#getting a list of ten people was like pulling teeth

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Not the Lips

How I think the LADS Men react to you not liking a kiss on the lips, but anywhere else is fine. A/N: ‼️MDNI‼️

Zayne

Type: Understanding Favorite spot: Shoulder/Hand

[SFW]

Zayne would be completely understanding that you don’t like a kiss on the lips. Truthfully this man will probably give you an entire breakdown of the amount of people who don’t like kissing. “Can I not kiss you at all?” He’d asks genuinely curious.

“I don’t mind kisses anywhere else just not the lips” From that moment on Zayne has found many ways to shows his affection through a kiss. Those early mornings when he finds you lazily brushing your teeth after getting out of the shower. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder when he passes by “Good morning my love”

A gentle kiss to your knuckles before he leaves for work. A kiss to your temple when he brings you something. The list goes on and on with how many places he’d find to regularly kiss in place of your lips. He wouldn't mind being showered in kisses all over his face from you, but preserve it for when you're in private because he's likely to get a boner from it.

[NSFW]

Zayne would be devouring your neck and chest during foreplay. No lips? No worries. A long kiss to your jaw and another down your neck taking his time there as you squirm from his touch. Once your breathing is going ragged he’s pulling you onto his lap and removing your shirt quickly with his skilled fingers. He would spend hours peppering your boobs with kisses; taking your nipple in his mouth while he fondles the other. "Is this okay?" He whispers after letting your nipple go with a loud pop. He'd wait for you to nod before going back to leaving his mark on you.

Rafayel

Type: Wants you to shower him in kisses Favorite spot: Jaw/Cheek

[SFW]

Rafayel is fine with it, but best believe that he wants to be showered in kisses. When you cup his face and press a sweet kiss to his forehead followed by many more all over his face he’s putty in your hands. He adores when you pepper his face in kisses and whines when you stop “Raf I have things to do I can’t do this all day” you giggled as he wraps himself around you. “Just one more right here” he pouts pointing to his cheek. You give him kiss only to be asked for "Just one more" ten more times.

He’d do the same to you opting for cheek kisses and some close enough to the corner of your mouth, but never actually on your lips followed by a lingering kiss to your jaw. He has to catch himself sometimes. He’ll find himself leaning in wanting to cover your mouth with his, but he’ll catch himself and divert the kiss to the tip of your nose instead.

Knowing how much he truly adores you I imagine he would trail kisses down your spine — not in a sexual way, but just in adoration that you are entirely his.

[NSFW]

During foreplay he’ll spend some time kissing and sucking your neck, but he’s more focused on thigh kisses. He’s sliding down and taking his time leaving hickeys just low enough that you can still wear a skirt and only you and him would know about the myriad of marks covering your thighs. You may not like a kiss on the lips, but he’s pressing the sweetest searing kiss to the other set.

Xavier

Type: Fine w/ it as long as he can kiss another set of lips Favorite spot: Neck/Chest

[SFW]

Let’s be real he’s just happy to be there. No kiss on the lips? No problem. He’d go for the forehead and hand kisses. While you’re relaxing on the couch he intertwines his fingers with yours and presses three quick kisses to the back of your hand and then keeps your hand in his lap so he can give it a quick peck whenever he feels like it.

His other favorite place to kiss is your cheek and he always gently rubs his thumb over the area. He’ll stare at your lips just admiring how pretty they are, but he won’t make a move to respect your boundaries. He finds himself often placing sweet kisses to your chest where he can feel your soft heartbeat against his lips before nuzzling into you; sometimes even falling asleep.

[NSFW]

He’s spreading your legs no questions asked they’re getting opened. Certified leg spreader it’s a fact. He’s kissing a pair of lips just not the ones on your face. He will place his lips anywhere they can reach and only stops if you tell him to. A few kisses here and there to your thighs, but he’s mainly placing soft sweet kisses right on your pussy like they’re the most precious lips in the world. He’s quite literally making out with your coochie before devouring you like a man starved. Aside from giving you endless head he is leaving hickeys and bites marks all over you but only in places that he can/will see. When they’re starting to fade he’s pressing kisses to the areas as if to say “I’ll leave another mark here soon”

Sylus

Type: Wants to know exactly where to kiss you ; indirect kisses Favorite spot: Neck/Shoulder/Hand

[SFW]

The king of consent right here. After the first kiss and he sees you slightly grimace he’s worried “Do I need to brush my teeth?” You’d reassure him that you just don’t like kisses on the lips. “Where should I kiss you then?” He won’t kiss you anywhere unless you tell him it’s okay. The way he lowers his head and stops just inches from your skin asking in a husky voice “Is here okay?” and he doesn’t just let you nod your head he wants a verbal answer.

I feel like his favorite spot would be your neck and your shoulders. Curling his body around yours at night and pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder before falling asleep and leaving another in the morning before he gets out of bed. A gentle kiss on the temple as he passes by you. Grabbing your chin between his thumb and finger to place a lingering kiss on your cheek and quick peck to your earlobe before pulling away.

The king of indirect kisses as well. That mug you’re sipping from? Yeah he’s taking a small sip just so his lips touch where yours were. He’s not even actually thirsty or craving whatever it is that's yours. He just wants to feel the essence of your lips in anyway he can.

He would always be open to you trying a kiss on the lips, but if you don’t initiate it he won’t test the waters.

[NSFW]

Thighs, thighs, thighs! This man will start at your neck and work his way down just worshipping you with his mouth. He is taking his time when he gets to your legs. Pressing a sweet kiss to the inside of your knee and slowly making his way down kissing here, biting there and licking the area to sooth the sting from his bite. “Can I kiss you here Princess?” He asks staring up at you while he’s nestled between your legs so close you can feel his breath on your core.

Remember … verbal response.

Caleb

Type: Understanding/jokes that little practice never hurt Favorite spot: Forehead

[SFW]

Caleb would look like a wounded puppy when he sees the slight grimace on your face when he pulled away from your first kiss. He’d be blaming himself and questioning everything. “Did I do something wrong?” He’d ask frantically scanning your eyes for an answer. Please answer quickly because this man is about to pass out right in front of you.

You’d shake your head telling him you’re not a fan of kisses on the lips. “No kisses on the lips got it” He looks upset still so you assure him he can kiss you anywhere else as long as it’s not the lips. Now he watches your reactions closely. He’s taking mental notes of the beaming smile you get every time he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead followed by a peck to your nose. He’d smile to himself when he feels you lean into him when he cups your face in anticipation for another kiss.

Always ready to try again when you feel more comfortable with him. “You’re staring at my lips pipsqueak do you want a kiss or somethin’?” he’d say with his a smirk his face. His rich giggle fills the room when you quickly shake your head. “That’s alright as long as I can kiss you everywhere else”

[NSFW]

Caleb gets lost in the sauce real quick because he's a real pussy pleaser. He’d trail hot wet kisses from your neck down to your collarbone savoring the feel of you. He’d ask you to tell him exactly where to kiss. “Tell me what to do pipsqueak” he’d have you whimpering out breathless answers as he proceeds to pepper kisses exactly where you want him to. Command him he likes it.

[saatorus]

she won't go away— a sukuna fic

art creds to to_0fu (twitter/x)

pairing — college sukuna! x reader

synopsis — of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might.

teaser wc — 1.8k (long for a teaser but i'm desensitised to any word count below like 100k words)

actual wc — 20-25k (gonna try and force myself to stick to this and not go into the 30s..)

tag list status — closed! the fic has been posted

warnings — explicit sexual content!!! sukuna being an absolute vile dick and saying questionable shit (i need him to be at least a lil canon compliant), mentions of reader and sukuna telling each other to go die, reader not being meek and letting him walk all over her, mentions of feeling insecure, multiple crash outs, angst?? will add more as i go along!

“That ‘little homework’ is forty five percent of our grade,” you bite out.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he grunts, sounding bored.

You inhale deeply. “So, I was thinking—”

But he groans, dragging a tattooed hand down his face. “Are we seriously doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re seriously doing this now,” you snap.

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. “God, you’re fucking annoying.”

You’re not sure whether you should be offended or hurt. On one hand, obviously as a normal human being, being spoken to like this from a person you’re quite literally talking to for the first time is bound to hurt your feelings. On the other hand, this guy’s dickhead personality is kind of well known through your university. Your grip on your pen tightens, but you keep your voice even.

 “I’m annoying because I want to pass?”

”You’re annoying because you talk way too fuckin’ much.”

 That stings more than you’d like to admit.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the way your stomach tightens, and push forward anyway. “If we divide the research today, we won’t have to meet up as often,” you say, firmly. “I assume you’ll want to do as little work as possible, so let’s just—”

“Holy shit.” Sukuna pushes his chair back with a loud scrape, fixing you with an exasperated look. “Do you ever shut up?”

You blink, stunned.

Toji snickers.

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna scoffs, throwing up a hand. “You’re gonna sit there all wide-eyed like I just kicked your fuckin’ puppy? You started it.”

Your fingers twitch against the table.

“Started what?” you ask, voice dangerously calm.

“This whole thing—acting like I’m some bum ass delinquent who needs a babysitter.” His eyes narrow. “If you wanna play boss, go find some other loser to be a bitch to.”

Your patience snaps. “Or you could just not be a lazy asshole. Do you lack brain cells? You’ve seriously told me to shut up like 5 times in the span of about ten minutes. Do you have a problem where you can’t focus?”

The air between you shifts.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His expression darkens, something sharp flashing through his eyes, but then his lips pull into something crueler than a smirk—something with edges, something dangerous.

“You think I’m lazy? Got somethin’ wrong with me because I can’t take your nerdy bitching?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Glad you have the ability to comprehend what I said.”

That makes him grin. “And you think I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

He hums, tilting his head. Then he leans forward, just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice drops into something smug, mocking—

“Then why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your blood boils.

What the fuck is his problem?

You lean forward too, matching him, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Because I have to, dumbass,” you snap. “I tried to change my group. I begged. I offered to do extra credit. I would have written a whole goddamn thesis if it meant not sitting across from you—but guess what?” You gesture sharply between you. “I’m stuck with you.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Tragic.”

You let out a frustrated breath, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turn white. “So, as much as I’d love to pretend you don’t exist—”

“Then do it,” he interrupts, tone dry.

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanna pretend I don’t exist, go ahead,” he drawls, leaning back lazily. “Do the whole project yourself. You’ll probably enjoy it, since you’re clearly getting off on playing group leader.”

“Oh, my god.” You clench your fists, barely restraining yourself. “Why are you such a dickhead? Parents not teach you basic respect?”

“Because you don’t shut the fuck up,” he snaps, finally looking genuinely irritated.

Your lips part, incredulous. “I’m literally just trying to do the fucking project? Like any normal human being?”

“No, you’re trying to control shit,” Sukuna says flatly. “Like this is some big deal—like I haven’t passed a million of these useless classes already.”

You stare at him. “You think this is useless?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

Oh, you hate him.

“Some of us actually give a shit about our grades, Sukuna.”

“You know my name? Cute.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to launch your textbook at his stupid, perfect face. “I don’t care how many classes you’ve passed,” you say, voice taut. “You’re doing this one with me. I care about this project. And if I have to suffer through working with you, you can at least pretend to give a shit.”

He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. No.”

You exhale slowly, trying—failing—to stop your hands from curling into fists.

“I swear to god—”

“What, huh?” he cuts in, voice dripping with condescension. “You gonna whine to the professor again?” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

Your jaw tightens.

He grins, like he’s won something. Like he’s getting exactly what he wants—like this is a game to him, something to toy with, something to waste his time on.

And you refuse to let him win.

So, you straighten your spine, lift your chin, and meet his gaze without flinching.

“Fine,” you say, voice steely. “If you want to half-ass this, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to pick up your slack.”

Sukuna watches you, amused, as if he’s waiting for you to crack.

When you don’t, he smirks.

“We’ll see.”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to keep your voice level.

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you say stiffly, “you actually have to do your share.”

Sukuna snorts. “Says who?”

“The professor.” You cross your arms. “Since apparently, students have been slacking on group projects, we have to submit proof of collaboration—meeting logs, progress updates, actual proof that we’re working together.”

His expression darkens.

You fight the urge to smirk. Suffer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“Nope.” You press your lips together, trying to hold back your pure satisfaction. “So, congratulations, Sukuna. You have to meet up with me at least once a week.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring at you like you’re personally ruining his life. “You’re telling me I have to sit through this shit every week?”

“Yep.”

“You specifically?”

“Yep.”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand through the unruly pink strands of his hair. Then, just as you’re about to remind him that this is literally his problem for being a shit student, he lifts his head—eyes raking over you in a slow, lazy once-over.

And then, he smirks.

You freeze.

“What?” you snap, immediately on edge.

His smirk widens.

“Nah, I was just thinking,” he drawls, tipping his head back against his chair. “If you were hotter, this would be way less painful.”

Your stomach drops.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, all you can do is sit there, stunned, completely caught off guard by how casual—how easy—it is for him to say something like that.

Like it’s just true.

Like it’s a fact.

Your fingers dig into your sleeve.

And the worst part? It’s not even the insult itself that stings—it’s the sheer, blatant dismissal. The fact that he looks at you and immediately decides you’re not worth even pretending to be interested in. As if you were hoping for his attention. As if you were seeking his approval.

You clench your jaw.

“Yeah?” you say, voice flat, emotionless. “Well, if you were smarter, I wouldn’t have to carry your useless ass through this class.”

His grin falters, just barely, but you see it—and for once, it’s your turn to smirk.

You lean forward, matching his posture, tilting your head mockingly.

“Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you.

And you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers twitch against the table like he’s fighting the urge to rip you apart.

Good.

Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, tipping his chair back slightly, acting unfazed even though you saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Damn,” he muses, voice slow, dragging. “Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “Didn’t know you gave a shit.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I don’t.”

“Then shut the fuck up and do your work.”

He lets out a low, mean laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

“Generous?” You nearly choke. “You’ve been nothing but a dick since the moment I sat down.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be worse.”

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Instead, you inhale sharply through your nose, pressing your palms flat against the table before forcing yourself to stay on track. “Whatever,” you say, shaking your head. “Here’s the deal: we have to meet at least once a week. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But we need to get the work done, and I need proof that you were actually present—because if we don’t, we both fail.”

Sukuna glares at you, as if the very concept of responsibility offends him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “You’re really gonna be a hardass about this, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t care about failing?”

“Not really.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why are you even in this class?”

At this, he finally drops his chair back down onto all four legs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, voice lower, more serious. “I don’t need this shit. I’m here because my old man thinks I should at least pretend to give a fuck about college.” He smirks, sharp and taunting. “But don’t get it twisted—I don’t actually give a fuck.”

You pause, studying him, trying to piece together the weight behind his words.

Of course, you know he comes from money. Everyone does. The Ryomen family name carries weight, old money, power, prestige—so it makes sense that college, for him, is just some bullshit obligation rather than a means to a future.

Still, something about the way he says it—how bitter it sounds—sticks with you.

Not that you care.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Got it. Poor little rich boy.”

His smirk drops.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then—

“You know what?” Sukuna says, voice eerily calm. “Fine. I’ll meet up with you.”

You blink, a little thrown off by how easily he gives in.

“…Okay?”

“But.” His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s daring you to argue. “You work around my schedule.”

Your stomach twists with irritation. “That’s not—”

“Not my problem,” he cuts in smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do morning meetups. I don’t do last-minute bullshit. And if you start bitching about how I ‘don’t take this seriously,’” he mocks, voice lilting high, “I will walk out and leave you with an automatic fail. Or whatever the fuck happens to your grade if the other person doesn’t do their part. Got it?”

Your blood boils.

But what can you do? You already tried to get reassigned.

So, through gritted teeth, you say, “Fine.”

Sukuna smirks.

“Good girl.”

a/n: very overused trope but i love college au sukuna. sorry for making him a total asshole but i promise character development!!!!! i looove a good enemies to lovers, as seen with my take on nerdjo lolol!!! also yes this fic is based on "she won't go away" by faye webster and yes this song and it's lyrics will be making a cameo in my fic heheh... hope you all liked the teaser!!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper IV

Mariona Caldentey x Child!Reader

Summary: You show Mariona around

The car pulls up and you rock back and forth twice on your feet. You tap your clipboard in sets of twos as the car door opens.

Mariona steps out, looking around and shaking everyone's hands before her eyes finally rest on you.

She kneels down to your height, a smile on her face. "Hello, y/n."

"Hi!"

She glances around. "Where is Lia?"

You shrug. "Somewhere. I'm showing you around!"

"You are?"

You nod earnestly. "Uh-huh! I've got a clipboard!"

"I can see that."

"I see you've found our special helper," One of the staff says," Y/n is a big part of the team. She keeps everyone in line."

You nod. "Captain Kim says it's an important job. People have to listen to what I say."

"Well, I suppose I should do the same," Mariona says.

The tour starts at the gym and you lead Mariona in by the hand. She marvels over how big it is as you tick it off from your list.

Next are the pitches.

They're big and green and Mariona talks about how she was at Barcelona for ten years.

That's a long time, you think. You're only little so Mariona was at her old club for longer than you've been alive. That's a very long time and Barcelona is a lot hotter than England so Mariona must have spent a lot of time being hot.

She plays for Spain too though so you suppose that she must have been used to it like how you're used to the rain and clouds of England because you were born here.

"And this is Win."

"Win's not on the list," You whisper to the staff member after looking down at your clipboard.

You hadn't factored in seeing Win and that makes your tummy get all fluttery in a weird way. You wrote out your list specifically for this moment.

Mummy always says having a routine and a plan is important.

Like in the morning when you wake up and brush your teeth before getting dressed, having breakfast and doing the dishes right before you leave for training.

You do that everyday and it makes you feel nice and prepared every time for training.

Mummy even lets you tap the front door twice before getting you in the car.

You tap your clipboard in rounds of two anxiously as the tour is delayed while Win gets belly tickles from Mariona.

You shuffle forward a little bit, leaning against her shoulder as she crouches down to stroke Win.

"She is cute, huh?" Mariona says and you nod, still tapping your clipboard.

"I didn't know Win was coming out," You whisper, just low enough for only Mariona to hear," I'm sorry."

Mariona shakes her head, easily tucking you under her arm. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"But I should have! I'm sorry!"

Your eyes water and the staff have the decency to turn off the camera and turn around as Mariona pulls you into a hug.

"It's okay," She says," I don't mind."

"But I'm sorry!"

Mariona feels nice and warm. She holds you like Mummy holds you, turned away from everyone else and hidden in her neck.

"It's alright," Mariona says, rubbing your back in a quick one-two motion.

The tears don't fall as harshly anymore, just a few running over your cheeks. You yawn, completely exhausted and Mariona stands.

She lifts you up with her, resting you on her hip as you lay your head against her shoulder, eyes sagging shut.

You're very tired. It was a late night for you as you made your list and then an early morning to get here before Mariona. All of that coupled with your sudden crying fit has left you so tired and in desperate need of a nap.

Mariona's shoulder is comfortable and she's so warm that your eyelids drop automatically and you shuffle a bit in her arms to get more comfortable.

"Oh!" Mariona says," Are you having a little sleep?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright then. I'll wake you up when Lia's here to pick you up."

[innerfare]

Smutty Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Mihawk headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: a little bit of knife play (cutting clothes not skin), dirty talk, low-key masochist Mihawk, exhibitionism on the down low

———

Bisexual icon.

King of sexual tension.

Marine hunter? More like marine fucker. 

Is eternally bored, but has a keen interest in lingerie, and he rather likes cutting it off you. He never thought he would enjoy drawing a knife or sword during sex, but he finds the trust you put in him invigorating. 

