’ he said, almost apologetic, and you shrugged your shoulders at him.

‘It’s dead, Joel-y,’ you said, and you weren’t flirting with him now, you were just yourself, and he liked you all the better this way, all the more for the earnestness of you, for this version of you none of the other men ever got to see.

‘Just don’t be offended if I have’ta get up and leave quick,’ he said, and you smiled at him.

‘I don’t think you could ever do anything offensive,’ you said, and you were kind of teasing him but also really meant it, and you watched him blush, shifting his body in his chair to face a little further from the stage. ‘Why don’t you watch?’ you asked, rolling your ankles and feeling the tendons stretch. You were hoping your regular would show up soon so you could finally earn something, the house fee already putting you in the red.

‘S’not right to watch, not here for my…jollies,’ he finished, and you grinned at him.

‘Your jollies?’ you teased. He huffed out a shy laugh, looking down at his lap.

‘Y’know what I mean,’ he went on. ‘M’workin’, we’re all workin’.

‘You aren’t curious to take a peek?’ you asked, leaning closer to him. If he was a better man, he would have been able to resist the urge to peak down the top of your dress, the silly little spandex straps barely holding you in, your tits heaving with your breath and with how heavily you were teasing him.

‘Course I am,’ he confessed, almost hissing it out over the bass thumping through his body.

‘A man of principles,’ you appraised, moving back to give him a little break, wondering if he was hard yet. You knew he watched you closely, knew that he lingered outside the doorway for you more than any other girl when you were in a private, knew that he was going out of his way not to look at you when you danced on stage, and the innocence of it, the thrill of it when you had everyone else’s attention except his, it fascinated and annoyed and scolded you, tickled you around the collarbone. You watched as he scratched at the salt and pepper patches dotting his jaw, at how he swallowed so hard his muscle ticked and strained under the force of it.

‘Why don’t you take my tips?’ you asked. Candy’s dance slot was nearly over, and you were waiting to see Destiny. She’d promised to show you one of her new pole tricks hanging inverted, and even after all this time you still hadn’t worked up the courage to do that.

‘You need to save ‘em up, get your degree,’ he answered, without thinking, finding it so hard to think through the want for you, for the proximity of you, now that he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat along his side.

‘You know about that?’ you asked, surprised.

Oh shit, he thought. Just like that he’d fucked it.

‘One of the other guards, he mentioned it. Said he saw you reading a textbook one time,’ he covered, as quickly as he could given the circumstances. You nodded at him, as if this satisfied you, but he wasn’t sure if he’d actually pulled it off. His throat was dry, and it was so hot in the club, was it always this hot in the damn club? First chance he got he was gonna call his HVAC guy.

‘What are you studying?’ he asked, but you were smiling then, eyes bright and over his shoulder.

‘Hey, Javi!’ you squealed, giggling and rising from the booth, pushing your chest out and wiggling towards the man Joel had come to recognise as your regular. The lucky bastard always wore aviators, his jeans so tight Joel was surprised he didn’t burst a button when he got a hard on, his moustache quirking up in greeting to you. Joel wondered if you would ever squeal and rush towards him like that, not caring for one second that it was just part of the grift. 

--

You’re not on shift, haven’t been on shift for a week, and his bones itch under his skin, his feet pacing up and down the carpet outside the privates, patrolling the floor like it insulted him. He hates that he checks the roster at the start of every shift and doesn’t see your name listed, hates that he’s worried about you; that you’re sick, that you’re hurt, that you’ve fucking left. He’s useless at his real job, nearly degloving his entire hand with a band saw he was so distracted wondering if he’d see you that night. This can’t go on, and he knows that, but he just needs to know what happened to you, just needs to know that you’re OK, and then he can get back to being dead inside.

Because that’s what you’ve done to him, he realises. You’ve made him feel alive. He can’t resent you for it, you didn’t know it was what you’d done, but it sets his teeth on edge and it unnerves him in a way that makes him consider quitting, finding another club, maybe not a titty-bar, maybe something he can actually put on his resume. He considers it while simultaneously knowing he won’t do it, would never do it, that he’s too far gone even while he can’t go any further.

He stops checking the roster. It hurts in a way he can’t quite get his head around, a pain he doesn’t have any room to accommodate sitting tight and hot in his chest. He keeps his eyes on the patrons and the clock. He takes his breaks in the back room. He feels tired down to the bone.

--

Two weeks after he’d last seen you, he starts his shift the way he always does, going into the back before too many girls arrive to put his bag in his locker and fill his pockets with whatever he’ll need for the rest of the night. He’s busy trying to put a protein bar in his pocket in such a way that it doesn’t look like he has a hard on when he hears footsteps behind him.

‘Joel-y’, you say, and he swings his head towards the sound so hard he thinks he hears something snap. You’re smiling at him, dressed in your jeans and a Fleetwood Mac tee, and he has to consciously remind his heart to keep beating. You’re holding one of your enormous heels in your hand.

‘Where have you been?’ he blurts out, not caring that he sounds needy. You blink at him, surprised.

‘You missed me?’ you ask, and you’re teasing him but he doesn’t care, because he’s glad all over that you’re back and he’ll take all the sass in the world from you if you just stay there.

‘You didn’t…’ Didn’t what, he thinks. Didn’t check in with me? Say goodbye? There’s no reason why you would have. Didn’t promise you weren’t grossed out by him, that he’d made you so uncomfortable you’d gone to work at another club? ‘You didn’t mention you were taking a break,’ he said, eventually.

‘Oh, I had mid-terms,’ you say, breezily. He’s stepping out of his little office now, trying to put space between you before he says something else blatantly insane and stupid, hoping to go back to just looking at you from dark corners while he furtively hopes you don’t see.

‘Wait,’ you say to him, grabbing him by the arm. You hold your shoe up, and he can see where the strap has come away from the base. He takes it from you, feels the brush of your fingertips as he does it, tries to ignore the little flip in his tummy.  

‘Leave it with me,’ he says, stepping towards the backroom where he knows there’s superglue. ‘You got another pair?’

‘Yeah, but those are my favourites,’ you say, looking up at him carefully, watching his face for something. You haven’t got your heavy stage make-up on yet, haven’t curled your hair into gentle waves, and you’re so beautiful like this, he thinks, when he can see the actual colour of your lips, your cheeks.

‘Twenty minutes,’ he says. You smile at him. He wonders if you’ll put your hand on his arm again. You turn away.

--

In the backroom he sits on an upturned milk crate, holding the strap to the base so the superglue will affix to it. If he had his tools he would try and nail it down, but there’s a chance he could shatter the base and these heels seem expensive for something that makes all you girls look so darn cheap.

Your shoes are so small in his hands, and he imagines just for a second its your foot he’s cradling in his lap. He has the presence of mind just enough to wonder what fucked up version of Cinderella he’s trying to live.

He checks the strap, pulls hard on it three times, before he’s satisfied enough to give it back to you.

--

He realises his error, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. He had mentioned to the guys at poker that Sundays were the quiet ones, that the music was just low enough to be able to think, that the girls mostly entertained themselves while their regulars paid them to chat, sometimes to dance. Where you could always get a seat at the tipping rail, could even swing a three song dance out of a twenty if the girl was bored enough.

He feels the drop in his stomach when he sees them, approaching the bar en masse. He can’t remember where you are, he’d lost sight of you between the booths on the floor and the privates, and he tries to remember what time your stage slot was, having checked the roster again despite swearing black and blue he wouldn’t. They haven’t seen him yet, and he wonders if he can just slip out the back and make a break for it, tell them he was sick so he wasn’t working, and they need to fucking call him first. He knows them, knows that they’re not bad guys, that they’re here to keep him company and maybe see some butt while they’re at it. But it stirs in him a deep panic, that they will see you, that they’ll get their eyes on you before he’s really even let himself have a chance to, before he can make you all his own.

A silly little delirious part of him, right at the back of his skull, whispers that it’ll make your wedding really awkward. He shoos it away like an errant mosquito.

Benny sees him, then, is waving him over.

‘Joel, we made it!’ he yells over the music, the guys turning to him to welcome him into the circle. Tommy is already at the bar ordering the beers, but he nods to his big brother. Joel worries for a second that you’ll like his brother better, before he remembers you don’t even like him at all.

He stalks over to him, his jaw aching from the strain, while he looks through the darkness to try and find you. He’ll just have to run interference for a while, keep them busy while you work the floor, try and bundle them back out into the cold before your stage slot.

‘Gentlemen,’ he says, laced with irony, and they’re slapping him on the back, welcoming him in. He reminds himself these guys are mostly Tommy’s friends. Wouldn’t be that sad if he never saw them again.

Frankie tries to hand him a beer but he pushes it away. ‘Workin’.’ He says, simply.

‘More f’me,’ Frankie grins from under his cap.

‘So where’s the best place to sit?’ Benny asks, surveying the room. There are a couple of girls walking the floor, Amber on the stage twisting her hips to the music while staring out over all of their heads.

‘You gotta tip if you sit on the rail,’ Joel says, simply, and Benny nods.

‘I got singles!’ Pope says, ever the responsible one, always the one planning. ‘Sorry, hermano, not enough for you.’ Joel grins at him. Pope can stay, he thinks. Pope will keep his mouth shut.

‘Look, you sit in that booth there,’ Joel says, pointing them to the centre of the room, ‘you can see the stage perfect. You wanna tip a girl though, you gotta get up onta the rail, make sure they know about it.’ He leans in a little, like he’s sharing a secret. ‘These girls work real hard. Make sure you treat ‘em right, ok? They’re good girls. Smart girls. You don’t come here just to look and not sling ‘em some hard earned.’

‘Yes sir,’ Pope says, making a salute that Joel considers might actually be real. He can’t be sure. Tommy was the one who spent a few years in the army with them, not him.

‘Vamos!’ Pope calls, rounding them up and shoving them down onto the cushions. Now Joel just needs to figure out where you are.

--

You keep fuckin’ evading him. One minute you’re in a private, the next you’re at the bar chatting to a patron, trying to get him to buy off the top shelf. Electra is on the stage, and Tommy is entranced by her, the bills practically falling out of his hands while she bends to pick them up with her teeth. It’s distracting Joel, trying to keep an eye on them while also trying to keep distance between you, and the boys are inviting girls over to them, beckoning to them from the stage to come sit by them, and he knows it’s not long before your dance slot is up, knows that as soon as they see you they’ll want you, that they’ll beckon you over, that you’ll fuckin’ go.

He can’t be everywhere, can’t keep doing his job while also trying to manage this situation, has to keep pacing the privates to keep the other patrons in line. He never thought there’d be a time that he wished that fuckin’ Javi guy would show up just to keep you out of sight for a while.

They keep calling to him, too, trying to get him to come over and sit down no matter how many times he explains to them he’s working, that the girls need him to keep an eye on things. Will’s trying to keep a straight face but he’s snickering up at him, and Joel wonders what’s so damn funny.

‘Bet you do keep an eye on things,’ he grins, a little shit-eating thing that makes Joel’s hand curl into a fist. He shakes it loose, the music making it so hard to think, jarring his nervous system. He’s about to say something, about to find a reason to throw the lot of them out, when your name gets called over the loudspeaker. You’re being called to the stage. You’re up next. On the stage.

He has approximately thirty seconds to do something. He is completely rooted to the spot. At the tipping rail his little brother is waiting, dollars in hand. He thinks he might pass out or puke, possibly both and not in that order. His head is swimming. ‘Not like this,’ he thinks. He just doesn’t want you to meet his friends like this.

‘Holy shit,’ he hears Pope say, and he turns to the stage. Your thigh is appearing around the curtain, the shoe he fixed for you running up and down its raggedy edge. You’re all swagger and tits tonight, your hair swept over one eye, and he’s transfixed for a second, completely unable to move, as you shimmy up to the centre of the stage, take the pole in your hand and swivel, kicking your legs out behind you so that you corkscrew down to your knees. Pope is moving to the tipping rail, Benny following close behind. Tommy is leaning forward on his elbows, pulled in by you almost on instinct, and you’ve clocked him now, crawling on your hands and knees towards him.

For a second, Joel sees you pause, studying Tommy’s face, before you search for him in the crowd. You’ve noticed the family connection, and he freezes, terrified of your reaction. Are you going to be angry? Feel betrayed? Hurt that he’s brought his friends here to ogle you, to watch your hips shimmy and your tits bounce? Has he broken some kind of professional code, could he get fuckin’ fired for this, will you never speak to him again? He tries to communicate to you with his eyes that he didn’t bring them here, that he doesn’t want this, that whatever the fuck’s going on with these guys he wants no part in it. He wants you to know he sees you, you in jeans and a tee shirt, that it’s that you he wants.

For a long moment you stare at each other, Joel’s pulse heavy and thick in his ears. You lean back, rear up so that all your weight is on your knees. You run your hand up your side and into your mouth where you bite down on your index finger. You keep your eyes fixed right on his. You wink.

--

So, this is what its like to have a heart attack, Joel thinks. It’s slower than he expected. It’s been hours, and the guys are still here, and by some stroke of divinity or possible the opposite, so is he.

The number of times he’s reminded the guys they have work in the morning. How he’s complained that the music is giving him a headache, and man that pounding base makes it hard to think, and wouldn’t it be fun if they all went to a sports bar, see if the replay of the Knicks game is on? But they can’t leave yet, won’t leave, because they want to see you on stage again, want one last look at your creamy thighs and your bucking hips before they go home and jerk off thinking of their tongues in your cunt. He’s going to have an aneurysm right here on the goddamn floor of this fuckin’ strip club. Sarah’s gonna find out where he’s been workin’ all this time.

The one thing his brother has done for him, the one thing Tommy has done right in his life, is to lay down a rule before they got there that they can’t get any private dances.

‘Didn’t come out here to see ya’ll with hard-ons’, he reminds them, and they snicker but begrudgingly agree, and Joel won’t lie that he feels a surge of pride in his fuckin’ idiot baby brother and his one good idea.

Joel knows the girls are on a roughly two-hour rotation, that by the end of the night all of them will have been on stage about three times. The only problem is that if a girl’s in a private she gets skipped until she’s ready, so sometimes some girls might even need to do more. It seems especially cruel to him that if a girl’s having a bad night, not reeling anything in, not making any money on her own that she gets paraded out even more to the baying crowds of disinterested patrons. He’s seen a few girls with tears in their eyes on the way to the dressing room, complaining of an off night. He’s been around long enough to know that these happen, that there’s no rhyme or reason to them really, just that sometimes that particular girl just isn’t flavour of the night. He’s never seen it with you, though. Never seen you fail to take a man by the hand and lead him down the dark corridor to the u-shaped couches if you deem him worthy. It burns him up with jealousy and also he’s proud of you for it. His good girl taking no prisoners.

He wonders if he can tell the DJ to take you off the rotation, if you’ll notice if you just don’t get called again, but he also knows it would be messing with your money, that Pope and Benny and Will are making good on their promise to tip well. That you’ve got bills and a college degree to earn, that the fact that he’s sick in the guts with a jealous want doesn’t matter, should never be part of the equation when it comes to you.

He does another round, still hoping to see you, still hoping to find you in a private somewhere, but you’ve made yourself scarce and he wonders if it’s because of him, because of his friends being here, worries that he’s embarrassed you. There’s only one other place you could be, tucked away in the dressing room hiding out, unless you’ve just got dressed and left completely, not even bothering with the attempt to tip him tonight.

He shouldn’t but also he needs to, knocks hard on the door and calls out that it’s him before he pushes it open. With all the lights on around the mirrors the place has a warm glow, and he scans quickly to make sure he’s alone before he pushes himself into the room. You’re not here, either, which means he doesn’t know where you are, and he feels a little flare of panic in his sternum. He rests his hand on it, trying to steady his catching breath. He should check the roster. Maybe you had an early finish.

He nearly steps on you when he rounds the corner into his little office. You’re lying flat on your back on the floor, headphones over your ears. For a terrible second he thinks you’ve passed out in here before he realises you’re tapping your feet, your head swaying back and forth to the music only you can hear. He leans down and pushes, gentle, at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you startle, pulling the headphones free.

‘Jesus,’ you say, and he steps back again, hangs around the door.

‘Sorry,’ he says, hands up in appeasement. ‘Didn’t mean to scare ya.’

‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ you say, scrambling to stand. Your heels are catching on the carpet and you waver, Joel coming forward to steady you. ‘Sometimes I come by here and stretch out my back a little, the heels are…hard work,’ you say, and he realises you’re blushing, that you think he’s mad. He shakes his head at you, brows saddled.

‘S’ok,’ he says, not letting go of your arm.

‘You’re just not normally in here,’ you say, and you look up at him then, fixing your eyes on his.

‘You can come here any time you like,’ he says. Wants to add that everything you ever wanted he will get for you, that anything you ever asked he would do.

‘-nks,’ you say, feeling shy all of a sudden, realising the size of his hands for the first time.

‘I didn’t know they were comin’,’ he says, trying to keep his voice steady, and you blink for a second, trying to understand. ‘I didn’t invite ‘em, they just showed up.’

‘So, he is your brother,’ you say, smiling now. Joel nods his head at you, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘He’s cute,’ you say. ‘Runs in the family.’

Joel grunts at this, can’t quite believe he’s heard it, tries really hard to think straight. You’re wearing practically nothing in his little office on a quiet Sunday night while his brother and four of his friends throw dollars at random half-naked women. It’s a lot to take in.

‘They’re not getting dances,’ you observe, and Joel shakes his head.

‘Their decision, outta respect or somethin’, I guess.’

‘Respect for you?’ you clarify.

‘Each other, I think.’

‘Oh, that’s silly,’ you say. He feels the heat up his neck, a bloom of something worrisome in his tummy. ‘That’s like going to Disneyland and not getting on any of the rides.’

‘I’m gonna have to beg you to rephrase that,’ Joel says, and you grin at him. He can see that flirty sex bunny emerging in you again, can see that you’re up to somethin’, his brain too addled with the smell of you in his office to figure what.

