#hazel eyes fem adult

[beautifulfaaces]

Ana Brenda Contreras

Facts

December 24, 1986

American actress

She is of Mexican descent

Filmography

Edith [Toda La Sangre: 2022]

Cristal Jennings [Dynasty: 2018-2019]

Verónica [Lo imperdonable: 2015]

Aurora [Teresa: 2010-2011]

Violeta [Juro que te amo: 2008-2009]

Juana [Barrera de Amor: 2005]

Appearance

brunette

hazel eyes

1.64m

Roleplay

playable: teenager, young adult, adult

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), fem!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[betweenstorms]

Part One of Where We Part (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Before he was Ghost, he was Simon Riley.

A quiet boy with eyes too old for his young face, always watching, always listening, always alone.

You had known him for as long as you could remember.

He was the lanky boy next door, the one with too much burden in his eyes, the one who never talked about the bruises or the shouting that came from his house at night. Even as kids, there was something about him that set him apart, something that made you want to protect him, even though he never let you. But you’d always notice the new bruises on his arms, the way his hazel eyes would darken whenever Tommy, his younger brother dragged him into trouble and the way he seemed to flinch at loud noises, at sudden movements.

Tommy Riley was loud, rude, and as wild as a storm untethered.

He was a real troublemaker, you never trusted his cruel grin and his rude words, never felt safe near the sharp edges of his temper. He thrived on chaos, a force of destruction that couldn’t be tamed, while Simon stood in his shadow, as if he existed solely as an apology—for his brother’s recklessness, for his family’s dysfunctionality and even for his own existence.

You were the neighbour’s only child, the one who never quite understood why Simon kept so much distance between you.

Something about him tugged at you—a quiet pull that made you want to reach into the cold and offer him the warmth of your world. You felt a strange protectiveness over him, as if it was your duty as someone older than him, some unspoken responsibility you carried without question. Through your school years, you kept watch over him, whether he knew it or not. When the students mocked him you were there, standing up for him, silencing the cruel whispers, even when it cost you friendships. The rumours about the Rileys circled like vultures, but you shut them down, defending a boy who never asked for it, who seemed more annoyed by your efforts than grateful.

You weren’t friends, after all, not really.

He never showed any sign that he wanted your help. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself. Something deep inside told you it was the right thing to do, even if Simon would never see it.

However, your parents, like most of the neighbourhood, kept their distance from the Rileys. It wasn’t something openly discussed, only whispered behind cupped hands at the local market, murmured in the pews of the church, or exchanged in knowing glances at school gates. Yet those looks exchanged between the adults made it clear—people didn’t want to get involved. The Rileys were trouble, everyone said, and it was best to leave them to their own devices.

You were forbidden from playing with Simon or Tommy, even though they were the only children near your age on the street.

It was an unspoken rule, one you didn’t quite understand as a kid but followed anyway, wishing things could be different. You were young then, far too young and innocent to grasp the weight of the shadows that lingered in the Riley household.

You didn’t know why Mr. Riley’s shouts echoed through the night, why Mrs. Riley wore bruises like secret confessions beneath her smile, why Simon’s silence felt heavy, like a wound too deep to heal. Their world felt so different from yours, a place of suffering you couldn’t quite touch. But as the years slipped by, as childhood faded into adolescence, the picture began to sharpen. With it, your protectiveness over Simon deepened, as the reality of what his father was doing became impossible to ignore. Understanding bloomed where innocence once was, and with it, the weight of knowing.

You couldn’t fathom how your parents, with their kind hearts and warm smiles, could do nothing.

How they could turn their backs on Mrs. Riley, her frail form draped in sorrow, and her two children, who so clearly needed help. You didn’t understand why they never returned Mrs. Riley’s weak greetings, why they closed themselves off from her suffering. It baffled you how they could step over Tommy, sprawled on their porch, drunk or worse, as if he were just another mess to be swept away.

But what haunted you most was their indifference to Simon—the boy your age, thin as a whisper, burdened with bruises no child should carry. How could they look at him and not see? How could they not feel the silent plea in his eyes? Where was their empathy for a child, for a boy who wore his misery like a second skin?

Oh, Simon.

His hazel eyes stayed with you, always, like shadows that linger long after the sun sets. There was something far too ancient in them, like he’d seen too much for someone who hadn’t yet grown into his own skin. They held a weariness that made you wonder what horrors had carved their marks so deeply into him. The whispers followed him everywhere, rumours circling like vultures over carrion. You didn’t know where they came from, Tommy’s careless tongue, or maybe the other nosy students who relished the cruelty of gossip, but they stained everything, leaving you wondering what was real.

You heard that Mr. Riley brought all kinds of dangerous animals into their home, taunting Simon with them, forcing him to kiss a snake, like it was some twisted game, some kind of sick power move. And then there were the stories of his father dragging him to those grim concerts, where violence blurred into spectacle.

They said he’d made Simon laugh at the overdose of a prostitute, made him witness things no child should ever see. You didn’t know if it was all true, but it didn’t matter. The shadow of those stories lingered over him, heavy and unshakable, and you could see it in the way the boy carried himself, in the haunted quiet of his presence.

There was a summer day, thick with heat and sorrow, that still clung to you like a forgotten song.

You had just turned nineteen that July, on the cusp of leaving behind the life you knew, ready to escape to the vastness of London and its promise of university, independence, and everything adulthood might hold. It was one of those warm, languid August evenings, where the sky blushed pink and gold, and the air was alive with the buzz of cicadas and the scent of overripe grass. You were out with your dear friends from high school, celebrating the end of an era. There was laughter, careless and sweet, the kind that only comes after a few too many drinks. A can of cheap beer was cradled in your hand as you leaned back in the passenger seat of your friend’s car, music pulsing around you like a heartbeat as you drove aimlessly through the familiar streets of your suburban neighbourhood.

The night felt like a farewell, a last taste of youth before everything shifted into the unknown. You giggled at something absurd, head dizzy and spinning, when suddenly, through the haze of the moment, you saw him.

Simon Riley.

There was something achingly bittersweet in seeing him there, swallowed by the dusk, his figure hunched as always.

Something inside you shifted, a strange ache that mingled with the buzz of the celebration—a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow that you couldn’t quite place. The guilt of childhoods lived on parallel tracks, always near, but never close enough.

Maybe it was the booze loosening your thoughts, making everything softer and hazier, or maybe it was the looming departure that made everything feel both fleeting and too permanent at once.

“Slow down,” you blurted out, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Your friend gave you a puzzled look, but complied, easing the car to a crawl. 

Simon walked on, dull eyes cast down like he had grown used to the world pretending not to see him.

“Riley,” you called out, your voice weak and unsure. “Fancy a ride?”

Your friends hissed, their voices sharp with confusion and disbelief. “What are you doin’?” one of them asked, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Girl, you’re mental!” another laughed, but their words were just background noise to you.

Your gaze stayed locked on Simon Riley, unwavering, even as embarrassment burned at the back of your neck.

For a moment, it felt as though time stretched impossibly thin, the space between you and him suspended in something fragile and delicate. And then, slowly, Simon stopped.

His hazel eyes caught yours beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

He furrowed his brows when he recognized you, the corners of his lips tightening in that way that told you he was already annoyed.

You flashed him a drunken smile, but it was crooked, empty, a weak imitation of your usual confidence. You leaned your chin on your palm, trying to ignore the sudden flood of emotions rising in your chest. You studied him, trying to find traces of the boy you once knew under the young man he’d become.

“So?” You asked, feeling exposed, a little too vulnerable under his gaze. Embarrassment and sadness twined together like vines around your ribs, squeezing tightly.

Simon’s response was cold, clipped, dismissive. “Don’t need a ride.”

His voice was deeper, rougher than you remembered, gruff with the weight of years that had passed since you last spoke. Had it really been that long? Long enough that you had forgotten what he even sounded like?

“Oh, you sure? We're headin’ that way anyway,” you hummed, trying to keep your tone light, though something in you was desperate, like this fleeting encounter needed to mean more than it did. But Simon just scoffed, a sound that cut through the night like a blade.

He turned away, resuming his walk down the pavement.

Your friends erupted into giggles, snickering at the awkwardness of the situation, their teasing only deepening the strange ache in your chest. But you tuned them out. With a sigh, you made up your mind. Fueled by guilt, nostalgia, and a bit of reckless drunkenness, you reached for the door handle.

“See y'all tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping out of the car before any of them could protest. One of your friends called, but you didn’t look back and didn't offer any explanation.

Without another thought, you hurried after Simon, your footsteps quickening as if you could somehow close the long years of distance in a single stride.

He didn’t stop for you.

He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you caught up, breathing rapidly, walking beside him. Meanwhile, the car pulled away, loud music fading into the distance, leaving you two in suffocating silence. His head was bent low, gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his feet, but you kept your eyes on him—on his broad shoulders that seemed too tense compared to yours.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke.

The night pressed down on you, the air too warm for comfort. Your face was flushed, whether from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the embarrassment of trailing after Simon, you couldn’t be sure. Each step felt heavier than the last, the awkwardness between you building with every inch you walked together, the distance between you palpable even though you two were side by side.

It was hard to keep your balance, the world around you tilting ever so slightly with each step. You stumbled once, your foot catching the edge of the pavement, and cursed under your breath as you regained your footing. You could have sworn you heard Simon sigh, a quiet, annoyed sound, barely more than a breath, but it stung nonetheless.

“So,” you chuckled awkwardly, desperate to fill the growing silence. Your voice sounded too loud, too false against the quiet of the neighbourhood. “Workin’ late, huh? Mum told me you got a job at the butcher’s. The one near the market, right?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed ahead. For a fleeting second, you thought that he might ignore you entirely. But then, in that low, gravelly tone, he muttered, “Yeah. S’what I do.”

His response was clipped, offering no room for conversation, but you pressed on, ignoring the tension tightening around you like a noose. “Must be rough, that. The long shifts, I mean. Can’t be easy workin’ with knives and saws all day.”

Simon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“It pays the bills,” he muttered, his voice flat. There was no hint of the boy you once knew, just a hardened young man who had learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

The conversation died again, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You swallowed hard, guilt rising again like a tide, mingling with the familiar ache of melancholy that always seemed to creep in when you thought of him.

Simon Riley had always been on the edge of your life, a shadow lingering just out of reach. You had never really known him, not truly. He was a figure cast in half-light, always present but never close enough to collide with. You had always watched him from afar, tried to stand up for him when the world became too cruel, but what had any of it meant? He never asked for your help, never even hinted that he needed it. So why bother now?

Simon hadn’t asked for your company—he never had.

And now, standing next to him, you felt that distance more acutely than ever. His silence was loud, louder than anything he could have said, and it left you feeling small, foolish.

The streetlights cast long shadows over the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the void. The warm summer night, which had felt so light and carefree only moments ago, now seemed oppressive, weighing down on your shoulders like an invisible burden. Before you could open your mouth to say something uncomfortable again, Simon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with irritation.

“You don’t need to do this.”

You blinked, the alcohol making your thoughts slow to catch up. “Do what?”

Simon glanced at you, his hazel eyes dark and distant, a flicker of something hard lingering just beneath the surface.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pity. Guilt. Or whatever it is that’s makin’ you follow me right now.”

Pity? Guilt? That wasn’t what this was—was it? No, of course not. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that you weren’t here out of some misguided sense of obligation. But the look on his face stopped you. It was a look of exhaustion, of someone who had heard this all before, someone who had learned not to trust the intentions of others.

“I’m not—” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off again.

“I know you’re leavin’,” Simon murmured, his tone dry, as if stating an obvious fact. “Heard your folks talkin’ about it. You’re off to London, right? So, whatever this is, don’t bother.”

The embarrassment burned hot and heavy in your chest, spreading to your cheeks and ears.

“Look, I’m not tryin’ to—” you began again, your voice softer, almost pleading.

Simon shook his head, his expression hardening. “Don’t. I don’t need your bloody charity, alright? I mean it. I don’t need your… whatever the fuck this is.”

The words struck you like a fist to the chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

You halted in your tracks, and to your surprise, he did the same. The space between you felt heavier now, like it carried the weight of all the years that had passed, thick with everything unsaid. You bit down on your lower lip, your gaze lifting slowly, hesitantly, to meet his.

He towered over you now, though once you’d been the taller one. Despite the age gap, the few years between you, despite the fact that you were older than him, Simon seemed like someone who had long since outgrown you, both physically and mentally.

Funny, how time had stretched and twisted between you both, long enough to turn everything unfamiliar. It had been so long, too long, hadn’t it? Since you’d last spoken to him properly. Long enough that you couldn’t quite place when the shift had happened, when Simon had become a stranger to you, a distant figure in your memory rather than the boy next door.

“I don’t wanna leave like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to your feet, your voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the warm night air. Your hands itched with nervous energy, and you scratched your elbow awkwardly, trying to anchor yourself. “I know we weren’t exactly friends, but that doesn’t mean I never cared. About you, I mean. And I—” you paused, the words tangling on your tongue, too clumsy, too inadequate for the heaviness in your chest. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter now.”

Simon sighed again.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes like he was too tired for this, too tired for you. The way he looked at you, it was like you were the one out of place, like he was the older one, the wiser one. There was something in his gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could, something that said he didn’t know what to do with you. Not now, not then, maybe not ever.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared, as if deciding whether it was even worth responding.

“The only advice I can give you,” he said, each word deliberate, like he was choosing them with care, “is to live your life. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. And if we’re lucky, we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.”

The deadpan delivery should’ve stung, should’ve hurt more than it did, instead, you found yourself chuckling softly, soft and bitter at the same time. The absurdity of it, of this whole encounter, made you want to cry and laugh in equal measure. Somehow, he’d managed to diffuse the tension in the most Simon way possible.

But still, it felt like it had always been there, hadn’t it? Unsaid words, missed chances, a history that never was.

You looked up at him, your lips twitching into a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?” you said, trying to make light of the ache that had settled deep in your bones.

Simon tilted his head slightly, watching you with those unreadable hazel eyes. “Not really my strong suit, is it?” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

“No, not at all.”

He looked at you, his eyes still guarded, as though he was searching for something in your expression that he couldn’t quite find. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. Didn’t return the smile either. Instead, he shrugged with a kind of finality that made your heart sink.

Simon nodded towards the road ahead.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

The offer was simple, but it carried an underlying meaning, like it was both a farewell and an acknowledgment that, despite everything, you had once meant something to him, even if only in passing.

There was something about his detachment, his unwillingness to engage with the past, that hurt more than you expected. Maybe you had wanted some closure, some understanding from him, a sign that what you felt wasn’t one-sided all these years. But Simon wasn’t offering that. He wasn’t offering anything at all.

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t even protest that you were fine on your own, that you didn’t need his protection. Instead, you forced a weak smile onto your face and started walking, hoping the darkness would hide the tears pricking at your eyes. The sound of your footsteps seemed louder now, echoing against the stillness of the night, as if you were both walking away from something you couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, not too long ago, I used to walk you home after church on Sundays. When your mum went to the market. Remember?”

Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but then he hummed, a low, almost noncommittal sound. He wasn’t the boy who needed walking home anymore, and you weren’t the one who could offer him safety.

The walk was silent. But what had you expected? That he’d thank you for some half-hearted attempt at connection after all these years? That he’d open up, that there would be a cathartic moment where you’d both acknowledge the traumatic childhood you shared with him and walk away with some semblance of peace?

Still, it was strange, walking side by side with someone who felt like a stranger, yet also someone you had known your entire life.