A very passionate lover. His insistence on being the best carries over into the bedroom. As such, he’s no fan of quickies. He wants you tied up in his four poster bed, the curtains pulled back to allow moonlight to filter in from the balcony, your naked body sprawled across his silk sheets until the sun rises. 

Talks dirty but getting a moan out of this man is like pulling teeth. Also won’t tell you if you’ve pleased him. Your only indication is that he comes back for more. 

Of course, if you do want to get a moan out of him, the best way is to hurt him. Likes if you rake your nails up and down his back, yank his hair, bite him (especially the spot between his thumb and index finger after sucking his fingers), squeeze his face in your hands, maybe even slap him.

And then there's his bondage kink. If you tie him up, it better be to whip him. He'll start out goading you in that bored tone of his, accusing you of half-assing it, telling you to hit him harder. You know you've gotten to him when the comments cease and he bites his lip, his brow furrowing.

Doesn’t just fuck. He spars. 

Saying it again, cannot emphasize this enough, he loves a biter.  

Wants a partner who wants to be chased, as most people either throw themselves at his feet or run away with no hope of being caught. Will chase you down the halls of his castle and ravage you wherever he catches you. Poor Perona has a list of sofas she no longer sits on, counters she refuses to put food on, and entire staircases she avoids. There are even certain mirrors she doesn’t want to look in, even if the marks have been wiped away. Zoro doesn’t fully believe her when she gives him the rundown, thinking nobody can be that feral, particularly not his stoic teacher, who in his mind is the picture of restraint and civility, until he’s training by himself one day in the courtyard and happens to see you appear in one of the towers, only for Mihawk to appear after you and rather lewd sounds to follow. Also sees Mihawk fucking you hard in a window one time, and over a balcony another time. Zoro quickly learns not to enter the wine cellar between the hours of six and ten PM. 

Lives for dangerous sexual situations. Has fucked you in the woods at night despite the menagerie of dangerous beasts running around, has fucked you from behind in an open window several stories high, your front half hanging out, has even fucked you in his small boat on stormy, raging seas. Every duel he has ever enjoyed has been charged with sexual tension.

In addition to these trysts, he wants you in his bed every night after dinner. You either shower or bathe together, and then he works you into a sweat so you need another one.  

Worries deeply if you ever reject his advances, thinks it must be his fault. “Have I displeased you in some way? Tell me, my love, and I will make it right.” It’s times like this that any veneer of disinterest falls away and you see just how much he cares for you. 

Has certain pet names reserved for the bedroom. “My mewling kitten,” is his current favorite. 

Always does that thing where he strokes your temple with his thumb when he fucks you in missionary. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture when you’re struggling to take all of him, but it riles you up more than it calms you down. Uses his other hand to pull one of your legs up as far as it will go, so he’s pinning you down but comforting you about it. 

Loves to feel you up in the bath.

If he has more than one glass of wine, he will be going down on you. The more wine he has, the bigger his appetite for you. It gets worse with stronger liquor. When the Red Hair pirates come to stay and Shanks insists on breaking into the whiskey Mihawk keeps for that very occasion, you know you won’t be sleeping until they leave (and that Shanks will be going down on you, too). 

His favorite is to go down on you on his dining table. It makes you feel very exposed considering he strips you down but remains clothed (as is common with Mihawk when he's domming) and the dining room is very large with many doors that anyone could walk through. But that's what Mihawk enjoys about it.

If you go down on him, his hands will most certainly be in your hair. He loves smoothing your hair, and if it’s long, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail to get the best possible view of your pretty face. 

Once moaned Shanks’ name in bed. Neither of you ever addressed it, but you do always flirt with Shanks when he and his crew come around because it seems to peak your lover’s interest. You haven’t proposed a threesome because you don’t want to share him with the Red-Haired drunk. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[golden1u5t]

incoming baby | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: fluff

ꨄ summary: you and spencer get into an argument over something as silly. while he's too busy being stubborn, you're busy going into labor.

"god, spencer! why do you act like this?" you gritted out between clenched teeth, trying to ignore the sharp pain in your back. you braced yourself on a desk with one hand and placed the other on your lower back. jj came up behind you and placed her hand on your shoulder.

"y/n, i think you're going-"

"stay out of this!" you snapped at her, standing up straight and zeroing in on spencer. she pulled her hands back and slowly backed away.

"i'm not acting like anything other than a protective husband! i'm not the bad guy for not wanting you to go out into the field when you can go into labor any second, you're lucky enough that i'm allowing you to be out of bed." he huffed and ran his hand through his hair.

arguing at work with your husband in front of many people, probably wouldn't be on the list of acceptable things to do at work but you're lucky that your boss is your best friend. emily would ve offered you two her office to argue in but she was busy taking important phone calls and doing paperwork.

"you're allowing me? oh, please, you don't dictate what i can and can't do." another sharp pain shot through your body, only this time it spread to your lower stomach and the pain intensified at least ten times. you leaned onto the desk, this time placing both hands on the table.

spencer was too caught up in yelling to notice that you had stopped arguing with him. his hands flying everywhere in front of him as he went on and on about "doctor's orders" and how he would have to have a word with emily for letting you stay at work despite how far along you were.

you had planned to let him continue talking but then you felt a gush of wetness trickle down your legs. "spencer, please shut up! my water just broke but you're too busy going on about something stupid to notice."

"what?" he stopped in his tracks, his eyes trailing down your backside and noticing the dark gray spot spreading on your gray maternity pants.

he rushed to your side and placed his hand on your lower back, his head was swarming with thoughts because he really didn't know what to do. he let out a shaky breath as you let out a moan of pain.

"okay- um, we need to get to the hospital." he grabbed the car keys off of your desk and picked up your bags. he wrapped his arms around you and helped you upright so he could guide you out of the office.

spencers heart beat increased as the realization dawned on him: he was about to become a dad.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot - Part 4

In which you struggle to come to terms with falling for someone you have to hide.

Warnings: alcohol use. swearing. bit of angst in the middle. teeth rotting fluff at the end. also brief smut at the end accidentally? i got carried away, okay??? Pairing: Lando Norris x BritishPrincess!Reader Word Count: 4.6k or something like that

- The Princess & The Pilot - Part 1 - The Princess & The Pilot - Part 2 - The Princess & The Pilot - Part 3 - Master List

positivlynottheprincess posted a story:

land-ho ah so you are alive!! >>>positivelynottheprincess omg lan. i'm so sorry. i was just texting you. it was absolute chaos here tonight. Lizzie started running a fever and Char had to stay back to tend to her. so seb asked me to go last minute. which meant a last minute tiara fitting. >>>land-ho i'm just teasing, gorgeous. i just miss you. >>>positivelynottheprincess :( i know. i miss you too. i'm sorry i couldn't make canada work last weekend or monaco work this weekend. >>>land-ho don't apologize baby. i'll be in woking on monday ahead of spain though. think you can slip away? >>>positivelynottheprincess anything for you, handsome. >>>positivelynottheprincess pulling up to the palace, facetime tonight when i get home if you're not busy? >>>land-ho just streaming with max tn, call me whenever >>>positivelynottheprincess xox

"That tapping noise has got to break some international law or something, it's so fucking annoying."

Your eyes dart from your phone screen up to your brother across from you in the back seat of the Bentley you were riding in. "Language, Mister Future King of England." You scold.

Sebastian just rolls his eyes and glances back down at his iphone, giving you permission to go back to rereading your messages from Lando.

Ever since the weekend you spent with Lando in Monaco, you two had been getting closer and closer. You had tried to negotiate your way into attending the race in Canada last week, but your foundation had events scheduled and your father had needed your help with a few things. But Lando was going to finally be in town for a little bit so you were hopeful that you'd get to see each other more than just a few hours.

The hours you did spend together, on both FaceTime and in person, had been bliss. The way you two just clicked so easily was something that unnerved you a little. You were a bit surprised with how content you were to just keep the relationship between you and Lando though, as you were someone who tended to wear their heart on their sleeve. You loved big and you loved loud, which was sometimes a difficult thing to contend with when your family was famous for their stoic 'Keep Calm and Carry On' approach to life.

You wanted to protect the happiness you'd seemed to have found and Lando was inclined to agree. He wasn't a stranger to difficult relationships himself, never sure of what girl could be using him for clout or money. It was a strange feeling, but not at all unwelcome, when he realized that you were one of the few people in his life that didn't stand to gain something from your relationship with him.

Even so, the threat of being exposed still lingered, hazy off in the distant future. You both knew that it couldn't last forever, this little slice of paradise you'd built yourselves within the walls of hotels and townhomes. It would all come to an end but what came of that end was something neither of you wanted to touch with a ten foot pole. Because the outcomes were all terrifying and potentially heart breaking.

"Damn it." Your brother swears under his breath.

"Everything okay?" You ask, raising a brow when you see the frown on Sebastian's face.

"I just got an email from McLaren." Your heart stutters to a halt. "They invited me to the race in Spain next weekend but I already have things scheduled."

"I'll go." You say, just a touch too quickly.

"What's with the sudden interest in F1? First the Monaco race with Alice and now you're jumping at the chance to go to Spain?" Sebastian narrows his eyes at you and you momentarily think you've given yourself away.

"I had fun at that engagement at Silverstone. You and Michael are always talking racing. You've been to more races than I can count. It was bound to rub off, right?"

Biting your lip, you force yourself to stop the rush of words spilling form your mouth. Relax, you chide yourself as you pinch the space between your thumb and pointer finger to pull your attention away from what you just did.

Sebastian doesn't look away for a moment, almost like he's trying to figure out what your real motivation is for going to the race. You manage to hold eye contact with him, praying that you're doing enough to throw him off the scent.

"Fine. I'll let them know that you'll be there in my place." He says after a few tense moments, seemingly satisfied by your reasons.

The pulsing bass of the nightclub pulls you deeper and deeper under it's spell as you down your fourth drink of the night. Lando had finished on the podium behind Max just hours earlier and half the grid was out partying to celebrate. The race winner had been the one to invite you after the race and you had originally refused, not wanting to spend the evening watching Lando fight off girls trying to go home with him. You also didn't want to raise suspicion about the two of you being together so you had thought going straight back to the hotel and waiting for Lando to get back later that night would be a better choice.

In the end, it had been your protection officer Nathan of all people that had convinced you to go. He hated seeing you lock yourself away from experiencing normal things that other people your age were able to do without a second thought. So when he had overheard you turning down the invite from Max in the paddock after the race, he had pulled you aside.

'If you want to go out with them tonight, Dan and I are comfortable with it.' He had said discreetly as you had watched Max walk away. 'In fact, Dan and I think you should go out with them. Getting out of that hotel room will do you some good.' His gaze had found Lando then, who was walking towards you after completing his media duties after his podium. You briefly wondered how much he knew about what was going on between you and Lando. He hadn't said anything so far, but you knew your entire team was outside your townhome whenever you were home and they knew exactly who was coming and going at all times.

The entire weekend had been spent on the periphrial of Lando's world. He had shown you an appropriate amount of attention for someone who had only met you a handful of times, which to the outside world was exactly what you were to each other: aquaintences. Which was why you had supposed that going out with Lando and the rest of the group tonight was going to be okay. As long as you kept your distance, things would be okay.

Unfortunately, the alcohol had other ideas.

"You know, if you want to keep things secret between you and Lando, you should probably stop giving him heart eyes whenever you look at him." Max's deep voice startles you out of the trance you had been in on the edge of the VIP area of the club. Lando was at the bar across the room getting you another glass of whatever you'd been drinking that night and you hadn't taken your gaze off of him since he left the booth you were currently sitting in.

"I..." You stutter, trying to come up with a quick comeback but the alcohol has made your reaction time dull. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Max laughs and shakes his head, "Don't try to deflect with me, your highness. You haven't stopped staring at him since he got up."

"Am I that obvious?" You don't even bother trying to argue, head tilting back to rest against the cool leather of the couch. Well, this was it. You knew the time was going to come when people found out about you. You just hoped Max would be discreet about what he just figured out.

"You both are so obvious, I'm surprised no one else has picked up on it."

"Fuck." You whisper, worrying your lip before allowing your eyes to dart back to where Lando is now crossing the dance floor with your drink in his hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I won't say anything. Trust me, I know how it feels to have your private life outed before you're even ready to have it all out there."

You glance at Max before your gaze finds Lando again, anxiety bunching in your chest when he sees your worried face and pulls a matching look. It was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings for him and as someone who had always had trouble not wearing your heart on your sleeve, all of the secrecy was beginning to wear on you. You just knew, deep down, that your parents would never accept you dating someone like Lando, with his reputation with women and lifestyle that was wholly not suited for someone like yourself.

"Everything okay?" Lando asks when he rejoins the table, eyes darting from you to Max. For a moment, as he had crossed the dance floor and saw you leaning in towards Max while he talked into your ear, jealousy flared deep in the pit of his stomach. Why did Max get to be so close to you when he didn't? Why couldn't he show you the affection in public that he got to show you in private?

He knew the answer to those questions, of course. Knew why you wanted to keep your private life private but just like you, he was beginning to feel chafed by all of the sneaking around. He wanted to tell people about you. He wanted to have you in the garage on race weekends and not just because your family had a partnership with McLaren. He wanted you in his garage, wearing his colors, rooting for him. He wanted to see you in parc ferme waiting for him after a win. He wanted to kiss you in public while he was sticky with sweat and champagne and camera's flashed around you. As he crossed the room and watched you cast worried glances at both him and Max, he began to wonder if any of that would be possible.

"Everything is fine!" You chirp, just a bit too happily.

Lando sees right through it.

"Do you want to dance?" He asks, voice low in your ear as he slips into the booth next to you. He idly wonders how far you're going to let him push this and hopes that you'll allow him to distract you from the mood that seems to have settled over you.

Maybe it's the fact that you're tired of hiding or maybe it has something to do with the amount of alcohol you've consumed tonight but something in you breaks at the look on his face. Like Lando so badly wants to be there for you and wants to make sure you have a good time tonight. You know he's reading your anxious posture and wants to fix whatever is bothering you, it's just how he is.

But whatever it is has you throwing caution to the wind and you find yourself nodding. "I'd love that."

Lando smiles like you've just agreed to bestow a knighthood on him and reaches out to take your hand. The VIP area the group is in is set up above the rest of the crowded club so it's possible for you two to fade into the background a little while still being around the people you came with.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning tonight?" Lando whispers in your ear as he pulls you into his body, swaying with the deep bass that thumps through the club.

You can't help the giggle that escapes your lips as your arms snake up around his neck. "A few times, but I'm always open to hearing it a few more."

The temptation to kiss him is so strong, what with the way his curls are just slightly damp from sweat and his black t-shirt is clinging desperately to his toned biceps. You can see it in Lando's eyes too. It's in the way his gaze drops from your eyes down to your lips over and over again. It's in the way his fingers flex into the flesh of your hips, pulling you closer to the heat of his body. It's in the way his eyes darken a bit as he pulls you closer to the outside walls of the club, hiding the way you're clinging to his body from any prying eyes.

It's so dangerous and thrilling all at the same time.

"Your highness, we need to leave." Nathan's deep voice yanks you out of the trance you'd fallen into while in Lando's grasp.

Your head whips around to where Nathan and Dan stand a few feet away, both looking incredibly guilty for having to interrupt. "What? Why?"

You hate the way your questions come out as a whine.

"There were people taking pictures of you two. We think we got everyone of them deleted, but people have started to realize you're here and it's no longer secure. We caught three men trying to sneak into the VIP section saying that they wanted to get photos with you."

Embarrassment washes over you, heating your cheeks. You bury your head in Lando's shoulder, wanting to disappear. You had finally allowed yourself to let your guard down and this was what happened.

"Fine." You sigh, extracting yourself from Lando's clutches.

Nathan does something that surprises you then.

"Do you want to come back with us?" He asks Lando.

Your startle, not prepared for them to help you and Lando sneak around. Next to you, Lando looks equally as surprised. "You...I mean, we're just...fuck." He scrambles, looking frantically from you to Nathan, completely unsure of how to answer that.

While you had been quite certain that your entire security team was aware of you and Lando, he apparently had thought he was doing a better job of sneaking in and out of your townhome than he really was.

"Don't give us that." Dan chuckles from his spot behind Nathan. "We know you two are a thing. Anyone looking closely enough could see that."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. This was the second time tonight you'd been called out for being obvious about your feelings for the driver.

Lando sheepishly palms the back of his neck as he gives you a shrug. "Of course I'm going back with her." He says like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"We'll take her out the front then. Wait five minutes and go out through the kitchen entrance in the back, we'll wait with the car there for you."

Lando nods before reaching out to give your hand a squeeze. "It'll be okay, babe. Let's just get you out of here."

Lando watches Dan escort you from the crowd but reaches out to catch Nathan's elbow before he has a chance to turn as well. "You're not going to tell her parents or anything, are you?" The last thing he wanted was for this to turn into drama with your family just because he wanted to go home with you.

Nathan shakes his head, "Our loyalty lies with the princess, not her parents. If we want her to trust us and allow us to do our job, we need to earn that trust. She's an adult, what she does in her personal life is none of their majesty's business. As long as she's safe, we won't say anything and from what we've all seen, she's safe with you."

Relief floods Lando's system at Nathan's words. "Thanks man."

Nathan nods quickly before turning around and following after you and Dan.

F1GossipandNews posted

F2GossipAndNews Apparently, on Sunday night while partying at the same place where several drivers were celebrating Max's win in Spain, several club goers were approached by 2 men claiming to be employees and forced to delete pictures of a certain papaya driver getting close to an unknown blonde. Not all the pictures were deleted though, dear readers!! We got a few sent into us but none showing the lucky girls face. No one in the crowd seemed to know who it was, but there were several pretty blondes in the VIP section that night, so it could have been anyone! user028 I heard the princess went out with the drivers after the race. >>>user201 she's so fucking boring, I doubt she did. and even if she did, are you saying a guy like Lando Norris would go for an uptight princess like her??? user111 my cousin was there last night and was one of the people who had the pictures deleted. No one could tell who it was, but they were all over each other all night. They didn't leave together though, she saw him duck out the back alone later that night. >>>user002 i wonder if it was that gigi girl from last year. they seemed pretty hot and heavy for a while then she just *poof* disappeared!

Lando pulls you closer to him in bed later that night, the room cool and dark as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline rush of the day. Your back presses into his bare chest as he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of the hotel's soap that still lingers on your bare skin.

The quiet of the hotel room is a stark contrast to the noise of the club that you two had spent the evening in, but here, you're able to fully relax and allow yourself the luxury of letting down your mask. It's the first time you've been able to do that all day and you cling onto the feeling of just existing in Lando's firm grasp. It wasn't often you two had the chance to spend the night together so when you did, you were determined to savor it.

"I'm sorry your celebration got cut short because of me." You whisper in the darkness, guilt taking a firm grip around your throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about, pretty girl." Lando murmurs in your ear before dropping a few open mouthed kisses on your bare shoulder. "This right here is all the celebration I need."

"I know, but you deserve to be with someone you can go out with in public..." The weight of sneaking around had felt crushing ever since you had picked Lando up in the alleyway behind the club that evening. This was no way to live, you had realized. It was no way to start a relationship and no way to continue one.

Lando tugs at your shoulder so you're forced to shift onto your back. He props himself up on his elbow before giving you a look. "Don't even start going down that road, princess. I deserve you and I'm willing to wait until you decide it's the right time to go public, whenever that is."

"What if there isn't a right time?" You whisper, your chest tightens painfully at the thought.

Lando blinks at you, seemingly knocked off guard by your statement. Were you trying to call this whole thing off? Panic skitters up his spine, unsure of what's going to come out of your mouth next. "What are you saying?"

You shrug, "I just...I'm scared. I'm scared someone will find out. I'm scared that my parents will lose their mind and forbid me from seeing you. I'm scared that you'll wake up one day and realize that being in my life isn't worth the price of admission."