You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you smile, your little dimple on your right cheek popping up when you’re thinking of something sneaky. He wants to kiss it every morning in the warm light of dawn. Wants you wrapped up in his sheets, hair stretched over his pillow, his hands on your tummy and your breast while he eases his fingers between your thighs.

‘Breaks over then, I guess,’ you say, and you’re practically bouncing out of the room now, his brain working just enough to remind him to follow you. He’s three or four paces behind, alarmed at how fast you can go with those heels on, and he sees it now, that you’re making a beeline for them, that you’re a woman on a mission to finally tip him over the edge, to send him right to his grave.

He can only watch, helplessly, trying to figure which one you’ll reach for. Prays it’s not Tommy. Or Will. Or Benny. Or fuckin’ Frankie. For some reason he thinks Pope might be OK. He watches, his pulse hard and racing in his throat, as you approach, six paces from them, then four, then three. Tommy’s noticed you, is pushing back his chair.

And right before you get to them, right before you’re within grasping reach of his brother, you turn, pivot on your heel to the bar, where fuckin’ Javi is waiting for you, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and beer in hand, one knee cocked to the side. You melt into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder, and somehow Joel is relieved and also it’s so much fucking worse then he could ever imagine, burns him brighter than if you had chosen one of his friends, knows that it’s both a lifeline and a spool of barbed wire you’ve thrown him, knows that he’s latched onto it anyway, can feel the tug and tear of his skin.

--

He's hovering outside the privates. His friends have finally packed it in, it’s nearing 1 AM, and in all the commotion he’d forgotten that his feet are killing him, and they’re really crying for his attention now. But he ain’t leavin’ you alone with that Javi guy, doesn’t trust the way his shirts never fuckin’ fit.

He’s so tired, the adrenaline of the night leaking out of him just to leave him wavering and empty, and he feels like he’s on his last nerve, the stress of the evening, the strangeness of it, wearing him down to the stub. But your little shoe sat right in the palm of his hand, but you went to this office to relax when you thought he wouldn’t know about it, but you fuckin’ winked at him like the rest of the room wasn’t even goddamn there, and he ain’t leavin’ you now.

And if he leans on the wall a little, takes the weight off one foot and transfers it up into his shoulder, if he cocks his head to the side, he can just peek you, see Javi’s tight jeans and the plush of you bottom as you grind it on him, your arms up over your head to make your sweet little tits sway in his face.

He shouldn’t be hard at work. Shouldn’t be leaning like this, crowding himself into the corner to get a better look. He knows there are camera in the hallways, as much to keep an eye on the staff as to keep a watch on the patrons, and he knows that somewhere footage is being collected of him right now peeping in on you. He doesn’t fuckin’ care. He can see the way your stockings are banding too tight across your thighs, and he wants to sooth the skin with his tongue, pull the nylon off you and kiss his way around the angry red rings in your flesh. He can see your hips rocking to the music, your hair swaying down your back. Your hands moving to grasp behind you, pushing your chest up and out into Javi’s face.

And he sees it then, the way Javi’s hands are hovering, lifting off the couch and threatening to come down on your skin. The club has a strict no-touchin’ policy, it was drilled into him on his first day. That’s an infraction worthy enough to get him booted out of here, never allowed to set foot in this fine establishment of dirty tomfoolery ever again. Joel swallows, his eyes now fixed on Javi’s hands, waiting for the moment they brush against your soft, glittering skin, takes a step forward towards the doorway, doesn’t even notice that you’ve pivoted, your hands on Javi’s knees as you grind your bottom down, leaning back to rest your head on Javi’s shoulder. Locking eyes with Joel.

His cock is throbbing in time to the music. The bass thrums in his chest. You hook your knees over Javi’s, first the left then the right, and push them open just enough to give Joel a tease. You’re still in your thong but it’s enough for Joel to see the sheen of the fabric, that you’re wet down there in the valley between your thighs. He licks his lips, a hand coming to rest on his chest, as he gazes at you with the kind of want that sets your nervous system on fire.

You’re swivelling your hips on Javi, can feel that he’s hard underneath you, but you want it to be Joel, want more than his eyes on you now that you’ve got them, want his hands and his tongue and his cock. You whimper, and you hear Javi groan behind you, as if any of this is for him. Javi pulls his knees further apart, unknowingly opens you up for Joel, and there’s a moment where you feel more naked then when you’re topless in front of fifty strange men. Joel has stripped you bare, to the quick. You can see how fast he’s breathing by the way his hand rises and falls on his chest. You time your movements to it, jerk your hips as if he’s breathing his touch into you from across the room.

Except he’s mad, now, you can see the way his brows have furrowed, the way his jaw has set, and you’re too hot and too overwhelmed to realise until the last moment that Javi has his hands on you, is cupping your breasts from behind, trying to reach from behind to tweak your nipples, pulling you further down into his chest to rub more fully on his cock.

Joel’s with you in four strides and you reach for him, both arms lifting up to his as he wrenches you free, screams at Javi to back off, pulls you behind him and shields you with his body while he threatens to beat Javi to a pulp before throwing him out onto the street, then beating him to death where the cameras don’t point.

‘You don’t fuckin’ touch her,’ he’s yelling, and he can feel that his throat is raw, dry, but he can’t fuckin’ think over the crushing beat in his ears, realises after a couple of stilted moments that it’s not the music that’s deafening him but that it’s his heart, that he’s vibrating with fury and want, that Javi has backed up a bit on the couch and lifted his hands in the air but hasn’t scurried away, that he’s not scared or worried at all, that he got to put his hands on heaven and will do nothing to apologise for it, and something snaps in Joel, something feral and needy and primal, something that has been chewing at the bars of its cage for months.

He pulls you to him and you gasp, can feel Joel’s pulse through your back as he manoeuvres you to rest on his chest, lifts one foot up onto the couch while he strips your thong from you, spreads you open for Javi, your body weight leaning on his as he holds you with just one arm around you.

‘This is how you fuckin’ touch her,’ Joel seethes, pushing his hand down over your belly and onto your waiting cunt, cupping your slit and teasing the slick gathering there up and over your clit. You gasp, the leg you have planted on the floor shaking as he strums, gently but somehow so firm, and you can feel yourself opening up to him, your cunt wet and aching, trying to draw him in.

‘You seein’ this, see how wet she gets for me?’ he’s saying, and you glance down to see that Javi is indeed watching, shock on his face and locked in a kind of paralysis, his eyes flicking between your cunt and Joel’s furious face. ‘You couldn’t get this from her,’ Joel is saying, and you’re leaning back into him because your knees are definitely going to buckle, but he holds you firm and steady, and you lift your face up to the ceiling and gasp.

Joel isn’t thinking, just listening to you, just letting his fingers finally touch what he’s dreamt about for months. Your sopping cunt is probably dribbling onto his pants and he doesn’t care, wants it there, wants you deep down in the fibres of the fabric where he’ll never scrub you free. You gasp again when he pushes two fingers in, feels your walls expand to accommodate him, raises the heel of his palm to ease the stretch by rubbing quick little circles on your clit.

‘Slide right in,’ he says, his unhinged commentary gritting out over the music, loud enough for just you and Javi to hear. ‘S’what happens when you’ve got her achin’ for ya,’ he says matter-of-factly.

You’re rolling your hips now, unable to help yourself as you arch your back, wanting to twist in his arms and sink your teeth into his neck, lick and lave at his collarbone, keen into his skin until the sound of it attaches itself to his bones.

‘Look at that pretty cunt,’ Joel is still saying, almost frantic now, the heat on his skin making it impossible to think of anything else, anything so complex as consequences. He’s lost in the touch of it, in the way Javi is looking at him imploringly, the way he can see that this pompous fuckin’ arsehole is getting a schoolin’ on pleasuring a woman, in the way you’re gasping and whimpering just for him. ‘S’mine,’ he says, twisting his fingers up to the knuckle in you, hooking into the spongey spot he knows will make you see stars.

He wants Javi to beg him to stop. Wants him to get down on his knees and apologise, wants him to swear he’ll never come back. But he’s distracted, because you’re calling to him now, the sound of your sweet cries of his name echoing through the vacant halls of his brain.

‘Joel-y’, you’re whimpering, babbling. ‘Joel-y, please,’ and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that he’s torturing you, setting you on fire right here in the privates, that the pleasure he’s wringing from you is too much, too overwhelming, that you want to collapse into him but you’re still trying to bear some of your weight, that your thighs are wobbling and your body is screaming at you to let go but you can’t, not in this position, no matter how good it is, because you can’t get purchase, you can’t grind, the heel of his hand is too blunt on your clit.

He can sense it, that he’s trapped you right where it’s too much and not enough, and a part of him wants to leave you there, wants to make you feel what he’s felt all those weeks he spent waitin’ for ya, checkin’ that fucking roster like a goddamn fuckin’ dog, causin’ all those little fuck ups at the job site thinkin’ about this little cunt wrapped so tight around his knuckles.

But he’s not cruel.

‘Lick it,’ he barks out, gesturing down your body to Javi while he pushes you forward, shifts your weight more fully to the couch. You instinctually hook your knee over Javi’s shoulder, the extra leverage finally giving you purchase enough to properly move. ‘Suck her little clit ‘til she fuckin’ soaks me,’ Joel says, and there’s no arguing with him, not that you would, not that Javi would by the look on his face.

He's looking uncertain, like this might be a trap, and you reach down and grab his hair in your hand. ‘Please, Javi,’ you say, and he’s on you then, without further hesitation, his lips catching your little bud and grasping it between his teeth. You scream, feel Joel jostle you until your head is twisted around to bury in his neck, and you can feel more than hear the little rasps of encouragement as he talks you through it.

‘Such a good girl f’me,’ he’s saying, and you’re barely registering it, but your cunt is listening, clamping down hard on his fingers as Javi grips you with his mouth. ‘Teachin’ us both a thing or two, ain’t ya, baby? Showin’ us just how to treat a sexy little cunt like yours.’

You’re going to die. You’re going to burst into flames. There’s just no question in your mind that this is how you go, but you just fucking hope that you’ll get to come before it happens. It’s like every single nerve ending is now in your pussy, like you are only breathing Joel and Javi, your body sandwiched between them as you grip Javi’s head to you and twist in joyous agony against Joel’s chest.

‘Wanna hear you, baby,’ Joel’s whispering again. ‘Wanna hear it when ya come f’me.’

You open your eyes, look down your body to Javi, where he’s watching you, his eyes travelling up your body to rest on your face. He’s palming his cock, you can see the way his arm is moving up and down slowly, and you can feel Joel throbbing behind you.

‘Don’t look at him,’ Joel admonishes, and you slam your eyes shut, turn again to bury your head in his neck. ‘He can’t help ya,’ Joel goes on. ‘S’just there to make you come, baby.’

God it’s fucking debauched, is what it is. It’s filthy and sweaty and you’re so wet, and you feel sexier than you ever have, feel the power in your body and in your desire, feel the way you have finally, finally brought something feral out in Joel. You’re going to come, because Joel has determined that you are going to, and you just know without him even telling you so that he won’t let you go until you have, until he is satisfied that he has wrung out every last whimper from you, until you are sated and he is confident his job is done.

Javi’s licking hard at your clit now, sometimes sucking on it, and you slam your hips down onto Joel’s hand when he does it, rock your knee to bring Javi closer to you, try to swallow him with your cunt and your hands in his hair.

You can’t get enough breath to warn them. It’s just going to happen, they’re just going to throw you over the edge and into the abyss and you can’t even tell them they’re about to do it. Joel sees it though, feels the way your cunt is gripping him.

‘Do it, baby,’ he’s gritting into your ear, catching every roll of your hips so you won’t fall. ‘Show him what it’s like when I wreck you.’

And you do, then. Harder than you ever have in your life, your lungs pillowing out in your chest to suck in all the air available to them, your wails lost to the music as streams of your slick press into Javi’s face, where you soak him and Joel behind you, shivering and convulsing as you topple over the peak, dimly aware of Joel’s words in your ear as you go, calling you his pretty girl, his beautiful, perfect girl. His girl, his girl, his.

--

There are too many broken workplace safety rules to count, so Joel doesn’t bother. He knows he’s lost his job, that the cameras will have picked up all of that, that as he drops his ID badge and set of keys on the desk in his little office that it was worth it, that you were worth it. He’ll get another job, find a bar open just as late as this one even if it’s further out of town, will travel and will keep Sarah in school and will keep the memory of your sweet little cunt fluttering around his fingers locked up tight in the back of his brain for when the nights are cold and lonely.

When he drives you home, bundles you up in his car and puts the heater on full blast to keep you warm, you tell him that you finished your degree weeks ago, that you were lying about the mid-terms, that you had actually been down in Florida helping your mother move your grandpa into care. It hadn’t seemed necessary to talk about them in that environment, you said, and he rests his hand on your knee because he understands, and also because he likes you.

He doesn’t ask for your number. Knows you probably wouldn’t give it to him, is too afraid that you’d regret everything that you did together, that you were humouring him with even letting him drop you home, that this isn’t even your house.

He only found it later, written in your neat writing, your number and your real name, when he was stripping his pants off himself and dumping them into the hamper, his come collected on the inside where he exploded as he rutted against you, as he listened to your desperate, whimpering cries for him.

He tacks the little piece of paper to the mirror, memorising the digits in case one day it falls. He isn’t gonna call it. He just wants it there, a reminder of you and what you’ve made him feel, how you’ve lifted him, freed something in him. He just wants it there. Proof that you were real.

[lyjen]

I Called

Summary: When (Y/n) goes out to do a business check on a Self Storage building, she ends up getting attacked. Due to a technical difficulty the radio of (Y/n) remains on, so everyone including her boyfriend and brother can hear what is happening.

Request by: @shauna-carsley

Next Chapter >> | 9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: I was thinking of starting a taglist, so if you want to be tagged leave a comment or tell me in “Ask me a question”!

______

(Y/n) clicked her flashlight on as she pointed it towards the entrance of the self storage units. She stepped onto the concrete stairs and let her eyes investigate the garage door, which was still wide open in the middle of the night. Her eye fell on the door, which was held open by a small piece of wood, just enough to keep the door in its place. She slowly made her way off the concrete stairs, and approached the open door.

“Dispatch 442-L23 at Studio Self Storage, doing a business check” (Y/n) spoke over the radio. She grabbed her pistol out of her holster and let her right wrist rest on her left wrist so she would still be able to use her flashlight and gun at the same time. “Copy 442-L23” The voice of the dispatcher sounded through the radio, which was clipped to her uniform.

She took a deep breath, her stomach was filling itself with anxiety. Something that always happened when she would walk into a creepy building, without lights or backup. But that was something that gave her a kick, being a cop kinda felt like being on drugs. Yes, it could be intense, but whenever you let go of your feelings and dive right into the action it’d give her such a rush.

With her right foot, she kicked the metal door open and shone her flashlight together with the gun into the dark hallway of the storage unit building. Thanks to her flashlight, it revealed a staircase, the door she just walked through was probably an emergency exit, which was connected to the fire staircase.

(Y/n) shone her light towards the left, which revealed another door, with a small emergency light on. She stepped onto the metal staircase and made herself go through the door frame.

The small hallway she slowly walked through revealed a deep dark hall with countless small garage doors on the side.

Slowly but determined (Y/n) continued her steps into the storage unit building. As she turns to the right, footsteps of someone running are sounding through the space she’s in. There’s another hallway full with more storage units, but no one to be seen.

For one quick moment, she closes her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She can hear her own heart beating in her chest of adrenaline, the pounding sounds of her heart are racing through her eardrums. “You can do this.” she tries to encourage herself, inside her head so she wouldn’t give away her position.

Focussed on every step and breath she takes, she quietly walks further and further into the property. Checking every inch of the building, looking for any differences. The walls were full with small garage doors with locks.

When she entered another hallway, she pointed her flashlight to the right, as an unfamiliarity popped up into the sequence. There wasn’t a storage unit. She aimed the flashlight along with her gun at the unfamiliarity. There was some kind of little living area. There was a bed, a bike, a sleeping bag, and a construction lamp which was switched on.

Someone was living there. Maybe even hiding. (Y/n) was pretty sure it had to be connected to her case, as well as the running footsteps she heard about a minute ago.

Now it was time to call for backup.

(Y/n) locked her flashlight under her right armpit so she could radio dispatch. “Dispatch 442-L23, I’m gonna need backup and detectives dispatched to Studio Self Storage. I have a possible-” She couldn’t even finish her sentence or she felt a pair of hands pushing her into one wall she was standing next to. A loud groan fell from her lips as her body connected with the storage unit door.

She tries to push the person away with her strength but she gets pushed back into the door.

“442-L23, do you copy?”

The person behind her grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled it so her head was now looking up. A high pitched yelp leaves her mouth, and she receives a fist to the right side of her face. With a force her head was pulled back and pushed into the concrete wall.

“442-L23, please respond.”

Another scream came through the radio as her face hit the wall.

“Officer needs help. 442-L23 at Studio Self Storage”

(Y/n) gathers all her strength and pushes her body as hard as she can into the attacker’s body. The attacker stumbled back into the other wall behind him. She yanks her left elbow with a force, multiple times into the side of his body. But he roughly grabs her shoulder, pushes her to the side and pins her into the wall.

“All units, police and fire RA, clear channel two”

Evan closed the hatch of the truck as he put back the halligan and walked towards his team who were standing at the ambulance, putting the gurney into the back of it. “Switch to Tac channel 50. Officer on open mic in distress.” The voice of Maddie broke through the radio. “Needs assistance. 442-L23 at Studio Self Storage”

Evan just came to a stop, as he felt the back of Eddie’s hand harshly tapping against his chest. Evan’s eyes connected with his as he realized what his sister had just said through the radio. “Buck. Isn’t that…-” Eddie starts, “(Y/n)” Evan finishes his brother-in-law's sentence. Evan’s eyes grew wide, his stomach turned and his veins filled themselves with adrenaline.