The short walk to your parents' house felt longer than it should have. As you approached the familiar gate, the scent of roses hit you, your mother’s prized bush blooming full and red next to the fence.

Simon stopped just outside your childhood home, as if some invisible boundary had been set between him and you. His eyes glanced at the rose bush, then back at you, his expression unreadable, that same distant mask he had worn for years.

“Thanks for walkin’ me home,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to lower it. It wasn’t likely that your parents would be waiting behind the curtains, watching this uncomfortable farewell.

They never cared much for Simon anyway.

His face was unreadable, shadowed by the dim light that illuminated the porch, but you could see his hazel eyes flicker as they scanned your features, taking you in like he was committing this moment to memory. And for a fleeting second, it was as if you weren’t standing on the cusp of goodbye, as if you were still those two awkward kids, stuck in a world neither of you could quite escape.

You did the same. Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, his sandy blonde hair, his broad shoulders, the faint stubble along his jawline that he hadn’t had when you last saw him. There was something fragile about this moment, a shared understanding that neither of you would speak of, but it was there all the same.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could let the fear of rejection stop you, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him. The contact was sudden, your body instinctively pulling him into a hug that neither of you expected.

It was an impulsive decision, a desperate, clumsy attempt to offer some comfort, to bridge the gap between the boy you once knew and the man standing before you. You pulled him into you, your blushed face pressing against his hard chest. For a heartbeat, he froze, stiff beneath your touch, and you immediately regretted it.

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lingering guilt, the sense that you had never done enough, never said enough. But as soon as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, the solidness of him, you realised your mistake. This wasn’t the kind of goodbye Simon wanted. You pulled away quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart racing.

“Take care, Si,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t dare look at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you turned on your heel, practically fleeing up the path to your front door, leaving him standing there beneath the roses—roses that were as red as your cheeks, blooming in the quiet of the night.

[dixons-sunshine]

Sweetest | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wounded and benched from runs for the week, Daryl was asked to watch the kids in the prison while you and some of the others worked on repairing a breach in one of the fences. One of the kids asked Daryl how he met you, his wife, and it made for a rather sweet tale.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: This turned out worse than I hoped, better than I expected. I don't really know how to explain it, but I hope you like this! (Thank you @ddamm and @dixondystopia for giving me your favourite moments from the entire series to add to this! They were pretty much the same, so great minds truly do think alike, as they say.)

“Mr Dixon?”

At the sound of his name being called, Daryl looked up from his baby girl and locked eyes with a little girl—Mika, he believed her name was—who was staring at him with a big smile. “Yeah?” he replied, slightly bouncing his knee when Hazel began fussing a little.

Mika giggled slightly, sharing a look with her sister, Lizzie, before turning back to the archer. “Mrs Dixon is your wife, right?” she inquired, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Daryl's lips involuntarily twitched up at the mere mention of you. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah? Why do ya ask?”

“Well, my dad likes to talk about how he met my mom. Mr Greene has told us how he met his last wife a million times. We wanna know how you met Mrs Dixon!”

Almost as if for added emphasis, the other children all perked up and voiced their interest in knowing the tale of how Daryl met you, his beautiful wife. The archer, both amused by the children's nosiness and embarrassed by the metaphorical spotlight he was placed under, let out a small scoff and adjusted Hazel in his arms, allowing the small girl to happily toy with his fingers. “It ain't some big love story or nothin'. It'll only bore ya.”

“No, it won't,” Carl added from his position atop one of the tables. The teenager had been sulking because Rick had forbade him from helping fix the breach in the fence—where several walkers had managed to crawl through—but the chance of getting to know some insight to one of the most talked about couples in the prison brightened his mood somewhat. You and Daryl were the only couple that dated back before the outbreak, and everyone was eager to know how the two of you got together, and how you managed to keep that spark alive. “We wanna know. Come on, Daryl. Please.”

Daryl let out a small groan and rolled his eyes at the young Grimes' insistence. “Why dun' y'all go pester Glenn or somebody? M'sure he'd be more than happy to tell y'all 'bout how he met Maggie.”

“But he's told us that story a zillion times already,” one of the kids groaned. “We wanna hear your story. Please, Mr Dixon.”

Daryl let out a deep sigh. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Carol chuckle, closely followed by the chuckles of a few of the adults that were taking a break from their chores around the prison. Daryl shook his head and pursed his lips. “Y'all really wanna hear?” Almost instantly, all of the kids perked up and simultaneously voiced their clear interest, trying to talk over the other. Daryl raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Woah, calm down. I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til y'all quiet down.” And just like that, it got so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. “Y/n and I go back many years, long 'fore all'a y'all kids were born. We're closin' in on three decades'a knowin' one another.”

“Thirty years?” Carl voiced in a disbelieving tone. “That's basically forever!”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess ya can say tha', yeah.” Daryl shushed Hazel when she began fussing a bit, lightly tickling her stomach to coax a laugh from her. “We met when we were twelve, 'side this river in the woods outside the trailer park we lived in. I admit, I didn't know wha' to think'a her at first. Refused to talk to her fer a whole month, but she never gave up. She kept pesterin' me 'til one day, somethin' happened and I broke my quiet facade. Tha's when we started becomin' friends.” Daryl stopped and tried to hide the smile that spread across his face, but to no avail. “She, uh... She quickly became my best friend after tha'.”

“When did you start love-liking her?” one of the kids asked with a giggle, closely followed by the mischievous laughter of the other kids.

Daryl hummed and shrugged. “After she did somethin' fer my sixteenth birthday. I liked her fer a while 'fore tha', but tha' occasion was my wake-up call. My feelin's fer her slapped me righ' in the face tha' day.” He stopped and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I didn't have the balls to confess to her fer 'nother year after tha'. And when I did confess, it was righ' after we went and bought pa—” Daryl cut himself off, painfully aware of the immature teenage boys that would freak out over the mere mention of pads. Because of that, he altered the truth a little. “...Pasta fer dinner tha' nigh'. Things escalated and we kissed, and then her mom walked in.”

“No,” Beth gasped, slightly tightening her grip on Judith as she thought of the embarrassing scenario.

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “It was embarrassin' as shi—crap, tha's fer sure, but we lived. Her mom was nice 'bout it all. Definitely didn't mean we could escape her teasin', though.” He pursed his lips as he thought of that moment, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind, even all those years later. “Her teasin' got even worse when Y/n and I eloped. She was kinda upset 'bout it, but she soon went straight back to teasin' us fer not bein' able to wait to have a proper weddin'.”

By that point, unbeknownst to the archer, the group that had been working on fixing the fence—a group that included you—had silently stepped into the part of the prison everyone was in to alert the kids to the fact that they could go play. However, once they heard what the crossbow-wielding man was talking about, they stopped and remained quiet, eager to hear about it all. And you stayed quiet as well, quite shocked that your husband was willingly telling stories about his past with you. He preferred to keep that part of his life private, but there he was, happily talking away. It made your heart swell with love and affection for the man.

“The two of you stayed together for all those years?” Zach—Beth's boyfriend—asked, leaning against the wall. When Daryl nodded, he continued. “How?”

Daryl shrugged and adjusted his daughter in his arms again, feeling her head begin to droop as she was beginning to fall asleep. “I love 'er. And fer some reason I still don't understand 'til this day, she loves me. Ain't tha' hard to stay committed to the person ya love the most. Relationships ain't always all sunshines and rainbows, but when yer with the person ya love, s'all worth it. Y/n taught me tha'. She's the sweetest person ever. I dun' know wha' I did to deserve her, but I thank my lucky stars every day tha' I get to call her mine.”

It went silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the fences. That is, until Rick spoke up from behind the huntsman, startling him and alerting him to the fact that essentially everyone had heard him practically rave about you.

“Well said, brother. Well said,” Rick complimented him, a faint, teasing smile on his face. He turned towards the younger ones in the group and gestured towards the door. “Y'all can go play now. Just stay away from the fences.” And just like that, all the kids—except Carl—had forgotten their need to hear about Daryl's love story with you. They all excitedly darted out the door, their laughter fading as they disappeared out the doors.

Michonne smirked, playfully hitting you on the back. “Y/n, you never told me you found such a keeper. And you found him early on, too. You're so lucky.”

“Yeah, she is,” Carol chipped in, a teasing smile on her face as well. “Did I ever tell you about this one guy in our old camp that insulted her and Daryl instantly put him on his ass? He did accidentally reveal her pregnancy while doing so, but that's besides the point.”

“Was it Shane?” Rick asked, sighing when Carol nodded. “Yeah, of course it was,” he mumbled while he shook his head.

“Not to mention how he nearly killed Jenner because he wouldn't let us out—well, wouldn't let them out. He didn't care much for us back then. We all know he only wanted the doors open so that Y/n was safe,” Glenn piped in.

“Aw,” Michonne cooed teasingly. “That is so sweet, Daryl. You're just a big teddy bear.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment as the others joined in on the teasing as well. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he would've gotten up and bolted from the embarrassing situation, had it not been for the fact that Hazel had just fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.

The feeling of your hand being rested on his shoulder almost instantly made him calm down, your familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort to him. The rest of the group were to busy relaying their favourite moments they had seen between the two of you to notice this interaction, and the archer was glad about that. He was also glad that they couldn't hear what you whispered in his ear, because although Daryl Dixon wasn't a selfish man, the others didn't have to hear these words you clearly meant just for him:

“I'm proud of you. You climbed out of your shell today and did something I know you don't always enjoy doing. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon, and I love you so much.” You placed a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. “You really are the sweetest person ever.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[impala-dreamer]

Just Wrong

A Supernatural Story

~John Winchester has a hard life and an even harder time keeping his mind off of young Y/N.~

John Winchester x Fem!Reader, Dean Winchester

1,998 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Age Gap, Masturbation, Longing

A/N: Set pre-series somewhere between Sam going to college and the start of the show. Reader is a little younger than Dean, but still of legal age. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He was always watching. He told himself it was out of concern. He was teaching them how to hunt, how to walk away from a fight without too much mess, how to stay the fuck alive. But that wasn’t all it was.

Ever since they’d picked Y/N up after the case in Buckeye, he’d been enamored with her. She was quick witted and clever, eager to learn, even more so to please. She was beautiful, too, in that way he wasn’t supposed to linger over too long anymore. Not at his age. Not at hers. Hell, she was tucked right in between his boys in age, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t spend his days eyeing the curves of her jeans, his nights dreaming of tossing her in the back of the Impala and having himself a taste of her sweet young body.

It was just wrong.

Besides, Dean seemed to be just as in love. He was all puppy eyes and cocky smirks around Y/N, and she seemed just as interested. They were forever joking around, bumping shoulders, playfully slapping, generally acting like young adults in the first stages of love.

He couldn’t do that to his son, no matter how much he wanted to take her stupid little ponytail in his fist and yank until she cried, until she was whimpering and staring up at him with those pouty lips all hungry and wet.

It was just wrong.

So he watched. Kept a parental eye on her, on them both. He eyed her in the rearview mirror, distracted from the road by her gentle humming and the way the sun bouncing off the chrome struck her face. He stared over books while they trudged through long research sessions, one eye on the text, the other on the tip of the pen that was forever tucked between her delicious lips, taunting him. He counted her smiles, her laughs, her annoyed grunts; every furious shout, each heart-stopping moan. He took snapshots with his mind, tucking little moments away forever.

At night, he would lie awake and watch her sleep, imagining she was in his arms and not sleeping butt-to-butt with his son, a pillow jammed between them like a wall.

There were times when she caught him staring. A few too many times he didn’t turn away fast enough and she found his gaze locked on her, hazel eyes lingering a little too long on the dip between her tits, the curve of her middle, the tip of her tongue. She never shied away, instead, she met his eye with a confidence beyond her years as if she held some secret she was daring him to dig up. That was a grave he’d be happy to excavate.

But no. It was just wrong.

Still, he couldn’t help but dream. Dream of her soft young body melting for his touch. Dream of her sweet voice growing louder as he claimed her virgin cunt.

Somewhere outside of Beaumont, Texas, they holed up in a crappy motel for a few days' rest before heading to the west coast. The room was cramped and old and smelled like bleach.

They ate pizza for dinner and downed a few beers each. Y/N was curled up on one of the beds, Dean at her side as always. John sat across from them, keeping an eye on his treasure and his pirate son.

More than once, he could have sworn she was looking at him. Her ears were with Dean, but her mind, her gaze, was on John. She drank her beer in tiny sips, with the rim of the brown bottle seated perfectly in the middle of her bottom lip. She curled her mouth around the glass and stared at him, teasing perhaps, but probably just oblivious to her charms. She couldn’t be flirting with him. There was no way.

Still, he let that glimmer of a thought grow in the back of his head; let the dream take over. He allowed himself to imagine her lips trailing down his body and wrapping around his cock until he was aching and had to excuse himself.

He left them there and slammed the bathroom door, near to panting. He pressed his palm against the wood and closed his eyes.

She was there on her knees at his feet, batting her painted lashes up at him, begging silently for his cock. She whimpered and opened her mouth, a bit of drool spilling down her chin.

John sucked in a heavy breath and beat his fist against the door.

“You OK, Dad?”

Dean’s voice broke through his imagination and John cleared his throat.

“Yeah. All good.” He shook his head and scrubbed his hands down his face, turning away.

“We’re gonna go grab more beer. OK?”

John exhaled hard and turned on the sink faucet. “Yeah. Good. Just leave me alone.”

He splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror. He was fucking old. How’d he get so old? He tugged at his cheeks, tried to smooth out the lines around his eyes. He squinted at himself, trying to find the young man he used to be.

Would she ever look at him the way she looked at Dean? All innocent smiles and awkward giggles. Or was he too old for that crap? Were the days of women giggling in his direction a thing of the past?

Well, fuck them. He didn’t need to chase young things anyway. He got what he needed when he needed it.

And still-

Y/N with that beer… with her mouth so plump and juicy like a plum…

His cock strained against his jeans again and he huffed. Fuck it.

John stepped into the tub and settled down on the cold porcelain as he unbuttoned his pants. He pushed his head back against the edge and yanked his jeans down just enough to free his dick. He was throbbing already and the cool air was a bit of a jolting shock.

He hissed and wrapped his hand around the base, closed his eyes and saw her face.

Would she call him Daddy? Dare he ask her to? Would she let him strip her slowly, take his time unwrapping her like a gift until every inch was exposed and shivering under his touch? Would she moan his name as he sunk his cock into her, scream when she came? Would they wake the dead together?

“John?”

The door creaked open and he froze, eyes snapping open and heart skipping. He sat up and tried to cover himself, but she was already peeking inside, her tiny hand curled around the door.

Her eyes went wide when she saw him. Her jaw dropped and lips curled. “Oh! I’m… sorry. I just- I heard something, wanted to check on you.”

John cleared his throat but his mouth was bone dry. “I’m fine.” He shifted in the tub, tried to look normal even though his skin was burning and his balls were aching. “Thought you and Dean were going out to-”

Y/N shook her head gently. Her eyes were falling from his face downwards, following the line of his arm. “No. He went by himself. I wanted to… stay here with you.” Stepping fully into the bathroom, she shut the door behind her and threw the lock. Coyly, she pressed her back to the door and bowed her head, chewed her lip nervously.

He swallowed hard. “You did?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Is that- OK?”

Blood pounded in his ears. “Y-yeah. That’s fine.”

Y/N pushed away from the door and locked her arms behind her back. She took a step closer and peered into the tub. “You sure?” She licked her lips slowly. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

He should kick her out. Shouldn’t let her stay.