The last one shatters Lando's heart because if only you knew how much he was falling for you, how much time he spent thinking about a future with you, and how much he was willing to sacrifice for you.

"It'll be hard, but baby I'm not going anywhere. I told you, I'm willing to wait as long as you need." He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing the tip of your nose. "Sneaking around is hard but I won't have to hide my girlfriend forever. And when we finally figure out the timing on all of this, I'm never going to shut up about how I'm dating the hottest princess in existence."

"Girlfriend?" You whisper, your brain stalled on the title you'd been dying to get from Lando for weeks now.

Lando blushes before carding his hands through his curls. Whoops. "I mean, isn't that what we're doing here?"

"I just don't recall being asked to be your girlfriend, Norris." You tease gently, leaning forward to nip at his bottom lip playfully.

Lando's grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer. He presses his lips into yours, sliding his tongue across the seam of your mouth so you'll open for him. The exploration is a familiar one, with him having spent many hours learning what makes you sigh, but every time it starts it feels like the first time for him. You feel different from the first time he kissed you, yet wholly the same. Like your DNA had been altered but just in the slightest so only the person closest to you is able to tell.

"Will. You. Be. My. Girlfriend?" Lando punctuates each word with a quick peck before settling back to kiss you deeper.

The thing you can do is laugh in response, smile pressed into his mouth so he knows how happy you are. "Of course." You whisper against him before you allow your lips to skim over his jaw and down the thick roped muscle of his neck.

Lando grabs a handful of your ass in an attempt to pull you even closer but all it does is make you wiggle against him, top leg hitching up over his waist. The groan that starts in the back of his throat when you wrap your legs around him is something feral that makes your spine tingle.

"You feel so good against me." He murmurs into that soft spot behind your ear before biting at your earlobe.

"Need you, Lan." You whimper into the crook of his neck, burying your head there out of embarrassment at how needy you are for him.

"Yeah? What do you need, baby?"

You roll your hips into his in an attempt to show him what you're craving: that sweet drag, in and out, again and again, of his length in you aching pussy.

"You're going to need to use your words, pretty girl." Lando chuckles, bumping his nose with yours when you let out a frustrated sigh.

"I want to feel you. All of you." You pant, cheeks flaming red.

Lando slips his hand beneath the band of your panties, the only thing separating his body from yours. His thick fingers trail down to your already molten center. He chuckles a little against your neck when he reaches his destination. You gasp at the sudden intrusion of the swirling fingers, keening in pleasure.

"Lan." You sigh, biting at the delicate skin of Lando's neck. You were going to leave a mark but Lando would take as many love bites as you chose to mark him with. If he could, he'd tattoo one on him so he'd never have to go without being marked by you ever again.

Lando rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you're forced to straddle him. You grind down onto dick, frustrated that there's still so much fabric keeping you away from him being inside you.

"You are so needy tonight." Lando tuts, scraping his calloused fingers up and down the bare skin underneath his t-shirt you're wearing.

"Missed you all day." You whine.

"Want you to ride me. Show my how much you missed me. Can you do that for me, princess?" His voice is thick and full of gravel, scraping roughly against your already sensitive skin.

With a tap of your hip, he signals for you to rise up a bit so he can slip off his joggers and boxers all at once. When you lower yourself back down Lando sucks in a breath when your slick center swipes against his cock.

"Fuck." He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

You rock your hips back and forth, enjoying the way Lando sucks in a breath every time you work your hips against him. He wasn't even inside you yet and you were already on the verge of orgasm. Your hands trail up your torso before they settle on playing with your nipples as you bit your lip looking at Lando beneath you.

Lando, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how not to come right then and there before he even got inside you. The sight of you getting yourself off above him was almost too much to take. He knew that once he slipped inside you, filling you to the hilt, he wouldn't last much longer.

"Lando, need you inside me please." Even with you on top, you still deferred to Lando's need to be in control and it sets something feral off in him.

He grips at your hips, "Then ride me like the little slut you are."

The name he calls you sends an unexpected shock through your system, leaving your cunt to grip at the little bit of his dick that had just slipped in. Lando felt it though, knew what had sent your core spasaming against nothing. He grins up at you, devil incarnate with pleasure. "You liked that, didn't you? The proper little princess likes being my proper little whore?"

Lando steals your response from your throat by suddenly dropping you down full on his length in one swift thrust. All you can do is gasp, leaning backwards, hands planted on his legs, to steady yourself at the sudden pleasurable burn that rips through you.

"Oh my God." You gasp, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

Lando's pupils blow wide at the image above him. Your back arched in pleasure as you take him completely. It's a complete mystery as to how he doesn't come on the spot. His hips fuck up into you as you grind down onto him, the way Lando's cock is buried so deep in you something that only seems like a dream. How had Lando lived without you like this in his life? He didn't think he could ever go back now.

"You look so pretty taking me so good, princess." Lando's praise sends liquid fire pouring down your spine. "There you go, use me to get yourself off."

His encouragement has you feeling bold and you reach forward to roll your clit between your fingers, enjoying the double stimulation. Lando's hands continue to guide you back and forth against him as he rocks his hips in and out in a slow drag of steel against velvet.

The tightening in your spine has you gasping around Lando's name. "Don't stop." You beg, getting close to the orgasm you'd been craving all day.

Lando nearly loses it at how fucked out you sound, needing to feel you tighten around him as you come for him. "There you go, princess. I can feel you gripping me so good. Gonna come for me, my pretty little whore?"

The words send you over the edge, orgasm ripping through your body like a freight train. It's all you can do to keep from screaming out, biting down on your lip so hard you taste the metallic sting of blood. Lando follows you over the edge shortly after you tumble, painting your cunt with his release. The warmth that floods between your two bodies is so erotic, you nearly come a third time just from the thought of Lando beneath you.

For several moments, neither of you move. Your spent body is draped over Lando's sweaty one as you curl into him and his heat. "Good girl." Lando praises, kissing the top of your head. "Always so good for me." His voice is thick with emotion, spent from the weight of all that had happened tonight.

You whine at the sudden loss of him inside you when Lando lifts you off. He pads to the bathroom, getting a warm cloth to clean you up, your heart skittering at the after care.

When Lando slips beneath the sheets behind you, he pulls your bare body towards his, wrapping his arm around your waist. Just as you start to slip into the sweet release of sleep, fully relaxed as Lando holds you firmly against him, you swear you hear three whispered words that could change everything.

Your camera roll lately:

Lando’s camera roll lately:

Tag list:

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[bekaroth-reads]

How the Lost Boys wake up

[Getting back into writing with another thing after a long break. It's my first time writing for Lost Boys, so I'm sticking to the main four as I'm still figuring out the others' personalities.]

Idea- so, what happens to vampires during the day all depends on what lore that whatever they're in decides. I've seen some say they die again for the day (Vampire table top game), others that they're still aware of their surroundings but frozen in place (original Dracula), and the list of differences goes on.

Based on how they react in the movie, it seems what the boys do is close to very hard sleeping as they don't notice people coming in the cave, but can still be startled awake (poor Marko).

So, I feel like they still have to wake up like everyone else when the evening rolls around, and here's how I picture it.

Paul- starts talking before his eyes even open. If he fell asleep talking about something, or even just thinking about something then he just picks up where he left off. Will talk to the others, but will also just talk to himself too. Don't count this as being totally awake though. He will still run into and trip over things before he realizes they're there.

Marko- the king of, "five more minutes." Once he's awake for good then he's really awake. Just getting him up (or down if he's on the ceiling) is like pulling teeth. Often put on early evening Paul maintenance. Paul's still too tired to realize he's not getting responses, and Marko is still sleeping hard enough he doesn't know he's in a conversation in the first place. Even with this, he's usually the one ready to go first out of all the boys.

Dwayne- often awake first. Can handle a non-quiet wake up time, but it's still not his favorite. Is usually in a better mood if he has time to himself to sort of take his bearings at a leisurely pace, but can still make do with being busy straight off the bat (which he usually is).

David- oh, he's awake, and he is NOT happy about it. This goes for about the first ten to even twenty minutes after he's up. Don't talk to him. Don't touch him. Don't even look at him. Guess who does all those things as soon as he sees David? There have been so many fights between Paul and himself in the early evenings. Which is usually why Dwayne doesn't gets a quiet time to wake up all the way, and Marko gets knocked awake in the scuffle.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

I'd love to request something then 🥰. A David & Dwayne x fem!reader. She lives alone in Santa Carla after escaping her family and she has a hard time adjusting, bc she's introvert and insecure about herself (chubby, scars due to abusive and SH past etc etc). The boys are attracted to, her darkness if that makes sense (I hope it's fine!!). The boys wanna take her it with them, & David & Dwayne eventually realizing she's their mate? (fluff is fine, even a bit more if you're fine with that!)

I hope you like this! After finishing this, I realise I kind of strayed away from your prompt, but I hope you'll still enjoy it!💜

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

The room was quiet. Dark. Cold. I sighed as I turned around in my bed, pulling the blankets over me again. Tomorrow I'd really have to call the water company and the electrician. I had bought this place on a whim, needing to have something to call my own, and I hadn't paid any attention to the details mentioned in the listing.

I wish I had now, now that I felt like my toes were freezing off. Still, I thought as I curled up in myself, it was still not as bad as it was before.

It was hours later when I woke up, the sun high in the sky already. I sighed, grabbing a warm sweater and some thick socks to keep myself warm. I quickly brushed my teeth, deciding to ignore breakfast until after I made the necessary phone calls. I took a deep breath as I walked to the landline, thankful that that one was, in fact, working. Silently, I repeated the rehearsed frases in my head.

"Hi, do I speak with the company? I need some help, because the thing isn't working in my new house."

It would be something like that, I figured. Nothing too complicated. Just two easy sentences. I could do this. I picked up the phone, dialling the number for the watercompany. It rang.

Once. Twice.

Please leave a message after -

Frustrated, I dropped the horn on its hook, redialing the number. This time, I had more luck getting an answer.

"Yeah?"

"You're the watercompany, right?" I asked, my voice more unsure than I would have liked.

"Yeah."

"My house isn't connected, it seems. Can that like - maybe, I don't know, ehm - be fixed? I mean," I laughed, although it was more out of awkwardness and despair than out of actual joy, "I'd really like to have some water here."

"Yeah."

I sighed, giving more of my information. All the guy on the phone said was yeah, as if he had never learnt to speak another word whatsoever. Still, I had been told that someone would be by this afternoon. I then rang the electrician, who was way more pleasant on the phone. He was in the area, offering to come by within the hour.

I'd agreed readily.

The electrician, Henry, a man who reminded me of my late grandfather, was done quickly. It had been a matter of some cables not connecting well, and now I was the proud owner of a house with a working light bulb. Small victories, and all that.

"So, what made you decide to move to the murder capital of the world?"

"I needed a fresh start - wait, did you say murder capital?" I asked with a frown as I walked him to the door.

He nodded. "Lots of people end up missing or dead. We don't know why, but it happens. Hence the name."

"Crap... that's why the house was so cheep."

"Maybe," the man chuckled, "but despite there being some truths to the disappearances, I doubt you'd be in any danger. You don't seem like a party animal to me."

I nodded. "So, as long as I stay clear from parties I'd be fine?"

"Most likely, yeah. Anyways, don't stress about it too much. You're young, go to the boardwalk some time, and enjoy yourself."

He had been gone for less than ten minutes, or some guy from the watercompany rang the doorbell, and went to work without saying much to me.

It was hours later when he was done, but I had water. And electricity. I could cook, shower, bathe - I sighed as I let myself fall on the couch, I was too tired to do any of those things. There had been too many people today, and I just needed some desperate alone time just for me. I was really thankful now that I'd bought some frozen pizzas on my way here, and as I turned the oven on, I couldn't help but wonder if moving here, leaving home and all it's miseries behind, if it was worth it.

"Someone moved into the old Emerson place," Paul stated as he entered the cave. He had a plastic bag in his hand, and couple of boxes with Chinese filling it.

"So?" David looked at him.

"Just thought you should know," he shrugged. It didn't matter much, but every since that night, a couple of years ago, they avoided that area of town as much as they could.

"As long as they don't go digging in the backyard, we have nothing to worry about, " Dwayne shrugged.

"She doesn't seem the type."

"You stayed long enough to stalk her?" Marko chuckled, shaking his head.

Paul threw a carton box towards him, grinning as it hit his head. "Nope, I just don't think that this quiet thing would go outside."

I woke up late the next day. I had only been here for a few days, and I had not once woken up before noon. Before, I always awoke around six thirty, doing my chores and other things that needed to be done. Never, not ever, had I been able to sleep in. So why was I able to now?

Was it because I finally had a place of my own? I finally experienced freedom? Or was i getting sick?

I shook my head, taking a deep breath as I got up. Today, I needed to make a trip to the boardwalk. I needed some paints for my rooms, and maybe it would be good for me to actually leave the house for once. Not that I necessarily liked the idea, but I also knew that interacting with others would be good. If only for a little while.

I spent the rest of the day getting ready. I picked some loose-fitting clothing, warm enough for the autumn breeze that was blowing coldly over Santa Carla. I pulled on some black leather boots, brushing my hair quickly as I decided to forgo any makeup for today. This wasn't going to be a long trip.

It was nearing sunset as I entered the boardwalk, the place more crowded than I would have liked. People were everywhere, pushing and moving, tugging others along. I had no choice but to let myself drift along with the crowd, slowly making my way away from the stream when I saw a small hardware store located near what seemed to be a videostore.

I was thankful to no longer be stuck in the crowd and pushed the door to the store open, right into someone's face. I froze, staring wide-eyed at the man in front of me. He was tall, an almost scary look on his face as he looked at me, his brunet hair falling down his face.

"I- I am so sorry, I didn't-"

He looked at me, causing me to feel flustered. He truly was rather handsome. Too handsome for me, I knew that. But still, one can dream, right?

"It's fine," he said, his voice deeper than I'd expected. I looked after him as he left, shaking my head slightly as I tried to remove his image from my brain. I quickly picked some paints - a dark blue and ocher yellow, a colourmatch I'd loved for ages - and paid for them. I left the store, walking down the boardwalk to the entrance.

It was getting busier and I just wanted to go home. I walked further, the plastic bag with paint cans in my hands as I heard the rumbling engine of a motorcycle behind me.

"You need a ride?"

I looked up and saw that it was the guy I'd run into in the hardware store.

"It's alright," I said quietly, not sure if he heard me.

"You sure? There are not too many houses around here, and it's not a good idea to be out alone in the dark."

I shook my head, remembering how former classmates repeatedly reassured me that I didn't have to worry about that because kidnappers and rapists would pick someone prettier. Assholes that they were. I sighed, looking at the guy.

"Why would you offer me a ride?"

He shrugged. "Why not? Besides, it's already getting late, and I imagine you'd rather be home before morning."

I looked at my watch and realised he was right. "Thank you," I said gratefully as I got on the back of his bike with his assistance. I introduced myself, but he didn't respond with his name. Instead he drove off, straight to my home.

"How do you know where I live?" I asked him confused as I got off.

"This was the only house for sale in the last couple of weeks. And since you're new-"

"Am I that obvious?"

"No," he gave me a small smile, "we just come down to the boardwalk almost daily. We know everyone's faces, just not yours. Not yet."

"Maybe you will," I said quietly, quietly wondering what it was that made me say this. As if I'd ever go back to the boardwalk while it was so busy at night.

"I'll see you around, love," he said, stepping back on his bike.

"Wait, what's you're name?"

"I'm Dwayne."

With that he drove off.

"And?" David looked at Dwayne as he entered the cave last.

"She's sweet. Harmless." He couldn't help but grin. "There's something about her."

"Yeah?"

"She's not just another run away. There's something more. Like she's seen things that she shouldn't have."

David nodded. "You think it is her?"

Dwayne thought about it. For days, the two of them had felt the pull of a third and final mate bond. The bond was forming quickly and steadily, and soon, they'd be able to follow their gut feeling towards their mate. But for now? Dwayne nodded.

"She seemed more level-headed than us, but I am quite certain she can live like we do."

"Maybe I'll meet her tomorrow," David shrugged, standing up. "If i come to the same conclusion as you, we'll need to make her ours."

I groaned as I opened my fridge. All day, I had been working on painting my room, forgetting the necessity of making a trip to the grocery store. Now it was night, I had yet to eat dinner, and all I had in my fridge was an old bottle of coke.

"Guess I'll go to the boardwalk..." I mumbled, taking my paint spattered clothes of and quickly changing into something clean. I didn't stop to look in the mirror before I went, a thing I would regret later on, I'm certain. At that moment, it didn't matter. I needed food, and the only place I was going to get that at this hour was the boardwalk.

It took me about an hour to get there, and I had just enough luck on my side that the Chinese place was still open and serving as I entered. I greeted the owner, placed my order, and sat down on a bench, waiting for my order to be called.

"So you've been painting all day, hm?" I looked up, seeing two men in front of me. Dwayne and some other guy.

"How did you know?" I frowned slightly.

"You've got a blue streak on your cheek."

I tried to stand up to go to the bathroom to clean myself up, but found myself unable to do so as the guy went to sit down next to me. I shoved over a bit, feeling just the slightest hint uncomfortable.

"How do you like Santa Carla?"

"I don't know, it's okay, I guess?" I shrugged.

"You haven't had a chance to see it?" Dwayne asked. I shook my head.

"I've got a lot to do at home, and-" I shook my head. It didn't matter.

"And what?" The other guy, who had yet to introduce himself, looked at me.

"I just don't like crowds," I decided quickly before asking his name.

"David," he said, "and what if we can over you Santa Carla without the crowds?"

"Good luck with that," I muttered, sceptical. As if that was ever going to happen.

"No, you'll see," Dwayne chuckled, "David's right. How about we pick you up tomorrow and show you around?"

I was quiet for a moment, before nodding. "What time?"

"Ten. Things will have quieted down here."

Time passed quickly, and as I woke up the next afternoon, I couldn't help but wonder why i had agreed to this date. I had liked the conversation we'd had, sure. But to go on a date? Later that evening, David had even explicitly called it that, and I hadn't even corrected him. And then a date with the two of them?

I didn't mind that, truly, they were both incredibly handsome and as far as I could tell with how little I know them, kind and somewhat sweet - but still. It was a bit, odd, wasn't it?

The rest of the day, I worked on decorating my house, making sure I was ready to go by ten. I'd opted to wear a dress, liking the way it flowed around my legs. Despite the warmth of the evening, I decided to wear a black cardigan on top, completing my outfit.

"Damn," Dwayne grinned as he saw me, causing me to smile shyly. David stood behind him, waiting on his bike.

"You look nice," he said as he offered me a seat. I got on behind him, and we made our way to the boardwalk.

Just as he had promised, like they'd both promised, the boardwalk was practically empty tonight. I didn't know how they'd done it, but it felt incredible. No crowds to drown in, no people pulling you one way when you wanted to go another... I let the two of them guide me over the boardwalk, taking me on rides. We talked about everything, from favourite colours to deepest fears, from hobbies to pet peeves - it was incredible to get to know them, to see them and to let them get to know me.

Even though I had only known Dwayne for three days and David for two, I felt like I had known them all my life, like they were a missing piece of the puzzle I called myself.

As they said goodbye when it was close to sunrise, I couldn't help but melt in their arms as they both pressed a soft kiss on my cheek.

Yeah, I decided quietly. This was it.

In the days that followed, I kept hanging out with them. They'd stop by sometime during the night, taking me to the boardwalk whenever most of the crowds had left. I had met their friends, Paul and Marko, and I had a hard time admitting to myself that I actually enjoyed their company.