“Take him to the hospital and everyone else, on the engine, now, let’s go! ” Bobby spoke over the scene. Before Bobby could even finish his order, Evan sprinted towards the engine, hopped in and threw one of the headphones onto his head. The rest of his team quickly jumped in too and they drove away with squealing tires.

Evan tries his best to remain calm, his foot starts tapping towards the metal floor of the fire engine. His elbows lean onto his thighs as he lets his head hang between his thighs and his fingers intertwine on the back of his head. Evan can feel his heart racing, like it was almost trying to break free from his chest. He was suffering in silence.

Meanwhile Eddie looked out of the window, watching buildings, houses and cars go by in a flash. The sound of his sister getting tortured was awful, it’s something you wouldn’t wish for your worst enemy to hear. Now and then Eddie would glance at Evan, seeing if he was doing okay, it was his best friend after all. Another yelp fell from his sister’s mouth through the headphones.

“Cap, they're telling us to switch to tac 50.” Chimney reminds Bobby. When Bobby reached out his hand, ready to switch the channel. Eddie’s voice sounded over the headphones. “No. Leave it on” Eddie takes a look at Evan who was still deadly focussed on the sound through the radio. Bobby looked over his shoulder as he shared looks between Evan and Eddie but nodded at his request.

Evan was torturing himself by listening to every single sound that came through his headset, but he had to listen to it. To let himself know that he’d be there any minute, any second to help her. He had to listen, so he wouldn’t get the feeling he’d leave her alone. He was with her, even if it was through the radio and she couldn’t hear a thing and was fighting for her life.

Evan knew (Y/n) was stubborn. She knew Evan was worried whenever she was on shift. He knew she was so stubborn, that she would sometimes not call for backup. She had pulled these kinds of stunts multiple times. They’ve had arguments over not calling for backup. But she would just say “But I'm okay! I’m here!” It was just a matter of time when it would go wrong. And today was the day he had feared the most.

**

“It’s insane! You’re insane! You know you needed to call for backup and you ignored it.” Evan paced through the room. “Yeah but, I’m still here! Alive and well!” (Y/n) said as she leaned against the kitchen counter. “That’s not the point. The point is, what if you got shot? Nobody would’ve known.”

**

Scenes from arguments that happened weeks ago, flashed through his mind. With every scream, every groan, every punch and push he heard, Evan closed his eyes even tighter.

Once again, the person grabs her hair and launches her into the concrete. (Y/n)’s body bounced against the concrete, she could taste the blood dripping from her lip. She tries to turn her body around so she could face the attacker and use her gun. But he pins her against the wall, as well as her right arm which she was holding her gun in. He punches her wrist against the concrete, due to the shocking pain of her wrist connecting with the concrete she lets go of her gun. Dropping it to the ground.

He grabs her arm and snaps it backwards. An ear deafening scream sounds through the building as she literally hears the bone snap. She feels how the bottom of the attacker’s shoe connected with the back of her knee as he kicked it. She lost balance on her right leg, so she tumbled to the ground and a loud cry fell from her lips.

Her body gets forced onto the ground by the power of his hands. (Y/n) falls face down onto the floor. In panic she starts touching the floor, looking for her gun with her only available hand that was working.

She could feel the man’s body standing over her, ready to throw another punch. But as soon as her hand found her gun, she turned around and pulled the trigger twice, not really thinking where she was aiming at.

A scream sounded through the storage unit halls. One bullet went into the guy’s leg and the other one went beside his ear. The attacker lost balance, fell down onto his left knee which was injured now and screamed from the top of his lungs. (Y/n) pushed herself up with her non injured hand as she put her gun back into her holster. (Y/n) wanted to stand up to her legs, but then she realized her right leg wasn’t doing what she wanted, it was twitching. So she had to crawl her way to the man’s body.

The man was so busy with his hearing and his gunshot wound to the leg, that he didn’t notice (Y/n) crawling to him. She pushed the man in his back with a force so he was now with his stomach to the ground. (Y/n) grabbed one of his hands and cuffed him to the closest pipeline she could find. He wasn’t going to get away with this. She chose to cuff him to the pipeline with one hand, because she didn’t have the power to hold him down on her own. Her right arm was broken and she dislocated her right knee.

Her world was spinning, all those hits to her head made her head feel fuzzy. As she cuffed him to the pipeline, (Y/n) tries to crawl as far away from him as she could. But after ten or twelve pushes towards the exit, she couldn’t find any more energy. She stopped crawling, and turned onto her back so she was facing the ceiling now. Trying to catch a proper breath, her vision started to reveal black and white spots. Her eyelids became heavier by the second, but she had to hold on. She had to stay awake, but it was difficult with the swellings that were appearing on her face.

It felt like they were on their way for hours, maybe even days before the truck finally pulled to a stop. The street was filled with police cars and blue and red lights colored the building walls. Evan threw off his headphones and jumped out of the door.

���Sir the building is not clear” he can hear an officer calling after him when he sprinted into the building. He had to know if she was okay, he knew his team would get the right tools and equipment with them when they would go inside.

With the flashlight attached to his chest on his jacket, he ran through every dark hallway, until he saw a crowded hallway filled with officers. That was it.

He didn’t run this time, he basically speed walked into the room. Evan’s eyes fell on the man who was cuffed to the pipeline, his eyes squinted at the bright light Evan’s chest was carrying. But the cops weren’t surrounding the man, they were surrounding someone else.

Evan could hear multiple footsteps entering the hall he was standing in. “Captain Nash, she’s here” one of the officers sounded when his eyes fell on the captain of the 118. The officers made room for the team to assess their colleague.

“Oh my god” Evan mumbled to himself as his eyes locked on his girlfriend’s body, lying down on the ground, completely beaten up. Evan dropped down to his knees, next to (Y/n) as he put his arms underneath her shoulder blades. He carefully removed some strands of hair from her face, which were sticking to the wounds. “(Y/n) Can you hear me?” his voice sounded broken.

“Can you hear me?” he repeated one more time, trying to get (Y/n) to open her eyes. Weakly, her eyelids parted, but the black eye she got made it difficult for her. “Buck?” she whispered. “Yeah baby I’m here! I’m here!” he panted, his heart was still racing so hard, it almost felt like he was having a heart attack.

A tear left both her eyes. “I.. I called. I c-called for b-backup.” She cried. “I know,” Evan said, as he bit his lip, trying to stay strong. “You did so good” he continued, and reeled her into his chest.

She cries as she lets her left hand slip onto his back, trying to get him even closer than he already was. It almost felt like she wanted to merge into him. Evan could feel the way she cried into his skin, the tears that dripped onto his navy blue shirt. The quiet huffs she let out, almost sounded like she was hyperventilating, the breaths were ticking his skin.

“You’re okay. You’re safe now” he breathed into her hair as he pressed a kiss onto the back of her head.

A hand fell onto Evan’s shoulder. “Buck, we need to check her.” Eddie’s voice spoke as he tightly squeezed his shoulder, an attempt to comfort him. Evan pulled back from the embrace and slowly helped her body get back on the ground again. He wasn’t going to leave her, so he moved from the side of (Y/n) to take place above her head, trying to keep her awake.

“I need the backboard and the gurney in here, cap” Hen tells Bobby. Bobby nods at her request and taps Chimney on the shoulder, as a sign to help him and get it.

Eddie knew the rules of standing back when you’re too personally involved in this. But he wanted to work on his sister. Especially after this incident, he had to let her know he would be there for her. Bobby knew telling him he couldn’t treat his sister wouldn’t stop him. He would do it anyway.

Eddie and Hen took place each on one side of (Y/n)’s body. Eddie carefully placed his gloved hand onto her cheek as he checked her pupils with the little light he got from the medic bag. “Pupils are equal and reactive” her brother spoke as he switched the light off and put it back into the bag.

Evan was holding both his hands beside (Y/n)’s head, as he felt a hand searching the back of his hand. (Y/n)’s left hand was searching his hand. Evan took her hand into his hands and pressed a kiss onto her skin.

Evan noticed the way she squeezed her eyes closed, she was in pain. “Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?” Evan asked as he let his eyes scan her body. “M-My leg.. my l-leg!” She whined. “(Y/n) I know it hurts, but you have to stay still okay?” Eddie tried to calm down his sister, as she started kicking with her left leg, while her right leg stayed perfectly still. Eddie grabbed a scissor out of the bag, Eddie’s eyes connected with Hen’s as if he was silently asking her if she was seeing this too. Hen nodded as he pointed at the right leg.

Eddie cut through the fabric until his eyes recognized a swelling around her knee, some bruising and her kneecap was visually out of its place. “A dislocated right knee” Eddie said as he looked at Hen. “(Y/n), your knee has been dislocated. The best thing to do for us is to splint it and get you to the hospi-” Hen didn’t even get the chance to give her advice as she yelled: “Pop it back in!”

“Are you sure?” Hen asked to double check her choice. She nodded with her eyes closed, still facing the ceiling of the building. “Do it.” Evan spoke as he squeezed her hand, and placed his other free hand onto her cheek.

“I’m sorry sis, this is gonna hurt. A lot.” Eddie says as he gets ready to grab her lower leg. Eddie closed his eyes for a second, to mentally prepare to hear his sister's ear deafening scream in real life. As if she hasn’t screamed enough today.

Carefully Eddie extended her leg, (Y/n) bit down on the inside of her cheeks trying not to scream, but the stinging pain in her leg was too painful. Her scream went through marrow and bone, it sounded like she was being tortured. She squeezed Evan’s hand so hard it turned blank. A pop sounded through the air as the knee popped back into its place.

She sobbed as she felt the shocking pain through her leg. Evan was trying to comfort her as her eyes kept streaming over her face. “You did so good..” he wiped one of her many tears away as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Right arm is most definitely broken, right closed fracture.” Eddie says when he took a closer look at her right arm. “Alright. Starting fluids” Hen’s voice spoke as she got an IV needle from the bag and searched for a vein on her left arm which Evan was holding, to put the needle in.

“Splinting the arm” Eddie grabbed a sam splint from the bag, and started to secure the splint to her arm. “Stay with us sis, we got you.” Eddie spoke as he could see her eyelids blink faster and faster, as she was going to pass out. Evan’s eyes shot at hers as he heard Eddie finish his sentence.

“We need to move her!” Eddie called out, as he could see Bobby and Chimney entering the hallway again with the gurney and a backboard.

“Hey hey! (Y/n) stay with me!” Evan said as he saw her beginning to fade away. “So..tired..” she mumbled, out of breath. “No, no, no! You have to stay awake, baby.” Evan spoke as he placed both of his hands on her cheeks, carefully so he wouldn’t hurt her.

Evan’s eyes scanned her body, there was nothing else visible. Without thinking, his hands went to her shirt. He pressed both hands onto one side and yanked her shirt open, she was now in only her bra, with her shirt to the sides. Eddie’s eyes shot at Evan’s spontaneous action.

Eddie’s eyes immediately saw a bruising underneath her chest. “She’s bleeding internally, it’s probably her spleen.” Eddie concluded, “Get that backboard over here! We need to move her!” Eddie called out. Chimney put the backboard down on the ground and with the four of them they slid (Y/n) onto the backboard and onto the gurney.

When they wheeled the gurney to the exit of the building, Evan constantly held her hand. He wasn’t letting her go, and she wasn’t planning on letting him go. He could see her eyes open and close from time to time.

They loaded the gurney into the ambulance, and without any hesitation Eddie and Buck both got in the back. The back doors closed and with two pats on the backdoor the ambulance started moving.

“Buck..” she mumbled, “I’m right here baby” Evan spoke as he squeezed her hand, to let her know he was there. “I’m sorry” she said with her eyes closed, but she weakly opened them. “Don’t be, this wasn’t your fault.” Evan pressed her hand to his lips once more, and she gave him a weak smile.

______

“(Y/n) I asked you a question.. are you still having nightmares?” doctor Frank asked (Y/n) as she was facing him. Her crutch she had, was leaning against the side of the couch she was sitting on. “No” she answered. Her knee was in a brace, it still hurt when she walked and she had the crutch to help her.

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell you’re lying” Frank said straight to the point. “Well, you see a little off today.. Did something happen recently?” She shook her head at the question of her therapist. “You’ve gone through a traumatizing event. It’s normal to have nightmares after that. So tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

She sighed. Why was she even talking to him right now? She just wanted to go back to work, but she knew she couldn’t. Not when her leg was torturing her like this. “I didn’t have a nightmare.” she held onto it.

Frank sighed, and grabbed the pen of his notebook to take some notes. (Y/n) rolled her eyes at Frank. “Okay. Yes, I did have a nightmare.” she sighed.

She started tapping her left leg against the floor. “What happened in the nightmare?” Frank asked further. “It’s.. the same thing. Over. and over again..The same scene, same attacker, same actions.” She spoke, her voice breaking some more whenever there came another word out of her mouth.

“And how does that make you feel?” Frank asks. “I.. I keep feeling like I can’t breathe. Like, I’m being pushed underwater. Suffocating.” She roughly wipes her tears with her left hand off her face.

“You know, I’ve made up hundreds of different kinds of scenarios in my head, what if my microphone wasn’t on, what if I never called for help, things like that.” (Y/n) admits. “And you never dream of those scenarios?”

She shook her head. “No.. Some days, I don’t even sleep, because I’m scared to fall asleep. Because I know what kind of dream I will have.”

“Even when Evan is next to you, you’ll still have the same dream?” Frank asks. (Y/n) nods. “It’s crazy, I don’t talk in my sleep. But after.. this.. I sometimes wake up screaming, and I terrify Evan.” she sobs. “He tells me it’s okay, it’s normal after what I’ve been through.” her voice continues.

In the back of her mind, she can hear her own scream, the way the attacker grabbed her and pushed her into the wall, the way he broke her arm. Everything is coming back to her now.

“But I’m sick and tired of scaring him to death, him telling me it’s okay to have those nightmares.” Tears are falling down her face, her sobs are uncontrollable and she could feel herself starting to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry.” she says as she stands up, puts her arm down into the holding area of the crutch and leaves the room.

She rushes out of the room, yanking open the door to the waiting area where her boyfriend was waiting for her to finish her appointment. She wasn’t able to drive herself, so Evan offered to drive her to her appointment.

Evan was scrolling down his phone as the door was opened and his girlfriend came rushing through it. “Woah woah! What happened?” Evan asks as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in and (Y/n) almost ran outside.

When she reached the outside air, she couldn’t breathe. It was almost like she was choking on her own air. Evan had followed her outside, he was standing in front of her putting at first both his hands on her upper arms, but as soon as he realized she was hyperventilating one of his hands was moving towards her cheek. “Remember what I said right? Deep, slow breaths.” he calmly said as he tried to get her along, so she could copy him. Her eyes were focussed on Evan. Slowly breathing in and out, she put her hand on his chest so she could focus on Evan’s heartbeat. Something that always would calm her down.

She’s had a few panic attacks these last weeks, Evan didn’t at first know what to do. But right now, he was an expert in calming her down. Evan placed the hand he had on her upper arm down over her hand which was placed onto his own chest.

“Good, good..” He says as her trembling breath finally was in the same pace as his. ”You want to tell me what happened in there?” he slowly asks. He could basically already guess what has happened in there, but he still wanted to hear it from her. “No..” she sighed. “That’s okay.” Evan whispered as he brushed some strands of hair behind her ear.

(Y/n) closed the distance between her and Evan, she put her head down onto his shoulder as he reeled her into his chest and placed one hand on her lower back, and the other one rubbed up and down over her spine.

“We’ll be alright..” Evan says as he presses a kiss down onto the top of her head.

Next Chapter >> | 9-1-1 Masterlist

[letaliabane]

Trip Up - Valet!SimonRiley and Maid!Reader

The abbey was on alert today. A telegram from the Lord Price's sister stating she would be visiting along with members of the Crawley family who had moved into the village.

This included the new heir to Downton Abbey Matthew Crawley, John's third cousin, who was rumored to marry Lady Mary, John's oldest daughter.

'I can't stand the thought of my only purpose being to marry. To be thrown at every heir to Downton so that the money stays in the family,' Mary said in frustration, putting on her earrings as you did her hair, 'All I want is to be chosen for me any only that.'

You nodded, putting the last of the beaded pins in her hair. She had chosen a lavender skirt with a cream blouse for the day, finished with a simple cardigan.

'It just feels so belittling. What do you think Y/N?' She asked, looking thoughtfully at you through the mirror.

You gave her a gentle smile, 'I agree m'lady. If it were my choice, I would indeed marry for love. It's more important than most things.'

'And of course position. I could never forget that! This new heir is apparently quite middle class and I just won't have that!'

You couldn't help but sigh at her words.

Mary was a kind young and beautiful lady, but at times had a cold heart and hard exterior to protect it, which included a cruel nature to those she despised.

'How is that new valet doing? Mr Riley wasn't it?'

'Oh, he's quite settled in m'lady, now that it has been a few months,' You said as you moved around the room, clearing and folding clothes away to where they belonged, 'I think he's still shaken the staff up but much better than it was previously.'

Mary tapped her perfume to her wrists, saying, 'Thank goodness, I felt terrible for Papa. He talks about Mr Riley like a dear old friend, it would be a shame if he doesn't feel welcome here, even as a valet.'

'Agreed, now I should probably head down. Will that be all m'lady?'

'Yes, thank you Y/N.'

You made your way down to the servants hall, putting away anything that needed cleaning from the daughter's rooms. Before too long, the staff were rounded up at the stairs, Mr Garrick doing final inspections of uniforms before we went up to meet our guests.

'We should go out to greet them all, now be on your best behavior. I'll have nothing less!' Mr Garrick said, the younger staff nodding nervously while others remained silent.

'Remember to not go running off William, I'll need your help with the bags,' Graves muttered to the youngest and newest of the footmen.

Mr Riley who was standing at the base of the stairs turned to him. 'I'm happy to assist you if needed.'

'No need! Don't more mistakes do we Mr Riley?' Graves was quick to quip back. You couldn't help but shake your head, following the other maids up the stairs.