“Not disturbing me… Not at all.”

Another step and she was at the edge of the tub. Eyes lidded with a sultry gaze, she started at his face and swept down over his entire body and then back up, settling on his cock. She tongued her cheek and let out a slow breath.

“It’s just that… I heard you call my name before and…” Gently, she sank to her knees on the cold tile and placed her hands on the rim of the tub. “Well, I thought if you needed some help…” Eyes on his face, she let her right hand slide from porcelain to denim and she curled her fingers into his thigh. “I could… be of service.” She moved a little higher, going slow lest he protest.

His jaw hung open, his brain sizzled. He should tell her to get lost, throw some kind of fit and make her leave, but fuck, her hand was so light yet pressed so heavy on his leg. His head was swimming, heart racing.

“You should go,” he whispered, barely any conviction behind it.

A little higher, her thumb brushed against the top of his sack.

He shuddered, stomach tensing hard.

“Are you sure?” she asked, pushing his hand away to take the base of his cock in the tight ring of her fist.

John hissed and grabbed her wrist, locking his long fingers all the way around. She startled, but held his gaze, daring him to tell her to go.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, suddenly older than her years, seemingly far from the innocent little doll in his fantasies. Better, sexier. “I want to.”

His grip loosened and she snagged her lip between her teeth, clearly hot and excited herself.

She stroked him slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his. Her touch was like silk, her movements expert. John held his breath when she picked up the pace, groaned when she sat higher up on her knees to reach him better.

She was rolling against nothing as she worked his cock and John snuck a hand over the ledge, plucked at her tits through her shirt. She whined beautifully and tipped her head back; throat long and exposed, begging to be bitten.

“So wrong,” he moaned, reaching up to grab a fistful of her hair. She whimpered just like he imagined and her eyes rolled back to pure white.

“Not wrong,” she said with a grin. “You and me could never be wrong…” She swirled her palm over his leaking tip. “Never.”

“God, I want you so bad.” He grit his teeth, jerked his hips up into her hand.

Y/N paused for a moment and then pulled away. She stood up and John watched in shock as she tugged the jeans from her hips. Her panties were thin and damp and she tossed them aside as well.

“Want you too, John…”  Lifting her right leg, she set her heel on the tub and spread her pussy for him. “Want you to fuck me, John. Please… Please… Please… Please…”

Jaw clenched tight, he grunted loudly as he came, spilling into his own hand. Y/N vanished in a cloud of imagination and he sighed, relaxing in the empty tub.

“Fucking hell…”

Dean’s fist pounded on the door and John jumped.

“We’re back!”

John huffed and pushed himself up from the tub. “Thought I told you to leave me alone, damnit!”

There was no response, he was sure he heard Y/N laugh through the door. The bedsprings squeaked, the television snapped on.

John washed his hands and tucked himself away. Eyes back in the mirror, he shook his head.

“Keep dreaming, asshole,” he growled, hating himself for wanting her.

There was no way she would ever act like that, no way she’d ever want him the way he wanted her.

And yet, he was almost certain she gave him a teasing smile when he stepped back into the room. Sure she was eyeing him a little more than usual as they sat and watched t.v.; positive she was licking that bottle into her mouth just for him.

But fuck, it was just wrong…

[hazelsmirrorball]

Santa’s Little Helper | Hazel Callahan

summary: Y/n is in desperate need of a job when her friends from her fight club find out where she works. They come up with a plan to make her have fun. pairings: Hazel Callahan  x Fem! reader warnings: none.

Y/n desperately needed a job, with money being tight this year and Christmas being around the corner searching for a job on Christmas break was her top priority. So she applied to every single job in the mall near your home. Bookstores, cafes, fast food and clothing stores, yet the job that was on the bottom of the list was the first and only one to call her back, so she desperately agreed. No one was willing to hire an inexperienced young adult so might at well suffer a little bit for the money,

Y/n didn’t intend on telling none of her friends about her new job, one of the reasons being that for them having a job was something they didn’t have to worry about right now, at least for Hazel and Brittney since their parents were loaded. The other reason was how absurd and dumb the job made her feel. She knew if her friends found out she was working here she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Her main duties were attempting to clean vomit, tears and other bodily fluids, while also pretending to be entertained by the client's wishes and smiling. But all of the above was nothing compared to the hideous work uniform she had to wear. She remembers PJ's first job and she couldn’t even comprehend how she could have such a fine uniform while Y/n had this outrageous outfit.

Her thoughts were snapped by her boss telling her it was time for her break. She thanked God and quickly went to open the small gate in front of her when she heard the familiar laughs in front of her. She slowly looked up, finding several pairs of eyes staring straight at her.

“Sometimes getting up early has its perks, Sylvie. Because if you would’ve told me if I went Christmas shopping to find Y/n dressed like this I would’ve come here sooner” PJ said with laughter filling her voice leaning against Hazel in an attempt to hold her laughter and posture. Sylvie mickmed his actions attempting to catch her breath.

When Y/n looked around looking for help with the other’s she only saw all of them in the same condition as PJ and Sylvie .

“Come on guys! It’s not that funny” Y/n responded rolling her eyes with a huff. Which made the group laugh even harder. ‘

“Oh, It’s not funny L/n. It’s hilarious” Isabel responded hitting Y/n’s shoulder laughing

“Come on Isabel! Don’t hit her, she’ll tell Santa and he’ll put you on the naughty list” Josie responded giggling softly.

“I hate you guys so much,” she muttered through gritted teeth. Taking her elf hat off angrily. 

“When I told you, you could pass as an elf I didn’t mean literally sweetheart” PJ said out of breath, cleaning the tears spilling from her eyes.

“I for one think you look very adorable, Y/n. It suits you really well” Hazel exclaimed smiling which made Y/n blushed softly.

“Elfie! Your break is over. Santa is waiting for you” Y/n could hear her boss yell from a few feet away. She rolled her eyes while the laughter of the group intensified.

“Elfie? Please this keeps getting better and better” PJ and Josie hugged each other while screaming in laughter causing the people in the line to take pictures to look at the group and with that Y/n scurried away towards her place, settling down next to Santa and helping little kids on his lap. When she looked at the camera smiling for the picture she noticed her group of friends entering one of the stores in  front of her booth  but she brushed it off.

An hour passed by and she started hearing a ruckus coming from the line but she ignored it thinking it was a kid possibly fighting with his mom because he didn’t want to take a picture with Santa or that he didn’t want that toy, whatever it was they didn’t pay her enough to find out.

“Last picture before Santa goes on his break to fix up some toys, next please” Y/n in the sweetest voice possible. When she turned around noticing her group of friends wearing matching pajamas and standing in line to take their pictures she almost died.

“Yes! We are really excited to take pics with Santa!” PJ exclaimed while running towards him with Josie close behind. Both of them surprisingly ended up sitting on Santa’s lap. While Isabel,Stella-Rebecca and Brittney sat on the floor in front of them A criss crossed. Sylvie laid on the floor near the trio, taking Hazel  and Annie to each of Y/n’s sides.

“Have you kids been good this year?” Santa asked Josie and PJ.

“Oh, we’ve been the best santa” PJ grinned making Y/n roll her eyes.

“Well that’s amazing dear girl. What do you kids want for christmas?”

“My friend really wants to get lai-”

“PJ!” Hazel exclaimed while blushing

“Let’s take a picture with Santa!” Y/n said attempting to shut PJ up. The cameraman counted with his fingers.

“I wrote a little letter to Santa and asked him to leave a certain little helper under my tree this year” Hazel whispered in her ear after her face turned completely red.

“Say, Mistletoe,” Isabel exclaimed while smiling at the camera.

“one, two, three, mistletoe” the group minus Y/n said at the same time. The girl looked up to see Annie holding up a small mistletoe between Hazel and herself. Her face turned completely red when she felt Hazel’s  lips against her.

She lost her job that day but at least they had the best christmas card to send to everyone they knew.

Happy holidays!

[forherheart]

it’s been so long - william afton [intro]

pairing: william afton x fem!bodied reader

warnings: smut, degradation, dub-con, non-con, use of alcohol, use of drugs, abuse, age gap, underage

summary: hurricane, utah was a relatively quiet city. home of young new families and older generations looking to spend their final days in peace. that was until a new family eatery opened right in the heart of the town.

the afton’s were a handsome family consisting of five members who each came with their own quirks.

there was evan. a young boy who had dark sandy hair and hazel eyes. he could always be seen with his stuffie in the crook of his arm as if the yellow bear had been his protector.

the afton’s only daughter was a young lady named elizabeth, she was just as precious as the meaning of her name. she resembled her mother in more ways than one with long golden hair and piercing green eyes.

their final child had been given the name michael. michael was an irritable teenager who strongly resembled his father though he never got along with the man. he sported disheveled long brown hair and brown eyes just like his younger brother.

there was then of course the woman who tied the whole family together; a petite woman named clara who stood just a mere five feet tall with short blonde hair that fell just to her shoulders. she was a bubbly woman; quite the opposite of her husband.

last but certainly not least was the patriarch of it all…william afton. the lanky man stood almost a foot and a half taller than his wife. he styled his dark brown hair slicked back with stubble to match.

-

william afton was a proud man. ever since he was young he was taught to never ask for help and to never show any sign of weakness. this helped him very much as he struggled his way through school but ended up as one of the most successful graduates.

william and clara got married young once they found out they were pregnant with their first child. they married in a courthouse and very soon after moved from the outsides of south hampton, england to a small city in utah.

the pair hadn’t known anyone so when william went to work for a semi threatening manufacturing factory clara stayed at home spending almost every day with little to no adult contact.

william left for work at five in the morning, he left the house quietly completely disregarding his wife of any affection and clocked in around five-thirty. william left for the bar after work at five-thirty. working twelve hours days was demanding and hard to do but it beat staying home with his newborn.

william typically spent the rest of his nights at a dingy bar just a few blocks away from the home that occupied the two members of his family. william would drink himself silly almost every single day and eventually head home around two o’clock in the morning. until one day.

william hadn’t even made half his way through a tall glass of gin when he heard the boisterous voice of what he would to know as his business partner; henry emily.

emily was a jolly man. he had rosey cheeks and flaxen messy hair that fell across his forehead. he was a meaty man who showed a certain amount of confidence that william had been looking for in a confident. so, when the man sat just a few seats next to him in a bar he had all the intentions to start up a conversation with him.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆⟡˚ ཐི⋆♱ 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚⟡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alex nilsen x fem reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you two always love going to the schools haunted house during halloween every year except this year the student upped the ante

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fluff, haunted house (but at school), students are MAD jealous of you two, couple costume, you're a comp sci teacher

𝐚/𝐧: baby's first alex fic!!! hope this was good and did I project my love for computer science AND tangled onto this fic? why yes, yes i did, hope you enjoy!

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

All the students at East Linfield High knew never, ever, to go even near the Literature classroom during lunch. 

The seniors knew exactly why so they warned the younger students, drilling into them not to even think about getting anywhere close to the Literature classroom during lunch.

Yet, every year, there’s always a group of ballsy freshmen and sophomores that walk by the classroom. Giggling and tiptoeing their way through the hallways, inching closer and closer to the classroom when they’d hear laughter. The students would stall outside the door when even more laughter would escape the room, actually even smells of wonderful food would escape the room.

They would stop, look at each other, before peaking into the room noticing their Computer Science teacher laughing it away with the Literature teacher.

They would smile softly as the two teachers joked around, dancing around the classroom, and kiss so softly. Their chests would swell with jealousy at the two adults’ love for each other.

And what a love it was you two had. You and Alex had known each other forever, having gone to University of Chicago where Alex also had gone. You two took your core classes together, scheduling your days to be aligned so you two could hang out with each other. But, when you two had to go into more major specific classes, you two split. Like a Kit-Kat, except one side didn’t have any wafers while one side didn’t have any chocolate. 

It was sad to say the least, both of you felt a part of your heart being chiseled out of your hearts. You were never the same, even when you eventually found a job at East Linfield High just two years after getting your degree in Computer Sciences.

Your parents found it quite odd moving to Linfield, Ohio of all places.

To you, it just felt right. 

Especially, a few years after starting as the sole Computer Science teacher, when you spectacularly find out that the new English teacher was actually your best friend by bumping into him, making the orange juice in his hands spill all over his fresh button down shirt he had worn for his first day. 

Alex had been just as surprised to see you, unsure of what to do when he found himself looking down at you. Memories started rushing back, his blood rushing as he finally saw you. Memories of late night study sessions, of early morning runs together (occasionally), of laughter in your dorm room. Memories of warm cuddles, soft smiles, and loving hugs. Memories of near kisses and confessions that never quite made it out either of your lips. 

You took one look at his hazel eyes and brunette hair and fell all over again. Your heart tripped in your chest, your mouth slightly open, ready to say hi or something yet nothing came out.

You two just smiled at each other for a second, taking in each other once more. You laughed jumping up into his arms, orange juice soaked shirt be damned. You squealed, jumping up into his arms nuzzling his neck, breathing him in. Alex sighed, pressing his nose against your hair. He held you steadyfast, his strong arms wrapped around your middle, hoisting you up. 

“Oi, get a room! Teacher meeting starts soon!” Your colleague, one of the other English teachers, yells at you two. You two laugh, Alex setting you down.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “Orange you glad to see me?”

“Alex, we have to get back to teaching classes.” You whine into his shoulder, the soft polyester cotton mix muffling your voice slightly. 

He laughs, pressing his lips to your  forehead again. “Are you sure? I’m sure those seniors could do without me for a class period.”

“Alex,” you look up at him meeting his hazelnut eyes, “the tenth graders definitely need me. There’s no way I’m just gonna throw Java at them without showing them what the hell it all means, I don't think you would want to have Java just thrown at you, would you?”

“No you’re absolutely right darling, I wouldn’t want java thrown at me.” Alex smirks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You chuckle, “Babe, are you sure you know what Java is?”

He nuzzles your nose, kissing you softly on the lips, “Nope, not a clue.”

You laugh, the school bell ringing signaling the start of the passing period. You press another kiss to his lips before leaving his classroom, your dress’ skirt swishing at your shins.

You walk to your classroom, waving at past students and smiling at others. You finally get to your room, set your bag down and get started with class.

“And don’t forget the homework! It’s a free response question where you write the class and the methods, okay? Don’t forget!” You remind your students as they start to file out of the classroom.

“Miss?” Sandy, one of your lovely junior students, walks up to you with her other friends Jameson and Nico.

“Hmm, yes Sandy? What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering if you had any plans for Halloween. It’s coming up soon and we have this class that day so I was wondering if we are actually going to do some more coding and Java work or if we could maybe do a Halloween themed class?”

You laugh, “Yes, don’t worry, Halloween won’t be too intense, I promise. And while we will be doing some coding, the overall activity for that day is very much spooky themed.”

“Are you doing a couple costumes with Mr.Nilsen?” Nico asks, the dear already a senior taking Lit with Alex.

“Maybe? Do you have any suggestions because me and him haven’t really talked about it.”

“OHH!” Sandy exclaims, “You two should definitely do like a Disney couple, those ones are always so cute!”

“Or you two could do a spooky themed costume like the Corpse Bride.” Nico smiles.

You smile right back, your next class already filing in. “I’ll definitely talk to Alex about those suggestions. Now, run along to class.”

They laugh, walking slowly to the door with a loud “Thank you!”

You and Alex lay on your shared bed, the silky green sheets wrinkling underneath your figures. Alex’s breaths came out labored as you stood, turning on his very fancy humidifier adding essential oils. You grab a shirt, throwing it on.