I had known them for a month when they took me to their place, this strange yet almost magical cave. It was there that they told me what they were.

I hadn't known what to do, so I hadn't done anything. It was a horrifying thought, but then again, a part of me truly loved them. A part of me couldn't live without them. So, despite refusing to drink and become one of them, I did accept them.

It just took me a day or two. Three.

But once I did accept it, our bond grew only stronger. No longer could I imagine not spending the night with them. No longer could I stand the thought of not seeing them. I stayed over at their place, sleeping between them almost as often as they stayed at mine. We talked, more deeply than before, them answering as honest as they could when I asked them about their immortality.

It was then, five weeks after I learnt what they were, three months after I met them, that i decided to become like them. I was theirs, and I couldn't live with the thought of letting them wake up one day without me. Nor did I want to wake up without them.

So, when David offered once again, I drank, sealing my fate as their mate.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Three

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, Derrick shows his true self, Javier comes to the rescue, depictions of SA (minor, though proceed with caution), mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

Friday night marked not only the temporary break from having to see Dr. Peña every single day, but also your stupid date with Derrick. He’d been out of the apartment when you woke up, him and Nina off at the gym. Alondra crawled into bed with you, her laptop in tow. 

“I don’t wanna go tonight,” you grumbled, drawing the blankets up to your face as she got comfortable beside you. “Just tell him I’m sick or something.”

“He’s been looking forward to this all week,” she reminded, pulling up Netflix. “Hell, for the last four years.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been dreading this for the last four years so where does that leave us?” you challenged. “I’m supposed to make myself uncomfortable just to make his little dream come true?” 

“I’m not saying that,” she sighed. “I’m just saying what harm could come from going to dinner with him? He’s your friend, just pretend you guys are grabbing food or something casual.”

“But he won’t want casual,” you snapped, throwing your blanket back so that you could get up. “He’ll want the full treatment.”

“There’s worse men to pretend to like,” she said, closing her laptop as she watched you tug on a hoodie and sweats. “At least he’s good looking and harmless.”

“Harmless as a friend,” you pointed out. “Who knows what he’s like on a date.”

“That’s why you should go,” she urged. “To find out if maybe that’s what was missing—“

“There’s nothing missing!” you shouted. “I don’t want him, not because I just haven’t seen how charming he is, not because I haven’t given him a chance. I don’t want him because I don’t want him. End of story.”

“Then don’t go!” she shouted back. 

“How? How am I supposed to turn him down when I’ve tried that for the past four years and he doesn’t give a shit. He’ll keep trying and trying until I finally cave, so I’ll fucking go tonight, but this is it. No more putting his feelings above mine.”

“Then I don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

You took a deep breath, finding the patience you knew you possessed but seemed so far away in this moment. Out of all people, you expected Alondra to understand your side of the situation. She’d never spent a day in her entire life thinking about what a man wanted, what they were feeling and how she might accommodate for it. And yet, here she was demanding that you not only go through with this but that you shut up while doing it. 

“I just want to be alone for a while,” you said, dejected and hurt. “It feels like the entire world is turning for him and I’m just here. You and Nina love him, I know, but what about me?”

“We love you,” she said, her brows furrowing. “It’s just that sometimes it almost feels like you avoid the things that you know will be good for you in favor of shit that’ll wreck you. We’re just trying to show you that Derrick is a good thing.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m gonna be at the library until my lab. Tell Derrick I’ll meet him back here at ten.”

“Don’t be like that,” she coaxed, following you into your shared bathroom to watch you brush your teeth. “Don’t be mad.”

Spitting out the toothpaste, you tried to ignore her guilt tripping. “I’m not mad, I just want to be alone.”

“Fine,” she said, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Text me if you need me?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, watching her leave the room knowing damn well she just earned a spot at the bottom of the list of people you’d reach out to.

Dr. Peña’s lab went by smoothly, the undergrads taking their first quiz of the semester in absolute silence as you got to work grading yesterday’s assignment. Dr. Peña had been taking careful glances at you, his brow furrowed with concern. Not that you could blame him. For the last two days you’d been dressing to impress, or more delusionally, to seduce, but today you’d shown up bare faced and in sweats. 

Setting his pen down, he cleared his throat and walked over to your desk, causing your tired eyes to lift to his. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, giving him a forced smile that only managed to deepen that look of concern on his face. 

“Just tired,” you lied in a whisper, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I know these late night labs aren’t the easiest—“

“No, no,” you assured. “It’s not the lab. Just…personal stuff.”

He lifted his chin in understanding, his fingers tapping against the wood of your desk. “Well, if you’d prefer, you can finish grading those at home. They’re just going to be taking the quiz tonight, so we’ll be fine without our prized TA.”

You smiled at the compliment—or at what you assumed to be one. “It’s fine. Home’s not very appealing to me right now.”

“The offer stands,” he smiled, soft and almost unnoticeable before walking back to his desk. 

Too bad you noticed every single thing he did. 

After the lab, you headed home to get ready for the punishment that was an hour spent at the snobbiest restaurant in Austin with your not-so-friend. Derrick was locked up in his room, no doubt trying to overcome his jitters while you did the same. Only your jitters felt more like tremors, something deep in your soul cautioning you against going. Still, you persisted. 

Slipping into a skirt and your favorite top that gave you the confidence necessary to walk into this situation with your head held high, your makeup flawless and subdued, your hair just the way you like it, you took a deep breath and opened your door to greet Derrick with a forced smile. 

“You look…wow,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. While you smelled his clean scent, there was also a hint of something else on his breath—tequila, perhaps? “No one’s gonna believe you’re with me.”

You cleared your throat, glancing at Nina and Alondra who stood in the kitchen eavesdropping. “Let’s go. Don’t want to be late for your fancy reservation.”

He laughed, nodding as he held out his hand for you to take. You pretended not to notice it and busied your hands with holding your bag and phone, which…

Fuck, you forgot to charge your phone. 

“My brother recommended this place,” he said, brushing off your rejection as he walked you out of the building and to his car. “It’s where he proposed.”

“Mm,” you hummed, still lost in your head. 

“You like sushi, right?” he asked, opening your door. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. “We’ve been friends for how long now and you don’t know that?”

He chuckled, buckling his seatbelt. “I don’t pay attention to little shit.”

You stared at his profile with something akin to disgust, the realization that he’d never viewed this friendship in the same light as you finally dawning on you. “Friends usually try to pay attention to little shit like that.”

“Yeah, well we’re a bit more than friends,” he smirked, glancing at you before bravely moving his hand to your thigh. You jerked at the touch, pulling away from him to turn towards the window. “So, uh, how’s Peña’s lab?”

“It’s good,” you managed, counting the streetlights as they passed by. 

“That’s shocking,” he chuckled. “What, he’s not a dick to them?”

“He is,” you shrugged. “But not to me.”

“For obvious reasons,” he chided. “Alondra told me about the whole don’t wear a skirt thing. Sounds like a fucking creep.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you argued, turning towards him. “And you can tell Alondra I’d appreciate it if she didn’t tell you all of my business.” 

“She was just looking out for me,” he said, giving you a frown. “Can’t have your professor trying shit if we’re gonna give this a real shot.”

“Derrick, I don’t—“

“No, just…let’s keep this date free of all that pessimist shit,” he snapped, reminding you of his inebriated state. Fuck, and you were in a car with this shithead? “Tonight I want you to put all that trauma aside for once and keep yourself open,” he demanded, causing your heart to race. 

What would happen if you didn’t? Would he hurt you? Would he shit talk you to all your friends? Would he make something up?

“Fine,” you managed, balling your hands into fists as they rested on your lap. 

After a car ride spent listening to him detail his summer of luxury, the two of you found yourselves seated in the restaurant located on the opposite side of town. You’d only been out in this area once to celebrate your first anniversary with Micah, though that time you were forced to split the bill. Derrick wouldn’t have any of that, not with his trust fund and need to prove himself. 

You didn’t speak much at dinner, not because you had nothing to say but because he wouldn’t stop talking. He’d covered everything from the first birthday he could remember to the day he first met you when you were both frightened freshmen on campus. Perhaps the trip down memory lane would’ve made you smile if it wasn’t for his wandering hands beneath the table. 

When the bill was paid and the two of you were on your way out, you thought the terrible night had finally come to a close. But of course it hadn’t. 

Derrick surprised you by pulling you into a dark alleyway, his hands greedy as he pulled you against his frame. You felt his lips on yours, taking and taking and giving you not a damn thing but a sick feeling of alarm in your stomach. 

“Derrick, stop,” you hissed, pushing against his chest as he continued to lean in, caging you against the stucco wall. 

“You want me,” he rasped, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as his liquor-scented breath flooded your nostrils. “You’re just scared of it ending badly.”

“No,” you protested, continuing to push him away. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t feel that way for you.”

“Yet you showed up wearing this.” You froze as you felt his cold fingertips graze the outside of your thighs, inching his way closer to the hem of your skirt. “Just…let loose for once. Let your guard down and I swear you won’t regret it.”

“I already regret it,” you hissed, shoving him hard enough to cause him to drunkenly stumble back. “You’re drunk and acting like fucking dick.”

He shook his head, chuckling at your words or the situation, you couldn’t quite tell. “I want you.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Four fucking years of waiting around, then you finally decide to go out with me, and now…what? You’re just gonna act like a tease?” 

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you if you keep talking,” you warned, though you knew your strength was no match for his. Still, female rage and adrenaline fueled you, coaxing you into not giving a fuck about the outcome. If he pushed any harder, you’d gladly fuck around and find out. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

“Stop,” he whined, grabbing your wrist to keep you from leaving. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“I’m a bitch?” Fuck around and find out, it is. “I’ve been nothing but a good friend to you all these years, even knowing that you didn’t give a fuck about any of that. You’d rather I be in your sheets than in your life, that much is fucking clear now.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not cool to continue to give me hope—“

“I didn’t give you shit!” you yelled, yanking your wrist from his grasp. “How many times have we talked about this? How many times have you made me feel guilty for something I have no control over? I don’t want you, Derrick. I never have, and after tonight I certainly never will. Face it or don’t, but our friendship ends here.”

“We live together,” he reminded, stepping towards you. “You can’t avoid me like you avoid Micah.”

“Can’t I?” you chuckled, shaking your head. “You have no idea how easy it’ll be for me to pretend as if you never existed.”

He let out a huff of disbelief, shaking his head at you as if he had any right to feel disappointed. No, that right was yours alone in this situation. You thought you found a man who you could call a true friend, only to find out he was just as bad as the rest of them. Maybe worse given the way he manipulated you these past four years, all to earn your trust. 

You took off down the street, not caring about the looks you received from passersby. You just needed to get somewhere safe and call—

Fuck. Phone’s dead. 

With fear threatening to take over, you stumbled into the first open shop on the block, a very fancy looking cafe that was mostly stranded on the inside. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you huffed a sigh in order to rein in the tears threatening to spill as you swung the door open. 

“Welcome in,” the older woman behind the counter greeted, giving you a judgmental once over as your heels clacked against the hardwood floor on the way to the counter. “What can I get started for you?” 

“I was just wondering if there was any way I could use your phone to call a cab? I promise I’ll buy something—“

“I’m sorry, we don’t allow customers to use our phones,” she frowned, a display of mock sympathy that threatened to wear down your last remaining nerve. 

“I understand, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency,” you pleaded. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am,” she sighed. “Phones are for employee use only. Perhaps you can find a payphone or—“

The woman was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. Stomach sinking to the floor, you turned to find Dr. Peña sitting in a booth by the window with his laptop. 

Fucking perfect. 

“Dr. Peña.” You greeted him with a sigh and a forced smile, reluctantly heading towards his booth. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, giving you a quick once over before lifting his eyes back yours. 

“Yeah,” you lied, giving him a quick nod. He tilted his head and you and gave you a look as if to say liar. Letting out the saddest, weakest laugh you might’ve ever uttered, you decided to hell with pride. “No, I’m…it’s been a long night.”

He ticked his jaw as he considered you for a moment, leaving you in sickening suspense. “What happened?”

“You don’t want to hear about all that,” you assured, wiping a tear from your waterline. 

“I do,” he insisted, nudging his chin towards the other side of the booth. “Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Sit,” he ordered, that stern voice cutting through the clouds of self pity and anger still looming overhead. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black is fine,” you lied, slipping into the booth as gracefully as your skirt would allow. 

It took him a few minutes to return, that time spent locked inside your head, watching a replay from an eagle's eye point of view. Derrick's hands on your body, his lips on yours, his vile claims and threats sounding over and over. 

“So,” he said, handing you your cup as he sat down in front of his laptop before closing it. “What happened?”

“I don’t…I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” you prefaced, earning a hesitant nod. “Derrick—

“Mr. Crawley?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He’s been my friend for years now, we live together…but he has this really bad habit of not taking no for an answer.” Dr. Peña tensed, his jaw clenching. “That’s why I agreed to go out with him tonight, because I was just sick of having to explain that I only saw him as a friend. Thought I’d just get it over with, but that didn’t really go as planned.”

“Did he…try something?” he asked, his voice low and tense. You shrugged, questioning the entire interaction. If you hadn’t stopped him, if you hadn’t been brave enough to tell him no, would he have stopped? Did what he did really constitute assault? 

“I don’t know. Sort of,” you explained, tracing the rim of your cup as you spoke. “Dinner was shit enough, but then he cornered me in an alley, trying to cage me against a wall and…touch me, but I stopped him. Then he turned into this entirely different person than I’ve known all this time, called me a bitch and a tease. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize my phone was dead when I took off down the block, and now I’m stranded on this side of town. And truthfully, I don’t even know if going home is a good idea.”

Javier leaned back in his seat, raking his hands over his face. 

“I have a sinking feeling that if I go home, he’s just going to start shit again, which is the last thing I want right now.”

He nodded, understanding and sympathy in his eyes as he took a beat to think. 

“Firstly, I’m incredibly proud of you for sticking up for yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do, and you did it.” You refused to keen under his praise the way your heart demanded to. “If I’d have just put up with it—“

“Stop,” he said, shaking his head. “You did the brave thing and the right thing. He’s too fucking old to not know the difference between a woman who wants him and one who doesn’t. This shit is on him, alright?” 

You gave him a meek nod, still not able to look him in the eye. 

“I know you said you don’t want anyone to get in trouble, and I’ll respect that, but know that if you decide to report him, I’ll back you,” he offered, his eyes rounding and voice softening. “I don’t think you should go home. I—“ He sighed, lowering his hand to rest beside yours on the table. “I can drive you to a hotel, and if you need me to pay for it, I will. That way I’ll know you’re safe, and you’ll have your own space for the night.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” you assured. 

“No, it isn’t, but it’s late and you’ve clearly been through enough tonight,” he said. “But it’s your choice. I can call you a cab if that’s more comfortable.”

“Isn’t that…sort of against the rules? You giving me a ride?” 

He let out a soft chuckle. 

“It’s not ideal, but I don’t care about that right now,” he confessed, his pinky reaching out to brush against yours. “I just care about you being safe and comfortable.”

You bit your lip, eyes glued to his hand that seemed to be fighting an internal war over whether or not to reach out for yours. “I won’t feel safe and comfortable in a hotel. I’d just feel…alone.”

“I can’t,” he whispered to himself, moving his hand to his face. 

“Can’t what?” 

“Can’t do this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I can’t keep you company tonight.” 

“I didn’t mean—“

“I know what you meant, and I’m telling you I can’t let a student of mine crash at my place,” he sighed, conflict weighing on his face. “I’ll take you to a hotel and you can call a friend to stay with you.”

“I’m not going to let you pay for my hotel,” you protested. “That’s not happening.”

“Then what?” he asked, dropping his hand to the table. 

“I don’t know,” you snapped. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Here,” he handed you his phone. “Call a cab, they’re safer than an Uber.”

You stared at the unlocked screen, debating whether or not you truly wanted to handle things on your own or accept the help offered to you, even if it meant spending a night alone in a foreign environment, stuck with the flashbacks of Derrick’s hands on your body, his lips on your mouth. There was no safety in that, in being prisoner to awful memories you had no part in creating. The truth was that you needed him to distract you from yourself, and you didn’t care if you had to grovel or beg for it. 

“I’m asking you to please just…stay,” you whispered, too close to tears to speak up. “We don’t have to go to your place. We can go to the library for all I fucking care, I just don’t want to be alone. All my friends are his friends and I know what they’ll say about tonight. Everyone loves him, everyone wants to be his friend, and I’m just…around. They won’t believe me, and even if they do, they won’t see it the way I do.” 

Javier looked ready to tell me to fuck off and go find someone else to bother with all my problems, but threw me for a loop when he said, “Fine. Grab your coffee, and…here.” He held out a black leather jacket that smelled like him; whiskey, smoke, and warm spice. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, standing and draping the jacket over your shoulders as he gathered his things. 

“My office,” he said, his tone clipped and sharp. “It’s the only place where people won’t be around to see us. Not that I really give a shit, but you should.”

“You haven’t done anything but help me,” you offered. “I don’t care if people talk. You and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“They don’t give a shit,” he countered, leading you out of the cafe. “Besides, we’re already breaking rules. Even if we aren’t acting on anything—“

“Is there anything to act on?” you probed, sticking close to him out of fear Derrick was still around searching for you. Dr. Peña shot you a knowing look over his shoulder. 

“There’s enough to drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted. 

You stopped in your tracks, shocked—and twistedly pleased—at his confession. He noticed your reaction, stopping to turn around and look at you with a pleading expression. 

“I didn’t mean—“

“I know what you meant,” you echoed his words from earlier. He ground his jaw and looked down at the sidewalk for a beat before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. You watched his lips mold around the cigarette as he took a deep drag, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain. 

“I’m not…” He shook his head again, looking up at the night sky. “I’ve been teaching now for five years. Never once have I done this shit. Never once have I let myself get involved. Until you.”

“Dr—“

“Javier,” he cut you off. “Call me Javier when it’s just us. It’ll make me feel better about how fucked up this is.”

“What’s fucked up about a woman in her late twenties and a man in his thirties talking?” you asked, stepping closer to him to feel a bit more of the thrill that did such a good job at blocking out all the bad shit going through your head. 

“I’m your professor,” he explained, watching you carefully. “There are rules against me developing this exact infatuation I can’t seem to fucking shake.”

“You’re infatuated with me?” you chuckled, more out of shock than amusement. Though you’d obviously sensed he saw some sort of potential in you that caused him to act like less of a dick than he did with everyone else, you’d have never guessed in a million years that he was interested in you. 

Javier chuckled darkly, stepping closer to you until you could smell his cologne. “Infatuated is an understatement.”

“And what would you say if I told you I was just as infatuated?” you asked, closing the gap between the two of you as you lifted your hand to rest on his chest. Not pushing him away like with Derrick, but beckoning him closer. 

He whispered your name, sending chills down your spin. “We can’t.”

“We’re not doing anything,” you countered, sliding your hand up to the back of his neck just to feel those soft brown waves that have been calling your name this last week. Javier grabbed your hand and lowered it gently, his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“I’ll stay up with you tonight so that you can feel safe, but that’s it,” he whispered, his eyes darting across your face. “Okay?”

You wanted to frown, to throw a fit and beg him to not be such a stand-up guy, but that would be like asking a fish not to swim, the wind not to blow, a fire not to burn. He simply was a stand-up man and no amount of seduction could change that. “Okay.”

He let out a soft sigh, stepping away from you. 

“You’re lucky I have shit to grade tonight,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. “You might consider helping me with some of that, TA.”

You chuckled, nodding. “After a nap.”

“Sure,” he chided. “Take it that’s code for hell no.”

“Would you look at that. You’re more clever than you look, Professor.” 