The staff were lined up at the front of the incredibly beautiful house as the cars rolled in one by one through the gates, coming to a halt just in front of the tall double doors.

Lord John pushed forward first, her Ladyship Liliana close behind him to also greet Matthew. From the look of him, he looked like a kind man. Young, blond and blue-eyed just like his mother, Isobel, who followed close behind him. Older, a little grey-haired, but back straight with a smile.

The daughters greeted their aunts happily, while awkwardly greeting the newcomers. After brief chatter was shared amongst the family, they began to move into the house slowly.

Suddenly a scuffle erupted, the maids gasping as your eyes turned to see Mr Riley crash hard onto the pebbled ground, stones flying about messily and, to your horror, his mask.

You glanced up and saw Graves, an ugly smirk on his face as he looked down on the valet, his foot strangely kicked out in place before walking towards the back entrance.

'Riley, are you alright?'

You looked to see John coming to his side, grabbing the mask from the ground and handing it to him. The rest of the family watched on in shock.

'I am my lord, my apologies,' You heard Mr Riley grumble, keeping his face down as he placed his mask back on properly.

When his lordship had turned back to usher his family inside, Johnny, who stood tall at the door awaiting their entry, gave you a nod which you returned.

As the staff quickly dispersed, you went to Mr Riley's side, gently pressing a hand to his shoulder.

'Here, let me help you, Mr Riley,' You quietly said, grabbing his arm and slowly assisting him until he was steadily back on his feet.

You shook off the pebbles and dust caught onto his suit jacket and pants. 'There, much better–'

'Don't!' He suddenly snapped, slapping your hand away.

You gasped, taking a step away. Though his face was covered, there was a deep anger in Mr Riley's eyes that you had never seen before. It almost frightened you.

Mr Riley froze, taking in your change of demeanour. With a sigh, he uttered so quietly you almost missed it, 'Please don't pity me Miss ... I don't need it.'

He pushed past you roughly, his loud footsteps quickly becoming distant against the pebbled walkway as he left you behind.

The day continued as usual except, you noticed very quickly, the distinct absence of Mr Riley for the rest of the day. You had overheard Mr Garrick say he had taken poorly and couldn't continue to work.

Like bees that had caught the honey, the staff buzzed excitedly with the sudden gossip of his possible resignation or firing. Though the staff had calmed down since his arrival, it didn't change their stance that he didn't deserve the job.

It made you furious. Why should a man who had been at the house for a few months be let go just because of a small mishap? Something that wasn't even his fault. Nothing even happened!

Soon drinks for the family were complete after their meal, and dinner was being served in the servant's hall, but there was still no sign of Mr Riley.

After nibbling at your meal and failing to work up an appetite yourself, you found a tray and dished up some stew and some hot bread that had been served.

'What are you doing love?' You looked up to see Mrs Patmore enter the kitchens, clearly having finished her dinner.

'Oh, I was just making up a plate for Mr Riley, him not being well enough to join us. You won't mind Ms Laswell?' You addressed the head housekeeper who had appeared behind Mrs Patmore.

She nodded with a smile, 'Of course, just this once. The poor man has been through enough in one day.'

With a nod, you finished piling up the tray before making your way carefully through the corridors of the attics where the servants lived in and at end of the corridor, a light shone from beneath a door.

Making your way over, you peeked into the room. Through the mirror that hung on the cupboard, you could see sitting on the bed there sat the shaking silhouette of Mr Riley, and in the quiet, the soft sobbing emitted from him.

You couldn't help but feel your heart break at the site. Taking a step back, you cleared your throat. 'Mr Riley? Are you there?'

A shuffle was heard from within the room, footsteps approaching before the door opened to reveal Mr Riley. His eyes were swollen and red, his hair dishevelled and his shoulders tense.

You gave him a reassuring smile. 'I brought some dinner up, in case you were hungry.'

Immediately he deflated at the sight of you, eyes softened as he took in the tray of food neatly placed. 'That's very kind Miss. Even after what I did to you earlier ... you are still so generous.'

'It's nothing really,' You placed the tray in his hands which he placed off to the side, looking back to you.

'But it's the very opposite of nothing. I-I really am sorry for this morning, that was very unkind of me Miss.'

'No need for apologies Mr Riley,' You said, trying to keep your voice steady, 'You've been wronged since you arrived here and I hate to see you like this. Please don't let them drag you down. You are so much stronger than they are.'

He sighed heavily, eyes shying away from yours, leaning against the door frame. 'I hate to admit it ... it's very humiliating. Couldn't stomach any more of it.'

You shook your head firmly, stepping closer to him. 'You shouldn't be made to feel that way. Be proud of being here, John–I mean ... Lord Price chose you to be here for a reason. You've earned your place and you shouldn't have to hide or be ashamed.'

Mr Riley looked down at you, his eyes finally meeting yours and scanning your face. He clearly could see the tears in your eyes and heard the tremble in your voice.

'Why do you do this Miss?'

You were stunned, almost at a loss for words. Couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes, a thousand words and emotions even in silence. So instead, stepping even closer, chest to chest with him, you carefully reached for his hand. You felt him stiffen beneath your gentle touch momentarily before he allowed you to clasp your hands with his.

'You don't deserve to be treated as such. I don't like to see it,' You said, looking up into his eyes.

Not wanting to encroach on him any longer, you slowly pulled away, unable to hold back a small smile when you felt Mr Riley hold tight to your hand just a little longer before letting it drop from his grip. 

The next morning the servant's hall was busy with the staff filing in, breakfast of hot porridge with honey and buttered toast was served by Daisy and Mrs Patmore.

As Mr Garrick sat down, allowing everyone else to follow suit, Mr Riley appeared at the entrance to the hall and you couldn't help but smile, ignoring the scowl of some of the other staff.

'Ah, Mr Riley!' Ms Laswell greeted as she passed on bowls of porridge down the table, 'Good to see you up and about!'

'Indeed Ms Laswell, can't keep me down too long,' He muttered, looking straight at you as he did.

'That's good to hear, come and get yourself some breakfast we have a busy day ahead of ourselves!'

He nodded, making his way around the table and taking a seat beside you. And as a bowl of porridge was placed in front of you, you felt the fleeting caress of his gloved hand across your own beneath the table.

Call of Duty Masterlist a/n: I'm on a roll I tell you! And I love writing for these two.

@lostintransist @teapartydreams

[minihotdog]

Whose Wife Is This?

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: John comes home and finds out that he somehow has a wife.

a/n: lmaooo I just had this idea before I went to bed the other night. Kinda wrote this in a hurry so it isn't organized at all and the story is all over the place, yada yada. Bare with me... Bear with me? *shrugs*

word count: 1k

***

John tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes to no avail. There was no way of hiding that the long nights he’d been putting in at the office were weighing on him. But with no reason to go home, why would he? He’d just have to complete the mountain of paperwork the next day anyway. His eyes strained from hours of reading, his wrist ached from writing.

Young John Price would’ve never imagined the amount of paper pushing he’d be doing as an operator. His naive young self lived for the chaos of the field, sometimes even putting off his less-than-exciting duties. 

“Sir?” John’s head shoots up. The boys stand at his door huddled around the small entrance. “You staying here all night, Captain?” Gaz asks with concern mixed into his voice. John looks over to the now significantly smaller pile of papers littering his desk.

“I was just finishing up. You boys need something?”

Gaz shakes his head, “No, sir.” A smirk plays on his lips. “Just tell your wife we said ‘hello’.”

“I’ll let her know.” He replies absentmindedly. The boys leave the captain alone once again, he continues looking at the papers, shuffling them around before he stops abruptly.

“My wife? What the bloody hell were they talking about.” He mutters to himself. He takes it as a sign that he should call it a night since he is now imagining things. “I don’t have a wife. Why would he say that?” 

***

The drive home is silent. At the end of a long day, he couldn’t stand to listen to anything, his mind was too exhausted to think about anything but a beer and his bed. Not many knew about his personal life. Ghost was the only one who knew he’d been married before, but the marriage occurred when he was younger and undoubtedly more immature.

He made it to selection, began his career, and fell into the same pattern many men in his profession did: Partying, one-night stands, etc. He would be the first to admit that he’d been a piss-poor husband and he was now missing the touch of a woman in his life. His bed was lonely, his house devoid of life, reflecting how often he was actually home. He’d become a hopeless romantic, dreaming of someone he could hold in his arms. He yearned for someone to memorize. Their little habits and quirks, someone he’d share moments with, even have arguments with.

He pulls into his driveway barely remembering the drive home. He groans as he steps out of his car, his back aching from the day of training and being hunched over. He moseys his way to the front door and unlocks it while letting out a deep breath. The hallway is lit by a single dim light, the brown floral wallpaper looks like it came from the 19th century and gives the home a depressing look. He unties his boots and kicks them off leaving them next to the door. He removes his uniform top tossing it on the chair on the opposite wall before his feet pat softly against the hardwood floors leading towards the kitchen, towards a beer he so badly wanted to have.

He briefly glances at a photo framed on the wall and continues onward-

Wait a second?

He takes a couple of steps back and his head snaps towards the photo. His eyes scan it knowing for a fact that it had not been there in the morning… Or any time before that. A woman in a white sun dress sat smiling in a field of flowers. He rubs his eyes, unable to believe what he is seeing, she’s wearing his bucket hat.

He looks further down the hall and sees another picture frame, this one on top of the entryway table next to a pot of plants he either forgot to water or wasn’t around to. He rushes over to it and his eyes almost pop out of his head. This photo was of him smiling down at the same woman. He reaches for it, holding it close to his face. He looks around trying to make sense of what was happening only to realize the pot of dead plants now had vibrant green leaves pouring out of it.

Maybe he’d entered the wrong house? That couldn’t be, the furniture was in the same place as it had been before. And he couldn’t deny that the man in the photo looked exactly like him. Just as he was certain he was losing his mind a feminine voice calls out for him.

“John?”

He puts the picture frame back on the table and swings around towards the voice. Small bits of light flood into the hallway from the crack in the kitchen door. He slowly pushes the door further, his eyes trying to adjust to the bright light.

“There you are! I thought I heard you come home.” A woman rushes towards him wiping her hands on her pink apron. She pulls him into a hug but he’s too stunned to react. She pecks his cheeks and pulls him towards the dining table. “Sit, honey. I made you dinner. You stayed so late today, you’re probably starving.”

He lets her drag him to the table and plops down on a chair. She flows around the counter and returns with a plate of food. She places it in front of him in between the cutlery already on the table. The meal looks far better than what he’s been putting together for himself the last few weeks. He usually cooked or meal planned but work this week just didn’t let him and he expected to come home tonight and sleep for dinner.

He blinks at her for a few seconds unsure of how he ended up in this situation.

“Love, what are you doing in my house?” 

“I’m your wife silly,” You giggle at him while leaning over to give him another kiss on the cheek.

If he had the energy to argue he would, but instead he decided to eat. He licks the plate clean and brings it to the kitchen sink.

“C’mon, honey. You’re so tired, let’s get you in bed.”

He follows quietly trying to figure out if he should accept this or if he should ask questions in the morning. There’s only one thing he knows for sure in his exhausted state: That’s not his wife.

[aramynx]

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

KATSUKI BAKUGO X READER

You and Katsuki have known each other since middle school, and have always notoriously been at each others' throats as naturally gifted students. Things take a frustrating turn when you both end up at UA, as those darned teenage hormones begin to run high…

a/n: it's my first time in a few years writing something longer gang, you'll have to bear with my (probably nonsensical) pacing xoxo

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

part 1 • part 2

“Hey Kacchan!” You called out, bursting into a light jog towards the only familiar face you had seen that morning. You smirked as you watched him tense up at hearing that godforsaken nickname that you just loved to tease him with, causing him to spin around rapidly, although not to greet you.

You were feeling good in your new uniform- it was as comfortable as any school uniform could be, and fit almost perfectly. The man in front of you, however, looked like his trousers were a size too big as they pooled at his ankles. You were sure Mitsuki probably had to wrestle his tie onto him for a ‘first day’ photo before he left the house that morning, that surprisingly was still neatly tucked into the collar of his shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing a tie, are you even the real Katsuki?” You teased, eyeing up and down in feigned suspicion whilst his scowl only grew stronger.

“Shut up, you’re so obsessed with me.” He scoffed, not willing to yell at you before he even walked into his dream school, “Can’t believe I have to deal with your annoying ass for another three years.”

“And the rest of our decades as pros after that! You know we make a great team- we could even put our agencies next to each other.” You smirked, knowing exactly how to piss him off.

“Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?” Katsuki shouted half-heartedly before continuing to walk towards your new homeroom. He didn’t refuse your suggestion- you smirked.

You refrained from teasing your long time ‘best friend’ on your way through the building, using the time to look around the halls of the prestigious U.A. High and really soak it all in. You were really here, on your journey to being a hero. Looking out through the long glass windows you observed the masses of students still making their way across the grounds, as tiny as ants from this distance.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder, watching you for a moment as you stared out of the window peacefully. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but you might not be so bad when you weren’t deliberately trying to push his buttons. He turned away and opened the classroom door, quickly shoving his tie into his bag and kicking his feet up on the desk.

One difference between you and Katsuki was that you were willing to make friends with other people; that was something he’d never understand about you. Once you entered the room, you were practically swept up by a girl who was completely pink, with a wide smile and eager eyes.

“Hey! I saw you earlier on the way in and you are so so cute!” She said, squeezing your hands in hers enthusiastically, “My name’s Mina, wanna be friends?!”

She bounced up and down slightly, watching you as you nodded and told her your name in return before calling another girl- Tsu- over to meet you. As you waited for your teacher to arrive, you chatted with the girls about how amazing it was that you had gotten into U.A. Conversations throughout the room quickly ceased as the voice on your homeroom teacher filled the air, introducing himself with nothing but exhaustion before telling everybody to put on a gym uniform and head outside.

“Are you friends with that shouty guy?” Mina asked on your way down the stairs.

“Oh, Katsuki? Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You started, “We were in middle school together but its more like a rivalry than a friendship- I don’t think he actually likes me that much.”

“Ooohhh drama~!” She smirked in a sing-song voice, excitedly jogging ahead of you, “See you out on the field, ‘kay?”

Once you had changed into your gym clothes, you walked out into the slightly chilly spring air, the sun’s faint warmth overpowered by the cool breeze glazing over your exposed forearms.

“A quirk assessment this early?” Tsu whispered from beside you, “I hope he isn’t serious about expelling anybody.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to make jokes…” You responded, watching as Aizawa instructed Katsuki to throw the ball as far as possible using his quirk.

You weren’t surprised when you heard how far it went, after all, you already knew how powerful he was. In your way to the first assessment, you managed to catch up to Katsuki, hands in pockets as he walked over.

“Great job with the ball toss, bigshot.” You smirked, poking his cheek as his pursed lips quickly turned back into his signature scowl.

“Shut up! I’m gonna destroy you in every damn one of these tests!” He yelled, sparking up his palms towards you, but you only swatted them away and giggled, making his anger worse.

Despite his harsh words towards you, he never actually called you anything too demeaning, unlike with other people.

“Maybe in your dreams, Kacchan.”

Rivalry and teasing aside, you and Katsuki had some kind of close bond; the kind where you knew you could trust each other if it came to it in a life or death situation.

Little did you know just how soon that bond would be tested.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[frostgears]

the chosen one

there are handlers that went to officer school and supposedly know what the fuck they're doing, all swagger with the authority of the Service behind them, uniforms like slices of space, voices like knives, their lethal charges trailing docile behind them.

they're the ones that show up in the porn sketches and the short clips of grainy video that circulate in the Fleet network. they're the ones that have pages and pages of fan fiction written about them.

then there's you. you didn't go to officer school. your entire signup process was this:

"hey, Cooper, you were in its old unit, weren't you? before it went to the lab? remember anything that'd distract it from biting at its own link sockets and screaming at techs?"

"uh, shit, sir, i can try…"

"great, it wandered into the rec room. go nuts."

you called your last conversation to mind. there'd been two major rec time activities in your last squad, and the alert that kicked off Paloma 17 had interrupted something.

you sat down next to the thing that had once been your squadmate, not meeting its weird red eyes. you already knew it didn't like that; looking it in the face was how Muñoz got their arm broken yesterday.

the augment whiffed of human sweat, the fake citrus of type-2 interface gel, something musty and unpleasant. its fatigues probably hadn't been washed ever.

"hey, asshole," you said, "you still owe me a Kinetic Princess match. best of five, remember? we were two and one when the hammer came down for P-17."

you put a gamepad on the floor next to it.

"ch. ch. ch."

was it laughing?

it swatted the gamepad away.

and then player 2's character select screen came up. without moving a muscle, it picked Valkyrie, switched her outfit to red, and handed you your ass, twice in a row, with no apparent exertion.

"ch. ch. ch."

yeah, it was laughing.

it kept laughing as it used its onboard hardware to disconnect your gamepad, choose the princess you'd just been playing, and win three matches against itself, beating Valkyrie with Marjoram.

again.

three-one.

three-zero.

three-one.

"well," someone said behind you, "that's kinda freaky. but better than tearing up the couch. guess you're on augment duty."

it was going all out. maybe trying to prove some sort of point. to itself? to you?

you got up.

it immediately paused the game.

"hey," you told it, "i gotta piss."

it followed you down the hall into the restroom. it tried to follow you into the stall.

"hah, you find a friend, Acey?" someone laughed.

"shut the fuck up, Lima." you tried to finish your business as best you could. it wasn't easy. the thing really did reek and it was not giving you a lot of space.

fuck it. you rose, didn't bother to wipe. you grabbed the augment and hauled it into the shower, spun the dial to hot, drenched the both of you, fatigues and all.

"wooooo! take it off!"

always a fucking audience in this place.

you found the zippers to strip the thing, flung wet clothing out of the shower at a spectator, pumped all-purpose soap into your hands.