“You look so beautiful baby.” He murmurs as you lay back down next to him.

“Right back atcha tiger.” You smile, resting your head on his chest, the rising and falling of his chest comforting.

“Hey Alex?”

“Yes darling?”

“Would you do a couple costumes with me?” You sit up, resting on one elbow, your other hand tracing lazy patterns along his neck to his collarbone.

“Of course I would. Wouldn’t be particularly good but yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Of course, it’s you after all.”

You laugh, poking his chest. “Awww, someone loves me. You would suffer through a costume for me? How adorable.”

“Ugh, how you mock me, woman.”

You laugh, your head falling back to the bed. Alex starts tickling your sides causing you to nearly fall off the bed and turn like a capsizing boat. You shriek as he tickles your belly button. Alex hovers over you, his lips falling to yours.

“Of course I love you. Unless, I need to fuck you again just to remind you, hmm? Bet you would like that, freak.”

You laugh even more, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs around his waist.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

You turn to Alex, his hair all gelled up. He wore a dark turquoise vest with dark brown trousers a white shirt underneath. Of course, he still wore his loafers for “professionalism”.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be? Besides, it’s our first couple costume and dare I say we look stunning and nailed it?”

He looks at you, his eyes glittering with adoration as he stares at you in your periwinkle purple dress, a green plushie sitting on your shoulders.

“I think it’s a bit premature to say that we ‘nailed it’ darling, or should I say princess?”

You chuckle, your Tangled inspired costume coming together. You had even worn a small tiara you had laying around to complete the look, the Pascal plushie you wore on your shoulder a souvenir from a trip to Tokyo Disneyland a few years ago. 

“I think princess fits a little too well. Beware Alex, I may get used to that nickname.”

“Princess, it would not be an issue if you did.”

You laugh putting on your matching purple heels, grabbing your bag as Alex slings his over his shoulder. He grabs his keys, swiping the lunch you had prepared for the two of you off the counter.

You locked the door, walking to Alex’s car where Alex sat behind the wheel as he did every morning. You only ever drove when Alex couldn’t or on the weekend where you would take your SUV around town.

As Alex started to drive, he played Halloweeny music.

“Are we still on for lunch?” You ask him. He glances over to you as he makes a turn.

“Um, yes? I mean, we can meet in your room this time if that is what you mean.”

“No Alex, I meant, are we still going through the students’ haunted house at lunch?”

“Oh right,” he laughs, rubbing his neck with his hand, “um, sure. But, what if there’s a long line?”

“Then, we wait like any other person.”

“Are you sure darling? What if we don’t get to eat after?”

“Alex, stop overthinking this. If you think we won’t have enough time then we don’t have to go babe, I don’t mind.” You grab his hand clutching the gear shift.

“No, we should go. I’m sorry baby.” He lifts your hand, kissing your knuckles gently as he pulls up to the admin parking.

“Are you sure? We really don’t have to.”

“No, I want to, promise. We’ll meet up outside your room since it’s closer to the library where the haunted house is set up.”

“M’kay!”

Finally, the morning classes were over and it was lunch. You were still fixing your dress, which many students complimented you on, recognizing the Disney princess you were dressed up as quickly. You rushed, grabbing your phone and classroom keys before locking your door and waiting outside for Alex.

“Princess, my love, I have arrived.” Alex played a fake fanfare as you smiled, starting to walk over to him.

Students gasp as they finally see you and Alex in your matching costumes, your arm looping through his. You two happily walk through the halls, asking each other about the other’s day, passing snacks back and forth as you walk to the library. 

Outside the entrance door stood at least 15 students away. Alex shook his head, a sly grin on his face.

“What is it Alex? And if you say ‘I told you so’, you can count yourself girlfriend-less very soon.”

He laughs, some students around you snickering at your antics. “Of course not princess, I was just about to say that you look particularly gorgeous this afternoon. It would be my greatest honor to take such a maiden to lunch.” He dramatizes, his hand taking yours to kiss the ring you wore.

You and the other girls around you giggle, accepting Alex’s offer.

You have to admit, dating one of your colleagues has its pros such as lunch time. You two always always spent lunch together, watching some TV while eating whatever you had prepared or what Alex had ordered, or perhaps even catching up some work in silence as you two ate. But, there were also cons. 

Very large and apparent cons.

Such as the female student population crushing on your boyfriend. Of course, you knew how fit he was, the man runs every morning without fail (unless his back pain ramps up again in which case you have to take care of him, usually leaving home, calling for a sub). You also knew that he was incredibly handsome, outside and in. He was kind and sort of dumb but in the most endearing way ever. Alex was just so incredible, so loving that you knew everyone could see it on his face when he looked at you from across the hall.

So of course, you had to stake your claim every now and then. And now was a time to assert your position as “Alex Nilsen’s one and ONLY girlfriend” but lifting yourself up onto your tip toes and kissing him.

All the girls around you shrieked, the boys (and other younger students) gagging in ‘disgust’. Alex just smiled against your lips, hugging your waist. He dropped his bag softly onto the floor, hoisting you up slightly as he kissed you softly.

“I love you.”

You smile, dropping down onto your heels, “I love you.”

He smiles so quietly but the love you felt at the moment was anything but. It was loud and larger than life.

He pulled out the lunch you made that morning and took a spoonful, giving it to you. You two slowly but surely advanced the line, the number of students in front of you slowly dwindling lower and lower. Finally, you made it to the door without choking on your mouthful of food as you watched him awkwardly interact with the sophomore girls around him.

“Mr.Nilsen!” The senior manning the door greeted your boyfriend.

“Hi there Moon, how’s your day going?”

“Well good, I have to admit. It has been very fun seeing everyone’s reactions to the haunted house.”

“That's fun.”

“Well, you and Miss can go in now. Have a good scare!”

“Thank you Moon, see you later in class.” He waved to the senior.

Your heartbeat slightly, slightly, increases. “Alex, what did she mean by ‘have a good scare’?”

“Oh I’m sure it’s nothing. They were head of the committee this year and decided to up the scare factor of the haunted house this year is all.”

“Mhmm.” You gulped. You start to walk slowly through the haunted library, following the path illuminated by the glow sticks lining the floor.

Suddenly, eerie music starts playing. A groan coming from in front of you takes you by surprise, causing you to yelp and hold onto Alex’s arm.

He chuckles, “Princess, you can’t seriously be scared by the fake groaning and music, right?”

“Hmm, oh yea, pshhh nope, doesn't scare me.”

Immediately you curse your words for jinxing it because as soon as you let out a sigh of relief, an animal masked figure jumps up in front of you, screaming at you causing you to shriek and jump. Alex tenses beside you but laughs it off wrapping his arm around your waist, slowly pushing you faster through the maze of jump scares. More students dressed up in animal motif horror masks jump up from behind curtains and other furniture.

Finally, a student greets you at the end, your blood still humming in your veins. The student holds out a bowl of candy in front of you and Alex and you hurriedly take a random piece of candy before rushing through the exit door before someone else could jump scare you.

“Woah, slow down darling.”

“Slow down?!? Slow down, I need my heart to slow down. I feel like I could run a marathon right now from all this adrenaline.” You say looking down at the chocolate flavored lollipop in your hands, disappointment filling your veins. “Look I was scared so shitless I grabbed a chocolate flavored lollipop, a chocolate flavored lollipop! Who even likes these things?”

“Darling, I’m sure there is a Karen out there whose favorite candy is chocolate flavored lollipops. What matters is we got to go through the students’ great haunted house seeing as it ‘scared you shitless’.”

“Oh, do not mock me, Alex Nilsen. You’ll regret it.”

“Darling, I could never regret anything with you.”

“I hate you, Alex” You crash into him, hugging him fiercely, your heart starting to slow down.

“I love you too, princess.”

i sincerely apologize if you like chocolate flavored lollipops, i promise I don't think ya'll are karens i just don't understand but i promise, no hate. hope you enjoyed!

[hotxcheeto]

I remember you having a Rachel Amber strap-on prompt in your brainrot list. I've come requesting it >:) How about a shy female reader with a hidden love for adult toys using them on Rachel? I love your work btw :)))

━ 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Rachel Amber x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Smut, mentions of kissing, strap on use + v penetration ( rachel receiving ), best friends to something?, cursing

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - thank you!!

There were garments riddled along the ground, Rachel standing half in your closet while tossing things that she deemed 'deplorable' to fashion behind her.

She was purging your closet and there was no way you were stopping her.

She'd gained a look in her hazel eyes that told you she was determined to get to the bottom of each pile of clothing you had. Taking things and tossing them into different piles that she had labeled in her mind all while you sat and watched her.

Laying on your stomach while resting your hand in your palm. All the while she was battling it out with ugly patterned shirts and the many pairs of sweatpants you owned.

"God, you have no clue about any trends these days. It's truly a pity."

It was Rachel, you had to expect the dramatics.

"A pity? Who do you think I am?" You joked, rolling onto your back and putting your arm over your eyes. "Someone with the worst fashion taste I've ever seen."

You snorted, listening to her continue to rummage and mutter to herself. The sounds of shirts and jeans being thrown are the only other sound besides your breaths. You were beginning to wonder what you'd be wearing for the rest of the week judging by how much she planned on donating and selling.

The rustling slowed and it seemed she'd found a target, a few grunts coming from her before she rattled the door and stepped back.

"What's this?" You tilted your head up at that, watching her shake a black shoebox that instantly made your stomach drop and your heart fall to your ass.

Fuck.

You had about three seconds to decide if you were going to absolutely snatch it away and throw it out your window for the squirrels to find and spend the rest of your life denying what was in it.

Or...

let her open it and see the horrors that awaited her on the other side of the cardboard lid that had looked like it'd seen better days.

Times up.

You got up faster than she'd ever seen you move, she wasn't even sure you'd ever walked that fast in your life. The box in your hands before another breath had come in or out of her lungs and it was slammed onto your desk and behind your back in an instant.

"It's personal." Your cheeks burned, blush invisible, but hot. Yours ears as well while you avoided looking her in the eyes and instead looked at the ground. "Personal?" "Yeah."

It was like a showdown, and you weren't letting her pass.

"C'mon, can't I get a peek? I'm your best friend after all."

"Nope. Can't guilt trip me into this one Rach."

Again, there was a tense silence that made you feel like you were doomed.

"What kind of freaky shit you got in there?" Her voice peaked with curiosity as she got closer, giggling while you backed up impossibly closer to the desk. "Seriously, it can't be that bad."

Oh it was.

"Just drop it Rachel." For a moment the girl hesitated, noticing how serious you actually were. Your voice quiet, even a bit timid. "Please?"

Her head tilted, arms crossing.

"Is it torture devices? Drugs? Sex toys? Whatever it is, I promise I won't make fun of you. I promise Y/n/n." You didn't move, you didn't even fucking blink and she began to get slightly worried that you had some ones chopped head in that thing.

"No." For a moment Rachel wondered if she should give it up and let you take this one. But she was never one to back down from a challenge, licking her bottom lip.

"Can you at least tell me what's inside? I won't see it, but can I at least know?" Your mind wasn't sure how bad it'd be if you actually told her about the shit you had hiding in the hole of your closet.

"It's just... bed stuff." Her eyebrow raised. "Bed stuff?" "Yeah."

She was very unimpressed, and even a bit more curious than where she'd begun when you'd first snatched the box in the first place.

"Is it your vibrator? I'm pretty sure everyone has one."

You looked away from her, giving away at least one of the items in the container that she was now even more curious to open. Stepping a bit closer as your guard fell in just the slightest at the mention.

Rachel then made her move, smacking the box to the side before you got the chance to stop her or the box from taking a slight tumble. The lid flew at you in hopes of distracting you and out came everything you'd been trying to hide, a slight yelp escaping your throat at the flying lid.

"Whoa." Was all you heard her say, the sudden need to hide and scream crashing over you like a ton of bricks.

Out came a vibrator which she'd been guessing had been in there the entire time. But there was a lot more that she hadn't guessed. Like the giant dick she pulled out that had a harness attached, the girl looking at you for answers while you'd practically collapsed against your wall in horror.

"No fucking way someone has used this on you."

"They haven't." You said, unable to choke the syllables back into your mouth. "No fucking way." She repeated, turning around and raising her eyebrows. "No fucking way, Y/n." You couldn't look at her, staring at the ground with wide eyes.

"You used this on someone!"

"Tell the neighbors, why don't ya."

Rachel continued looking through the box before it fell to the floor and your glittery strap-on was the only thing left in her hand.

"Is it clean?" You looked at her with an emotion that was nearly indescribable. "Yes it's fucking clean." Rachel nodded, looking it over.

"It's cute."

You wanted to implode, covering your face with your hands before moving to collapse on your bed. Not even caring what she did with the thing anymore, you were beginning to believe that breathing was overrated.

The bed dipped not a few seconds after, Rachel's head appearing right beside where yours was pressed into the mattress. Her finger lightly tapping your cheek.

"I didn't know you were into such... things." She giggled, rolling onto her stomach while still trying to peak at your face. "Is it popular with the ladies?"

"Rachel." You moved onto your back, still covering your face with your hands. "Just go home." There was no other choice, you were going to have to move to another country in order to avoid her for the rest of her life.

"But what if I wanted to see what all the fuss was about?" Your hands slammed onto the bed, your face showing clear shock. "I mean, it's huge... you must be popular with the ladies."

You wanted to be popular with the grim reaper.

"Rach?" She grinned at the sound of her nickname, sitting up to lean down towards your face. "You've used it before haven't you?" You paused, almost questioning if what she'd asked was rhetorical. But nothing else came from her lips,

Rachel wanted an answer.

"Yeah..." You responded. Her nail traced your cheekbone. "Like who?" You felt like you were on fire, swallowing hard and watching her focus on her hand. Finally giving you a break from her stare.

She actually wanted you to say it.

"I dunno... my ex?" You said, almost as a question while raising your eyebrow. "Hm.. what about that girl you liked from that art seminar we went to?" You felt your gut swallow up at the mention of her. "Or, that other one from that psych class we took together?"

She paid a lot more attention to your fun times then you realized.

"How good were they?" Rachel's nail continued to trace down your neck, then towards your ear while moving up and around, all while speaking. You were practically hyper focused on the touch, unaware of your lost in headlights appearance.

"Hm?" Then your attention was back on her.

"Okay.. I guess." Your mouth finally parted to answer, tongue then moving over your lips in a nervous reaction to her receiving that news. "Did you like it?" "I mean... at the time."

Rachel moved to sit up once more, pushing her hair off her shoulders and kneeling in front of your pillows. All the while feeling you get up and turn to look at her.

"What-"

"I want you to fuck me with it."

You almost dropped dead and you swore you felt the presence of something supernatural in the room that was coming to take your soul. Your tongue suddenly blocking your throat from making more than a gargled gurgle for speech. This was your best friend.

"Why-"

"Because I wanna know if I'm your best. That and... I wanna see how good you are with that. Y'know, like I've heard from your exes."

You wondered how much else they'd told her, and if she could see you nervously shifting your weight from foot to foot. Or the fact that your throat was so dry you could cough up a cactus.

"You're a little too dressed for that." You were surprised at your own response, standing at the end of the bed with a keen eye resting on her. You wanted to look away though, but it was nearly impossible to not stare right at Rachel Amber.

"Look at you." She slowly smiled, pulling her top up from the bottom, quickly revealing her black bra to you while throwing the item in her hand. "All bossy now." Her hands moved down to her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them all the while you only respected the art.