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 16

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 15

---

Joel raised his hands as the guards pulled the dogs away, eyes still on you. He was studying your face. Just in case. He wasn’t going to take his eyes off you until he was sure he wasn’t getting shot. If this was it for him, let your beautiful face be the last thing he saw.

“Wait,” Tommy said, moving towards Joel. The guards stood still, guns still aimed at the man you loved, but did not shoot. Tommy saw it in their faces, how hesitant they were, how disbelieving. He didn’t want to believe it either. He was not losing his brother like this. He stopped maybe five feet away from Joel, just behind the guards.

“Were you bitten?” he asked Joel.

“Not that I remember. Last clicker was maybe two days ago. I would’ve turned by now.”

Tommy pointed at all the muck and blood all over his person, “That your blood?”

Joel shook his head, “Nah, clickers’.”

Tommy turned to Diana, asked her to get some hot water in buckets. Hank, Benny and some of the ladies went with her.

What followed was an awkward ten minutes where Joel was just standing there with his hands up, the dogs still trying to get at him, Ellie telling you she could smell him from all the way where you were standing, Marcus trying hard not to laugh.

When the buckets were brought out, Tommy ordered Joel to strip.

“What?”

“Strip. You’re washing, and then we’ll let the dogs sniff you again.”

“Here? It’s freezing.”

“Hence the hot water.”

Joel looked at everyone who had gathered at the gate, a good fifty people at least. His eyes caught yours and you might have imagined it, but you thought you saw his ears got pinker, even more so than it already was. He took his jacket off and tossed it aside, peeling his clothing one by one, his skin looking red and raw from the freezing temperature, dirt and sweat residues all over him. The scar you had stitched up was visible, and the crowd started murmuring at the many such marks on his well-built body.  

You didn’t realize it until Liv nudged you with her elbow, but you were ravaging his body with your eyes. That dream you had of him was giving you so many naughty thoughts, now that he was here in front of you rather than your dream, and it was clearly written all over your face, your bottom lip almost bleeding from your own teeth biting on them.

Someone brought him a stool as he was unbuckling his belt, toeing his boots off. Some naughty whistles began sounding as he stripped his lower body off his pants.

Well damn.

It was freezing. You didn’t know for sure, but it had to be in the low 20s. And yet, his boxer briefs still revealed what seemed to be something quite impressive underneath.

Damn, you were starting to sweat. Maybe it’s not in the 20s after all?

Someone cleared their throat, and you saw Esther standing to the side, openly gawking at your currently-ex-sort-of-boyfriend-but-hopefully-soon-to-be-boyfriend-for-real's crotch, a sly, hungry smirk on her face. You noticed the other ladies having a similar look, although they were not quite as open about it as she was.

Oh, hell no.

You didn’t realize it, but your feet were quickly moving towards him, turning around and facing the crowd, opening your jacket to cover him.

There was an audible groan from the ladies.

“Oh, come on, Elena. Be a sport,” Esther said.

“Your nose looks nicely healed, Esther. Perhaps we should break it one more time?”

She rolled her eyes, “Spoilsport,” she said, turning around to get back to her job.

“Nothing to see here, ladies,” you shouted, shout whispering at Ellie to come help you. She did, but had a ‘you stink, Joel’ look on her face at all times, standing next to you with her jacket open.

“Jealous, are we?” Joel’s low voice teased, as he took a seat on the stool, hissing from the cold contact. “I thought we broke up.”

You couldn’t see him, but you could tell he was smirking.

“Shut up.”

Will, Benny and Marcus came to join you and Ellie, Hank joining a little later with a blanket which they all held in front of him to protect him from the gawking crowd. You swore you heard some ladies boo.

You took the smaller bucket Diana had placed among the bigger ones and scooped some steaming water, checking that it wasn’t boiling hot before pouring some down his head, tipping his head back a little so as not to drown him. His eyes were opened, looking at you as you began massaging his scalp a little to get rid of the crusted gunk and blood that nested there. His eyes closed involuntarily as you did, making you feel all warm and gooey inside. Must be the steam from the water.

Once his hair was clean-ish, you began rubbing his face, his neck, his shoulders, Joel surrendering to your care, his eyes shut, his body relaxed. But when you began rubbing his chest, his eyes snapped open again, telling you maybe he should continue bathing himself from there.

“What? Why?”

His lips were in a circle, trembling a little, maybe from the cold, but maybe from trying to figure out what to say.

Marcus snorted, his hand covering Ellie's eyes, the teenager questioning his action, and that’s when you noticed Joel's hands were covering his crotch, a guilty look on his face. Marcus pulled a still confused Ellie away, mumbling something about waiting with the crowd instead.

Oh.

“Elena,” Will said, “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

You followed Ellie and Marcus, your cheeks feeling so hot you were sure everyone could see them blush. You didn’t know what Ellie told then, but Maria, Liv and Diana were having a difficult time straightening their faces, bursting into laughter as soon as you angrily asked them what they were smirking about.

Sheesh. Children.

As soon as the buckets were empty, the men wrapped the blanket around a shivering Joel, and the dogs were brought back, happily wagging their tails at him this time.

Oh, thank God.

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw yourself at him, hugging him with all your might and telling him you were sorry you slapped him, sorry you broke up with him. He let you hug him, his arms trapped under the blanket, telling you he needed to go into quarantine now, will you bring him some clothes? And maybe his toothbrush?

You were about to kiss him when Tommy pulled you away, telling you he still needed to quarantine. Standard procedure when he had been alone out there for this long, just in case. You can kiss him tomorrow, he said. You rolled your eyes at him and walked to your old home, happily choosing some warm clothing for him, bringing him his toothbrush as requested, a pillow and an extra blanket for the night.

Unbeknownst to him, you sat by the door, refusing to leave him. You didn’t sleep at all. You heard him snore, God, he must be exhausted. Captain was drinking non stop for nearly 30 minutes, you were told. He fell asleep almost soon after. Poor lad.

Ellie came in the next morning with breakfast, the two of you practically vibrating as you waited for the 24 hours to be up. As soon as the doors opened, Joel found himself almost toppling over from very aggressive hugs from you and his little girl. The two of you thanking him for coming back, for not dying, for finding the books you wanted. And as soon as he found his footing, he gave the hugs right back, thanking the two of you for waiting for him, for not giving up on him, holding his two ladies close to him as they escorted him to breakfast.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, worried that if you blinked, he would disappear, and that this would all be a dream. Ellie went off to school after, telling you that she would go straight home after school, so please, no hanky-panky in the living room, and ducked just in time as your hand mysteriously reached out to pull her ear. You and Joel stopped at the clinic, the doctor giving him a general check up. He frowned a little at Joel's wince when he was asked to lift his leg, his back clearly bothering him, but he decided against asking the man to stay for a night - mainly because the man was practically growling when asked about anything that might be of concern.

You walked him home, fingers interlaced together. You stopped at his front door, telling him that you would leave him to rest, that you would be back for lunch to bring him something. You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he pulled you inside with him, going for your lips instead, kicking the door closed behind him.

You found yourself unable to protest at all. Realistically, you should demand him to rest. But you couldn’t. You let him kiss you, pull you up into his hold and brought you upstairs to his room. He placed you gently on his bed, his lips moving from yours to your jaw, your neck, your chest, before going back up to kiss you once more on the lips, ending the kiss with a peck on your nose.

“I need a shower,” he said. “I know you didn’t sleep last night. I know you were outside my door. Sleep. I will join you in a bit,” he whispered as he nuzzled your ear, before biting your earlobe gently, and getting up, pulling the blanket up, covering you to your chin, and went into the bathroom.

Wait, what?

**********

Really? He was going to just leave you hanging? You tried. You really tried to see his point of view, as you heard him potter around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, heard small metal clipping going on, maybe trimming his beard. You got it, sort of. He was tired, he was filthy, he wanted to have a proper clean up, maybe shave. But… he carried you all the way up here, making your legs all useless with his kisses, and then… just… asked you to sleep?

How the fuck were you going to do that?

Especially in this bed, where in your dreams he… well… you know.

And he was right in there, in that bathroom. Naked.

Well, you thought, as you heard the shower turn on, and heard his groans from having the hot water hit his body, technically, you haven’t showered in two days. You needed to preserve water here in Jackson, and it’s winter, so showering wasn’t exactly ideal if you were preserving water and it’s freezing cold outside. But, you thought, realistically speaking, it wouldn’t be a waste of water if you were to say… share the shower… and him being in there was just a bonus. Right?

You could smell the shampoo he was using. So you got up, undressed, and opened the door, gently knocking before you did, even though you knew that he wouldn’t hear it over the sounds of the shower.

Shit, he looked good wet. And naked. His back was to you, so you slowly went into the shower with him, gently touching his back as not to alarm him, and slowly brought your hand around to his front, hugging him from behind. His hands immediately joined yours, bringing one up to kiss.

“Can I help you?” he asked, a smile heard in his voice, shampoo suds running down his body.

“Just thought you might need some help cleaning yourself,” you said, kissing his back.

“I thought we broke up,” he said, teasingly. “Changed your mind?”

“We are still broken up. I’m just being a good friend.”

“That so?” he asked. He picked up the soap and ran it onto the small towel he used to clean himself and passed it to you. You cleaned his back, his arms, his butt, unable to help yourself from taking a bite, and he chuckled at your cheekiness, behave now, he said.

“What if I don’t want to behave?”

He turned, pushing you up against the shower wall, his eyes ravaging your naked body you ran the towel on his torso teasingly, going lower and lower before lowering yourself to clean his now very much awake manhood.

Fuck, he whispered.

You didn’t touch him. Not directly. You proceeded to clean his crotch as gently and as thoroughly as you could, keeping the towel between your hand and his very sensitive skin, while he hissed and cursed from your taunting. You moved on to his thighs, legs, and finally feet, before standing back up and telling him to rinse himself, using the towel to clean your own body after running the soap on it again.

You went about cleaning yourself, acting as if this was a daily occurrence, as he stood there under the water, staring at you in disbelief. You lathered up your hair with shampoo, asking him to move aside once you were done.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to move. I need to rinse.”

He did, after seemingly snapped from a deep, deep daydream, and you moved under the shower, groaning a little as the hot water hit you at full force, rinsing the suds off your hair, your body, humming a little.

His hands suddenly wrapped itself around your body, his lips latching onto your neck. You could feel his stiffness on your back as he growled a little from contact with your nipples, stiff and perky from being in the shower – okay, maybe the fact that the man you had used for inspiration for 16 years was holding you, naked in the shower might have had something to do with it – his fingers quickly trapping the stiff peaks between themselves as he mouthed openly at your neck, jaw and ear.

You couldn’t move. You so desperately wanted to keep up the nonchalance, the charade of just wanting to share a shower in times of need, but God his fingers were delicious, and his mouth… fuck. You tried to speak, but your words came out in whimpers, a squeak, at most.

You jumped a little in his arms when his fingers rubbed your long neglected nub, the activity of tending to such needs neglected from a busy life of running away from clickers and raiders and settling in a new town while navigating your feelings for a man you’d been in love with for so long and healing from an attempted assault, your legs almost giving out at the sensation. He didn’t stop, circling on the nub with two fingers, pulling your body closer to his own, saving you from drowning in the falling waters as your head tilted up, your eyes closed, your mouth open, his mouth never stopping the much welcomed assault on your neck, whispering to you to let go, he’d got you, let go, beautiful. Fuck, you are so beautiful.

And you did, clamping your legs shut as his fingers continued their excellent, deserving of applaud work, body shuddering uncontrollably in his arms, as he soothed you with whispers and promises of more to come.

As soon as he dried you, he wasted no time in studying your entire body with his tongue, sending your rocketing to heaven two more times before finally taking you, holding you close to his body, whispering his adorations for you, his longing for you, rocking slowly into you as he made love to you, his body shivering from control, wanting to get you there again, before you pulled him tightly to you and begged him to let go, that you loved him, to make you his, that you had always been his, and will always be.

He came with a whimpered grunt, his breath heavy in your ears, breathless whispers of love and devotion followed, telling you that he loved you, that he was yours, before, now and always.

You fell asleep in his arms, a dreamless sleep, feeling so much safer than you had ever felt before.

You spent the rest of the day in bed, stepping out to go get something eat, only to find a Tupperware container with food in it in front of his bedroom door.

Oh… that’s right… Ellie…

You ignored the cringing images of the teenager in your head as Joel reached out for you, peppering kisses all over your naked back, and you were back in his arms, and he didn’t let you go all the way ‘til morning.

Joel woke up the next morning with a stiff back, his back being shot anyway from the fight with the clickers. That was why he was so late, it turned out. He threw his back, so badly, he couldn’t even mount Captain those first few days. The steed laid down next to him and made him roll onto him, and he was in so much pain the horse had to walk slower than it would’ve liked. That horse saved my life more times than I’d like to admit, he said. Stood guard over him as he slept, alerted him when there was threat around, and at one point, even chased a group of rabbits so he could shoot one.

Was there enough space in Jackson to plant premium grade barley? What else do horses love? That steed deserved the best, you’d decided. Kingly treatment from now on. Only the best for him, even if you had to starve yourself.

You gave him a massage, even going so far as heating some rocks and using them to soothe his aches. Sorry you are with an old man, he said, sorry you are with a premenopausal woman, you said. The two of you laughed, giddy that the two of you were finally together.

**********

“Well, well, well, look who finally came out for air,” Diana teased as you and Joel walked into the hall for breakfast, three whole days after he was released from quarantine.

Ellie scoffed, “That’s probably because their food supply magically stopped. After what I heard last night, I am never risking going up there with food again,” she said, dodging a punch to the shoulder from Joel, who immediately winced.

“Back bothering you again, old man?” Tommy asked, a smirk accompanying the concern. Joel nodded, blushing a little at the implication.

“Threw it fighting the clickers off,” he grunted, punching a now laughing Tommy on the shoulder, wincing again.

“Hey, Teresa!” Tommy called, the new lady immediately coming over. “You said you used to massage people, right? Can you do something about Joel’s back?”

The lady, in your humble opinion, looked a bit too eager when nodding, eyeing Joel up and down as if he was candy, and she was an greedy little girl on Halloween.

“Uh, you can demonstrate on me, I’ll do it,” you said, a little too quickly, and definitely louder than you intended. Her face fell, before composing herself and nodding.

Tommy stood up, laughing, telling Joel to stand with him.

“Put your arms across your chest,” he said, slipping his hand around Joel’s torso and lifting his up a few times, cracking his back, bringing his brother immediate relief.

“You couldn’t have just done that straightaway? You had to call Teresa and ask her to massage Joel?” you threw a spoon at him.

“Just wanted to see you squirm, sister,” he said, laughing as Maria smacked him on the chest.

After breakfast, Joel helped you pack up your apartment, for what it was worth, carrying your possessions home, all entire box of it. When he got upstairs, he passed by your old room and unpacked your clothing in his closet, placing your pillow on his bed, well, your bed now, too, and you didn’t care to correct him. Especially not now, when he was showing you how happy he was that you were finally home again, determined to never let you go, ever.

The next morning, you made the three of you breakfast. And this time, Joel sat down with you and Ellie, eating his fill of omelettes and toast, asking for seconds. He watched as you checked Ellie’s Science homework at the table, telling her where she made mistakes, the teenager listening intently to your explanations. A smile decorated his usually grumpy face at the sight.

This was his dream, the one he was so scared of living at first due to the possibility that all this would be taken away in the blink of an eye in an uncertain world. But being alone on that road with Captain made him realize that he would rather live it while he could, so that at least, the memory of it would ease the pain that loss would inevitably bring, be it for him or you or Ellie. The memory of Sarah grinning at him with eggs all over her teeth the morning before she died was one he thought of every time he had breakfast, and for a long time, that memory haunted him. But now, he realized, it was a memory he cherished more than anything, his little girl being cheeky with him.

And this, right here, the sight of the woman he loved teaching his daughter at the kitchen table over breakfast that she made and served with love, was one he wanted to remember should the dreaded happened, and he wanted the two of you to have such memories of him too.

“So, now that we are all living together again,” Ellie said, “Are you two going to get married?”

“Ellie!” you exclaimed, worried that the question might scare Joel into panicking, although you were dying to hear his answer.

“What? It’s a long time coming!” she defended herself.

“She’s right,” he said, standing up and going around the table, kneeling before you with a grunt. He took your hand in his, kissing it, before looking up at you with hope in his eyes.

“Elena, I never thought I would be this happy in my life. My luck with women was non-existent, at best, to the point that I shut my heart out to anyone. But you, you managed to find your way in and never left. Elena, I’ve been in love with you for 16 years. Took me a long time to finally admit it, but now that I have, I want more. More of us, more of this, forever. I want to spend whatever’s left of my life with you and Ellie, here, in our home. I want to grow old with you. I want you to be last thing I see before I go to bed and the first when I wake up. Always. Elena, Darling, will you marry me?”

You looked down to see a gorgeous diamond ring in a battered velvet casing, the rock glittering in the morning light.

“Where did you…”

“Found it about a year after I met you. Kept it with me since, in case I found the balls to tell you how I felt.”

“I would rather wear the ring you made for us,” you said, as his ears turn pink at the realisation you had peeked inside his secret box of obsession.

“Well, if you say yes to this ring, we can put those on say… Sunday?”

“Sunday? That’s two days from now! I have to go tell Maria. Make sure there’s enough time to prepare!” Ellie said, jumping off her chair running to the door, ignoring your pleas for her to come back and not make a fuss.

“Well?” Joel asked, looking up at you, his eyes so hopeful and true, earnest.

You gave him a teary smile, nodding, a whispered yes escaping your lips.

He stood up, picking you up and kissing you breathless, asking again and again if he heard you right. Did you really say yes? You will marry me? Yes, you silly old man, I will marry you. He slipped the ring onto your finger, rubbing his thumb over it before kissing you again, slowly pushing you back onto the kitchen counter, deepening his kiss to the point that all the thoughts in your head disappeared.

The front door burst open and the two of you jumped away from each other as if someone threw cold water all over you.

Maria, Liv and Diana were in your living room, their faces red from running, excitement clear across the three of them. Will, Benny, Tommy and Marcus ran in after them, all with expectant looks on their faces. You just lifted your hand up and the ladies’ screams were so loud you were sure the guards could hear them all the way from the gates.

Later, as the nine of you were in Maria’s living room, having a glass of wine celebrating the happy news, the three ladies cornered you.

“So,” Maria started, “Who’s your maid of honour?”

You wanted to laugh, the idea of having a wedding party when all it would be was maybe fifteen of you at the spot at the edge of the town with you and Joel exchanging vows in your best clothes before heading to the hall for a meal was rather funny to you. But then, Marcus cleared his throat, Jake in his hands, looking at you expectantly, making you remember a promise you made him.

“Erm, actually, I promised Marcus that he would be my man of honour.”

The ladies looked to him in protest, but he just smiled his winning smile at them and they deflated, conceding that at least they didn’t have to be jealous of each other.

Later that night, you found Joel in the kitchen with your brothers alone, they two of them speaking in low tones to him, their faces serious. Joel said something back, which seemed to change things, your brothers hugging him tight, patting him on his back, whispering something to him, and he nodded, before the three men parted with wet eyes.

“What were my brothers saying to you just now? In the kitchen?” you asked him, as the two of you laid in bed that night.

“The usual, they were just telling me what they’ll do to me if I hurt you.”

“What would they do?”

“Something along the lines of skinning me alive before removing all the bones in my body, and then killing me.”

You laughed. “Was that all?”

“They asked me to take good care of you,” he said, turning to kiss you on the temple. “I will, you know. Until my dying breath, if you would let me.”

You smiled at him, whispering that you already knew that, before kissing him.