"if you're gonna follow me around," you told the augment, "you gotta smell better."

this had to get done. you soaped it. all over. the generic floral smell of all-purpose soap was definitely an improvement already. felt human enough under your hands, except where it wasn't, the occasional beveled edge of a link socket. between its legs… human standard.

more hooting and hollering from the onlookers.

you remembered too late not to meet its eyes, but it just stared back at you, tilting its head a bit. no sign of aggression. was it smiling?

you never got around to the second major rec time activity with your old squadmate. you had no idea if she was ever interested. you also had no idea if sexual preferences survived augmentation.

fuck it. audentes fortuna iuvat, right? said so on your shoulder patch.

you slid a finger in.

shut the audience right up.

the thing kept staring at you.

you slipped a second finger in and stared back right up until you finished it off. it shivered visibly, made a sort of low whine.

nobody said shit after that. when you finally shut off the water, silence like a library.

you walked out. it trailed behind you. you grabbed a towel off the stack by the shower exit, wrapped the thing in it. it didn't protest. wearing nothing but your own towel, you stalked back to your bunk, hoping you still had a few clean uniforms, your expression daring anyone to mention that a single thing was out of the ordinary.

"heyyyyyy Acey, you get lu—"

someone always dared. this fucking unit.

the augment hissed. an unmodified human throat wouldn't have been able to make that noise; it sounded like a fire extinguisher. there was reverb in that hiss. there were teeth.

"oh, gods, just don't," you said wearily, looking back over your shoulder. it let Chroma, who had a tiny bit of sense in her head, back away slowly, in one piece.

anyway, that's how you became a handler. the pay bump is nice, your CO says you've been fast-tracked for officer school someday, and more to the point, the augment has already saved your whole squad at least three times.

but you have not once showered alone since that day, and you know it'd be a really, really bad idea to ever refuse a game of Kinetic Princess. that's just how it is when your real MOS is "weapon's favorite person". □

[cosmicpearlz]

bruised heart

summary: you overheard a conversation that your boyfriends were having.

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader x ajax petropolus

…………………………………………………………………………….

at first, people at nevermore found the relationship between the three of you weird. but over time, they had gotten used to the dynamic. you didn’t care about the other people witnessing your relationship because you had the boys. they were the sole reason on how you found out your love languages were physical touch and quality time.

“bye yoko! i’m leaving to meet up with xavi and jax,” you waved to your roommate who you were really close with. principal weems decided to pair the two of you up because you guys were both vampires and yoko was able to help you, showing you the ropes of the school and managing being a vampire better.

you sneak your way through opheilla hall to go to the boy’s hall. looking around twice to make sure you’re in the clear before you were gonna open the door to xavier’s room. xavier’s room was always the spot because he had a single dorm and nobody would interrupt your time together. you go to place your hand on the doorknob as your enhanced hearing began to kick in.

“dude, i think she’s a little clingy,” you heard ajax say and it made you frown. you never thought that they had a problem with that.

“she’s also always right up under one of us,” xavier replied to ajax. they both shared a laugh making your heart drop to your stomach. how come they never told you? now they’re laughing at you, you felt stupid. stupid enough to trust your heart with not one boy but two of them. you let go of the doorknob quietly and back away from the door.

you didn’t want to stay for the rest of that awful conversation. so, you turned to sneak your way back to opheilla hall with tears that threaten to come down. once you made it back to your room, you walked in with your head down.

“y/n, you’re back early. did you get caught?”

“um no. i- uh i just wasn’t feeling good,” you bit your lip to keep it from trembling any more than it was. the sound of you wavering voice made yoko look up from her phone. she saw you fiddled with your fingers and your posture was slouched.

“are you okay?” you finally look up to face her and a tear slips out. a sign that you definitely were going to start sobbing.

“i walked up to the door and uh overheard them talking about how clingy i was. you don’t think i’m clingy right?” your eyes and cheeks glistening with tears while voice began to crack.

“no, i don’t think you’re clingy at all. why don’t you get changed and i’ll be right here to hold you.” you nodded and changed into your pajamas. you walked over to yoko’s side of the room and immediately started crying more when she wrapped her arms around you.

-

the next morning you felt like complete shit. your body ached from the crouched position you slept in, eyes slightly burned from all the crying and your head was killing you. you take a quick shower and do the rest of your morning routine before dressing in your uniform.

“you ready?”

“as much as i can be, i guess.” you and yoko start your journey together to the quad for breakfast. problem was everyone shared one big table meaning you couldn’t avoid your boyfriends if you tried.

you kept your eyes trained on the ground as you took your seat next to wednesday after getting your food. everyone glancing at each other knowing that your normally sat next to ajax every morning while xavier sat in front of you guys. so the two of them took a seat across from you.

“we missed you last night honey. is everything okay?” xavier was the first one to break the silence between the three of you.

“i wasn’t feeling well,” you whispered as you picked at the plate in front of you.

“why didn’t you tell us? we would’ve stopped by your-“

“ajax i clearly didn’t want to see you guys! leave me alone,” pushing the plate away and grabbing your things you walked to your first class. which just so happens to be fencing, a class you shared with the two boys. the table was quiet and nobody moved, it was unnatural to see you guys like that.

“did she just call me ajax?”

“is that not your name, idiot?” enid is quick to slap wednesday’s arm and sending her a look.

“it’s not the same wednesday, she always calls us by nicknames,” ajax rubs the back of his neck in attempt to stop the embarrassment. although, through tears last night you made yoko promise not to say anything that didn’t stop her from sending glares their way.

-

the whole school day, you managed to avoid them even in the classes you shared. it’s not like you wanted to ignore your boyfriends but it hurt you to even hear a conversation like that. you didn’t know how to express your feelings to them, so the best bet was to avoid. the knock on your door pulls you out of your book that you were reading on your bed.

“come in!” the door slowly opens and in comes your boyfriends who looked like kicked puppies. you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms to your chest.

“baby, we just wanted to talk,” xavier takes slow steps towards your bed with ajax following right behind.

“what is there to talk about?”

“why are you avoiding us?”

“maybe just maybe i truly don’t want to talk to you guys. have you ever thought about that xavier?” the boy scoffed at you and shakes his head.

“don’t do that.”

“don’t do what?”

“he means don’t shut us out babe. just talk to us, tell us what happened.” you huffed at ajax’s words and stood up beginning to pace back and forth.

“how come you never told me that i was being clingy? i-i would’ve stopped but no my boyfriends decided to talk about me behind my back. so much for fucking communication, right?” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face.

xavier and ajax shared a look now knowing why you were acting like that. they felt guilty because it wasn’t their intention to hurt you. ajax closed the distance to grab your cheek wiping the stray tears that fell.

“sweetheart, we love that you’re clingy! we didn’t mean it a bad way. in fact, if you stayed longer, you would’ve heard us agree on how cute we think it is.”

“ajax is right. we absolutely love that you’re open enough with us to even be like that. we know about your past and we’re so grateful that you trust us.” xavier was now right by your other side making you cry even more. you had been wrong about the situation.

“i’m sorry, i just thought of the worse and i didn’t even stop to talk to you guys,” you spoke in a hoarse whisper.

“c’mon i think we’re in need of a date.”

“jax right now? i look like shit,” you sniffled and gestures to your outfit. you were wearing some sweatpants and a hoodie you stole from xavier.

“i think you look perfect sunshine. put on your shoes, we’re definitely going out.” you pouted playfully at xavier who grabbed your sneakers and gave you a pointed look.

“this isn’t necessary! we could just stay in and cuddle for the rest of the day.”

“we can do that later. me and xavier need to make it up to you,” ajax grins as you put on your shoes.

you grabbed your book and put it in your tote bag. once you checked you that you had everything, you raised your arms giving both of your boyfriends a small smile, “tada all done.”

“beautiful. absolutely beautiful,” xavier was the first to wrap his arms around you pulling you into a much needed hug. his embrace was warm and even after only one day, you missed the feeling of being in his arms.

“stop hogging up our girlfriend! i want a hug too,” xavier pulled back to place a kiss on your lips and immediately ajax throws his arms around you. you laughed as the boy hugged you tighter.

“promise not to shut us out next time?” you nodded your head with a smile at ajax.

“i promise,” ajax kisses your lips and grabs your waist pulling you to the door where xavier stood waiting for you both.

“glad that’s out of the way, now let’s go to weathervane!”

you were so lucky to have two people that really cared about you and your feelings. although, xavier and ajax called themselves the lucky ones being that they were able to have you in their life.

[theemporium]

okaaaaaaaaaaay i just the new dialogue prompts so prompt no. 1 with sirius but please feed us with a lovesick fool!sirius <33333

1.”Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”

.

Sirius Black loved to do anything that would piss his mother off and take her a step closer to an early grave. 

Whether it was proudly sitting amongst those who weren’t purebloods or part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or wearing his house colours with pride despite the stain it left on the Black name. Whether it was embracing muggle culture, or picking on every little fight he could when he stayed under her roof. 

Sirius liked to push her buttons. He liked to poke the bear and he liked watching that vein on her forehead look as though it was seconds away from exploding. In fact, it had been another one of her fancy dinners that he attended on a whim in hopes to find a way to piss her off. 

What Sirius hadn’t been expecting was to meet you. And what he certainly wasn’t expecting was to fall head over heels for the girl his mother would ship him off with before he could even blink. 

He had tried to fight his feelings for as long as he could. He reminded himself that you were probably a pureblood elitist like the others in that room, that you were a Slytherin and you probably turned your nose down at people who he considered his closest friends. 

But then he started noticing you around Hogwarts and quickly realised that wasn’t the case. And it became a quick—and borderline pathetic game—for Sirius to find any excuse to be near you, to be on your radar.

He made jokes whenever he knew you were in the room and eagerly sought out your reaction to see if you laughed. He would make funny comments in classes you shared together to see if you’d lift your head from your textbook to notice him. He would throw peas at you during dinner to see if you would turn around to find him in the chaos of the Great Hall. 

His most recent attempt wasn’t even meant to be anything grand. Just a simple question he made up so he would have an excuse to walk over to you during potions and talk to you. 

But then Snape had made a point of kicking his bookbag in Sirius’ path and the wizard didn’t have enough time to catch the movement before he was stumbling forward, crashing down on a table full of potion bottles that smashed around him.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Sirius blinked, the blaring lights above slowly being covered by your face as you stared down at him with a concerned expression, eyes glancing over him to make sure there were no physical injuries. 

There was a slightly bitter, citrus-like taste on his lips that he didn’t have a chance to question before he was blurting out the first thought that came to his head when he saw your face in his line of vision. 

“You are really pretty!”

You paused, glancing down at the boy with a slightly surprised expression. “What?”

“Like, genuinely one of the fittest witches I have ever seen in my life,” he kept going, unable to stop himself. “Maybe even the fittest.”

“Thank you?” you said, a little unsure by the bold statement. 

“I think you might actually be the girl of my dreams but you make me nervous to talk to you and I have never had that with a girl before,” he told you, his eyes widening a little at just how easily that confession slipped from his lips. 

Sirius quickly scrambled to sit up, not caring about his soaked uniform or the mess around him as he glanced down at the bottles smashed on the floor. His eyes landed on a certain label and he tried not to let out a string of curse words.

Of course out of all the potions he could have possibly accidentally consumed, it had to be a truth potion.

“You feeling okay there, Black?” you asked cautiously.

“I like the way you say my name!” Sirius blurted out before slapping a hand over his mouth. “I—uh, pretend I didn’t say…anything that I just said in the last few minutes.”

However, to his surprise, you smiled and let out a small laugh. “Anything else you like?”

“You!” Sirius said confidently, though his face and ears burned as red as his house tie. “I…fuck. Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what? You’re pretty and smart and you make my heart feel funny.”

“I make your heart feel funny,” you repeated, sounding amused by his confession.

“Yeah, like a good funny,” Sirius continued even if his hands were clenched into fists at his side, nails digging into his sweaty palms. “Makes me wanna kiss you.”

You raised your brows. “Yeah?”

Sirius contemplated if a sinkhole swallowing him up would be too far-fetched to occur right now. “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t need a potion to tell you I wanna kiss you too, Black.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” you told him with a grin. “But it’s cute.” 

Sirius grinned back at you. “So, if I asked you out on a date, you’d say yes?”

“Ask me, Black, and then you’ll see.”

.

[mysterycitrus]

hihihi! tim drake in college real?

oog indeed mein freund

so ur tim drake, ur seventeen, and ur dad has just come back from the dead. u hollowed urself out until there’s nothing left and ur ribs are broken but you’ve never felt better. if u stop moving for more than a second the weight of the world hits u. there’s another kid wearing ur uniform and u have to watch as this new robin and bruce, the bruce u fought for, the bruce u left everything behind for, the bruce u nearly died for, debut as gothams dynamic duo. but it’s fine. u did what u had to do. u feel great, actually.

then ur brother who u love more than anything sits u down and tells u he’s enrolled u in college in california. ur so angry ur spitting. he trusts u and now he’s not even giving u the choice to stay. u want to kick and scream and hold on till ur hands are bloody, but he tells u that he’s worried. he’s been so scared for u since ur dad died. he thinks ur losing urself. he wants u to make choices for urself without bruce. he wants u to spend time with ur friends who are alive again and miss u. he wants u to take a chance to live ur life away from gotham, away from that burden.

he tells u: robin is never truly gone, alright? it’ll never leave. i need u to trust me that it’ll still be u no matter how many other kids wear the cape. i need u to trust that i love u more than what ur able to do in tights.

and he knows this better than anyone. he’s asking u to extricate tim drake from robin and batman and red robin. to remember what it felt like to choose. and after all these years u can’t say no, so u pack ur bags and leave for the west coast.

college is fine. u keep changing majors. u pick up photography as a joke, thinking about snapping photos of the boy wonder from a distance, to print in the basement dark room after school. it’s a laugh, and ur gonna drop it until donna troy finds out, and u spend a long time on the roof of the tower with her taking photos of the sunrise. it’s been a while since the sunrise was the start of ur day. it feels….. unfamiliar. she tells u about how ur brother became nightwing. she tells u about the heartbreak of having to move on. she tells u about choices.

kon’s right down the hall. he can hear u but u can’t hear him, so sometimes you’ll whisper a question for him to shout back. he obligingly poses for ur still life class. he and steph make fun of how u can’t decide what to study. it’s painful to become tim drake and nothing else again, but it happens in increments. u make friends with people in ur tutoriasl. ur less pale — u pinken under the sun easily, peeling flesh turning red and painful, but u look less like a corpse. ur hair is longer, and bart buys u a claw clip shaped like an avocado.

the new robin is growing up, and he explains colour theory to u for one of ur classes. he’s an asshole, but he’s trying. when asked politely, he draws character sheets for bart’s dnd group with minimal grumbling. red and yellow suit him, and looking at him in the costume feels less painful, and more nostalgic.

u brainstorm new ideas for urself, new roles, new ideas for the team, but there’s no rush. u have time. if u see bruce, u kno there’s someone else at his back, watching him through the night. dick texts u life updates, but they’re funny, not desperate. the world continues to spin. u, tim drake, are still alive.

[lundenloves]

〝 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 〞¹

≔ mandatory therapy on base, simon is not for it. originally a two part collab with @mistydeyes look to her for the second (medicines and diagnoses, doctor etc rather than a second therapy sit down)

⤷ i wanted to write something of the sort, so here we are. i’ll gesture to this piece of work lacklustrely and let you form your own like or dislike. we’re almost at 2k so i’ll be back and active (writing-wise) for that.

∷ no warnings, primarily angst and lack of cooperation. 2.5k

masterlist | taglist | request info

“It’s not a question, Simon.” Price dotted his pen, leaning back in the chair and spinning to pull a file from the cabinet beside him. “These files. These evaluations, they’re not changing.” His eyes flicked to the red stamped folder, laying it out on the desk after sliding a sheet from within.

Simon’s tongue ran along his inner cheek, watching his superior closely. “What evaluations?” The question was flat, said without inflection and more venom. His palms flat on the edge of Price’s desk, each finger tapping in succession of the one before. 

“The psych, Simon.” A beat. “You’re still hitting subpar levels.” Price shuffled the papers together in his hands, brow lifted at a few of the concerning results. “It’s not good.”

“I’m hardly failing them.” Simon replied curtly. 

The captain sat back in his chair with a finger sliding across the page. “Overkill. Aggression. Isolation. Sadistic.” He paused to look up at his lieutenant before continuing. “I quote: ‘I didn’t want to update Lieutenant Riley over the comms, none of us do. We’ll choose Sergeant MacTavish instead.’ Do you know why?”

“That’s not my problem.” He crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance. 

“It’s exactly your problem. It’s among a few other reasons we can’t progress you to be a Captain.” Price held his palm face up, leaning forward and pushing the papers back into the file. “We need to sort it out, Simon.” His tone was that of a disappointed parent, yet still firm enough to land. 

“I’ve excelled in every physical, John.” 

“There’s zero doubt in physicality.” He cleared his throat, taking a short moment before continuing. “I’m re-enlisting you back into therapy.” 

“What the fuck, Captain.” Simon’s eyes bored solemnly into the man before him, as if this was an extended form of betrayal. 

“It’s necessary you work out these knotholes, they’re now holding you back.” Price spoke slowly, as ever aware of Simon’s reluctance over his past. “It’s no longer an option. Three times a week, you’ll sit down with Dr. Kaufman. I can’t have recruits feeling unsure around you, Simon.” 

“I already had therapy.” His own voice was low, leant close to his superior and practically growling.

“Years ago.” Price stood, silently telling Simon to back up through the action. “The colonel is asking why you’re unable to rank up after five years. What do you suppose I reply?” 

“That he hasn’t given me the fucking points.” 

The captain sighed, pushing the file back into his cabinet and sitting down to scribble something on a post-it. “It would likely be a formal document stating you’re not mentally fit for the step. Past psych evaluations attached as evidence.“ 

The small post-it was slid across the desk, Simon’s eyes dropping to the uniformed writing. “I expect you to attend, yeah?” The note read thirteen hundred hours, room eleven. 