"Feeling slightly lonely here, Y/n/n." She sang, squirming from her bottoms as you began to undress down into your underwear. Hand wrapping around the harness of the strap-on while she finally moved to unclip her garment, moving it aside.

And God did she look amazing, her golden skin tone reached down past her neck. Her breasts on display for you, and you only to see as you move on your bed towards her. Her nipples slowly rising as the cooler air circled her, her body leaning backwards as you crept closer.

"You're really pretty." You whispered, sounding a bit like a love-sick fool, though Rachel didn't really seem to mind. "I could say that about both of us." She agreed, deciding she liked both herself and you with less clothes on.

"Are you sure about this?" You interrupted her thoughts, looking down at the bare space between her thighs, you didn't know when she'd stripped from her undergarments, but they were in fact gone.

"I've never been more sure about anything." Was her reply, spreading her legs, opening her glistening cunt to you while you tried not to choke on your own saliva and make it less obvious you couldn't tear away your gaze from her entire existence.

"But won't it be weird after?" She rolled her eyes. "Doesn't every girl have sex with her best friend at least once?" You adjusted yourself as the question poured from her lips, the tip of the fake dick accidentally brushing and pushing against her clit making her let out a warm noise.

"Besides," She continued, reaching down to align yourself with her. "you feel really good and I really want you." Ignoring your burning face and body, you nodded your head and took a deep breath while allowing her to lubricate the cock with herself. Her pupils never tore away from yours while she did so.

"Now just please fuck me, Y/n/n." The sound of your nickname in her sweet voice made you comply so quick it was slightly embarrassing.

The strap slipped in, your eyes locked to the way it disappeared inside of her, moving your hips back and forth in awe. All the while she was trying not to claw at your body, admiring your face and almost wishing she could take a photo of your pussy whipped face.

"More, fuck, more." Your confidence was gaining at your pace, your hands moving down to grip at her hips and thighs while spreading her further. Soft moans slipping out one after another while she reached towards you to grab any part of you that she could.

Settling on your forearms, Rachel watched the way you disappeared inside her again and again, slipping a bit deeper each time. Her juices lathering the silicone and making it easier and easier to fuck her into your pile of pillows.

"Oh shit-" No girl sounded like Rachel, or looked like her for that matter. At least not to you. Rachel Amber was one of a kind, your best friend in the entire world, and now she was the pretty girl getting dicked down in your bedroom by you.

"I k-know w-what you're thin-thinki-ing-" She whimpered, whining when you pulled her closer. "I'm sure you do, Rach." You giggled, acting as if this was just another sleepover with you both.

She wiggled and squirmed in her spot, head falling back as you continued to slam your hips into hers. Skin on skin echoing against your walls and surely tumbling out the window at the same time.

Her nails dug into you, much different from her earlier light, feather touches. Not that you minded, looking at her painted fingertips create little half moons on your flesh.

"Fuck, Rach." She nearly came at the sound of your voice, focusing on your face with everything she could. She wanted to memorize how pretty you looked while deep inside her.

"Any of your exes as good as your best friend?" She asked out of breath as you wiped your forehead, her hand moving down to play with herself. "Huh?"

When she met your eyes they were darker, more focused and a much amount of boldness had infected them.

"Fuck no." You said swiftly, pushing her legs back and pressing them against her causing her to cry out. "Never."

"Don't stop- fuck- m'gonna-" You nodded down to her, allowing Rachel to pull you down and press her forehead against yours. And you began wondering, as she did this, if you were still going to be best friends after you got done making her come on your fake cock.

"Go ahead Rachel... I wanna see you." She herself blushed at your comment, but nothing but blabbered noises followed in response.

Then came her moans that suddenly got much louder, turning into high-pitched noises that sounded pornographic as you listened to her. Smiling to yourself, lips ghosting over hers but you didn't actually kiss her.

That might be too far.

And as you thrusted back and forth, slowing your pace to calm her and yourself down, you thought she was so gorgeous with her half lidded eyes and messy hair.

"Was it what you thought it'd be?" You asked her, backing up and resting your hand against her knee. The other moving to massage her lower belly while she tried to calm her pounding heart.

"You have hella hip game." You tried not to laugh while pulling out of her, rubbing her thigh to make the exit easier on her. Though, she still made a noise at the sensitive emptiness.

"I try." The overbearing suddenness of the empty room mixed with the bareness of you both was nearly breathtaking.

"You just had sex with me and you're still being awkward?" She said, teasing more as you groaned, unclipping the toy and dropping it aside to clean later.

"Well what if you don't wanna be friends with me cause my dick game sucks then I have a reason to be awkward." She playfully slapped your arm as you said this, pushing her golden hair backwards.

"I think your dick game is pretty good, but I need to make sure you don't kiss like a fish." The impending doom feeling suddenly came back at full force, after all of this, you still wanted to faint.

"I mean..." She leaned upwards, her breath warming your mouth. "I don't think I kiss like a fish." You finished in a whisper.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Rachel Amber would be the death of you.

[lesbewriting]

only rivals

[ College!Hazel Callahan x College!Fem!Reader ] [1.1k words]

SUMMARY: All you were meant to be were rivals, nothing more, nothing less. Yet, as a sudden rendezvous whilst drunk comes to light. You're left all confused with your now conflicted feelings.

WARNINGS: Uh, rivals? Um, the reader denies feelings... I don't even know . Also, hints to sex, but not actually described, lol

A-N: so uh enjoy :)

[masterlist]

You hadn't a clue what you were doing there. Tangled between the sheets of the bed which belonged to the girl you despised terribly. Maybe it was all the alcohol that had been flooding through your system for the past hour or so. Whatever it was, you would have never expected to be pinned to the bed by the said rival above you. Her lips attack your neck feverishly with multiple hickeys. 

Maybe if you had been sobre enough, you would have had the guts to shove the girl away from you. Heck, if you weren't heavily intoxicated, you wouldn't even be in this position. You'd much rather be stuck inside your cramped dorm room, studying for your upcoming exams or spending it with anyone that wasn't her. 

Your relationship with Hazel was strictly an academic rivalry that had been occurring since middle school. It was only supposed to be that and nothing more. Yet here you were. You were simply crossing an invisible line that shouldn't have even been crossed.

Nothing was going to change between you two. You just knew that this was to be all forgotten by tomorrow morning. And if not forgotten, then it'll just be viewed as some stupid mistake between two drunk adults. 

The brunette gently reached forward to grip at your shirt you'd been wearing. Her hands fiddled to remove it from your body, only to reveal the plain bra you'd been wearing. You tugged lightly at her short brown locks, reconnecting your slightly chapped lips with her own, soliciting a moan to come from the girl. 

No coherent thought floating through your mind at that moment, and if there were, it only remained slightly muffled. Or it would leave your mind, right as it had entered. Most likely a result of all the alcohol you had consumed earlier that night.

Even through your haste to feel closer to the girl above you, you couldn't deny that she was indeed a good kisser. You would be lying to say if you had never thought about suddenly pulling her in by the collar of her shirt and locking lips with her. 

Although, if asked, you'd simply say that you don't have a crush on her. Why would you? You hated her, and she hated you. There was nothing more there. You two were only rivals, borderlining on common enemies. All the words you ever really shared would always be trying to one-up each other or spew out clear insults. Trying to deflate each other's egos. 

The following morning soon came by quite quickly, and with it came the remaining alcohol leaving your body, plus a pounding headache. You gently opened your eyes, allowing your eyes to adjust to the lighting of the room.

You moved your hand to rub circles onto your forehead as a means to lessen the sudden pain. A sudden wave of confusion followed your train of thought, peeking around the bedroom you lay in currently. 

It wasn't yours, that's for sure. It didn't have the small knick-knacks and different sortings of decorations you had adorned your dorm room with, so how could it be. So whose room was it? You couldn't be too sure at that moment. Gently, you peeled the rest of the covers from your bare legs, only to notice your lack of clothing. 

You lifted yourself shakily from the mattress, adjusting yourself into a standing position. You turned slightly to spare a glance at the other side of the bed you'd been laying in, only for your eyes to widen largely at the figure lying there now.

That would explain your now lack of clothes and the strong smell of cheap beer that still lingered from you both. Yet you still refused to believe that you even did anything with the girl you hated.

You had to leave. You didn't want to stay there in that room with her any longer. Especially if you didn't have any clothes on. Shaking your head in an attempt to forget the sudden memories of last night flooding your brain, you fought to tug your discarded clothing back on.

Unintentionally, awakening the very person you didn't want to wake in your hurry. As soon enough, you saw her stir just the slightest bit before opening her eyes and sitting up against his headboard.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, still tired from the sleep she'd just woken from. Biting her lip, to try to rack her brain for an answer to her question, once her gaze landed upon you, you stood there. 

"Listen - last night." You finally started, trying to find the words on what you should say to her. Hazel’s paying close attention to what you spoke next. “It shouldn't have happened. What we did was nothing more or less of a mistake.”

When you did finish speaking, you watched as her features contorted into a look of shock and later realisation of the events from last night. For some odd reason, you felt as if your voice had shook slightly when you spoke. Which, you couldn't put your finger on as to why. You just knew that it definitely wasn't a crush. No, it wasn't. You denied silently. 

The brunette nodded in agreement. You were right she knew that. Her next words fell effortlessly from her lips in response. "That's fine. It was nothing more than that. I won't mention it at all, if you won't either."

Despite a tiny voice in your head saying to say something more. To suddenly feel the need to want to tell her that the tiniest part of you liked it. Liked the taste of her lips attached to yours. A 'voice' which you hadn't thought had been there till now. You knew you couldn't because you were only rivals. And now, as you exited her own dorm room after adjusting your shoes back onto your feet.

You felt your mind running a mile-a-minute with the constant thoughts and conflicting feelings you felt now. Ones that you still tried to deny, with every last fibre in your being. You knew you hadn't ever thought of before and that you'd ever be thinking because of Hazel. Why was this all happening now? Why now, right after you had slept with her? Was she even still your enemy?

No! Of course she was! You didn't like her! You hate Hazel Callahan! You shook your head to rid yourself of the thoughts flooding your mind. That's all you ever would be. You would get over whatever you were feeling right now. 

At least you hoped you would.

[hpalways]

jelou <3 this is a request that can be a bit sad :')) for trey clover, vil schoenheit, rook hunt and jamil viper when their fem mc, with a melancholy smile, tells them that since she was very little she had to become "the mother" and take care of all the children in her orphanage, due to the absence of responsible adults, so now that she is in nrc so she is trying to recover a little of her lost childhood and do what she likes for the first time ^°^, sjsj Thanks and have a good day /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Character(s): Trey Clover, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Jamil Viper x Fem!Reader (separate)

Summary: They knew how responsible you were -- how much of your childhood was used up on duties that a mere child should never have to do. So now, to see you smile, that was all they could ever wish for.

A/N: You as well! Also mb I wasn't sure whether you wanted hcs or drabbles, so I'm just gonna write drabbles for them.

Trey Clover

Trey thought you were quite alike to him. He sometimes caught himself thinking that you were... mature... thoughtful... resilient. It was strange. He had never thought of someone in that way, but the way you spoke of things, it would always strike a chord in him.

So when he saw you there on the balcony, gazing upon the views of Night Raven College, he knew. He knew he wanted to speak to you.

Your [h/c] hair furled along the slight breeze, and your eyes were distant, in a world unimaginable from here. As he approached you, he stared upon you with a soften gaze, never before seen with anyone else. He wondered why he held such a soft spot when it came to you.

You finally noticed his presence, glancing over to see his familiar dark green hair and gold-hazel eyes behind those rims.

"Trey," you said with a gentle smile. He found it very nurturing somehow. Really, a simple smile from you was nurturing.

"What are you doing here all alone?" he asked you, coming up right beside you.

"Been thinking of some stuff..." you trailed off. It left him intrigued, it really did. Oftentimes, it seemed you had much more to say, but you would not elaborate, as if you didn't wish to burden anyone else. But he wanted to hear it. He wanted you to know that he did.

"What's on your mind?"

You blinked at him, somehow surprised by his response. And for whatever reason, whether it was just the two of you, or you were feeling nostalgic in this moment, or he was watching you with such patience, you wanted to tell him of the weights on your shoulders. You gave him a smile in return, a mixture of slightly sad and content. "I was from an orphanage and back then, I had to take care of the little ones. They were practically my brothers and sisters, to which I love them. But... it's changed so much. Being here at Night Raven College, I finally figured something out."

He stayed there, listening, being the perfect one to bear your problems.

You took a deep breath. "I missed out on a lot as a kid. I was a kid raising other kids, so I never had the chance to live as a kid myself. So I'm realizing I need to start living for my past self, starting now. There's so much I wish to experience, so much that could fulfill my child self's dreams."

He believed you beautiful. So beautiful and strong as you spoke of your hardships and regret. But there was no regret. Just a determination to redeem to yourself. He now knew why he saw so much of himself in you.

"I'll help you with this."

"You don't have to do anything!" you said, shocked by his offer. "I'm already so grateful that you're hearing me out."

"I want to," he stated, leaving no room for protest. "What do you wish to experience first? I will do anything to make it possible."

You cracked a grin, this time not as melancholy and bittersweet. "Can we prank Riddle?"

He pushed his rims up his nose bridge and looked down seriously. "I said 'everything'... but, this... this... absolutely not."

Truly, the two of you were like the parents of the dorm of Heartslabyl.

Vil Schoenheit

You had this presence that Vil could never put a finger on. Quite different from the rest of the student population at Night Raven College. Was it because you came from this... other world?

Today, he had the honor of putting on makeup to your face. He had always wanted to; the structure of your face and your features was his perfect canvas. He could see much potential within you, a whole vision. By the end of it, he expected you to be glowing.

His face neared yours, his attention focused on his job at hand. He could see your blemishes, your flaws, your pores, but he loved it. He loved it when it came to you, because it made you feel more human -- more connected to him. "This will come together, I know it," he whispered to you.

And to those words, for some reason, it made you burst into tears.

Vil had never been so disrupted.

"What's wrong?!" he said, frantically grabbing tissues to blot the tears before they ruin your makeup.

"Sorry..." you murmured. "I'm just really happy."

He raised his brows, his light purple eyes shadowed in confusion. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I've never had a makeover like this before and I just remember wanting one so bad. Here I am now, thanks to you, Vil."

He crouched down to meet your sitting level, his warm hand grabbing onto yours. "Explain to me."

"I grew up in an orphanage and because I was older than most, I took care of the others. I didn't have the time to dress myself up or have friends who would do makeovers with me. And there was a time when I saw this most stunning lady from the street. I was amazed by her makeup and outfit, but overall, the aura she carried. You're like her too, Vil. You carry a confidence that I aspire to be."

His fingers came up to wipe at your tears, so tender and caring. "You will be, [Name]. So don't cry anymore. I will turn you the fairest of them all. You will live your dreams, no matter what. I can guarantee that."

Your tears stopped and you started to laugh. He watched you, astonished, feeling his heart racing at the sight. Indeed, you really were glowing... and it was not just the makeup.

Rook Hunt

He watched you for a while now, sensing the troubles that had been bothering you. But Rook couldn't seem to figure out what the troubles were. It certainly didn't seem like it came from school, the other students, or the blotting situations occurring here at Night Raven College. Rather, it was something else.

A hat was plopped over your head, blocking your vision. You tilted your head back to finally see a blonde bob and a grin. "Mademoiselle, you are looking radiant today!"

"Rook," you said in surprise. "How are you today?"

"Kindhearted as always, I see," he responded, smiling. "But I'm worried, my dear."