**********

As far as weddings in the outbreak went, yours and Joel’s was perfect. You said your vows at sunset, at the edge of the town, overlooking the rolling fields of Wyoming. Your brothers walked you down the aisle, Ike officiating. Marcus held your bouquet, while Ellie was the ring bearer, even going so far as forgetting her aversion to dresses for the occasion, the rings Joel had made now placed on your fingers. His, with your name carved on the inside, yours, his.

The ladies found a white dress for you to wear, Lucy altering it to fit you perfectly, and Joel wore a smart suit they had found for him. God, he looked, mouth-wateringly good. Ellie and her friends scoured the town for fake flowers for your bouquet, seeing as it was winter. Joel’s bad-assery was completely thrown out the window when he first saw you walk down the aisle, tears falling uncontrollably down his face amidst his contagious smile, kissing you on the cheek, telling you that you looked so beautiful in your dress, although he did place your jacket on you as soon as you said ‘I do’.

In his speech at dinner, Will welcomed Joel to the family, acknowledging the irony, seeing as he and Benny were absent for the majority of your life after the outbreak, and Joel was there all along. Benny could hardly speak as he hugged you congratulations, telling you your parents would’ve loved Joel and Ellie.

Joel led you onto the makeshift dancefloor, swaying you in his arms, kissing you as if he needed your lips to breathe, thanking you for giving him a chance, for saying yes to him, for marrying him. You, in turn, thanked him for asking, for not giving up on you.

You couldn’t help see Ellie and Dina dancing together, your brothers with their ladies, and Tommy and Maria, Jake in between them, his gummy smile evident.

Wait… was Marcus dancing with Lydia?

He saw you looking at him, and you gave him a meaningful eyebrow raise. He shrugged, a sly smile on his face, as he led her in the slow dance.

“Looks like Marcus found someone,” you said to Joel, who turned and smiled at the sight.

“Phew,” he joked, “At least I don’t have to worry about him anymore huh?”

“You never had to worry, silly. I’m yours. Have always been yours,” you said, kissing him.

“I know that now. We belong together,” he whispered, as you laid your head on his chest, his body rocking you side to side, “Two old birds, at the end of the world, head over heels in love with each other.”

You lifted your head up, kissing your husband sweetly. You were never going to argue with that.

THE END

[lostintransist]

The Promised Ending

Beat Down Dogs Shake, Not Holler | AO3

A/N: Story is fully written and will update on Fridays.

“Why do you make it so damn hard to want you, Phil!?”

You’ve been in love with this man since you were ten and he was thirteen. Even back then any affection was violently sloughed off. You hate that you still loved him.

Unseen to you was the words landing and clinging to Phillip like Greek fire. They would burn until his soul, more carbon than not, stopped quivering. Nothing else had killed him, but your rejection might do what stronger men had failed at.

“I’m not a violent dog,” his voice cracked, weeping wounds that never healed spilling into his words. “I don’t know why I bite.”

Your lip trembled. Your body and soul can’t decide if you needed to vomit, scruff him, kiss the hurt from Phil’s eyes, or put him down like a rabid dog.

“Once bitten, twice shy. Sleep in the barn and be gone by morning.” You spin on a heel, your nightgown snapped behind you. If you saw him flinch, the man who would have fought God and laughed as he did it when he left all those years ago, you promptly ignored it.

“If that’s what you’d like,” he whispered to the wind.

Phillip Graves, a man who grew crooked and broken from childhood, couldn’t stop the tears as the deadbolt slammed home.

Let’s rewind a bit shall we? It’s no good to tell a tale without knowing where we’ve started. You can refer to me as Narrator, and know that I am annoyed as fuck about this man.

Hubris landed one Phillip Graves on a hit list of the prodigious Task Force 141. Instead of a bullet between the eyes, like General Shepherd received, Phillip was given a task and dropped in a gulag.

“You have six months,” ice blue eyes that must have been what Dante imagined when dreaming of hell pinned him to the chair. “Six months to kill Makarov. Get the job done and get out alive and we’ll call our debts square.”

The narrator would like it noted that Phillip did not have the knowledge to fear Captain John Price before this. He lacked the understanding that despite the Union Jack sewn into the uniform, John Price served no king, no god, above that of his ever shifting moral compass.

“And if I don’t?” Phil snarled past the split lip and crooked jaw.

A single punch from Ghost, the big bastard, had dislocated it.

Captain John Price grinned with malicious glee.

“Then you’ll be dead by their hands or ours.”

That was the last facsimile of a smile Phil saw for nearly a year. It took him five months and three weeks to get close enough to Makarov to sink his teeth into the man’s neck and tear it free. As always, Phillip ended up a day late and a dollar short. He should have learned from childhood, nothing would ever fall his direction unless it was a tree aiming for his skull.

Makarov walked out of the gulag, blood freezing behind him of the masses of dead. Phil, in ingratiating himself to the now freed man, had been able to secure a ride to warmer climates. It took him over six months to save the money from under the table work to secure passage to New Orleans. The mishmash of accents washed over his ears like that of blended sounds of a vibrant swampland it once was and tried again to become.

It wasn’t home but it was closer than he had been in nearly a decade.

He started walking.

Houston where his mother’s body rotted in a box encased in concrete and his father’s ashes dotted the graveyard had never been home. No, a farm in the north that his grandfather had gifted him upon his passing, is where Phil was pulled. The small town with it’s small people who had never had to make choices that played with others lives. They wouldn’t have him, didn’t want him.

He started walking.

Stopping first in a library he opened an old email and fired of a message to his lawyer. The prompt response from the paralegal reeked of shock and plastered professionalism. Yes, his property was still in trust. Yes, it was being managed by a party that wanted to buy it. No, he had not been reported as dead, only missing. Yes, they could contact the bank the trust was held at and request a card be sent to his PO box. Yes, they would also send a printed copy of the trust documentation to the same address.

Pleased to know he would at least be able to remain under the radar, Phil logged out, scrubbed all traces of himself from the computer, and set forth once more on his sole-worn boots. It took him another three weeks to touch the dust he owned. Dusk brushed his shoulders as he started down the path to the house his great-grandfather had built.

Instead of peace of being home, he found you.

Swinging on the porch swing that must have been installed after he left, you stood so fast at seeing his face that when the the momentum caught you in the back of the knees you stumbled forward and dropped your drink.

We don’t really need to rehash how Phil ended up in the barn that first night home. Some sins are best left to those affected. He did not deserve the privacy I am offering. You do, though.

This tale will hurt. Bit like removing a splinter, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I can’t promise a happy ending. Can’t promise anything really. Walk with me on this fucked up path and lets see where we end up.

Part 2

Masterlist | Taglist

[bitumz]

Title: Lay that rifle down

Pairing: Cooper Howard / Lucy MacLean Word count: 4.5k+

Rated: E [explicit sexual content, gun play, dom/sub undertones, cannibalistic tendencies]