“Fucking hell.” He said to himself after swiping the note, taking steps backward until reaching the door. “This is for today?” The paper held up between his pointer and fore fingers. 

“Today.” Price confirmed. 

Simon said no more, walking out with a nod and head hung low like he’d just been kicked in the gut. Passing soldiers ducked their own heads to avoid his habitual glares, angling their shoulders inward to not encourage his barging against them. The halls fell silent as he walked, each conversation seemingly pausing until he was out of earshot. 

A breath of annoyance was taken, heavy footsteps taking a handful of lefts — a direction he was never inclined to go, considering everything medical resided within the left side of the barracks — before reaching the rehabilitation wing. An egotistical side of him was embarrassed to be seen standing even anywhere near. And a harsh grunt came with his step toward room eleven, begrudgingly wandering down the ever winding corridor before finding his fate. 

“Fuck this.” He muttered, two hard knocks battering on the door. 

“It’s open!” Came an answer.

Simon pushed the door open, immediately under imagined scrutiny of the doctor before him. He didn’t speak, not one word, hands anxiously busying themselves by gripping the back of a soft chair. “Simon, Simon Riley.” She confirmed with a warm smile, gesturing he take a seat. “I’m Dr. Kaufman. Lily, Kaufman.”

His stare felt hostile, eyes narrowing at her false show of friendliness. “How are you?” She began typing on her laptop, eyes only briefly meeting his and he couldn’t help to assume she was writing about him. Each key tapped to create a jarring noise against her acrylic nail, Simon’s jaw tightened. 

“How long will this take.” His curt words weren’t asked in a question, but rather a mumble of inconvenience. 

“It’s an hour long session.” She flipped a sheet of paper, eyes skimming across it. “As set by a— captain John Price.” Simon grumbled at the thought, pointedly kicking his boot against the floor before taking a seat.

His silence was deafening, although Kaufman had grown accustomed to such. He did nothing but stare, arms crossed over his chest, legs in a wide manspread — one recognised to be a subconscious attempt to gain control of the situation, the room even. “What brought you to therapy, Simon.”

“Price.” 

She nodded, clasping her palms together over her desk. “And why do you think he did so?” 

“You have notes.” He sighed, resting his neck on the back of the sofa and looking to the ceiling. 

“Yes, I have formal notes,” She paused, almost for effect until Simon had craned his neck to look at her. “But I'm asking you. Why do you think he did so?” Her question provoked a shrug from him, broad shoulders lifting only briefly 

“Psychs.” He mumbled, sticking two thumbs into his eyes before sitting up. “Fucking— the things, the evaluations.” Words strung out impatiently, each one punctuated by a tap to his thigh.

“You failed them?”

“No. I’m just not at the standard they would…” Simon’s eyes skimmed across the room, merely decorated in order for less distraction. A bright looking plant in the corner almost mocked his lack of life. “Prefer.” 

“Why is that?”

“I’m angry.” His gaze then dropped to hers, the instant words seemed like a jab. “I get angry.” 

Kaufman nodded, her silence was a signal for him to continue although he didn’t take the bait. “Is that the only reason?” She asked, taking pen to paper on the way his leg had begun bouncing anxiously. 

“How many fucking questions?” 

“This is trust based. Whatever is said here, stays here.” His jaw tightened at her words, boot impatiently stomping into the floor once more. “And we need to get to know one another to start building that trust.”

His stare dropped to the floor, “We’ll take our time.” She continued, pulling her lips inward and smiling once he had looked back up. “You’re in control here.” 

The room fell to silence once again, the only sounds being the cracking of his knuckles and the scribbling of her pen. It wasn’t awkward however, Simon’s breakage in eye contact was new — his finger grazed over the only sliver of skin he had on show, his exposed forearm between sleeve and glove. “What do you know.” 

“Whatever you’re happy to share with me. This is a clean slate, your session.” He sighed though it came out as a grumble, pulling his arms back across his chest. Kaufman noticed his shifting, “Aren’t you overheating in that mask?” She spoke softly.

“I’m used to it.”

“How long have you worn it?”  

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, almost judging her question before shrugging. “Years.” She eyed the intricacies of the stitching, how almost every thread was uneven and needled with different shades of grey. It was a handmade job. 

“Did you make it?”

“Why.” He bit, his heel kicking against the floor to create a thump sound. 

“It’s clear it has a lot of meaning for you.” 

Simon nodded slowly, fidgeting with the seam of his pocket before looking back up to her. Eyes dead and fixed to her own, it was beyond obvious he would rather be anywhere else. “I don’t ever take it off.” Kaufman had caught onto the subtle change in his tone, one that warned her not to venture further. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. Remember, you’re in control.” She reasserted and Simon rolled his sleeves up, exposing a tattoo on his left forearm. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions. You don’t need to go into any detail, it’s just to help me understand you better.” 

“Right.” 

“Tell me about your tattoo.” She began, nodding toward the ink and watching as he lifted his arm to look at it himself. “What does it mean?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. It’s a bit shit, I got it when I was young as a cover up.” Sullen face lifting only briefly. 

“Covering other tattoos?”

“Mh-hm.” 

“Do you regret doing so?” Kaufman asked, playing the field to see if he was an impulsive person. Simon was surprisingly unaware of her techniques despite seeing right through his last therapist. 

He laughed a dry laugh, one that lacked humor. “No.” Eyes squinted at her smile. 

“Would you get more?” 

Simon shook his head once more, this time accompanied by a frown to further his point. Eyes naturally narrowing with the action. “Any particular reason?”

“Getting older.” 

Kaufman smiled with a tilt of her head, flipping a few pages backward in her notes. “You’re still young.” She pressed her finger to the paper with his basic information. 

His mask made it difficult for Kaufman to distinguish his feelings. It was a complete distancing tool, one that worked well. She figured it was worn to separate himself from the job. “On base, you go by—“

“Ghost.” 

“How did you come about that?” 

“Long story.” He shrugged, picking at threads by his pockets with an unnerving nonchalance to his tone and Kaufman nodded. It wasn’t difficult to see his reluctance, she pushed backward in the conversation, watching as he rubbed his opposite hand against his arm. 

The tattoo was stretched to the crease of his elbow, old ink faded to a dark grey rather than black and many scars adorned the space, creating gaps of blank skin in the artwork. “Do you enjoy your job?” She asked, gaining a slow blink in her direction, one that begged for reason.

“Would you enjoy it?” He mumbled, looking up at her with a drawn out sigh. 

“I’d imagine it takes a toll.” She sucked her lips inward, allowing the silence to settle and to create a landing pad for her pending words. “It’s intense.” 

Simon grumbled to himself, landing his boots to the floor abruptly one more time after shifting positions. Arms crossed over his chest in subconscious self pacification while pointedly staring at her — a complete and natural embedded military tactic of control. He didn’t want to speak, so stared. Stared to show acknowledgment and active dismissal, Kaufman took note. 

“Do you have a family, Simon?” She clicked her pen once more, beginning a fresh page. 

“Mh-hm.”

“Kids?”

“Two.”

“Girls, boys—“

“Girls.”

“Young?”

“Six and eleven.” 

“And am I fair to assume they know you as Simon, rather than Ghost, yes?” She was slow with her wording, deliberate in the pacing of each and every syllable as opposed to the quickfire questions prior. 

He sat back, pushing a stiff hand across the back of his mask before dropping his arm like it weighed a tonne. “Yes.” Lip pulled up as if he was uncertain in his own answer, eyes absently directed to the plant in the corner of the room. 

“You seem unsure.” 

He shook his head. “It’s different.” Although his voice hadn’t quite grasped confidence, instantly clearing his throat before sitting up precipitously to cement his statement. Kaufman’s silence invited more words from him, suddenly at a point of talkativeness to jump at his own defense of fatherhood. “I don’t take any of this home with me.” He gestured toward his gear, “It’s different.”

“Do they know the mask?” 

“They’ve seen it.” His sudden leer was one that assumed he had been tripped up, falling right into her fucking verbal minefield. 

“So Ghost does come home with you?” 

Bastard, Simon thought. “No.” A bite. 

Kaufman took a minute to think of her next question, one that would simultaneously calm him down while also wedging the door to his openness ajar just enough for her foot. “Do you look forward to taking the mask off?”

He shrugged, retreating back into a slouch. A short note was made of his action. “Possibly for the burden it carries?” She offered and Simon let out an audible groan, one that cut her short. 

“There isn’t a fucking burden.”

She observed as his hands clenched into fists under crossed arms, the impatient tapping of his heel against the vinyl flooring was something of another warning. “Are we okay to circle back to your family?” 

“Hmmh.” He mumbled an affirmative noise though his body language was completely closed off.

“Would you like to tell me about them?”

His foot stopped moving, leg stretching outward to cross his ankles over one another. “Depends what you ask me.” 

It was evident that Simon relied on guidance and instruction. Kaufman had gathered that much in the first ten minutes she had spent with him. The constant need for grounding and clarification was the first thing she noticed bar his body language, even when he had tried his best to seem contained.

“You can tell me as much or as little as you’d like.” She put it plainly, watching his eyes narrow and chewed down fingernails fidget against his belt loops. A flurry of thoughts intruded her mind at that, was he anxious at home? The bitten down nails said as much, evidently picked at without his mask on. 

“How are your kids?” 

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, setting his hand across the sofa edge. 

“Yeah?” Kaufman smiled, dotting her pen and Simon nodded, rubbing his brow momentarily before blinking at her lamely. “That’s good.”

Her wrist raised to check the time, an action Simon shifted at, eyes running to the door instantly. 

Though Kaufman took no eye to his impatience, writing a few notes before closing her book over, all at her own pace. “Time?” He asked readily, eagerly, bitten nails fidgeting with the loose seams of his jeans once again.

With a brief glance to her wrist, Kaufman gave him the go-ahead. “Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do us for today.” She was left watching pointedly as his shoulders dropped at her dismissal. “May I ask you one final question?” Her pen was placed back on the desk, in perfect adjacency to the mentioned notebook. 

“Hm.” A grumble. 

“Do you believe in therapy.”

His brows furrowed under the mask, already standing with a hand on the door to solidify her point. “No.” And with that came a nod of departure,  the words landing like an opinionated knife  — easy to slot in, hard to take out. 

Kaufman had her work cut out. 

≔ dude i want him. i want to fucking hug him and tell him everything will be ok wtf, this man being emotionally inept is my roman empire.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @st4rluvrz @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon @loveangelic

as always, comments and reblogs are mighty appreciated. thank you for being on the taglist too!

[gothic-thoughts]

Joined At The Hip

(For anyone who already read this, "part 2" was added on instead 😗)

König x Black Fem Reader Angst

DarkFicWarning

CW: Konig saves you from your captors and comforts you after, 3rd person and 2nd person pov, some German, showering together

TW: ransom kidnapping, tied up and gagged, guns mention, violence mention, animal death mention, anxiety/crying

Word Count: 2685 (give or take)

Any and all German translated by DeepL

“Colonel!” 

The towering man turns back, looking over his shoulder to see the soldier running towards him from down the hall. He folds his arms across his chest, the muscles of his forearms flexing beneath the sleeve of his uniform. He steps a little closer to wait until the soldier stops before him, huffing. 

“Sir.”

“Soldier.”

“We were just sent a video of an abducted woman.”

König's eyebrows furrow in surprise. “Show me.”

“We don't know her sir, but—”

“I didn’t ask, I said, show me.”

The soldier leads him to the conference room and plays the video. It was only 15 seconds of his girlfriend in baggy clothes that weren't hers while tied to a chair and gagged, the sight causing his chest and stomach to burn with wrath despite his eyes falling cold and emotionless. A gloved hand came into the frame, holding a pistol and pressing the barrel to her temple lightly to make her cry some more before holding up a sign to the camera that read, ‘₤500,000’.

Colonel König's fists clenched so hard his gloves squeaked, alerting the other soldier to look down at the fist before back up to the back of his head nervously, unaware of the cold fury in his eyes.

“How did they know about her...?” He whispered, albeit calmly.

“What, sir?”

He looks at the soldier, his gaze piercing and devoid of emotion. “I said how old is this?”

“2 hours, sir.”

“Woher?”

“Abandoned building just outside Milan; should I get the assault team read—”

“Nein.” He turns back to the looping video on the projector, “Three men and a chopper.”

“Three? Sir, that’s—”

“Sie haben Ihre Befehle (You have your orders). Und Gott helfe Ihnen, wenn ich mich wiederholen muss (And god help you if I have to repeat myself).”

The soldier runs out of the room, leaving his Colonel to watch the video over and over, the image of (Y/n) crying with a gun barrel to her head permanently staining his mind— he knew even when, not if, when he saved her he would still be scarred. He takes a deep breath to try and center himself, knowing he would save her and knowing those men will get what they deserve. It was the two things keeping him calm as he stood there and waited for the soldiers and helicopter to be ready.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 Hours Later

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hear bones cracking, gunfire, and the terrified yelps and screams of men just outside the room you were being held in. You whimper with fear and confusion, sounds muffled by the gag in your teeth, unaware that König was both indirectly and directly the cause, meanwhile, the only pity in his mind was at the possibility of how much you were hearing and how terrified you must be. Finally, he reaches a door and presses his ear to it to listen to your muffled crying.

Meanwhile, you were in the room, hearing the deafening silence of the threat at the door, and begin to squirm and rock in the chair you were tied to until it fell on its side, making you whine at the pain in your shoulder right before the door flies open, the sound of wood splintering and metal hinges being ripped off filling the room as a bloody boot kicks the door in. He steps in, bloody gloves gripping his assault rifle tightly as it scans the room. Happy noises bleed through the ball of dry cloth in your mouth as you call out.

“König~!”

His eyes quickly land on you, tied up and on your side, and finally regain their life, softening as a wave of relief washes over him. He lowers his gun as he approaches you, his steps slow and deliberate until he kneels beside you, examining your body for any injuries. He carefully places a bloodied hand on your cheek, trying to reassure you to which you nuzzle his hand as tears pour from your eyes.

“Shh, bleib ruhig (stay calm), ich habe dich (I have you).” He carefully pulls the gag from your mouth, “I'm here.”

His bloody fingers gently wipe the tears away as best he can, leaving streaks of the combined fluids across your cheeks. He moves behind you, his fingers working to untie the rope that holds you in place— first your wrists then your ankles, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, and once the final knot is undone he pulls you up and holds your head to his chest, the sound of your sobs like a knife in his heart. 

You hug him back impossibly tighter without a single care about the amount of blood splattered all over his clothes or the tactical vest against your face, why would you? But despite your hero being here to take you home, your legs wobble from the amount of adrenaline still rushing through you, leading him to instinctively scoop you up in his arms as he stands up.

“Einfach (easy), I've got you now. Ich bin hier (I’m here).”

“I-I thought you weren't gonna find me... I thought--”

“Nein. I would have looked until the end of time to find you. I would have torn down every structure in this country to find you.”

He starts towards the door, his arms holding you close. König keeps a tight hold on you as he walks, and he can feel the tension in your body start to loosen slightly as you try to calm down— he can't help but feel a flicker of pride at the strength you're showing even in this situation. You tighten your arms and legs around him, burying your distressed face in his neck and he doesn’t miss a beat, shifting his grip to better support your weight, the muscles of his arms holding you secure.

“Ich werde immer da sein, um dich zu beschützen.”

You sniffle against his neck, “W-what?”

“Sorry, I said, I will always be here to protect you.”

“They dragged me out the shower a-and put me in a truck and... and..”

“Shh, shh... Atmen, Schatz, breathe.” He whispers, rubbing your back, “We’ll discuss it later, alright? Just focus on my breathing, can you do that?”

“Sorry...” You lift your face from his shoulder, “There were j-just so many of--”

You gasp softly. König glances down at you, wondering why you stopped talking then follows your gaze to the carnage he was so casually stepping through. There was blood splattered everywhere and dead bodies everywhere else, displaying the variety of ways your kidnappers met their ends: shot, stabbed, crushed... broken. König doesn’t say a word; he’s not ashamed, just concerned about your psyche after seeing the aftermath of his rage. He angles your body slightly so that you can't see the carnage as he carries you out of the building.

“Schatz, you should put your face back in—”

“Where’s your team...?”

“I...” He sighs, “I only brought 3 men.”

“Why...? And wh-where are they?”

“Two watched the sides and one made sure nobody escaped out the back.”

König’s heart started to sink at even the notion that you thought he was a mindless monster... a threat to anyone and everyone as soon as he was angry enough. But he nearly stopped in his tracks when he felt you hug your arms around his neck even tighter, your unconditional gratitude making his heart skip a beat. He glances down at you, his eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his usual gruffness.

“You're welcome, Liebe.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back At The Base

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right after he was reprimanded for not following protocol, Colonel König made sure you had been seen by the medical team, but once he was satisfied that you were physically alright, he was not leaving your side again. Now you were curled up on the bunk in his private room, still clearly shaken from everything that you went through.

König sits on the edge of the bunk, his eyes watching your every shudder as if he were afraid that you would disappear if his gaze broke contact with you. His expression is guarded, but his eyes are soft with concern. And you feel it. It weighs on you menacingly despite his intentions. You finally sit up and look over at him to see the glare in his eyeholes, a chill running up your spine.

“König...”

He snaps out of it and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“I'm sorry if I--”

“No, no. Never apologize, it's never your fault for this. But I need you to be honest with me, alright? I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

You nod shakily, crawling across his bed to sit next to him, just to avoid eye contact. 

“W-well... Remember when I texted you? Right after that I made something to eat, watched some tv and then I took a shower to wash my hair. A-and...”

You start to tear up again, nibbling on your lip shortly before König uses his thumb to guide your bottom lip from between your teeth with a soft shushing.

“I’m right here, and it’s over. They’ll never get you again, they’ll never touch you again. You won’t leave this room until I know you’re safe. Ja?”

You nod slowly, choking up sobs, “I-I know, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you are being so strong, Schatz. Continue for me, please.”