"Of what? What's wrong?" You furrowed your brows.

"Of you, of course. Are you alright?"

You blinked in surprise. "You noticed?"

"I notice everything when it comes to you."

A small chuckle left your lips, followed by a sad smile. "I guess you do. Sorry, yeah, I just... I've been feeling weird lately. Like I'm missing out on a lot. My childhood experience was not... the best, to say the least. I had to help out the orphanage and take care of the kids. Being here at Night Raven College might be the first chance for me to live out my childhood dreams. Is this silly? It is, isn't it?"

He shook his head immediately, his heart squeezing in pain at your truth. Was this why he kept such a close eye on you? There was so much more he wished to learn from you. Indeed, you were the enigma to the enigma himself, Vil. "Non. Not at all silly. In fact, come with me! Why don't we live out your dreams together?"

His outreached hand was in front of you, waiting.

You grinned, pushing the burn of oncoming tears down. "Okay."

Jamil Viper

"Can I braid your hair?" you asked Jamil one day. There was something so eager to you today that it nearly tempted him to say yes.

Instead, he made a face. "What? No."

Your face was immediately down casted, more disappointed than he expected to see. He was shocked as guilt flooded his system. Why did you want to do this so badly? Was braiding someone's hair that big of a deal?

"Okay, fine," he sighed, turning his back against you.

"I didn't mean to pressure you!" you said, holding your hands up. "I wanted to try braiding someone else's hair for once."

"You've never braided hair?"

You took in the gorgeous, brown strands that Jamil honed. They were so healthy and long, accentuating his darker skin and figure. You knew he took great care of his hair.

"No... my orphanage was pretty strict when it came to how us girls styled our hair." Your fingers slipped through them, soft to the touch. Something about holding his hair was so vulnerable; it was like a strong piece of him. "So I've always wanted to braid someone's hair. Thank you for letting me do this."

"Orphanage?"

"Yes. I was kind of like the mother to the other kids. I didn't have the time to do anything for myself. Am I doing this right?"

He swept his braided hair over his shoulder to look at it, only to burst out laughing. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, though smiling slightly at his amusement.

"Come here," he said eventually. There was no way around it. Hearing your story made him want to do so much for you. He was sincerely ready to give it all to this person, you, and he couldn't understand why. He grabbed at your shoulders and turned you around this time. "I'll braid your hair."

Your eyes started to mist, and you looked over your shoulder. "Thank you. Seriously."

Flustered, he nodded and diverted his attention to your hair. "Of course."

[beautifulfaaces]

Lauren Swickard

Facts

May 25, 1993

American actress

Filmography

Lila [Holiday Harmony: 2022]

Callie [A California Christmas: City Lights: 2021]

Callie [A California Christmas: 2020]

Eva [Posse: 2018]

Carolyn [Web Cam Girls: 2017]

Lorynn [Roommates: 2016]

Heather [Lilly’s Curse: 2011]

Appearance

blonde

hazel eyes

1.65m

Roleplay

playable: teenager, young adult

[maretinelli]

ADULT MATTER

Edmund Pevensie X fem!reader

Summary: In which in a meeting with the Pevensie brothers, Y/n and Ed talk about a situation they went through together.

Words: 1.3K+

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy, condoms, adult subjects (???) is not obscenity, but there is a mention. And Caspian is among them, you can imagine him coming to their world after Ed's last visit to Narnia, or where Narnia never existed. Decide!! MODERN AU

Author: English is not my first language, I apologize for any spelling or typing errors. I hope you have fun and check out my list of imagines.

MASTERLIST

It was university holidays and all the Pevensies took advantage of the opportunity to go to Edmund and Y/n's small apartment. Which they shared and was located practically inside the campus where they studied.

While the conversation came and went, night had already fallen and dawn was present.

Lucy was lying on the sofa with her feet on her older brother - Peter's lap. Susan and Caspian were sitting on the smaller sofa while the brunette had his arm around the older Pevensie sister and Edmund was sitting on the armchair with Y/n sitting on his lap. Every now and then the boy would put his hands on his beloved's back and caress her.

Everyone had a mug of tea in their hands as they talked about a subject that Lucy insisted on not participating in.

"Peter is how old? 26? I'm sure the first time was when he was 25" Edmund makes fun of his older brother and makes the others laugh.

Peter just rolls his eyes, smiling and slowly pats his little sister's feet, who had her feet on his lap.

"Funny you guys" he says and the rest smile more. "Actually, it was 23..." Peter speaks more quietly and laughs.

"Almost the same thing" Caspian comments and they laugh.

Peter gets in on the act too, it wasn't a secret for any of them. As he had already said it himself a few years ago.

"And it was with my fiancee. I was waiting for the right person. So no problem!!!" he holds up his finger for explanation and they explode with cuteness. Peter just rolls his eyes and smiles shyly.

"Hazel really is a sweet person. We like her" Susan says and they nod their heads in agreement.

Edmund runs his hands over Y/n's back, making her look at the brunette. He smiles passionately and she responds with another smile.

He whispers something in his girlfriend's ear and she smiles in agreement.

With that, silence prevailed in the room where they were and each one took their mug to their mouth to take a sip of tea.

"Did I ever tell you about the day I thought I was pregnant?" Y/n drops the bomb in the air and smiles at them. As if it were a simple case.

Which at the time it wasn't. But it had really passed, why not make a joke out of the situation?!

That said, everyone in the room chokes on their hot tea and looks at Y/n, while Ed laughs at the situation and Lucy, who was almost asleep, gets up from the sofa and looks at her sister-in-law, leaning on her elbow.

"What???" Susan asks amusedly and doesn't hide a smile on her lips.

"I didn't even know that Ed did certain things" Peter shrugs and takes another sip of tea.

Edmund looks perplexed and throws the pillow. Clearly making a mistake and almost hitting the flower vase on Peter's side.

"Wait a minute" Caspian gets ready on the sofa and looks closely at the girl who was his sister-in-law too. "Explain this story better" he says and leans in again, bringing Susan closer to him.

"Please, because even Lucy woke up with this news." Peter gestures with his hands and points to his younger sister.

Y/n smiles and then sits on the arm of the chair to tell the best story. Thus leaving her feet on her boyfriend's thighs.

"The scare was about 6 months ago, more or less-"

"Damn, we would already know the sex of the baby by now" Caspian smiles happily and is pinched by his girlfriend.

"Shut up, Cas. Let her explain. I'm interested in that" Susan says and they laugh.

"Continuing. At the time I had a lot of discomfort, headache, anxiety, a lot of sleep, little energy, and my period was late. But that's normal, it was never regular. But then the other symptoms came and I started "

"MY GOD" Caspian interrupts Y/n again with a surprised face and attracts everyone's attention.

"What's . your . problem." Susan pushes him on the couch. "Let the girl finish"

"You're a bunch of gossips, that's for sure" Edmund says smiling and gets up to get more tea from the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Lucy was still leaning on her elbows and listening carefully to Y/n and Peter was leaning against the sofa listening to everything very well.

Everyone was very excited to hear that gossip. Even more so coming from your brother and his girlfriend of years.

"Coming back again...it was positive and of course I was nervous, you know. We know what we did, but it was still a shock. We're still in college and everything would be crazy. Then Ed arrived from his internship at night and I clarified everything and I said I would keep the baby if that was what the test said. But I was still hesitant, and the next morning Ed went with me to do a blood test and when the result came back it was negative. The girl said it was probably the one from the pharmacy was a false positive and the one from blood is practically 100% correct. But seriously, I almost died that weekend with the fake news" Y/n finishes explaining and Ed arrives with their mugs of tea.

The girl thanks her kindly and raises her feet so Edmund can sit back in the armchair.

"Fuck" Caspian sighs and quickly looks at the others in the room. "If it were me I would have passed out."

"Well, that's almost what happened to me" Edmund says smiling and shaking his shoulders.

"Wow..." The only thing that comes out of Lucy's mouth before she lies down on the sofa again and tries to absolve the story.

"Okay, but what about the other symptoms you were experiencing?" Peter asks curiously.

"It was a virus" Y/n says and they laugh.

"Yes, then the other week I was pregnant, I mean, with the virus too" Edmund says and they laugh.

Everyone drinks some more of their tea and Peter turns to talk to his younger sister.

"You see how important it is to use condoms, Lucy. That way you won't risk going through what Y/n went through"

Lucy grimaces and sinks onto the couch.

"It would be better to use a condom and take morning-after pills. That's what we're doing from that day onwards" Y/n shrugs and slides into the armchair, to sit again on Edmund's thighs.

"No!!" Susan looks at her sister-in-law. "It's even better-"

"Diu" the two say together and Y/n snaps her finger at Susan.

"That's it, do all that" Y/n agrees and looks at Lucy.

"Thank you so much guys, I'll write this down for when I'm MARRIED!!" She stands up and emphasizes married.

"I doubt you'll wait until you're married." Edmund whispers while drinking tea from his mug.

"Ed!!" Peter says and holds back his laugh.

"It's true, look at me. I'm dating Y/n for what?? We're 22... WE'VE BEEN DATING FOR 8 YEARS, WE CAN'T WAIT!!" He does the math on his fingers and then speaks.

"Very good Ed, but I don't think they needed to know your opinion" Y/n pats her boyfriend's shoulder twice before taking another sip. "Wait a second!!" She says and everyone looks at her, but Y/n only looked at Edmund. "If you couldn't wait until the wedding, what are you doing that you don't ask me for one?" Y/n says and his eyes widen.

"I'm going to stay quiet now" Caspian grumbles and Susan glares at him.

"I'm on my own, I've already asked my girlfriend to marry me and we're going to get married in 3 months" Peter leans on the sofa and looks at his brother and his girlfriend.

"Do you want me to order?" Ed jokes.

"What do you think!!" Y/n exclaims.

Edmund kisses the woman's cheek.

"It's okay, one day I'll catch you by surprise anyway"

Of course, Edmund thought about marrying Y/n. Look at everything they went through during all these 8 years here and another 15 in Narnia. If he didn't do this, the boy's brothers would throw him out of the house.

And Ed already had this idea before she even brought it up. And 2 weeks later, the brothers Pevensie and Caspian helped Edmund organize their marriage proposal. It was everything Y/n always dreamed of.

Author: I find it incredible that all the ideas for these stories come to me in the early hours of the morning, when I should be sleeping.

[toughvaughn]

In The Moonlight; Black Boys Look Blue: Parte .001

- pairing: Earth-42!Miles x Black!Fem!Reader

- genre: Fluff! (I guess) Angst! (you tell me) Little Talkie In Espanol 😝! (Not finna be the best; mind you)

- a/n: Miles and the Reader are young adults! Miles (22)! Reader (20)! in this story; so, calm your tits. Don’t be talking crazy with me, a’ight. This is my first, little Miles x reader thing, won’t be perfect, bare with me. This is just Part 1, if y’all like it, I can do Part 2, and this story is going differently, not like the OG one.

- summary: In a couple of days was your 21st birthday, and you weren't all that excited about its upbringing. You and Miles get into it, on why you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday. Miles being the man and boyfriend he is, he don’t like hearing allat.

🪼

Miles: Whatchu mean you don’t wanna do anything for your birthday, Ma?

You and Miles have been going back and forth for the past 10-15 minutes about this. No more than a couple of minutes ago you both were cuddling and kissing all up on each other in his bed, Miles being Miles, he asked what you wanted to do for your birthday. Giving him an honest answer; telling him you really didn’t want to do anything, him giving you the stink eye, looking at you as if you were crazy, leading to this whole unneeded conversation going on between the two of it.

You: “I just don't. I really don't wanna do anything.” You pushed further.

He looked down at her, you sat on the edge of his bed, your hands in your lap. Raising your hand to your head; your fingers running through your hair, adjusting it to the side. His eyes pierced into hers, shaking his head in disapproval. You looked back at Miles with a hooded gaze; your expression showing how uninterested and tired you were of the topic alone, his big self leaning upon the entrance of the doorframe of his bedroom.

Miles was shirtless; only in his black Fear of God Essentials Relaxed Sweatpants, sagging a bit low from his narrow waist, his toned v-sex line visible to you, his black trimmed pubic hairs trailing up to his naval, light protruding veins inching up. Leaning his body weight on the outer of his bedroom doorframe; his head lightly grazing the top of the doorframe from his opposing height, his muscled arms crossed over his sculpted chest.

His hazel/brown eyes watched your every movement; giving you that dumb stoic look he always wearing. His two individual braids swayed and rested on the outline of his collarbone, his durag keeping his braids from doing any other further movement than that. The long drawstrings of his sweats rocked about, the knotted balls on the end of the drawstrings hit up against the doorframe he leaned upon.

Miles: Mamí…come on. That doesn't make any sense, baby...it's your birthday! You HAVE to do something...I at least want to spoil you with a gift...let ME spoil you.

You lolled your head back; shaking your head. That word he said, "spoil". It didn't sit right with you, he was your man, and he had every right to spoil you, but, you weirdly didn't feel comfortable with him doing that. You felt as if you’d just be an inconvenience for him to spend his money on you, and you knew how he would get when it came to spending money, on you specifically. Miles had money; I mean he lives up in this nice ass high-rise apartment up in Mattahan, and he drives a black Mercedes-AMG, and depending on the rent of this place and that damn car note on that car he drives around in, money isn't an issue for him.

🪼🪼🪼

🪼 Flashback 🪼

You knew what Miles did for work; ever since his father’s passing Miles wasn't like this, not with anyone. When Miles got older, became more acquainted with ongoing conflicts going on around him; ever since his father’s passing Miles became more…indifferent, making runs for his Uncle Aaron, becoming familiar with it, and becoming well-known in the streets of Brooklyn from Queens. Now pushing contraband, selling weed, guns, anything on the streets of Brooklyn, making his own money, and doing well for himself.

Miles never really felt the need or desire for a sturdy, one-in-a-lifetime relationship with any female he crossed paths with. He never thought he really deserved one, going through girl, after girl, after girl. Not making ends meet; permanent, going through life as his Uncle Aaron called it, "with ease". The less stress, the less you have to go through. He was blunt and straightforward with anyone he came across, not letting anyone get too close to him, having unresolved feelings and thoughts of his father's early demise, and having nightmares every now and then. He kept to himself, not telling anyone, not even his own mother or his Uncle Aaron.

Going to a party with his home boys, Miles wasn't one to go out, but not have anything better to do, he obliged. His eyes not set on anything or anyone in particular, just there, just like everyone else, copy and paste. Every now and then, thirsty and man-hungry females made their presence known to Miles's home boys, Miles especially. Being well-known in the streets, he was the main target. His boys gave the girls all the undivided attention they could possibly want; Miles on the other hand, not feeling that shit, not in the mood to get his dick wet or catch anything suspicious from either of them, cooping up in some dark corner, somewhere.

His body language and huge frame alone sent a message to everyone at that damn party; that nigga does not want to be fucked with. Fuck around, find out. As simple as that, his hooded eyes looking around, before landing on you. Your innate state, your hair, lips, facial features, body and all, it sent him into something unexplainable. Even for him, he never felt this way, especially for any girl his ever seen, with every move you made, he would follow.

Miles being Miles; the nigga was bold with what he wanted. Shooting his shot and making his attraction towards you known and public, you never heard or seen Miles before, not thinking much of it, letting him throw whatever weak-ass compliment or cringey pick-up line he had in store for you. But, Miles did none of that, Miles was more nonchalant and upfront, not going easy and softening you up or sugar-coating shit with you. He was intimidating; his height alone towering over everyone and everything, made you back up, but, seeing that he probably got that type of reaction a lot, you kept to yourself, not wanting to make him think that he made you uncomfortable.