gif credit: @kaorym ❤️

~~~~~

“Ten caps says you can’t teach me something about a rifle that I don’t already know.” Lucy sent over her raised arm.

And Cooper took it as the bait it was. 

“Aight Annie Oakley, target practice ain’t got shit on the real thing.” He sneered with a tip of his head. “You ever have to pull a repeater on a rabid herd of radroaches crawlin’ at your feet down there in that squeaky-clean sealed-up vault of yours?” Cooper asked, and Lucy only looked over at him as if the thought was foul. “Or how bout a pack a’ radhounds foamin’ at the maw for a mouthful of that hot blooded complacency all over your fuckin’ face... Didn’t think so.” He bit. “And keep that goddamned elbow up ‘fore it gets knocked from its socket.” He reminded again through his teeth, and she couldn't be sure if he meant from the kick of the stock or his hands-on training approach.

Three empty cans of Cram hung from twine on a tree branch twenty yards out and Lucy squinted at them down the barrel of Cooper’s sawed off. Their light ammo was running low, as was their luck, a bandit encampment separating them from their most recent diversion, a bounty that would earn them enough caps to not have to worry about bullets or supplies for the next few months if lady luck got her shit together. 

“No, no radroaches down there, thank goodness.” Lucy answered. “But there was those few raiders that one time. And the bandits back in Nipton... The deathclaw that nearly knocked your head off.” She preened. “They all moved pretty quick. I think Annie would be proud.”

Cooper snorted at that, ambling down range to run his gloved hand lazily across the cans, sending them swaying side to side. Stepped safely out of the way.

“Raiders…” he still pondered the first of her list. The one that still stung the most when she thought on it too long. “Moldaver’s golden fuckin’ ticket huh... What was his name again?” Cooper asked, eyes thinning in a derisive show of thought. Like he’d actually forgotten, though the tightly drawn bow of his shoulders said otherwise, pent up exertion waiting to be freed in one way or another. Lucy shifted on her toes in the sand. “Monty, right?” He sent her a withering grin from beneath the shadow of his hat. “Imagine how much more effective buckshot woulda been.”

Lucy glared back, took aim, and fired, the hollowed rounds free of shrapnel, (waste not, want not Cooper would say) but striking the trio of moving cans in repeat, near-perfect precision all the same. A sense of pride swelled in her chest as they spun wild from their twine, right alongside the burning memories of being betrayed and choked and stabbed in the gut… She looked over to find Cooper again, closer now, watching near her side. 

“I slashed his throat, you know.” Lucy reminded him with a smile of her own, and as always it flashed something bright and hot in his usually carefully disinterested hazel eyes.

“Oh I know.” Cooper nodded. “But your first mistake was lettin’ him close enough to have to.”

With the warning he attempted to reset the stage, gloved hands reaching out to grasp for anything vital, another repeated lesson in reading between the lines of people's bullshit. And they had earned her a few bruises here and there as she’d grown stronger and quicker and improved till he’d deemed it unnecessary to pull his punches, just as she’d begun drawing a bit of blood of her own.

But Lucy had always been a fast learner long before the wasteland. Now, with the push of her heel against the dirt she dodged back and spun whole-bodily to put the barrel of his rifle between them, pointing it an inch away from the hastily sewn button over the center of his chest. 

“He was a liar.” Lucy said simply. “Fucked me and wanted a quick out... Like most men, come to think of it.”

And Cooper chucked low, gloved palms up in a short lived impasse. Raised his stormy expression toward the sky. “Most men, like the poor souls weren’t trapped in there with you.” He finished the roll of his eyes and met hers again. Smirked a fiery thing. “Or related to ya.”

Lucy took the jabs in stride.

“This again? Really? Right now?” She asked, adjusting the butt of the shotgun more securely into the divot of her shoulder. “Not like I had many options down there. Still don’t sadly…”

“And yet?” Cooper bid with the lift of his browline, hat shifting the slightest bit higher on his forehead and letting the sun play brighter along the deep hollows of his face. And he took the final, daring step that put him flush against the jagged metal of the muzzle. Sent her a warning look across it that burned deep in her belly as if it were his own finger on the trigger. Stared at her as if he awaited something even more gutting in her answer. 

And she knew him well enough now that she could give him that.

“Well if this is you actually asking, I’ve dealt with my fair share of assholes, sure. Down there and up here... But with Monty,” she breathed out, sugar sweet and disgustingly indulgent. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life.” 

Then she reached out over the barrel of the rifle, flicked the brim of his hat up another inch higher across his brow just to be a bitch. And at her teasing smile he growled.

Cooper snatched the gun from her hold single handedly, slinging it down in the dirt beside them so hard it kicked up dust. Grabbed her by the knot of the vaultsuit at her waist and yanked her in close, looming that few inches over her that sped her heart in her chest and weakened her knees every single time without fail.

“You sure you really wanna tug on that thread right now girl?” Cooper hissed, chemical-laced breath washing hot across her face in a smell she was coming to relate to painful, invigorating pleasure if she played her cards just right. Because the hands she was dealt could change at a single slip of the tongue, but she was getting more and more secure in her ability to read the table. “Cause it’s been a rough few weeks,” he drawled, “and them prissy vault assholes ain't got shit on me.” 

As if she needed reminding of just how full of it he actually was. He was heavy handed and a downright son of a bitch when the occasion called, but the only lasting marks he left on her skin these days were asked for in gasped breaths and pleading little cries. He'd done nothing during their ample downtime but raise her up to the harsh standards of the wasteland, training her muscles and sharpening her mind and she'd felt more alive in the last few months than she’d ever had in her entire life.

“Technically he wasn't a vault dweller.” She corrected with a small shrug. Squared her shoulders. “But ya, I’m sure.” Lucy nodded in challenge.

And Cooper stared her down just long enough to raise the small hairs at the back of her neck…

Then his rough hands were everywhere all at once, ripping her suit the rest of the way down her hips with one to let it pool at her feet. He bit the middle fingertip of his glove over the other to free it from his scarred skin. And as always his right trigger finger shined paler up at her, nearly completely healed now in a line near his knuckle where two became one. It skimmed up her stomach alongside his others, under her dirtied tank top, gripping the sensitive flesh there and squeezing as she steadied herself against his shoulders to kick her fallen suit to the side.

And Cooper watched the small act with something like veneration in his eyes. 

It emboldened her enough to reach into his own cover, small hands slipping beneath the lapels of his ragged duster to try and push it down from his shoulders. But her wrists were caught in his ensnaring hold before she could make any real progress. 

“Leave it alone,” he snarled, shoving her back and away from him with such a force that she tumbled down onto her ass in the sand, grains scratching against the strips of bare skin that her underwear didn’t cover, but the new angle did something even rawer to her insides as she looked back up at him, standing tall above, chest heaving in an inevitable anger that she found she wanted to siphon out of him like blood, in the very same way he’d done her all those months ago in the hazy heat of the desert. Kicking and screaming and fighting until all the trauma he’d piled on and on atop the already shaky foundation was free of her skin and torn right back into his. And it was a damn enticing thought.

“There she is.” He said unmoving, in that way that pushed her further, as if he knew her better than she knew herself. And that could only be true if she allowed it. 

So she pressed her weight up onto her elbows. Carefully schooled her expression. Sharpened the words in her mind just as Cooper would his bowie.

“You know, I vaguely remember Monty saying something similar to me as I rode him into the mattress.” Lucy said, looking past him to the safety of the tree line. “The first time.” She added pointedly. 

And Cooper’s laugh slithered in the humid air above.

“You sure are a funny little thing, I’ll give ya that.” He said down at her, the lilt of his accent at odds with the glare. “All talk and no substance.” He goaded, tongue darting out to swipe at his chapped bottom lip. Then a sudden thought burned quick and troubling in his eyes. “Unless you care to prove it?”

For a while neither moved, Lucy only returning his malice back up to him as he thought something over in his mind. It thinned in his eyes like her patience.

Then all at once it clicked, Cooper bending forward to retrieve his rifle from the dirt. He shoved it barrel-first into the loose sand between her legs, so sudden and so close to the apex of her thighs that she nearly flinched back to protect her own anatomy…

“Let’s see it then cowgirl.” He taunted, taking a step back and watching her as if she were a puzzle he was bound to solve, whether the pieces fit in place or not. A game to be mastered to completion. One she’d started playing first this time around.

And she would never again back down from a challenge out of fear. Not ever one from him.

“Okey dokey.” Lucy said, paired with the sweet curve of her lips that she knew, together, bit him right in the ass. 

Her hands only shook the faintest bit as she wrapped them around the barrel, using it as an anchor to draw herself the small distance forward it took to have it flush against the gusset of her underwear. The metal itself was warm to the touch, near burning under the tips of her fingers from such recent use, but it sat just right against the heat already building between her legs at the way his shell shocked eyes ate up her every move. 

She held them with her own as she drew into mind the memory of those show girls she’d seen on an old holotape beneath Chet’s mattress. Dressed in clinging silk and dolled up beautifully as they danced around and clung onto tall metal polls like they were lovers. Lucy tried to mimic, making an experimental roll with her hips against the cylinder, firm pressure pushing against all the right places as it parted her folds and met her clit through the thin material of her panties. But the real pleasure came from the look it left on Cooper’s face. 

Lucy moaned a low sound and his boots shifted in the sand before her.

“That’s all it takes huh?” He drawled, his gritty, flustered voice brewing even more pressure deep in her gut than the contact itself. “Fuckin’ get it then.”

She rolled her hips again, arching her lower back and drawing the stock closer to her chest in the dancelike chase of her own pleasure, rocking her cunt against the hard barrel more like a cowboy would his saddle in those old westerns than the painted ladies she’d set out to mirror originally… And then she looked right up into Cooper’s gaping eyes.

“Like this?” Lucy asked him in a breathless gasp, straight teeth flashing harsh in the sun as she drew in a breath through them.

“Just like that.” He growled back, bared hand tugging slow at his remaining glove before both fell to the pair of buckles at his waist. 

And the methodical way he undid the clasp of his holster while still watching on had Lucy’s thighs tightening shut around metal in anticipation, sliding slicker against the friction. She’d been lying when she told him Monty was the best lay she’d ever had but she found that it was almost always in her own best interest to give Cooper new and ever changing goals to focus on. He was an excellent student when given the proper time and motivation to study the material, just as she herself had been during all those pivotal pubescent years in the company of only a Radiation King television set and her own two hands. 

But she was very much a woman now, her body screaming it at her so as her movements grew quicker and sloppy, her hands drawing the rifle against herself in pulses as she rolled her hips forward faster in chase, the pressure building and building low in her groin, throbbing but empty and wanting. 

“Cooper please.” Lucy begged in a shaky breath, though she couldn't pin down exactly what for. She sought out his eyes for the answers. 

“Nu uh.” Cooper denied in a breathy exhale, flicking his pistol barrel up at her a pair of times in vague acknowledgement. “You started it. Fuckin’ finish it.” He bit and the frustration it lit in her chest rekindled her efforts.

If he wanted her to finish then she fucking would. 

Lucy reached down to pull her panties aside, soft curls lacing around her fingers as she unceremoniously dipped a mismatched pair between her folds and into the slick of her arousal, earning a low, satisfying rumble from Cooper’s chest that had her walls clenching tighter around them. She rolled her wrist in the familiar pattern that’d earned her many a decent night sleep. Looked down as she fucked herself on her fingers, gun still standing tall from the dirt between her legs like some last little bit of modesty between her and the eyes that looked on as if they were trying to swallow her whole. She tried to imagine his mostly-own, thicker digits pushing into her. His own thumb circling rough over her clit. And under his careful study, she’d never been more turned on in her life.

“That how Monty touched ya?” Cooper slithered down to her like a curse, breaking the spell and stirring her up further all at once. He stepped aside to fall languorously into a crouch near her knee to better see the show. “All soft and sweet-like. A proper little lady.” He growled.

And Lucy gasped a laugh up at the blue sky, falling to her back as her muscles tensed to a near excruciating tautness at his goading, the attempt only exposing another of his weaknesses and twisting tighter the coil low in her own gut. “He didn’t touch me at all actually.” She confessed, fingers squelching obscenely as she quickened her pace at the reminder. “Made me do all the work myself. Just like this.” She accused up at him with the bend of her neck. “Had more fun fighting him honestly...”

A quick breath huffed from Cooper's nasal cavity. 

“Mm,” he nodded. “Figures.” He drawled, eyes trailing down her body with a dangerous edge thinning his lips. Then he aimed his pistol passively at the dampening sand between her legs, a crazed glint sparking in his eyes that she’d only ever seen in ghouls gone rabid. “Well I got another gun here if ya need it.” He offered.

And the rush of adrenaline at the implication alone was what finally sent her falling over the edge, back arching over the ground, thighs quivering and clenching closed so hard around her own hand that the rifle between them toppled sideways right into Cooper’s waiting hold. 

“That’s it, darlin’,” he praised, steadying himself over her against it like a crutch, honey gold eyes raking over every inch of her exposed, trembling skin. The peaks of her breasts teasing through her thin tank top. Her slowing fingers between her legs as she brought herself back down. “Monty ain’t got shit on those greedy little hands huh?”

And she knew he was talking but the words wouldn’t register right in her pleasure deafened ears. Overstimulated and still unsatisfied in equal measure for the taste of oblivion she could never quite reach on her own anymore. 

“Cooper…” Lucy breathed, strained and gasping in the throes of her waning orgasm. “Cooper please - please…”

He grew tense near her side, that practiced mask of indifference slipping a bit at her honest to god begging. 

“Cooper what?” He asked, almost sweet, in itself an unnerving thing. 

And Lucy let her legs spread back open wide. Slowly traced her pleasure drenched fingers up to the bare midriff of her pale stomach. Dipped them beneath the fraying hem of her panties.

“Please don’t make me do this alone again...” 

Then her underwear joined in the pile of her vaultsuit, Cooper ripping them off her himself as he gave in with a deep throated snarl. He shoved the rifle out of the way in the process, in the rush of kneeling between her legs. Dropped his pistol to the dirt at her side.

“Always so fuckin’ needy,” he bit out in a pant, parting her folds with a single bared hand and pressing his face down between them without so much as preamble. He licked a hot stripe up the damp seam of her, watching her face as it screwed up in pleasure toward the sky, hips pressing harder against his mouth on instinct alone. He held them down against the earth. “This what you wanted sweetheart? A monster like me to do it for ya?” He drew back just enough to ask, pressing the first two fingers of his right hand deep inside her so quick and rough that instead of denying the moniker aloud, she could only moan the breath from her mouth. "Let me fuckin' hear it." Cooper growled, then dragged out more of that answering sound with the seal of his coarse lips around her clit.

Lucy basked in the burning stretch, her walls deliciously taut as he curled his fingers forward inside her, deep against a spot that had the coil low in her belly already flaming burning hot again with a practiced expertise that continued to put the few experiences she had before him to shame. His mouth trailed away from her center, leaving sharp toothed bites across the hinge of her leg, down deeper into the muscled meat of her thigh, every bit one of the foaming-mouthed radhounds he'd often warned her about. Taking her apart and consuming the ruin piece by tender piece.

Lucy hissed air from between her teeth as his jaw set tighter and tighter each time. She reached a hand down, attempting to gently guide him back in the right direction instead of his distracted path to somewhere beneath her skin. The rough curve of his cheekbone was hot beneath her touch for only a second before he tore himself away.

“Hands off,” Cooper ordered, looking up at her through his lashes, lips damp and swollen and so very touchable. “Or I'll stop.”

“That's not fair.” Lucy said, drawing back against the dirt and squirming against the slowing pulse of his fingers because she wasn't sure she could handle it if he followed through with that particular threat. “You touch me all the time.”

“Life ain't fair.” Cooper promised with a dark flair of his eyes. “You'll see.” 

Then he hooked a forearm around her thigh to drag her closer to him across the ground and began to eat her proper, wet, obscene sounds filling the air as his tongue laved in quick swipes over her swelling clit and his fingers scissored in upward strokes to meet them in tandem. And though the mid day sun burned hot against her sweat-slicked skin, Lucy saw fucking stars above, dancing and flashing before her eyes in bright bursts of gold and royal blue.

“Fuck,” Lucy swore in a throaty groan and Cooper's tongue faltered once mid motion. “Just like that.” She gasped, hands falling palms up against the ground on either side of her head as he worked her higher and higher into the throes of something like madness, spine already tingling and muscles twitching from the over sensitivity still lingering on from her first small taste of pleasure…

This second orgasm crested slow, swelling over her in heavy waves as Cooper carried her unceasingly through it, continuing his relentless worship of her cunt with a single minded focus that she’d only elsewhere seen him use on those down the barrel of his gun.

“Does that make you Buffalo Bill?” Lucy asked breathless, a lifetime later, as her spine finally began to flatten and she remembered how to inhale.

His fingers slowed reluctantly to a stop, still inside her, and back during the first few times she used to wonder why. The job was done, the end goal reached, but he always kept touching her skin like he wanted to, exploring her inside and out even still, with the slight pet of his fingertips and hot, opened-mouthed kisses across the swell of her hips.

“Pardon?” Cooper asked absently from somewhere in between, voice muffled near the raised scar on her belly.

And Lucy laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

“You called me Annie Oakley earlier.” She reminded, looking down the length of her heaving chest to find his eyes. “Come to think of it, it may have been the first real compliment you've ever given me... She was a badass sharpshooter. Way ahead of her generation.” Lucy propped herself back up on her elbows and raised a quizzical brow at him. “And regardless of which version of her story you read, she out-shoots Bill every time. So-” and she gestured toward him.

But the indisputable facts only left an odd look on Cooper's face, teeth flashing back at her in a predatory smile from just above her skin. Like he was the only one of them on the inside of some incomprehensible joke. Then he actually laughed.

“That's why I bring the legacy of Buffalo Bill to mind in this scenario ‘a yours?” Cooper asked, exasperated. "The gunslingin'?" He nipped hard enough at her hip bone to make her hiss. Left pointed divots behind in the thin skin there. “Had me worried for a minute there, precious.” Then he slowly slid a pale fingertip up the middle of her stomach to the rise of her sternum.

And Lucy was left confused and underwhelmed at the newest pet name and his uncharacteristic lack of offense. 

“I'm saying I'm a better shot than you.” She clarified briskly. 

Then she watched the claim set across his features as if she herself were the punchline all along, burning a bit more life into his tightening eyes.

“Care to lose another wager then?” Cooper asked in lieu of taking the bait this time, shoulders lax and rounded as he shifted up over her, hands coming down to restrain hers on either side of her head. “Cause ya owe me ten caps already.”

“Try me.” Lucy said without faltering, because she actually was very good at riflery and reading (books, and lies, and straight through his bullshit, at this point) and fighting and fucking and a great deal of other survival skills… And she was so incredibly tired of feeling the need to dumb herself down to fit in some box that no longer existed. Especially not now on the ground between Cooper’s arms. Not when he looked down at her like that. Like not even he had control anymore.

“Tell ya what,” he started, raising a hand to lift his hat from his head, dropping it to the ground just above her own. “If you're able to aim for shit by the time I'm done with ya, we'll call it even, right? Double or nothin’.” He nodded, lowering himself down close into her space, the torn tendrils of his duster tickling where they dragged along the bare skin inside her knees, rugged lips slowing inches over hers and Lucy’s tongue darted out across her own chapped skin in preparation. Because right from the very beginning of it all, Cooper had been nothing if not terribly honest and true to his word. 

“Deal.” Lucy accepted easily, victorious either way.

Then with a quick dip of his hand between them and the promising cling of his belt buckle, she could feel the hot, thick pressure of him pressing insistent against her entrance, still slick and ready and desperately waiting. 

Even so, he gave her a moment to adjust, eyes like searing supernovas where they watched her expression from above as he pressed in slow, deeper and deeper until he was buried fully beneath her skin and she'd claimed another piece of him as her own.

Then Lucy exhaled her relief. Pushed the sweetness of his consideration far from the front of her mind. Looked up at him with all the pain she could gather beneath her fingers with the curl of her dull nails into the backs of his hands. Drew her plush bottom lip between her teeth and smiled in that endearing way she knew pissed him off…

“Go on then cowboy.” She bid, pressing him in closer with her heels against the backs of his sturdy thighs. “Or are you all talk and no substance?” She added when he didn't move right away, sealing her own sentence beneath the tightening of his hold.

He answered with the dip of his head in fevered disagreement, the frenzied press of his mouth searing down against her own. Then he was moving, hips rolling forward in punishing strokes that dug deep enough into the core of her body to drive out any other thoughts but him, and yes, and please, and it was the last she spoke apart from his name for a good long while. 

Twenty caps, she reminded herself later that evening, carefully Radawayed and still sprawled shapeless against Cooper’s chest across the cooling sand. She couldn't let herself forget.

Because she knew damn well that he wouldn't.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"YOU ARE NOT THE EXCEPTION"

Another story with Kraven AKA Sergei Kravinoff

I hope you like it! 💛

Tags: @weepingnightmarezombie

Artis adjusted the scope of her long-range rifle again so that it pointed at the entrance to her target's cabin/house.

Her bosses had ordered her to hunt the hunter, paradoxically enough. She always did her duty and never asked questions about it, so she investigated him.

She couldn't find much about him, of course. In theory, everyone believed that the hunter was a myth, a legend, a story that mothers told their children at night to make them good.

“You have to be good or else the hunter will write your name on his list, and you don't want that, do you?” the mothers said, before giving their children a kiss on the forehead.

She had never seen him in person. She didn't know what he looked like or what he was like physically. All she knew was that he spoke several languages ​​other than his father's tongue: Russian. After making a couple of calls to high-security prisons in Russia, she discovered that one of the prisoners had escaped, killing ten officers in the process.

His name was Sergei Kravinoff, of the Kravinoff clan.

Artis thought it had to be him, she was ninety percent sure, but she had to check it out with her own eyes, so she traced the map of Russia inch by inch (which took her days) until she found a mound hidden between several trees.

The app wouldn't let her zoom in, but from what she could see it looked like a house. That's how she had ended up in Russia in the middle of winter, in front of the supposed hunter's house.

She pulled her woolen hat over her head. Her teeth were chattering from the cold. Despite her fur coat, gloves, hat, and scarf, she felt her limbs slowly freezing. She shook her head trying to focus despite everything.

She looked at the house again through the peephole, and checked that she had loaded the correct bullets for the third time. It was clear that a normal bullet was not going to kill this man, so she decided to create a special type of ammunition, which when it penetrated the skin would inject Asian wasp venom, a very potent type of poison and deadly for most people.

“We'll see if it works with him” she thought, trying to cheer herself up a bit

At that moment her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The metal hinges resonated against the hinges as it did so. She quickly looked through the peephole.

Nothing. There was no one there. But the door was open, which could only mean one thing…

The Hunter was on the loose. She slowly began to put away the rifle and take out a hunting knife from inside her shoulder bag. She squinted when the reflection of the blade blinded her. She was putting the bullets into the gun, when she felt a strong presence behind her back.

She quickly turned around with the knife raised, ready to attack. A hand stopped her movement, placing her arm at chest level. She raised her head, the amber eyes of a dark-haired man with long hair staring back at her.

They looked at each other for a few moments, moments in which Artis struggled with him, trying to stab him with the blade, or at least graze him. He didn't succeed. He hit her wrist causing the knife to fall on the snow. Before she had time to bend down, he took out his own and placed it under her chin, dangerously close to her neck.

-I wouldn't like to stain the snow with your blood, dorogoy - he said in a chaste Russian - speak, or I will make you do it

-Please don't kill me - she said trembling due to the fear and the cold she felt - please

-Your princess in trouble acts are useless with me - he said making her get up from the ground - Who are you?

Given the situation the young woman found herself in, she only saw two possible options: tell him or end up with a knife to the jugular.

She chose the first option.

-My name is Artis - she said under his watchful gaze - I just… wanted to know if the stories my mother told me about the hunter were true - she lied -

The man's blue gaze rested on her face for a moment.

-You lie -he answered, tilting his head towards the bag where he kept his weapons- you are a hunter -he explained- no one but ours knows how to use a rifle like the one you had pointed at the entrance of my house

-It is not possible that you saw me -she muttered, going over in her head the distance between her house and the hill where she was stationed- I made sure to hide well…

-Not enough -he growled, as if he were scolding her for not doing it as it had to be-

He took a step towards her, his expressive clear eyes made her stop feeling the cold that emanated from freezing her from the outside in.

-No one can hide from me -another step, for each one he took forward, she took another back- no matter how hard they try, I will always find them

Artis's back hit something hard. "The trunk of a tree" she thought as she noticed the bark digging into her spine.

-And you are not the exception," he finished, as he put his knife back in the sheath around his waist.

He watched her for a moment before speaking again.

"You can go back to where you came from and tell your bosses that The Hunter is real, and that if they're not careful, I'll write their names on my list," he murmured. Artis nodded.

"I can't do that," he whispered, making Artis frown.

"Repeat that," he asked. Artis shook her head negatively.

"My mission is to kill you," he confessed under her watchful gaze. "I can't go back and tell all the people who trusted me for this job that I haven't been able to do it."

"You can do it," he said. "But you'd be dead before you could get your gun out." He tilted his head. "You decide."

"Okay," Artis sighed. "I'll go back and tell them what you told me." He snorted. "I'll lose my job because of you. Do you realize that?"

-Better to lose your job than your life, don't you think? - he asked with a crooked smile - have a good trip home, printsessa

He began to walk through the snow back to his house. The young woman noticed that he was barefoot. Before he went any further she stopped him with a question.

-Wait! - she asked, he turned back to her - What is your name, hunter?

His blue eyes shone a deep yellow when he said:

-Kraven

Then he disappeared from her sight as quickly as he had arrived.

[mrs-gucci]

Drive-In

{ flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon

Can I please request going to a horror movie drive in with Flip where he hopes the movie will be louder than the noises you both make lol :)

warnings. SMUT (18+ ONLY), high risk sex (car sex around other people), reverse cowgirl, barebacking, creampie.

word count: 525

★ written for sextember 2023 ★

** CLICKING “KEEP READING” MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND & ACKNOWLEDGE ALL OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE AND ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. MINORS DNI. **

collage by me :)

Creepy music plays loudly through the drive-in speakers as the spectators in surrounding cars stare up at the large movie screen, eating their popcorn and drinking their sodas hesitantly, waiting for the impending jump scare.