“I heard shuffling around but I thought it was my cat...” You sniffle, “Then they kicked down the bathroom door and ripped my curtain down. They tossed a towel at me, grabbed my arm and pulled me out the bathroom, pulling me to the front door.”

König could feel the anger building inside him again, his fists and jaw clenched so tightly it was painful. He tries to hold back his emotions by wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to his chest, but it is overtly obvious that he's struggling to maintain his composure, especially when you start crying before your next words come out.

“They killed my cat...” You choke out against his vest, your voice utterly broken, “My house was a mess, like they were looking for something. A-all I had on was a towel and I was c-cold and scared.”

He holds you tighter, “You're safe now. I'm here.”

“They put a bag over my head in a car then shoved me onto a plane and gave me...” You gesture to the baggy clothes practically hanging off of your body, “...These and then I was tied up and gagged and— I didn't think you'd come for me.”

He pulls back slightly to look down at your wet, pained face. “There is nothing in this world that could keep me from coming to find you— nichts, Liebe.”

“They told me you wouldn't come for me b-because I would be a distraction.”

“Yes, you are. You are the greatest distraction I have ever had and you will always come first. You hear me? Immer (Always).”

“You promise?”

“Yes. I swear on my life, heart and soul, Liebe. I swear on all of it.” He lifts a hand and gently cups your cheek, “You're safe now, Liebe. I won't let anyone get you ever again.”

You sniffle, smiling through tears as you nuzzle his bare palm, still traumatized but overall reassured. The memory of the massacre in that building was a weird kind of reassurance to you that even if he somehow broke his promise and someone got to you, your abductors wouldn’t survive. After taking a deep breath, you look up at him, blinking excess tears from your eyes as bask in his comforting presence.

“Can I... I wanna get out of these clothes and shower, Kö.”

“Of course, you can wear my stuff. I'll get you a towel. Warte hier (Wait here).” 

He rises from the bed, going to the other side of the room briefly. A few minutes later, he returns with a fresh towel and a stack of his clothes cradled in his arms.

“Oooh army clothes~”

König chuckles softly, “Ja, they're a bit big, of course but they're warm. And also smell like me, heheh.” He sets the stack of fabric down beside you, “Do you want me to... leave while you shower?”

“No! I mean, no. Can you actually shower with me...?”

König is taken aback by her sudden request, his eyes widening with surprise and desire. He clears his throat, pushing the thoughts that swarmed his mind to the side to remind himself that this was supposed to comfort her. 

“You don't have to, its okay; never mind. I got it.”

He instantly shakes his head, his desire disappearing as he steps closer. “No, wait, I... I just thought you would want to shower in peace after all you’ve been through.”

“Yeah, I know, but last time I went to shower alone--"

“Say no more, then. Let’s go.”

“You will?”

“Of course. Be warned, my shower is... a little small, especially for me so I may be very close.”

She smiles, “Good.”

His eyes soften as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing the soft, dark skin with his thumb. In the shower, you faced the water with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as the water poured over your shoulders, unaware that your giant boyfriend was still silently fuming behind you. He can see the fear and vulnerability in your body language, and it only fuels the protective, possessive feeling that's been simmering inside him ever since he saw that ransom damn video. 

König lets out a deep sigh as he presses his body against you from behind, making you hum softly. His movements pause at the noise before reaching around her to gently pull your arms away from your body, replacing them with his own to securely hold you against his chest. You lean your head against his bare bicep, loving how they tighten around you. König leans down buries his nose in your hair and inhales deeply before planting a kiss on your head.

“I was so worried, Liebling.”

“Really?”

“Ja, natürlich (of course); the thought of losing you...”

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence as the image of you with the gun to your head flashes through his mind again. He squeezes your tightly against him as if trying to convince himself that you're really here in his arms again, safe and sound. You turns around and presses a kiss to his mask where his lips are, making him chuckle a little.

“What was that for?”

“I just... feel bad for thinking you weren't gonna get me.”

He feels his heart pang. “You thought...? Why would you think that?

“Like I said earlier, they told me I was a distraction from your work and also... I don't know— we haven't been dating for long so I was scared. I was panicking and that's what my brain settled on.”

“It’s... It’s not alright; for them to instill that in you, I mean. But you should know I’d come for you. Always. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together.” He reaches down and gently takes your hands, guiding them up to the hem of his sniper hood. “You should have more faith in me than that, Liebling.”

You falters at the gesture, wondering what it means.

“I know...” You say, feeling the fabric of his sniper hood for the first time, “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, I understand that you were scared. Just... don't doubt me like that again, alright?”

You nod and continue to caress the fabric that hid his face.

“Remember when I said this was scary?”

König smirks slightly, “Ja. You said it was "intimidating" if I recall correctly.”

“It is, but it’s the most comforting thing I’ve ever known at this point. And seeing you wearing only it is kinda...hot."

He chuckles

[choke-me-joey]

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, violence, smut.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 3

The following Wednesday, you were called into a meeting with your coach, which meant you missed the second half of your English class that afternoon.

Eddie found you immediately afterwards as you were coming out of the coach's office.

"So, what's the damage?"

"Well I'm not getting kicked off the squad. Turns out Anderson has been harassing girls for months and several people saw him basically trap and grope me at the party and came forward to say something so...my spot is safe. Anderson however is on the verge of being expelled, definitely kicked off the football team." You said with a smug smile, adjusting your uniform skirt.

"Do you...actually enjoy it?" Eddie asks, completely not what you were expecting him to say. "Like the whole-" he makes a limp gesture as if he was waving pom poms around. "-thing?"

You chew your lip for a second. "Yeah, I do actually. I just don't buy into the whole cheerleader stereotypes. We're not all self obsessed airheads who only care about boys and whether or not our lip gloss looks good, y'know?"

"I never thought that about you." Eddie admits, leaning against the wall of lockers. You smile, placing a hand on his cheek as the bell rings. You sigh.

"I gotta get to biology. I have practice tonight but-"

"Want me to pick you up?" Shit, he was shooting his shot, he guessed. "I just got the new Metallica record, i could drive us up to the lake, we could hang out and listen to it. If you want."

"Eddie Munson, are you asking me on a date?" You smirk. "On a school night?"

He held his hands up. "Guilty."

You shook your head, jokingly tutting at him. "Think you could hold off on listening to it until Friday night? I have a shit ton of homework and extra practice this week, handsome, I'm sorry."

"Ah, how could I ever stay mad at the babe who beat down a football player for me? It's all good sweetheart, I can wait. But, you can bring the pizza, I'll bring the beer and the comfiest fucking van bed you've ever laid on."

"A bed?" You smirk, your eyebrow cocking.

"What, you wanna sit bolt upright in the front of the van all night? Be my guest." Eddie shrugs. "I, however, will be comfy as fuck in the back, hogging all the beer and pizza."

"Well, I guess I'll have to join you in the back then, won't I? See how comfy this bed really is." You grin. "I really gotta get going or Mr Clarke is gonna have my head. See ya, freak."

"See ya, airhead." Eddie chuckles, winking at you. You suddenly stop dead in your tracks, a very convincing but entirely pretend worried look on your face.

"Wait, how does my lipgloss look?" You're not even wearing lipgloss, it's just chapstick, but he plays along.

Eddie barks out a laugh. "Uh....glossy?"

"Perfect." You dash back over to him and stand up on your tip toes, placing a kiss on his cheek before darting off down the hall. He touches the chapstick residue on his skin and can't help smiling to himself like a fucking idiot.

***

By the time Friday rolls around, you and Eddie are both desperate to see each other. You had to miss Hellfire Club this week because of extra cheer practice and Ms O'Donnell had been particularly stern about people talking in her classes this week, so your time spent together was minimal.

You bounce up to Eddie, who is waiting for you by his van in the parking lot when the final bell rings on Friday afternoon, wearing a Black Sabbath shirt, sinfully tight jeans and your grubby Converse, looking every inch the not cheerleader.

"Hey stranger, miss me?" You smile, nudging him with your arm.

"Hmm, did I miss the pretty girl in my life who makes my English class a little bit more tolerable and somehow always thwarts my incredibly thought our DnD campaigns?" Eddie pretends to think, tapping a finger on his chin.

"You totally did."

"What about you, airhead? You miss me?"

"Always, oh, Eddie the days without you are so long!" You fake swoon, back of your hand pressed against your forehead like the actresses of those black and white movies your grandma used to watch. You drop your hand, both of you laughing. "Duh, of course I did. Extra biology homework and extra tumbling drills will never be as fun as your Vecna campaign."

"I knew it." Eddie pumps his fist in the air. "I'm the best dungeon master of all time, you can go ahead and say it."

You smirk, deciding to toy with him. You moan out, loudly.

"Oh, dungeon master, you're so good, oh yes, dungeon master, don't stop with your long and hard camp-" Your fake moaning is muffled by Eddie's hand clamping over your mouth. A few disgusted looking students are looking over at you both, but you don't care. You smirk under his hand.

"Are you done?" He says, laughing softly although his cheeks are bright red. How he had enough blood to flush his cheeks when the rest of it was busy heading south was beyond him. Apparently he had a thing for you calling him by his title, who knew?

And the hand across the mouth? That was totally doing it for you too. You nod. He removes his hand from your face much to your disappointment. "Get in the van, airhead."

"Yes, dungeon master."

"Stop."

***

"I've gotta learn this," Eddie states, as the solo for Master of Puppets fills your ears for the 4th time that evening. "I've been dying to learn something new to play. And this is metal as fuck."

"You play guitar?" You ask from your spot on the, indeed comfy as fuck, bed in the back of Eddie's van. He nods, grinning. "That's hot. And cool as shit."

"Come and see my band play at The Hideout one night," Eddie offers, passing you another beer. "We've recently upped our fan base from 5 to 8 drunks, so we're a pretty big deal."

"Oh my god, you're practically famous! Don't forget me when all those groupies are throwing themselves at you." You tease and Eddie rolls his eyes, cracking open his own beer.

"Well, unless they're a DnD playing, Ozzy loving cheerleader called Y/N, I'm not interested." He admits and you smile coyly.

"Cute," you say, trying to play it off like there weren't a million butterflies participating in a mosh pit in your belly right now. "And, uh, if they were a DnD playing, Ozzy loving cheerleader called Y/N, would you take as long to kiss them as you have with me?"

Eddie freezes, blinking at you. You sit up, shoulder to shoulder with him. "Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"Now would be a really good time to kiss me." You whisper, smiling, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"You know I was planning on doing that later, right?" Eddie chuckles softly, placing his beer down. You shrug.

"I'm impatient."

"I can tell you're gonna be trouble." Eddie's voice is low as he turns into you, his lips inches from yours. You smile softly.

"Maybe. I can be really good, too." You mumble and Eddie, with a hum of amusement, finally, finally leans in and presses his lips to yours, his hand coming up to hold your jaw.

It's a soft, innocent kiss at first, but you feel your entire body tingling at his touch. He goes to pull away and you pull him back in with a "nuh uh, nuh uh", and he smiles against your mouth, his tongue flicking along your bottom lip. You open your mouth immediately, allowing him to taste you properly. You both groan softly, your tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths.

The kiss grows deeper, heavier, hotter, and you allow Eddie to lay you down onto the next of blankets and pillows, moving his body on top of yours.

"Hey, hey, hey, is this okay?" Eddie breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy and voice sounding a little strained as Welcome Home (Sanitarium) wails away to itself.

"More than okay," you try and pull him into another kiss, but he hesitates. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, god you're...fucking perfect, you're so beautiful." Eddie smiles softly down at you. He then grunts, doing his best to subtly shift his jeans, his cock straining painfully against the zipper.

"Do you not want to...?"

"God I fucking want to, sweetheart. Look, I don't know about you but...this isn't just some hook up for me. I really, really like you."

Your face softens and you brush some of his hair back. "Eddie...I really, really like you too."

He smiles. "Good. So I don't wanna do this in the back of my shitty van, at least, not the first time."

"But it's so comfy!" You grin, wiggling on the blanket making Eddie laugh, dropping his head down on to your shoulder. He peppers kisses along your neck and jawline. You let out a soft moan. "If you don't want that first time to happen in your shitty van you better stop that."

"Okay, okay, but you're really pretty though, s'hard to stop kissing you," Eddie grins, pecking your lips once more. "M'sorry I made you wait so long."

"You should be, you made me miss out on kisses like that for weeks?! God damn, Munson." You giggle and he laughs softly, diving in for another kiss. It's like you needed each other to breathe at this point, your lips brushing over and over each other. "God, I really want you to fuck me," you breathe against his mouth and he groans into yours, the hardness in his jeans aching.

"I know, baby, fuck you have no idea how much this is killing me but I wanna do this properly, okay?"

"Yeah? Gonna buy me flowers and dinner and lay me down on a bed covered in rose petals before you make love to me?" You tease, both of you sitting up.

"I can do all of the above apart from the making love part," Eddie laughs. "I don't think I have the patience for that sweetheart."

"Good, cos neither do I." You wink at him before climbing into the passenger seat giggling as Eddie smacks your ass. "Come on, lover boy, let's go get some pizza."

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[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt. 15

The rest of what I wanted to put in 14

Also I'm so sorry for the delay, genuinely had the worst few weeks of my life 🤌🏻 thank you for not giving up on me

<<Part 14 Part 16>> Masterlist

Laying in bed next to Logan was bliss. Since accepting his proposal the two of you had amped up your love. If that was even possible.

If he wasn't whipped before he definitely was now. The boys lovingly teased him as he literally waited on you, hand and foot. He wanted you to be cared for, wanted you to feel loved, feel special. He wanted you to be the queen you were.

He even learned how to braid hair for you.

You were just drifting off to sleep when a yelp woke you.

Logan pushed you back down into the covers. “Stay here.”

“No!” You argued, jumping up and sprinting after him.

Jean was on the floor with a weird circular object on her forehead. You paused but didn't stop as she was breathing. You had to push on, had to find the intruder, to prevent the rest of the residents from danger.

As you legged it to keep up with your fiancé you passed more unconscious bodies - Remy, Darwin and Kitty to name a few - they each had the same disc attached to their foreheads but we're still breathing.

“Logan?!” You called out as you flew down the stairs.

He was out of your line of sight. He'd led you to the dining hall - you think - but what way had he gone? There were doors on each wall, what one had he run through? Had he even come through here?

You were too exposed standing in the centre of the hall in nothing but a nightie. Was this the right move? Should you have stopped and helped the others? Who was here? Who was infiltrating the Mansion this time? Mutant or human?

That line of thought had you wondering: what if the discs were lethal? What if you'd sealed their fate by trying to prevent others? What if the discs were draining their life force? FUCK!!

As your mind spun you backed up against the far wall. You needed to keep a level head so the wall was an attempt to ground yourself but it wasn't exactly easing your anxieties.

You formed flat fields which sat by your fists - Magneto had been right to tell you to try and form different shapes - in an offence manoeuvre. Keeping silent to hear or see anything. To get any sort of clue as to who or what had broken in.

Heavy footsteps echoed beyond the door to your left and suddenly it was blown off of its hinges.

She sauntered into the hall, and for having just booted the wood she didn't seem winded.

The girl was young. She had dark hair and an angry expression, wearing jeans and a leather jacket.

“Hello?” You had never seen her before. Usually if someone was invading the Mansion you had a vague idea. The humans usually wore the same uniform and any other mutant that came knocking usually had some sort of gimmick or name correlating to their power.

She answered with a snarl, launching forward.

You blocked her attack and were in shock.

She had claws! SHE HAD TWO CLAWS LIKE LOGAN!

Was… was this like Magneto? Did he have a child?

You couldn't blame the man for having a past but you were convinced your Logan would've told you.

The girl was angry. She didn't like that you blocked her attack. She jumped straight back in punching and kicking - KICKING WITH A FOOT CLAW!?!? - at your fields. Each attack you countered and pushed her off.

“Who are you?” You yelled over her grunts.

She managed to slip two claws through a field - barely missing your exposed thigh - but you held them in place. “What they made me.”

“Who made you?” You cried out, shoving her backwards and into the mahogany table.

She crouched on the table reminiscent of Kurt. “Alkali.” You had no idea who Alkali were. Wracking your brain, you only knew HYDRA, SWORD, AIM.. no Alkali.

She had stayed still on the table so you raised your palms in a surrender, fields away. “Why are you here?”

“He is to blame. They did this to me because of him!”

The girl leaped from the table and over you. You produced another field inches above your head and caught the circle she had tried to place.

“What is this? What have you done to my friends?” You wrapped a field around it and brought it close to your eyes. It had a red flashing light and tiny pincers.

“They're just asleep.” She growled. “Like you should be!”

The girl tried to kick your feet but you jumped back. As you landed, your ankle rolled and you lost your footing. You stumbled and landed on your butt encapsulated yourself in a field.

The girl stood over you, her arms folded and wearing a taunting smile. Fuck, she looked like him. He was definitely her father. 100%

“Hey!” Logan yelled behind you.

The girl snarled upwards and circled your sorry ass, heading forwards. She revealed her claws.

“X.” She spoke.

“Names Logan.” His claws unsheathed. “Now who the fuck are you?”

As if?!

Could he not put two and two together?

“They made me because of you!” She snarled but from your angle you could see tears forming. Her anger was still present but there was also sadness, a hopelessness.

“Who made you?” His eyes watched her stalk around the room, she kicked a chair out of her way, her eyes never leaving him.

“Sutter, Kinney, Rice.” She spat the names. The names didn't ring any bells with you and you could see they didn't with Logan. “But you gave the order.”

His brows twitched in puzzlement. “I would never! It almost killed me.”

“You're gonna wish it killed me!” She jumped upwards and crashed into him.

~~

Laura was no longer a volatile gremlin.

Well... she was still quick to anger and she was still just as gremlinesque as Logan.

But now she knew you were no longer a threat.

She was slowly - immensely slow - integrating into the X-Mansion.

A team of Kurt, Jean and Kitty broke into the Alkali facility. The cooperation was under the Umbrella of HYDRA, meaning it was just as sinister.

They had returned with horrid news.