His little flirt tactic; personality really, gives you the green light about him. Mind you, you don't know who this nigga was or what he does, you just talked to him and got to know him (barely). With that, both of you just messed with one another for a couple of months, one of your friends had to tell you who Miles really was and what he did, and you were a bit surprised, but you didn't really care. Apart from what people may say about him, Miles was a sweetheart, he was soft when he wanted to be, only with you really.

You did confront him about him not telling you about what he did, him thinking you’d just run away or look him crazy just like everyone else. You assured him; you loved this boy wholeheartedly, you'd be somebody gangster's wife if you had to, going to hell and back for this boy, they way he treats and provides for you, you weren't gonna go anywhere.

🪼🪼🪼

You: Mm-mm, nah. You don't gotta get me anything. I’mma just go to work, do my shift, go home, and chill.

Miles's face scrunched up, his eyes squinting in confusion and disappointment. He tilts his head down, looking to the floor for a second, letting out an exasperated exhale, before looking back up at you.

Miles: Are you for real right now, chica? I can't believe what I'm hearing, you ain't gonna let me do nothing for your birthday; huh? It's not fair.

You cocked your head back; with a confused squint of your eyes and facial features, smirking at his comment.

You: What do you mean it's not fair? I just don't wanna do anything crazy.

He sighed once again.

Miles: “Bebé, escucha. That doesn't matter, girl...it's your birthday, I’m your nigga, it’s my job to get you something even if you say you don't want anything.” He grumbled, and then groaned, looking away from her with annoyance and disapproval. Uncrossing his arms; he proceeded to crack his knuckles, the air between his bones popping with each bend of his long digits. Miles was being difficult; you put a hand over her eyes, and as you hooded your hand over them, your thumb, index, and forefinger massaged the temples of your head.

You: “Be mad all you want, it's my birthday. If I wanna do boring shit on my birthday, I’m finna do it.” You resorted back.

He couldn’t help but bite his lip. Looking away from you and out the door. He was silent for the most part, huffing and puffing. Soon, he turned towards you once again.

Miles: Why you gotta be so damn difficult like this? You know I don’t like that “Ion want to do nothing on my birthday” shit...I need to do something for your birthday. I need to make your birthday special.

You scoffed, and your hands firmly laid on your knees. Your hands going up and down your thigh, a bit agitated and annoyed.

You: Miles, please. Birthdays stopped being special in middle and high school. We both know this, I just don't see birthdays as important anymore.

He let out a deep, frustrated sigh; taking a deep breath, and then sighing once more. Rubbing his face with his hand; the blood-pumping veins etched out on the front of his hands, through his smooth brow-skin, he couldn’t believe that she was being so difficult with him right now.

Miles: “I feel like you’re being difficult with me on purpose...” He finally said out loud, but he tried to play it off by laughing, but there was an irritation in his voice.

You caught the irritation in Miles's voice; you simply held your breath and your tongue, not wanting to go any further into the argument. Really just wanting to go back to what y’all were doing before this even happened.

You: “No, I’m really just being honest with you.” You resorted back once more; condescendingly. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at you. His muscles tensed up, rubbing the back of his neck. He was annoyed, and it was clear on his face. He didn’t believe your excuses, he acknowledged the fact that you were just trying to make him frustrated.

Miles: “Whatever, girl.” He groaned, and then crossed his arms once more, his face looking pissed off and annoyed as if he was dismissing you.

Miles was clearly in his feelings; you stared at him, not him catching an attitude with you. You’ve dealt with Miles's sour-ass attitude before, even over the littlest of things, when Miles was in his feelings, which it always looked to be all the time, his face, in general, would make his attitude known. He got into his feelings more than you did, you've never dealt with a nigga that could easily get caught up in his feelings like this, only Miles though. Besides that, you knew that this was the end of the argument, nothing more really had to be said, Miles wasn't talking, so, why the hell should you?

Getting up from the edge of the bed, the spot you sat in had the indentation of your body, the bed slowly trying to go back into its original form. Walking back over to the unoccupied side of Miles bed where you once laid; picking up your black Raffia Supreme tote bag off the wall, putting the straps over your shoulder, sliding back on your light brown Yeezy slides. Your black socks feeling the confinement of the shoe sliding around your foot, putting an inch to your height, walking away from the side of the bed, making her way back to the front.

Miles still standing out the doorway; resting his forearm above the side of the doorframe, his hand dangled about, his bicep and triceps flexed at his actions, the cut of his muscles apparent. From the raise of his arm leaning onto the doorframe, his other hand eloping past the elastic band of his sweats and underwear.

Miles: “So…you just finna leave?” He nodded his head; the husk of his voice hit a bit of octave, raising an eyebrow at your actions, his eyes darting left and right at your image.

You: “You wanted to catch an attitude with somebody, I don't got time for it.” Nodding your head with sass; meeting Miles's thousand-yard stare, at you.

Miles tilted his head with a face of confusion, wanting to act like he didn't know what you were talking about.

Miles: “Bruh, I ain't got no fucking attitude. I’m just still not understanding why yo real complicated ass don't wanna do anything for your birthday.” He summarised; resting his head on his bicep, his arm still leant on the doorframe, gesturing with his dangled hand.

He really wanted to act like he wasn't acting like a little girl a couple of seconds; this boy.

You: “Bye, Miles.” You said flatly; walking out of his bedroom, grazing his arm as you walked past him.

He gave out a deep, frustrated sigh; sucking his teeth, not wanting to admit he was wrong, nor was you. He groaned, but she ignored him completely and walked out the door; leaving him by himself in his bedroom. He huffed, dragging his large hand down his face, stretching his facial features. His hand stopped at his mouth, leaving his hand there, hearing the sound of the front door to his apartment slamming, hinting that you left.

🪼🪼🪼

Two days later; your friend, Angel came over to your studio apartment. Both of you sitting on your chaise/Orrsta black-blue Finnala 4-seated couch, the warmth of the sunlight hitting y’alls back, as you both kicked back and talked. On your glass cafe table laid white rolling paper and lumps of weed, tiny pieces of the weed scattered on the center of the table from the little metallic herb grinder. Angel sat beside you; as you talked, her tongue occupied, wetting down the edges of the thin paper with her saliva, rolling it down.

You: “Bruh, I remember. That nigga stayed talking, he ain't even make the team, did he?” You laughed; rubbing the sides of your mouth, tears at the corner of your eyes.

Angel got done wrapping her joint, looking back over at you, chuckling herself.

Angel: “And didn't. Nigga should've been talking all that mess.” She added on; putting the thin wrapped joint between her lips, grabbing the lighter off the table, and pushing some of the specks of weed on the table out of the way.

Flicking it on, hovering her hand behind the dimly lit flame, a glowing orange and red raiding the tip of the joint, the sound of the lighter switching off, Angel laying it back on the cafe table. Putting the joint between her index and middle finger, pulling it away from her lips, smoking looting her mouth, blowing O’s, and laying back on the couch.

Angel: “That nigga did entirely too fucking much.” She mentioned; giggling.

You shook your head, lolling your head back on the back of the couch, the sun kissing your melanated skin. The pivot window pivoted from the middle; horizontally, from the hinges mounted in the center of the frame, letting the rays of sunlight seep through. All the windows in the room were slightly ajar, the light breeze whistling in, running its waves through you and Angel’s hair, a moment of silence found y’all’s conversation, the wind bringing harsher winds with its presence.

Angel: “Oh bitch, I almost forgot, whatchu finna do for your birthday? It's coming up.” She smiled; nudging her elbow into your arm.

You turned your head to face Angel; your head still lying on the back of the couch.

You: “Absolutely nothing.” You stated; firmly.

Angel giggled a little bit; raising an eyebrow.

Angel: “Oh, come on, girl...you not going out? You not doing anything with Miles? Nothing?” She sat herself up a bit in her seat.

You: “I do wanna do something with Miles, chill at home. And now he is all up in his feelings cause I told him that yesterday. Saying he wanna spoil me and shit.” You explained; not wanting to go over the same argument you had with Miles, with your friend. Angel squinted her reddened eyes; a slight smirk finding her lips. Raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Angel: “O-okay, so, let me get this straight...you want to stay home on your birthday. Just you and your man, and chill?” Angel wanted to clarify before she proceeded with another question.

Angel: “And you're telling me that Miles is upset because he wants to spoil you?” She snickered.

You: “He just wanna do something nice for me, I understand that and I love him for that. He said it himself, he got money to spend. But, I don't want that, and now he ain't talking to me.” You shrugged; lolling your head to the other side.

Angel: “Damn, girl... he's just a hopeless romantic, and you over here being difficult on him. Poor Miles.” Angel laughed, before puffing on her joint. She kept laughing, teasing you a little bit more.

You smirked and rolled your eyes; Miles wasn't always like that, not until you two spent time with one another, now that Angel even says it, Miles is somewhat of a romantic. You always knew it, but, never spoke about it, even after the first couple of months y’all two started dating. Miles would always either give you a "girl bye, the fuck is you talking about or who you calling soft?” look anytime you’d mention how embarrassed he get from all the praise you’d shower him with, his accent would become more prominent and octave with you.

Him just letting down those walls that he always has up between the two of you; keeping you away from him completely, even if was for a second, it meant something. That he was getting more comfortable with you every second he was with you, you never forced him to talk about stuff he didn't want to talk about, or he wasn't ready to talk about, letting him figure it out for himself, when he was ready, you were always there, ready to talk to him.

You: “Oh, I’m difficult. Now, you sound like him.” You mocked; playfully. Putting a hand over your chest, acting as if you were hurt, but, still sounding a bit surprised.

Angel: “I mean...you are being difficult, girl...let a nigga spoil you.” She smirked, laughing more at the fact that she was starting to sound like Miles.

You: “I don't, I can't. I just don't feel comfortable letting him do that.” You admitted; that just thinking about made you feel some type of way.

Angel looked a bit confused at your statement.

Angel: “What does that even mean? How the hell is it that you can't accept a gift? That man clearly loves and appreciates you!” She revved. Angel was now getting just as annoyed as Miles now...which was funny as hell to her.

You: “I love him too, but he doesn't gotta buy me a damn thing to tell me he appreciates me.” You summarized.

Angel: “Girl, let him just spoil your ass. It's his money.” Angel kept talking, not listening to you at all. She smirked the entire time because it was funny as hell watching how annoyed you were getting over Miles wanting to get you something for your birthday.

That was easy for her to say; you just couldn't find in your mind to let him.

You: “Uh…I’mma think about.” You rolled your eyes; playing with the rigged bottom hem of your cropped wife beater. Angel laughed hard to herself.

Angel: “You better think fast, because that man is not happy. I'm not trying to get on your case or anything, but damn. You need to learn to accept a gift once in a while. Especially from someone you actually love.” She snickered, looking at you.

You parted your lips; about to say something, Angel was right. You loved that boy and he loved you, he just wanted to show you how much he did, and you rejected him.

You: “I know.” You acknowledged, going to have to accept the fact that Miles wanted to do something for your birthday.

Angel: “Well...you better do something. Otherwise, you'll just piss Miles off. Fuck…I am sounding just like that nigga Miles. I gotta calm my ass down.” She said sternly, before checking herself, laughing.

You: “Right.” You smirked; side-eyeing her up and down before looking the other way, chuckling.

Angel: “Whatchu you think you're gonna do? Finally, just accept the gift from your nigga and let him spoil you, or just...not do anything at all and continue being difficult with him?” Angel crossed her arms, the red, orange ombre flame inching down her joint every inhale she took of it.

You: “Maybe; maybe not.” You teased; smiling. Angel squinted her eyes at you; pulling her joint away from her lips.

Angel: “Ugh! You play too fucking much.” She whined; pointing her index at you, the joint between her index and forefinger, smoke hazing from the faintly lit tip. She groaned, shaking her head; just annoyed with you. Then, her phone buzzed.

Angel: “Hold on, a sec…” Angel looked down at her phone, looking at the text message she just received. No more than a millisecond, a smile found her lips and a hint of pink, and red on her cheeks.

You caught her smiling at her phone; bending your head down slightly to see who she texting. Other than her smiling while scrolling through Instagram or TikTok at a funny video. But, girlie was blushing at her phone, no damn video was finna do that, so, the noisy friend you are, you teased.

You: “What? Is it your little boy toy?” You interjected; biting your bottom lip as you smiled, your eyes scanning her face.

Angel put her phone to her chest; looking back at you with a side-eye, red pink still shading her cheek, putting her phone and hands in her lap, laying back her seat.

Angel: “Uh, no.” She scoffed; pouting her lip out a bit. Angel giggled, putting her eyes back down at her phone.

Angel: “I’m lying like shit. Yes, actually.” She admitted; rolling her eyes, and chuckled. Angel kept kicking her feet; while smiling and giggling, looking back down at her phone.

You laughed; shaking your head. Fully turning your body around to face her, resting your arm on the back of the chair, picking your feet off the ground, and putting them on the couch, crossing them.

You: “What’s your boy's name?” You asked; picking your index finger up slightly, pointing and nodding your head to her phone. Angel grinned; rolling her eyes. Angel let out a loud, exasperated sigh before answering you.

Angel: “His name is Damian.” She cheekily referred to him; dragging his name as she said it, smiling ear to ear, laughing to herself. She then tapped away on her phone, before turning it to face you. Showing you a picture on her phone of a handsome, Hispanic guy with a buzz cut with a fade, sporting a nicely, trimmed goatee. He was very muscular and able-bodied, and multiple tattoos littered his skin. He was smiling, looking directly away from the camera. He was wearing a black wife beater and black sweatpants that sagged low a bit, his groin outlined by the empty, flowy space in his sweats.

You: “Oh, okay bitch. Get yours.” You congratulated; leaning back to where you were, Angel pulling her phone back, facing her. Angel snorted with laughter, shaking her head. She looked at the photo of him for a couple more seconds, squealing and batting her eyelashes, geeking over the photo of the nigga she was fucking with, and picked up her head to look at you.

Angel: “He's so fucking fine...I gotta lock this nigga down. Quick. But, girl. You and your nigga need to go back to being on good terms with each other, y’all can't both be petty. Especially, on your birthday.” She advised; playfully nudging her phone at your leg.

You turned your head the other way; mockingly. Raising your arm and started mocking her with your hand, your digits closed together, your thumb hitting your index and middle finger once you separated them from each other. Mouthing the words Angel said to you, rolling your eyes.

You: “Girl, if Miles wanna act petty because I don't wanna do anything on my birthday. So, be it.” You mumbled; pouting your lips, your lip slightly sneering up, shaking your head. Pinching the elastic fabric of your grey leggings, avoided any further conversation on the topic. Angel let out a weary sigh, giving you that "the fuck wrong withchu?" face she always gave you when you caught an attitude, scooting closer to you, seeing your attention on your lap, pinching the fabric of your leggings.

Angel: In his feelings, my ass…look who’s talking, Miss “I Don’t Know How To Accept A Gift From Someone I Love”. She teased; the point of her elbow delved into the couch, resting her head in her hand, looking at you. You groaned; picking your leg up and bringing it up to your chest, swaying it side to side, the heel of your foot delving into the cushion of the couch.

You: “Okay, not too much on me.” You checked; crossing your arms over you chest.

Angel: “Nah, I gotta get on you a little bit. Your man is trying to do something special for you, and your stubborn ass just can’t accept it for some reason.” She implied; putting her hand on the head of your knee, swaying with your leg.