You and Flip, however, had lost interest in the movie about ten minutes ago. Well, you didn't lose interest, per se. More like you two became much more interested in one another than in the movie.

Lets just say that the gasps and cries from the scared on-screen protagonists aren't the only ones happening at the theater this evening.

Flip grunts as you sink down onto his stiff length repeatedly, hips thrusting up instinctively against you. The truck's windows are starting to really steam up, the air between you two incredibly thick while you ride him.

You're holding tightly onto the grab handle with one hand while the other rests on his hand, the one currently gripping your hip tightly. Your eyes are on the movie and maybe somewhere in your mind you're paying attention to the horrors occurring, but really, it's just pictures on a screen. Your mind is in a whole different place right now.

"S-Shit," you breathe, biting your lip to try and keep the noise down. "Oh god, baby..."

As much as Flip loves this, well, pretty much public sex, he does try to be extra careful since he's law enforcement. He's really hoping the movie's louder than the noises you two are making and the gentle squeaking of his truck's shocks.

He groans softly, cigarette pinched between his teeth, ashes starting to fall off the tip. "Goddamnit, princess...a little faster for me...mhm, that's it..."

You speed up as he requested, resulting in a spike in both your pleasures. Matching noises of pure lust and passion escape from both of your lips.

"Fuck...mm!"

Flip starts thrusting up into you, chasing his rapidly approaching orgasm. The cars around you seem none the wiser and luckily for you two, the windows are not completely steamed over, so all that can really be seen are your silhouettes.

As he fucks you, you take the opportunity to reach down and rub your clit, moaning softly as the pleasure pulses through you. You're close, very close, and getting closer by the second--

"O-Oh fuck," Flip groans as he cums, pushing his cum up into you with rapid thrusts. "Mmm, good girl...shit..."

Feeling him cum is what sends you over the edge, and you continue rubbing yourself through it as the familiar waves of pleasure roll over your body.

Eventually you both come to a stop and Flip pulls out, tucking himself away while you pull your underwear back into place. As soon as you turn around in his lap, Flip has put out his cigarette and pulls you in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

A thought come to you and you smile against his lips, chuckling softly. He pulls away, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"What is it?"

Your laughter grows a bit. "I told you this was a good movie."

He laughs, shaking his head and giving your ass a nice firm smack.

"You're cute."

****

sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka

if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!

[nataliesfirefly]

chapter 1 - new year, same rivalry

a/n: hello! i’m back finally! super excited for this series, it’s definitely going to be more wholesome than my other one, and more of a slow burn! my plan is to have ten chapters, but that could change later on.. anyways enjoy and please tell me what you think! if you would like to be put on the series taglist, let me know! ♥️

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 3.8k

series masterlist

“Welcome, year twelves. It’s lovely to see you all today, I recognize some familiar faces. My name is Mrs. Chasteen, I’ll be your teacher for English studies this year.” You set your bag down and take a seat, glancing up at the woman speaking. She’s very elegant, with her grey hair pulled into a strict bun and sophisticated tiny rectangle glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. You smooth out your black pleated skirt before crossing your legs.

“As I’m sure you all know, this year is very important. You should be considering which universities you wish to apply to, how you would like to further your education…” Your attention is side tracked when a tall figure hurries into the room, his dark eyes scanning for an open seat. You swear your heart drops to your stomach. Farleigh.

His eyes eventually fall onto you after spotting the empty seat next to you. He reluctantly walks over and sits down next to you with a big sigh, like he’s just put off by your existence. At least the feeling’s mutual.

“Your grades need to be in top shape this year, as they will determine your chances of getting into university. This year is arguably the most important for grades,” Mrs. Chasteen explains, pacing around slowly. You shift uncomfortably, scooting away from Farleigh. It’s like he’s trying to take up space on purpose as he splays his books and papers across the table. You shoot him an ungrateful look which he ignores.

“Now, enough about all that. I’m going to introduce the book that we will be studying closely this term.” You perk up at her words as she goes to her desk, picking a book up off the surface.

“This book is found on many, many reading lists for universities, namely Oxford.” You raise an eyebrow and sit up at the mention of your dream school. “A classic from the Victiorian era: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.” She holds up the book briefly and you let out a relieved sigh. “One of my personal favorites,” She adds quietly, setting the book back down.

Farleigh nudges you with his shoulder and you have to stop yourself from physically recoiling. “Would’ve thought you’d already read this by now,” He mutters with a slight smirk on his face, showing his teeth like a fox. Suddenly, a question enters your mind and now you have to ask, though you might come off as insecure. “Have you?” You whisper back, eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head. “No.”

Okay, good. That would have been bad if he had already read it. It’s always nice at the start of the year. You’re both even, and no one’s ahead of each other in anything. Yet.

“We’ll be discussing and taking assessments over the chapters, so be certain to keep up with your reading. For your final project before winter break once we finish the book, you will be writing an essay based off of it and a prompt that I will give you. I will also be pairing you up with someone to collaboratively write said paper with.” Your eyes widen at this. A group project? Well, not a group. A duo. Nevertheless, it’s weird for two people to write an essay together. You’ve never heard of it.

“You need to learn how to critique each other and work together. It’s an important skill for uni.” Mrs. Chasteen seems to notice everyone’s looks of confusion. “Hmm,” Farleigh hums. You glance over to him shortly before observing the other students in your class. You recognize a lot of them. Just accquaintances, not friends.

“Anywho. Please come and grab a copy, then sign the sheet so I know you received one.” You quickly stand up and head over to her desk. You want to make a good first impression. But Farleigh and his stupid long legs make it there before you do, charming Mrs. Chasteen with a bright smile.

“Hello. I’m Farleigh. I’m absolutely thrilled to be taking your class,” He holds out his hand, speaking with his velvety voice while your teacher shakes his hand with a curt nod. “You’re quite tall,” She remarks with an impressed expression. You roll your eyes. Why does everyone feel the need to comment on his height? Does it make him better than everyone else? It’s just one more thing that makes Farleigh stand out more than you, and you hate that. You miss what he responds with due to your bitter thoughts.

“Please, take a book.” She steps back and gives him more space. He reaches down and takes a copy off of her desk, signing the paper shortly after with his free hand, writing in flawless cursive. You’re envious of how smoothly and quickly he can connect the letters. It looks like something out of a scroll from the eighteenth century.

“Oh, wonderful cursive,” Mrs. Chasteen clasps her hands together in approval and Farleigh just glances at you with a shit-eating grin before walking off and back to your shared table.

“Hi there,” You put on your best I’m very high achieving and hard working smile and mimic Farleigh’s actions, holding out your hand as you introduce yourself. She smiles back warmly while shaking your hand. “What a beautiful name. I’ve heard many great things about you from your previous teachers.” She almost lowers her voice. You feel your face heat up and you try not to show your pride.

“Oh, well then, I hope I live up to your expectations, miss.” You say with a beaming smile. She chuckles and hands you a book. “I’m certain you will,” She replies as you sign your name on the sheet of paper in slightly sloppier cursive, looking worse underneath Farleigh’s perfect signature.

You walk back to your spot with a spring in your step, holding your head high. Hearing just those few words from your new teacher’s mouth made your day. That’s how badly you crave academic validation. Or just… validation in general.

“You hear that?” You ask, returning his grin from earlier. “Hear what?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and turning to you with a confused expression. “Nevermind.” You don’t know why you thought he would’ve heard your conversation from all the way over here. “Mmm,” He hums in response, and there’s some attitude in his tone. You debate whether you should come up with a snarky question to ask him, but you decide against it.

Once all the books are handed out, Mrs. Chasteen walks up to the whiteboard and uncaps a marker. “So, can anyone tell me something interesting about Emily Brontë?” She asks.

Both of your hands shoot up at the same time. You mentally curse at Farleigh and shoot him an annoyed side glance. He returns the favor. Mrs. Chasteen notices this and raises her eyebrows. “Eager to answer, are we?” She chuckles and then looks around. “Anyone else?”

You glance around the room. No one else is raising their hands, they’re all just looking expectantly at you and Farleigh. You look back to your teacher with wide eyes, willing her to pick you.

“Alright then..” Mrs. Chasteen clears her throat. Her eyes land on you. She’s going to pick you. Yes. Now you can prove your intelligence and superiority to the rest of the class, and to Farleigh.

“Farleigh.” Your hand drops back down to your side in defeat and he turns to look at you. He just winks. He winks. The annoying fuck, you could probably strangle him right now-

“Well, Emily wasn’t the only poet and writer in her family. Her sister, Charlotte, wrote Jane Eyre, which was hugely successful. But Wuthering Heights was critiqued for being too clumsy or, rather, not well structured.” He explains, sounding like a fucking Britannica article. It was the exact thing you were going to say, and it pisses you off. You rest your elbows against the desk and put your chin in your hands, sighing dejectedly.

Mrs. Chasteen nods and writes this on the board, summing up the information into bullet points. “Correct. Very good.” She caps the marker again and turns back to the class. You raise your hand quickly, and she calls your name.

“I think Farleigh’s forgetting to mention Anne Brontë. She was probably the least popular out of the three sisters, but her works are seriously underrated. Her last novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, was one of the first feminist novels. She paved the way for other female authors and gave women a voice.” You explain, and Mrs. Chasteen looks surprised at your level of knowledge. You can feel Farleigh’s bristling energy next to you. You smile contentedly, watching as your teacher writes what you said about Anne off to the side.

“And have you read this book?” Farleigh suddenly asks. You turn to face him, unafraid of his challenging. “No, I have not. But I did a project over the Brontë sisters last year, and my research went quite in depth.” You explain, and he does one of those Olympic winning eyerolls. “Having extra information like that comes in handy, you know,” You grin as his eyebrows furrow, glaring sharply at you. “It’s not like it matters. We’re not even talking about Anne. She asked about Emily.” It seems like you two have forgotten completely about the rest of the students in the room, the teacher, and everything else in the world as you begin to argue. It just comes naturally.

“If I’m not mistaken, you mentioned Charlotte. She asked about Emily,” You mock him. He opens his mouth to say something back, then closes it and looks down.

“Alright.. anywho, now we’re going to read a short introduction to the book to give you all an idea of what you’re getting into.” Mrs. Chasteen explains, giving you and Farleigh a stern look.

Throughout the rest of the class, you and Farleigh remain silent and refuse to speak to each other, though you were instructed to discuss with the person next to you. You look out the stained glass window, watching the raindrops patter onto the cobblestone, the puddles illuminated by the golden light shining from the lanterns, the chatter around you drowned out by your own thoughts about the rest of today.

Your overthinking is interrupted by your teacher’s voice.

“Okay everyone, that’s it for today. I will see you all tomorrow. Could you two stay for a moment, please?” She turns to you and Farleigh as you’re gathering your things, gesturing for you two to come up to her desk. You both glance at each other before nodding and heading over after you’ve swung your bag over your shoulder.

“So… you two seem very.. competitive. You’re both very intelligent, make no mistake.” You wonder where she’s going with this. “Which makes me curious– May I ask which universities you two intend on applying to?”

“Oxford.” You both say at the same time, after which you immediately turn to each other with wide eyes. What? No. It can’t be. You’re seriously fucked if he applies to Oxford. They rarely ever take two people from the same school.

“You’re applying to Oxford?!” You both ask, once again, at the same time. He looks almost personally offended by you, with his upper lip pulled up and his eyebrows knitted together in a familiar scowl.

“Oh- Haha, well. What a coincidence,” Mrs. Chasteen chuckles nervously, glancing back and forth. “I went to Oxford. It was quite lovely there, and the professors–”

“No, you can’t. I’m applying to Oxford.” You point at yourself, and he scoffs. “Who says I can’t?” Farleigh asks, his voice dripping with sass. “Me.” You reply. He rolls his eyes and facepalms with exasperation.

“Well, the chances of you both getting in aren’t… impossible. If they see two exceptionally good students who are at the top of their class, they won’t mind if you’re from the same school. They only see the talent,” She goes on to explain, trying to stop an argument from breaking out again.

“Logically, they would pick the top student, though. Not students,” You emphasize the s at the end of students. Mrs. Chasteen continues. “You never know. And backup universities are a great option, if–”

“I appreciate the suggestion, but I’ll only be applying to Oxford. It’s Oxford or nothing,” You reply, your voice full of determination. “Me too. Oxford’s been my dream uni since I moved here from the states,” Farleigh adds. You turn to glare at him and he glares right back.

“Well then. That’s fine, just please try not to take up any more class time with your bickering.” She raises her eyebrows at you two. You nod. “Yes, miss.”

“And who knows,” She says, pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, “You two might work better together. Two smart brains are better than one,” You shudder at the word together. You and Farleigh working together? Absolutely not.

“Think about it.” She points a finger and you reluctantly nod, just to give her some temporary satisfaction. “You’re excused,” She dips her head and you hear Farleigh let out a little sigh of relief. “Thank you, miss. Have a good day,” He nods shortly to her before turning on his heel and heading for the door. You follow suit.

Shit. You forgot about the rain. Before English class, you had made it inside before the downpour had really started. Now the raindrops covered every inch of the ground. You have to cross the courtyard to get to your next class, which is in the west wing of the school. You awkwardly stand in the arched corridor, listening to the rain, slightly shivering as you try to make a decision. The weather is always bipolar in London. It’s September, and the other day it was sweltering. Now it’s freezing and rainy.

Farleigh turns around and raises an eyebrow at your hesitation. “What are you doing?” He asks. You glance down. He’s holding a black umbrella. How is he always prepared for everything?

“Well I don’t have an… umbrella,” You mumble, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Am I supposed to care?” He replies. Of course. Why did you think he would care?

“You asked me what I was doing,” You throw your hands up. “I was answering your question!” You exclaim angrily. He rolls his eyes. “What’s your next class?” He asks hesitantly.

You pull out the small yet important paper from your pocket with your classes on it, looking down and squinting. “Biology,” You reply, looking up and watching all the other students bustling around, chatting excitedly or holding umbrellas over their head as they walk through the courtyard. You look back to Farleigh, who seems to be thinking something over in his head.

“Alright, c’mon.” He nods to you, walking out into the open area, holding up the umbrella. You step forward without questioning it, just thankful for the rare act of kindness. “I’m headed to the west wing anyway,” He says as you walk side by side, as if he has to make it clear that this is not him being generous to you. It’s simply convenient.

You wish you didn’t have to stay so close to him, but if you want to be covered fully from the rain, you sort of have to get closer to him, your head brushing against his shoulder due to your almost embarrassing height difference and your feet almost tripping over his. You both remain silent, with only the sound of the rain pelting against the umbrella to keep you company.

You eventually reach the west corridor, and he’s quickly stepping away from you and wrapping up the umbrella. You begin walking to go find your class, before you hear his voice call after you.

“No ‘thank you’ or anything?” He asks. You turn around and groan internally. “...Thank you.” You respond, very reluctantly and quietly. “You’re welcome,” He smiles sarcastically and you roll your eyes before turning back around, quickening your pace to make it to your class on time.

A week later, your first calculus assessment of the year is already upon you. It doesn’t help that you share that class, of all classes, with Farleigh. Math has always been your most difficult subject. You’ve never been quick to understand it, it never comes naturally for you. But if you put in the time and work, you can make it seem like it’s effortless.

Apparently for Farleigh, it is effortless. He makes it clear that he never studies for tests or quizzes. While it infuriates you, you also find it hard to believe. How can he ace everything when he claims he doesn’t even try?

You sit down at your desk, fishing your pencil and calculator out from your bag. You nervously chew on the eraser, waiting for the papers to be passed out.

“First assessment of the year, good luck everyone. If you fail, there will be no corrections, so hopefully that makes you feel better,” Mr. Bailey says as he passes out the tests. His sarcasm somehow only makes the situation worse. You spent hours studying for this last evening, although he claimed this was all ‘mostly a review’ from your precalculus class last year. Right. Review. You should know this stuff by now.

As soon as the paper is on your desk, you begin working, starting with the problems you know how to solve. You get in that zone, completely unbothered by your surroundings or any distractions, just working, switching between writing down numbers and formulas to typing into the calculator.

You get stumped on a question and glance up to check the time. Your eyes wander from the clock over to Farleigh, who seems completely relaxed, one hand running through his hair and fiddling with his dark curls and the other working a problem out.

“Eyes on your own tests, please,” Mr. Bailey sternly calls out. Your eyes dart over to him, where he sits behind his desk, his gaze directly upon you. Fuck. Now he’s going to think you were cheating. But what were you actually doing? Staring at Farleigh? No. You were just… observing. You go back to your test, flipping the paper over to start the graphing section.

“That’s time. Pencils down, I’ll come by to pick up your papers.” Mr. Bailey announces, standing up and starting down the rows of desks and picking up everyone’s tests. He says something to Farleigh but you can’t make it out, but you see Farleigh grin. It seems that Mr. Bailey has already chosen his favorite student. You never even stood a chance.

Once he makes it to your row and picks up your test, you begin to pack up your things. “I’ll have these graded by tomorrow. Please don’t complain to me if you fail. That’s on you.” You scoff quietly at your teacher’s harsh remarks as you make your way to the door. Thank God that was your last class of the day. Now you can head back to your dorm.

Farleigh falls into step next to you. “So, how’d that go for you?” You stare straight ahead, focusing on the path ahead of you. “Good. Honestly, it was easier than I expected.” You reply. It’s half truth. It was slightly easier than you were preparing yourself for, but you usually prepare yourself for the worst. But you can’t let him know that you still struggled.

“Really. Hmm,” He hums, and you glare up at him. “What?” You study his expression. He must think you’re lying, based on his little smirk and raised eyebrows. “Nothing. It’s just… we both know math is not your strong suit,” He pauses and you stop next to him. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be good at it.” You scowl up at him and he just grins.

“Unlike you, I actually study.” You continue walking, hoping he’ll leave you alone, but he follows you. “Aw, you actually need to study? Sad.” He pouts and you actually feel the urge to strangle him.

You turn around abruptly and he stops in his tracks. “Alright. Lovely talking with you. Bye!” You wave with a fake smile. Farleigh looks a bit surprised by your reaction. There’s only so much of his insults you can take.

“Bye,” He quietly mutters as you turn back around, walking quicker and more determined, putting some confidence into your step.

You groan and flop onto your bed once you enter your dorm. Suddenly, you realize how sleepy you are as your eyelids feel heavy You cover your face with a pillow and sigh, wishing you could rest. It sounds wonderful. But you have work to do. Reading, studying, the list goes on.

You chose this boarding school because you heard it was most similar to the Oxford experience, campus wise. It was also named the most prestigious secondary school in London. You often become very homesick, though, and you long for the comfort of your parents and your real home. At least it’s preparing you for university.

You groan once again into the pillow before sitting up and pushing the idea of sleep away. It’s time to get to work.

The next day, you wait to get your calculus test back. Mr. Bailey is handing them out while you overthink and prepare yourself for a failing grade. What would you do if you actually failed? You think you would rather be pushed off of a tall building than receive an F on a test.

Suddenly, a paper lands on your desk. You quickly glance down and see ‘97.5’ written in red ink at the top of the paper. Your eyes widen and you feel relief wash over you. Thank the Lord. You grin and pick up your test, inspecting it closer and going over your errors.

You hear someone coming up behind you. You quickly flip your paper over, hiding the grade from whoever is lurking over your shoulder. But it’s too late.

“Not bad…” A deep, American voice chuckles quietly. You turn around in your chair, and to no surprise, Farleigh is standing there with his arms crossed. He’s already seen your grade.

“Stop looking at my grades,” You hiss. “Relax, I was just curious.” He smirks at your frustration and holds up his own test. You see a ‘98’ scrawled up at the top along with a ‘good job’ next to it. You huff in response, turning back around.

“That’s not even much better than mine,” You mutter. “What’s that?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your neck. You shiver and remain silent, unable to repeat yourself for some reason.

“Sorry, who got the better grade?” Farleigh questions, his voice lowered. You let out a small sigh, ready to admit your defeat. “You.” You reply quietly.

“Right.” And then he’s gone, probably heading back to his own desk. What a bitch. You roll your eyes and pinch the space between your eyes, shaking your head. Yeah, he got .5 more points than you, and it doesn’t seem like much. But for Farleigh, it’s a huge win. But you’ll get him back. You always do. And you’re going to be the one who makes it into Oxford, you are sure of it.

[harrywavycurly]

A Killer’s Love Part 10: Schedules

Masterlist: Here

TW: Eddie is a serial killer, mentions of blood(reader gets a paper cut)

Tag List: @clairesjointshurt @sofaritsalrightt @squidscottjeans @stardustmunson @amberpanda99 @luv-flor7777

A/N: Eddie loves a good schedule but you like to be spontaneous✨

Eddie let’s out a long sigh as he rolls over expecting to find your warm body sprawled out on your side of the bed, face shoved into your pillow and your hair all over the place. But this morning he’s a little shocked to find your side of the bed empty, he places a hand on your pillow and feels the corners of his mouth slightly pull down into a frown when he feels how cold it is meaning you’ve been out of bed for a while. He quickly sits up and stretches his arms over his head as he takes a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand, seeing that it’s only eight in the morning adds to his confusion since normally on weekends you enjoy sleeping in until ten or so.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is quiet as he pokes his head into the bathroom to see if maybe you wanted an early morning bubble bath. Eddie takes a few steps into the bathroom so he’s standing in front of his designated sink area, he smiles when he sees little pools of water on your side because he can picture you standing there doing your little dance as you brush your teeth. He grabs a hair tie from the jar you keep in the middle of both of your sinks so he can put his hair up before brushing his teeth.

“She couldn’t have gone far.” He thinks to himself as he places his toothbrush back in its holder. He turns off the light as he exits the bathroom and slips his feet into his slippers before moving on to the kitchen.

“Baby?” He waits for a response as he slowly walks down the hallway towards the kitchen, he doesn’t smell coffee or hear you banging around as you make breakfast so he decides it’s safe to skip the kitchen and go straight to the living room. That’s where he finds his first clue as to where you could be, he sees a magazine sitting on the coffee table, one he knows wasn’t there when the two of you went to bed the night before.

“Ouch.” He turns his head in the direction of your voice, not exactly happy that the first word he’s heard from you this morning is one of pain but it tells him exactly where you’re at.

“Good morning baby.” You jump at the sound of Eddie’s voice as he leans against the doorway of the study. You look up from your book and see him smiling at you as he crosses his arms over his bare chest, still allowing a few of his tattoos to be seen. “Why the frown sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow as you look down at your index finger that now has a small drop of blood pooling at the tip from where you scratched it on a page of the book that’s in your lap.

“Why do paper cuts hurt so bad?” You question as Eddie takes a few steps towards you so he’s standing in front of your chair that you’re snugged up in while reading. Eddie just chuckles as he drops so he’s on his knees in front of you.

“Let’s take a look.” He reaches for your hand that has the paper cut so he can look at it and determine if you need a bandage or not. He reaches over to the side table next to your chair and grabs a tissue out of the box, he takes it and dabs at your cut trying his best to be gentle with you because it’s rare he actually cleans cuts on people since normally he’s the one causing the wounds in the first place.

“Does it need stitches?” He knows you’re joking so he just lets out a sigh as he looks up at you with a serious expression on his face.

“I’m thinking it needs to just go.” Your eyes go wide in mock horror as Eddie brings your finger to his mouth as if he’s going to bite it off. “But then again maybe just a kiss and a bandaid will do the trick.” You laugh as you feel his lips place a quick kiss to your tiny little wound before placing your hand back in your lap. “You’re up early.” He states as he leans over and places a kiss to your forehead before standing up.

“Can we go somewhere?” Eddie raises an eyebrow at you as you close the book in your lap and place it on the side table. “We deserve a vacation.” You add as you stand up and wrap your arms around his middle making his arms instinctively wrap around your shoulders as you look up at him.

“I agree.” You smile as he leans down so he can give you a sweet kiss to the lips. “But I have work tomorrow and so do you so maybe we can try to plan something for next month?” You pout at his words making his heart sink.

“We can just call in sick and go spend a few days at the cabin and just relax with the sound of the trees and birds chirping.” You use your voice that you save for special occasions that normally makes Eddie weak in the knees and willing to bend to your every whim but in this case he doesn’t seem to be willing to compromise and that’s because Eddie isn’t spontaneous. He likes a schedule since most of his after work activities are planned out weeks in advance and if he misses an opportunity to pay someone a visit he isn’t sure when he’ll get another chance. “Doesn’t that sound nice?” You bat your eyelashes as you look up at him for some added dramatic effect making Eddie just smirk as he looks down at you fully aware what you’re trying to do.

“Baby you know I’d love to.” He sees a brief flash of excitement in your eyes before it fades as you realize he’s not done talking. “But I just can’t right now I’m really swamped at work.” There it is, the excuse that’s not really an excuse it’s just his way of telling you no without using the word no. Eddie has learned over the years that you don’t like outright being told no so he has to find cleaver ways of telling you no without making you upset.

“Just one day? We can leave tonight and come home Tuesday morning in time for work.” Eddie mentally goes through his schedule for who he had planned to see Monday evening as you place little kisses to his chest in an added attempt to make him give in to your request. “Please Eddie.” It’s the way his name rolls off your tongue that does him in, he lets out a sigh of defeat before looking down at you.

“Okay baby.” He can’t deny he loves the feeling he gets when you grin and look up at him with your big eyes that are now truly filled with excitement. “Go pack a bag.” You reach up on your tiptoes and place a kiss to his lips before unwrapping yourself from him, he drops his arms from around your shoulders so you can rush out of the study and head down the hallway towards the bedroom. Eddie runs a hand down his face as he looks at the calendar that’s on the desk in the corner of the room. “Well Mr. Andrews it’s your lucky day.” He mumbles as he looks at the meeting listed for Monday evening with a Ted Andrews, he grabs a red pen from the cup and puts a large x over it. “You get to live to see next week.” He adds as he puts the pen back in the cup and heads for the bedroom to help you pack a bag for your spontaneous trip to the cabin.