Laura had been created merely as an experiment and was essentially cloned from a scrap of DNA they stole.

The implications of HYDRA cloning was terrifying. They were creating and cloning weapons of mass destruction.

You read the stolen file as the X-Men discussed above your head.

‘Laura Kinney’.

She had mentioned the name Kinney.

Her mother was a scientist and had donated her eggs to create this weapon. She had been created in a lab to replicate the Weapon X process.

Her handlers had tried to integrate her into society to act as a sleeper but she didn't cope well around humans. In response to that they isolated her for years, only bringing her out for training, experimenting with her healing factor and finally her Adamantium transfusion.

“She can't stay here.” Scott sighed, he didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did. “I want to help her but the students are terrified.”

“She hasn't been around people.” You supplied. “They isolated her from age eight to fifteen.”

Charles was silent, scanning your mind for the information it held.

“She's my responsibility.” Logan was standing in the corner, arms folded. If you didn't know better you'd say his power was weather manipulation with the rain cloud that had followed him these past weeks.

The two of you had spoken about the potential of him having offspring. He had told you there were two possibilities, one being from his time in Japan and the other Iraq.

He had apologised but it was none of your business really. You couldn't have kids anyway. Why would you be upset that he had them?

Okay maybe it was a little strange.

His immortality kept slipping from your mind only to be thrust right back in your face when you least suspected it.

Would his children be like Laura?

Would they be powerful?

Have claws?

“I'll look after her.” Logan told the group. “I'll need help but I want to take her in. Show her that she doesn't have to be a weapon.”

You saw the vulnerability he tried to keep at bay. He was so unsure of himself.

He'd never been a father.

Never accepted that role.

He was a leader, a teacher, an X-Man but never something as delicate as a father.

“We'll all help Logan.” You hoped to ease his turmoil.

The crease between his brows lifted and his frown disappeared. He could always rely on you. Ride or die.

Charles’ chair moved, pulling attention. “I'd like to speak to Logan and Y/N separately.”

The others gave pointed looks but did comply and soon enough the three of you were alone.

You were sitting on the small sofa he had in his office - it was really more of a miniature library/study - the file on the coffee table in front of you. Logan had taken four steps towards Charles’ desk but he was still standing at a distance. Charles had stopped next to his window, he turned to it and sighed. The weather had been drizzly, a grey sky stared back at him.

“She is haunted.” Charles informed. “She needs reliable, consistent help.”

You could do that.

Right?

You could be that for someone.

Logan huffed. “I'll give it all I got.”

“But that also may cause problems to arise.” Charles licked his lips. “Sometimes what happens is terrible and it's hard but the person trying to help makes it worse.”

You didn't understand.

Did she or didn't she need constant help?

“My paralysis didn't occur because of the bullet but because Erik took it out.” He gave an example. “Sometimes we need to take a step back and let what happened happen.”

You summarised. “So she needs consistency and reliable help but she needs us to step back?”

“She isn't used to caring individuals. She'll need time but I do think she'll come around.”

~~

Mario Kart and Sonic were your way of introducing Laura into the world.

It taught her how to take losing graciously, team work, social skills, practical problem solving…

And best of all.

It was fun.

She was having fun.

Acting like a normal kid.

You were Wario because for some reason you loved that short king and she chose Daisy. You'd tell everyone to join as the GameCube had four controllers. It was only a matter of time before you upgraded and splurged on the PlayStation.

Kurt and Jubilee were Laura's favourites. They played animatedly next to her and she observed the way they acted. Watched them so closely you could see her imitate their behaviours.

Scott slumped into the empty couch space next to you. “I'm playing the winner.”

Kurt smirked up at Scoot. “Can't vait to beat you, too.”

You rolled your eyes as much as possible without them leaving the screen. “As if.”

Jubilee sat on your other side, whilst Kurt and Laura were sprawled out on the floor, moving her body animatedly to turn where you had.

Scott watched the game turn into madness, you all bickering and yelping as shells and banana peels hit you.

Mario - Jubilee - won, with Daisy, King Boo - Kurt - and Wario close behind. Just at the last second you Blue Shelled King Boo and squeezed into third place.

Kurt was salty but admitted it was a clever move as he handed the controller to Scott.

Scott switched up his character to Donkey Kong and decided on the track.

You hated this track. Who in their right mind picks Rainbow Road?!

The fucker was good at Rainbow Road. You Jubilee and Laura were not so good, all crashing into everything and falling off the edges.

“Hey Scott.” You spoke casually compared to how chaotic you all were feeling. “Logan's thinking of having a Best Woman so you wanna be my Man of Honour?”

Donkey Kong flew off the side. “Did you-what?”

“I didn't say that to fuck with you but I'm glad it worked.” You nudged his elbow with your own.

“Yeah, I'll be your Man of Honour.” He dropped a giant banana peel in your path.

Later in the evening, as the two of you were in the Kitchen, Scott asked if it was real, if you actually wanted him to be your Man of Honour and you said yes.

Why wouldn't you?

He was your friend.

Logan was planning on asking Jean, so you felt solid in your choice. Scott was a dear friend to you and due to your proximity to Jean he had grown even closer now they were finally dating.

“I don't think we're having a big ceremony though.” You warned. “It may just be us four.”

“That's fine.” He sliced some Mango.

You watched him make a fruit salad, snagging some pieces for yourself, in silence. It was astonishing that you hadn't been interrupted. For once, everything was calm.

Just as you were praising being uninterrupted Logan entered the Kitchen.

“Finally, been looking everywhere.”

You gave him a smile. “My Man of Honour and I have been here a while.”

Logan's brows rose as he laughed. “You asked?”

“Yup, was destroying him at Mario Kart-”

“Hah.”

“-and thought I should probably ask.”

Logan's arm wrapped around your waist automatically and he nodded down at you. “Should probably ask Jean. You settled on a date yet?”

“No,” you scrunch your nose. “It's our wedding, you have to he-” The sentence was left unfinished as his fingers dug into your side tickling you.

"Just want you to be happy."

~~

Logan, Storm, Scott, Jean, Beast and Kurt were all off on a mission leaving you as the responsible adult.

Fuck that.

It was boring with them all off. Luckily Laura was there for you when she wasn't reading.

The girl had stormed through your book collection and was currently rereading 1984.

So you were feeling lonesome.

There were others at the Mansion: Colossus, Shadowcat, Jubilee, Rogue, Bobby, etc but they weren't immediate friends.

A knock at the doors pulled your attention - you were planning on rotting in bed, having come down for some popcorn and a glass of water.

Pulling the heavy front door open you found two people.

One was a mad dressed in all red, he had an assortment of weapons on his person, and the other was a child. She had tanned skin and dark hair, scars visible by her eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Hi. I'm Flashback Deadpool!” He shook your hand with such enthusiasm that your shoulder was moving. “And this little pumpkin is Gabby.”

“Hi Gabby.” You flashed the warmest smile you could. “Are you two rel-”

“No, Flashback Y/N. We aren't. Well, if we're going Mayaverse and not movieverse we came outta the same place. Gabby is a clone of Laura who's a clone of Logan who SPOILERS IS A CLONE OF HUGH JACKMAN!” Deadpool cackled to himself.

“Oh, okay.” You didn't know what to do. How did this man know your name? Why was he saying flashback? Against your better judgement you asked, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yeah sure,” Deadpool took a hold of Gabby's hand, “but I want to remind present Y/N that she's on the stairs.”

//

There was a group photo on the wall. It was professionally taken and each member looked pristine. Charles was sitting in his chair with Jean, Rogue and Storm on an expensive looking sofa; Scott was perched on the sofa’s arm beside Jean as Bobby, Colossus and Hank stood behind it. Jubilee and Kurt were kneeling at Storm's feet.

How proud they all looked.

There was a smaller photograph taped next to the large frame. It must've been taken seconds after the main one as each member had chaotic grins, laughing ridiculously.

They were a family.

They are a family.

It was eerie.

It had taken you ages to realise it.

But it was eerie.

It felt wrong. An unease settled into your bones.

You felt like the jigsaw was complete with your missing piece underneath the table.

The others wouldn't feel this way.

They hadn't lived here.

Gambit didn't remember a time before the Void and Laura barely had Logan and Charles.

You stepped away, passing portraits of lost mutants.

You'd never be there because you were never there.

You felt sick.

How could they not know you when they were such a big part of you?

They were YOUR FAMILY.

//

Landing in a Wasteland was not how you thought you'd spend the day.

What had happened? Did Kurt teleport you?

Where the fuck were you?

Rising from the sand you tried to make out anything - any landmarks - but the glare of the sun was too much.

Where was Logan? Laura? Gabby? Scott? Jean? Storm? Wade?!

Where were your friends?!

“Y/N?”

You spun to see Dazzler. She looked different. Older. Worn. Weak.

“Alison?”

“It's so good to see a familiar face!” Grinning ear to ear.

“Where are we? Egypt?” You had to bring your hand up to shield your eyes.

“N-” Her face dropped. “No, we're elsewhere.”

What did that mean?

She gave you a pitiful expression before shaking her head. “Go, run, head that way. They won't find you there.”

“Alison I don't understa-”

“Go!” Her eyes glittered and she turned her back on you. “I've given you a chance, take it. Run.”

Run?

What were you running from?

What were you running to?

Why were you running?

No one likes running!

But she clearly meant it.

You turned in the direction she had gestured to and began walking, hoping that she would snap out of it and follow you. Tell you where you were heading.

She didn't.

You found scraps of… well of everything. There were buildings, monuments, vehicles, clothes, shields, weapons - mainly faulty - bones, graves and most importantly more sand.

It was hot - it was so hot - you had to unzip your suit, tying the fabric around your waist. Sweat marks already stained the fabric of your vest.

Was this the right way?

You climbed to the peak of a sand mound - hill? dune? Whatever the word was, it was too hot to even try to think - and saw something moving.

Squinting your eyes impossibly small you believe it's a bike, the rider was maybe a man? Could be a strong woman.

Either way they were your help.

You jogged down the sand and waved your hands at them.

“Hey!”

The bike spun around and headed back towards you.

You waited, no use wasting energy when they were coming your way right?

Hopefully they spoke English. If not they still could tell you where you were.

As the bike approached you knew the rider.

“Victor?” You'd met him once. Logan had tried to keep him at bay, keep the two of you separate but you did cross paths.

“Why's a pretty lady like you asking?” His eyes scanned your body. He was wearing a black Stetson and a long leather - in this heat?! - coat.

“It's me.” That was helpful. “It's Y/N, we met briefly. I'm Logan's wife.”

He chuckled. “What one?”

Ouch.

Okay.

“Dude, you're my brother in law don't be an ass.”

He sneered.

“Fine," Your hands flew up. "You can be an ass but please tell me: where are we?”

Victor took the Stetson off and dusted it. “Limbo, Purgatory, neither here nor there.”

You wanted to sass him but something he said rang true. This place didn't feel real, it felt like a sort of limbo. In the scraps you had found vintage TVs and futuristic clothing. Neither here nor there.

“We're dead?” You don't remember dying. Would you remember dying? Could you remember it if you were dead?

More importantly you weren't overly religious so where were you?! Which God was the right choice? You had your money on the Greeks.

“Doesn't feel like death.” He held his hat, observing your inner ramblings.

“I wouldn't know.” He and his brother had died countless times so, out of the two of you, he was the most qualified.

“We’re alive, just in a pit. It's bottomless and hungry.”

“Stop being ominous.”

He shrugged with a smirk.

“So we're alive but in some sort of wasteland?”

“Yup.”

Right.

When were you going to wake up?

“Okay, well, how'd you feel about a team up?”

He scoffed a laugh but realised you were serious and his smile vanished. “You're dead weight.”

As if being family was going to get you through this. Don't be stupid.

“Where's Logan?”

“I ain't seen a Logan for years.”

“What do you ‘a Logan’?”

“People here come in doubles, triples. Different worlds crashing together.”

“Well, where's my Logan?” He was quiet. “Are you even my Victor? Have we even met?”

“No.” He replaced his hat before revving the engine. “But I got places to be.” You watched him leave and could have sworn his eyes flashed yellow.

\\

The woods were the same.

Fuck, we get it! Everything is the same!!!!

You walked through the familiar path to exit the grounds. You didn't even have to think about it, your body relying on muscle memory that you had thought was lost years ago.

Logan had brought you here, dragging your ass out of bed and into town. The first time he had done it, he had driven Scott's bike but he soon found he enjoyed the walk with you.

The night could last longer.

You could just be two people staggering home instead of X-Men or Mutants or Teachers.

The trips were more frequent once you had gotten used to the branches and roots.

Town was a good twenty minute walk once you were off it Xavier's land.

You knew you shouldn't be entertaining this idea.

You didn't belong in the mansion so what did you think you'd get out of this?

Maybe you should ask someone.

No.

They'd get it but they wouldn't.

Elektra would tell you to follow your heart, Logan would be against it in case you got upset, Wade wouldn't care unless you brought him a pastry.

Laura and Gambit were here, enjoying themselves and the others that you would have asked don't know enough about you to form an opinion.

Just looking at the building might help?

Seeing her inside of it.

You wanted a hug.

A tear slipped from your eye as you realised you really wanted a hug.

She gave the warmest hugs.

The last time you received one was when you were eighteen, that was the last time you returned home for the holidays as the next years you were looking after students.

Your mother didn't mind. She was doing a lot better without you.

Money stretched further and she had gotten a new job.

Your pocket buzzed but you couldn't bring yourself to look at it.

It would be Logan. He'd be asking if you were okay and you'd have to lie and say yeah because what he was doing was important. He needed to talk to Victor like you needed to see your mother.

You wouldn't tell her.

How could you?

‘hi, I'm the daughter you never had!’

But… you could try a tart?

You had walked off the estate and we're now on the road. There was a country lane which led into a small village type town. It was new looking but each building was old, the town had character. You loved seeing a job centre have ornate carved stone walls.

There it was.

It was pink, a pale pink. Ballerina satin.

There was dark wood panelling on the windows and sign, giving the whole shop a homely vibe.

An assortment of goodies were in the window and a man that you had seen on her Facebook was mopping the flour covered floor.

Do you go in?

Well, you can't realistically stay outside staring into the window. She'll think you're a freak!

You couldn't be a freak in her eyes in two universes.

The man looked up and gave you a bright smile through the glass before mouthing ‘we’re open’. You nodded and pushed the door. A tinny bell rang as you entered.

The interior was pale pink with hot pink and white accents. The counter was filled to the brim with goodies and a chalk board behind it had custom items you could order.

The smell is what really struck you. You recognised it. Your mother's chocolate chip cookies springing up in your mind. The first batches had been a disaster but once she got it down it was your favourite treat, the memory brought fresh tears to your eyes.

“You alright dear?” The old man asked, placing the broom against the wall.

“Yeah, sorry, just a bit lost.” You smoothed your shirt. “My-I lost my mum and this place reminds me of her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, did she come here?” He questioned.

“No, well, maybe.” How did you answer this? Why had you even disclosed that? “It's the smell of cookies.”

“I’m here if you'd like to talk about her.” You shook your head so he clasped your shoulder. “Take your time.”

You nodded again forcing the tears to stay unshed.

“I’m F/N.”

Right.

Wow.

This… this was your father.

You didn't remember anything about him, your mom had told you that he used to be in your lives but circumstances caused him to leave. You always had the feeling despite what she said you were ‘circumstances’.

“Y/N.”

He grinned. “My favourite name!"

"Is it?" Your name wasn't anything special to you, it was a string of letters and sounds that people used to get your attention but hearing him say it was your favourite name...

"There was a book I used to love, it was fantasy. You would read page one and it would give you an option and when you made your decision you had to turn to page forty and so on. There was a mage called Y/N…” He trailed off in remembrance. “I always thought if we were blessed with a child, I'd pick the name Y/N.”

You played along. “We?”

“My dearest is in the back. M/N!” He hollered.

She waddled from the back room, apron stained, a tea towel in her hands. “Yes?”

“Come and meet Y/N.”

You observed the strain in her legs as she moved. She was a lot older but it was 2024 so she would be. Her face was wrinkled and her hair white. “Y/N? You're not talking about that Dungeons and Dragons book are you?”

“It isn't Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Close enough, sorry dear, I hope he isn't bothering you.”

You shook your head. “No, course not.”

“He tried to convince me to name our dog Y/N and it is a pretty name but the way he used to go on about this super magic hero made me feel left out. He was with her.”

You chuckled.

“No, you're the only woman for me.” He pecked her cheek.

“Only because she's fictional.”

“Exactly.” He nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

“So, what can we get you?” Your mom waved her hand to the display. “Anything here?”

“Oh, yeah. I'll take anything.”

Your father was sweet when he offered, “and cookies?”

“Please.” You plucked your card out. “I'll take everything, one - no - two of everything you have.”

The couple made a face but did begin bagging items.

“Are you going to be able to eat all these?” Your mom asked as packed three slices of pie.

“Yes, it won't be just me eating.”

“Oh, let me guess; are you one of Xavier's gifted?” She tied the box with a ribbon. “Wouldn't it be marvellous to have a power?”

That was fucking twisted.

Your mother being jealous of mutants?

It wasn't fair.

Why couldn't you have been born here?

~~

On the journey back you decided they were made for each other.

Your mom and dad were soulmates.

If only you weren't born, perhaps they could have been happy.

It was trippy seeing your mom but to meet your dad…

You couldnt handle it.

You were right here and they couldn't see you. They couldn't realise who you were. Your mom even hugged you after your dad told her you were mourning.

You had to take a moment to cry in the woods.

Sitting, tears falling freely, eating a tart was how Scott found you.

“Hey. You're Y/N right?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Do you know how insulting it is to hear your brother say that?” He pulled a face. “We were like siblings. The whole team. We were a family.”

Scott didn't know how to respond.

“It's not your fault obviously but it's fucking tiring. I've come home to find that it isn't mine and it can't be. I don't belong here. Hell, even my mom wouldn't name her dog after me.”

.

.

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