You: “I just don't wanna gift, why’s everyone on my case?” You asked; genuinely confused.

Angel: “Because you got a nice, good man who just wants to do a nice thing for you…” She answered; tilting her head, speaking again.

Angel: “Damn, y/n...a lot of girls would kill to have a man like Miles, and that nigga loves you to death. So, why the hell are you being so difficult? Accept the gift.” Angel begged at this point; not wanting to see her girl and her man at each other throats, just wanting you to enjoy your birthday.

Angel being Angel; she was right. You were being a bit difficult, and as much as you didn't want to admit it, what you and Miles were fighting over was really pointless. He just wanted to do something for you; his girl, his woman, his love, his baby, his everything, his beautiful, black Nubian- (let me stop). And here you are whining and having a sour-ass fucking attitude about it, you should be so lucky a nigga even wanna spend a dime on you, Miles willing to provide for you without hesitation or a second thought.

You: “Hmm, you right. Yeah, I’ll let him…treat me.” You softly assured Angel; smiling. Angel's eyes went big, smiling from ear to ear.

Angel: “That's it, girl! Yes!” Angel laughed and put her hands up as if she just won something.

Angel: “Now, you're going to accept that gift, so you can go back to being sweet, and lovey-dovey with your man.” She teased; biting the bottom of her lip playfully, knowing what she was referring to, you waved her off, and the both of you laughed.

🪼🪼🪼

The next morning fell; the sound of the city coming to life from the outside. Lying down on your bed, you turned your head to face your alarm clock, the time reading 6:30 a.m., turning your head away, closing your eyes, and letting out a tired sigh. You had to get ready for work.

With that out of the way; you got from your laying position on the bed, swinging your feet off the edge of the bed, the warmth of your feet meeting the floor, the feeling of the cold wooden flooring on the bottoms of your feet, groaning at the unfamiliar feeling, the warmth of your feet diminishing, now ice cold. You picked yourself up, standing to your feet, standing up a bit too fucking fast, losing your balance, but catching yourself in time, before making your way to your bathroom.

You took a warm shower; and washed your hair and goodies, brushing your teeth and washing your face while you were in there. Once you were all done purifying yourself; everything is now washed, your mouth, armpits, back, or any other thing on your body that can hold dirt or a foul smell, is now cleansed.

Smelling like candy canes and Christmas; you made your way to your closet, throwing on a white tee and your grey Demin Tears Cotton Wreath Hoodie over your head and your shirt. Jumping into your matching grey Demin Tears Cotton Wreath Sweatpants, grabbing a clean pair of clean white socks and stuffed your foot into your Jordan 3’s "White Cement Reimagined”, tying the shoelace and neat bunny loops.

After you finish getting yourself dressed; you hurried into your laundry room and grabbed your work uniform, it being clean and ready for you to wear, folding your uniform and neatly putting it in your red Raffia Supreme tote bag. Handling your house keys to get back in and your car keys, you finally stepped out of your apartment, locking the door behind you, slipping your house keys into the pockets of your sweats.

You made your way out of your apartment building; the giant fireball in the sky greeted you with its radiant beam of light. Having no choice but to shield your eyes with your hand, the metal split key ring engaged around your index finger, the key and the remote to your car swinging about. As you climbed down the steps of the building you quickly picked your head up to see a familiar figure hanging around in front of the building.

Miles…

He casually leaned back against his black Mercedes; his feet on the curb, crossed over one another, and so were his arms. The circled white tee he wore slightly ruffled at his unfamiliar actions with his arms, his short sleeves crumbled across his biceps, the sleeves rolling up his forearms, his veins racing up the sides. The vibrant court purple of his Nike Tech Fleece Jogger pants, laying slick on his form, Jordan 11 "Space Jams" on his feet.

As you further examined Miles; his attention finally fell on you, his braids following suit, the giant star above the two of you doing him even more justice when it rays down on his brown skin and hazel/brown eyes. The boy didn't look real for a minute, he licked his lips and uncrossed his arms, turning his body slightly to face you, his large hand resting on the roof of his car.

Miles: “M'orin' mami, ¿vas a alguna parte?” (M'orin' mami, going somewhere?) He asked; with a tilt of his head and a small smirk, his braid falling off his broad shoulder, hanging off alone.

Your eyes darted everywhere on Miles; couldn't take your eyes off him if you could, not like you could miss him. The boy was big, standing at a good 6’9, to top that, with all that damn muscle he got, the boy worked out like crazy as if his life depended on it. He was big and fine; and the way he looked at you, sent shivers down your spine, your legs would buckle and you would fall to your knees in front of all these damn white people if you still didn't own that tiny ounce of self-respect you still carried around with you, everywhere you went.

But for him…it was an expectation.

And that low, husky accent; don't fucking play with me. I’d rip off every piece of clothing off that boy (with teeth), go straight feral, but, you kept your composure, like a big girl. Swallowing your pride and shoving your explicit, vivid, X-rated imagination into the back of your head, you spoke.

You: “Yeah. Work.” You answered; bluntly. Crossing your arms, your car keys tucked under your clothed armpit, still wrapped around your index.

Miles looked away and smirked; a low chuckle emanating from his jugular, his Adam’s apple bobbing a bit. Setting his large hands in the pockets of his joggers, turning his head to look back at you, wetting his lips once more, looking you up and down with his hooded gaze.

He got away from his car; casually approaching you, his long legs making long strides over to you, as he got closer it only made you feel nervous. You stood your ground, waiting for him to be front and center before you, he finally stood in front of you, towering over you, looking down at your frame. You both stared at each other for a few seconds, taking each other in, hadn't heard from or seen one another in a good two days, the both of you pettier than the other one.

After a good staring session, Miles leaned down, wanting to be face-to-face with you, his eyes meeting yours. You almost melted; just him looking at you made you feel some type of way, and you wanted to look away, badly. One of y’all finally grew a pair of balls, Miles was the first to break the thick tension and silence between the two of you.

Miles: “No the fuck you not. Not today, not tomorrow, not the next day, shit, not even on yo damn birthday.” He assured you; lowly. Changing plans, apparently, a small smirk finding the corners of his lips.

You cocked your head, a nervous, almost confused smile on appeared on your face. You know you and Angel had that little talk yesterday, but, not Miles telling me I’m not going to work, you had to check that, quick.

You: “Oh, and why’s that?” You asked; your eyes darted left and right on his face.

Miles leaned back up; standing back tall, looking down at you once more. He took one of his hands out of his pockets, and brought it up to his chin, rubbing the sharpness of his jawline.

Miles: “Well, with all due respect, Ma. I thought about what you said the other day, and…I don't really care what you want, especially when it comes to you and your birthday. You say you don't want or wanna do anything for your birthday, but I say otherwise.” He truthfully spoke; removing his hand from his chin, and putting it back in his pocket.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise; Miles always had something smart to say, but this, this is crazy. You stood there for a second in silence, looking up at him as he looked down at you.

You: “Uh…look, Miles…” You started; before you were cut off abruptly by Miles.

Miles grabbed ahold of your tote bag; taking it from your mist, his large hand cradling the straps of your bag in his palms. Turning on his heel, walks back towards his car, grabs the door handle of the passenger seat, and opens it for you. Looking back at you, waiting for you to compile without another exchange of words.

You looked at him; a firmer grip on your car keys than it had prior before.

You: “I promised them I’d be in-”

Miles: “I already called you out of work, and told them you’d needed a couple of days off. Now, get in.” As you tried to excuse yourself; Miles cut you off again. More demanding with his words and tone.

You brought your hand up to the back of your neck and rubbed it; agitatedly. There was no talking yourself out of this one, so, you gave in. Rolling your eyes, you walked over to the curb, where the car resided, parked. Miles was still behind the door, holding it open for you, you looked at him, and at the open car door. Miles stared at you, with that dumb fucking stoic expression he always wearing, his eyes piercing and burning a hole in the middle of your forehead.

You let out a shaky sigh; lowering your head, and sitting in the passenger seat, crossing your arms and legs. Miles closed the door, making his way around the back of the car, putting your tote bag in the back of the car, before getting in the car himself. Turning the key in the ignition, the car started up, his large hand grabbing ahold of the gear shift, putting it in drive.

You: “And…where are we going?” You asked; turning your head to look at him.

Miles didn't say anything for a second; before pulling out of the parking spot.

Miles: “You’ll see. Don't ask too many damn questions, a’ight?” Miles finally answered you; looking over at you for a second.

You scoffed and furrowed your eyebrows. Like that was gonna happen.

You: “Mm-hmm.” You mumbled; rolling your eyes before turning your attention back out to the window.

Miles looked back at the road; this was going to be a long ride.

★ ★ ★

✪ Thank you for reading this; it's not my first time writing this, and it is a bit long, but forgive me, there will be a Part 2. But, that’s only if y’all desire a second one (I really wanna do it, this shit was fun, ngl).

✪ Really excited for future stories; got a lot up 🧠 here, so, let me know. I hope y’all enjoyed this. Follow me to stay updated.

[bi-lavelent]

Brie Larson x fem-reader

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Cussing, Bullying

Thank God For Theater Chapter 3

Theater is Something that in compases many things not just acting, it's a way to put yourself out there.  It's a way to start not caring what others think and you don't have to be on Broadway for you to be able to be affected by theater. theater can move you in many spectacular ways."- y/n Y/L/N

My moms name was all over the news of the worldwide.  No matter where I went I would never be able to escape her. When I started theater I prayed that It didn't get any worse all the teasing and name calling. I knew that if I had memorized everyone in the 500 page play (holiday island a play about a bunch of brits on holiday.) I would finally be able to escape.After a while of feeling the escapism that theater provided to me. I realize that theater was what i wanted to do with my life no matter what, It was an escape from everything going on around me. So i was going to try everything to get there no matter what anyone told me even if i failed once i got there at least i got there at least i wasn't with my mother anymore. When I got home I found the letter that I had been praying for my mother was put in jail on a death sentence, Finally something good in my life. 

It was the first day of theater If I didn't see him  long Blonde hair, hazel eyes, Muscles, sunglasses, Button up plaid shirt, and Genes. I couldn't be falling for someone. Not again  I don't know  what I was thinks but I mean just one look at him and your in love. I Probably could have talked myself out of my  feelings if I hadn't heard him talk his voice could part the sea. But at the same time  put a baby to sleep. But the moment he spoke he hypnotized me with every word. But if he knew who I was he wouldn't want me. A couple weeks went by. I had gotten some friends there in the theater that did not judge because of my mother. 

Rose,Alaska,lucy,Zia,Indgo they were not at all like me they were dark and talked about murder a lot and later on I found out that they would wright letters because they were in love with my mother they found criminals hot. At one point in time one said that hitler was extremely hot. Un surprising to me well wrighting this they have all ended up in prison. But the moment they found out I had a crush on Markus(the ks silent) Daniel Amor Traydon. he had my heart in knots and I had nothing to lose hell even as an adult and I could lose everything I still do it. I got tired of waiting for him to ask me out why can't a women do it I had done it before given it was with another women but I mean if he said no what was the worse thing that would happen. 

"Hay" I yelled towards his direction

He walked over to me "Yes" 

" Do you wanna hang out sometime?" I asked

"sure." he said 

We heard the Director say "okay everyone go sit."

"Meet me after class, I'll give you my information." he said

I went and sat down the director had went around and asked everyone who he rounded on me and what about you ,"Mrs.Michael" he said

"Tina sir" I said

"Are you sure?" he asked

"1. As sure as I could ever be, 2. As sure as you were when you asked your ugly wife  to marry you,  3. As sure as you were when you asked your ugly wifes hot sister to sleep with you, 4. As sure as your wife when she divorced your ass.  Dose that answer you question?" I said

"You have confidence I like that It will get you far in this Job." he said

"Thanks sir." I said

"Okay work on that you got the confidence down but you need to not be a pushover." he said

 "I'm not a pushover. I'm stronger than you so unless you wanna get physically pushed over and hurt by me move on to the next person." I said

"Okay moving on is everyone ready for starting reading lines Ann why don't you start." he said

Okay im reading Act 1 Scene 1 Line 5, I looked straight blinked. "Yes, definitely with a pool-view and a telly weren't it Tone?" i said this with a very emphatically and a little concerned voice

"Moving on."

I looked down knowing that my British accent wasn't the best and that I was competing for this part with people who had done Theater before. But I really didn't care. I gave it my all and acted with my heart not my mind.

after class I walked up to Markus'' how's life?"

"great" he said

"yah mine too." i said

"Here mine and my mom's number." he said ,"call me when you wanna hangout." 

"Okay see you tomorrow." I said

I walked out to my grandmas car. and got in "hay grandma" I said she started to drive away.

"Hello kido, how was class today?" She asked.

"I think it's time I'm ready to go back to school." I said.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes," I said "I wanna go back to school." 

"Well I'll call John and will get you into a school." She said "What school?"

"The one I went to as a Kid," I said

"Okay i'll see what I can do." She said

"Thanks." I said as I looked out the window

My grandma must have called John and Told him because he showed up the next day to the house my grandma was out of the house

"Hay kido" John said

"JHON!" I screamed running up to him Hugging him

"Wow someone happy to see me." John said

"Your Like a father, a Best friend and a Brother so i'm always happy to see you." I stated with a smile  "How is everyone at the police station?" 

"Well Peter got married to his girlfriend, Liam got engaged, Roy adopted a puppy and got married to his boyfriend, Rodger and his wife had their third kid and Zack and Tony started dating each other and my wife's pregnant with our baby. Steve and Kyle aren't up to much." He said

"How long have i been gone?" I asked surprised 

"haha yeah alots happened your grandma told me that you wanna go to school i'm okay with this but we've got to get you accommodated back into school so a couple of us officers are coming with you to keep you safe." he stated

"No sorry I love you guys but I feel like I'll be made fun of a lot." I stated 

"exactly that's why we're going to be undercover." he said

"Okay fine." I said sarcastically

"You know we are your family i mean you said that i'm like a brother to you so what you worried about." he said

"Me trying to flirt with boys and girls or them trying to flirt with me and you guys beating them up." I said

"Me and the boys won't do that." he said

"Okay sure" I said sarcastically

"Okay you start school tomorrow so go sleep." he said

"thanks John" i said

The next day I got in the car with john in the morning, and arrived at school it was 8th grade  john walked me to the office and told them who I was they gave me someone to show me around school.

 "this is Markus." the office lady said.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Markus said.

"I go to school here now." I said.

"Oh hang out with me i'll show you the ropes." he said

"okay." I said "Bye John"

me and Markus walked out to the hallway.

“ hay i'll give you some tips don't mention who you are or Theater trust me I know its hard but The kids here are really mean they are really mean and need to be taught a bunch of lessons like how not to back talk teachers." He said

"You don’t need to tell me twice they can’t be worse than me buddy im it as nice as you think. But you might need to get closer to me to figure that out.  I said

We walked to class staring at each other 

"Here we are." I said

"Students please welcome our new student Mrs." the teacher said

 before I cut her off

"Lee I said Mrs.Lee." I said

"Okay students say hi." The teacher said

The teacher pulled me to the side when everyone was outside. "It says your last names Y/L/N why did you say Lee?"

"Because Y/L/N my moms last name yes I am being raised by her mom but I don't want to be connected with her my moms not a nice person and if people find out what she has done hell i'm scared of my mother she's a scary person so i've taken my fathers name i'm making it legal within the once my grandfather gets back from his hunting trip. In a few days. My grand,a dose not like the courthouse." I said

"Just because there's people that we hate in our lives does not mean that we need to get rid of things that connect us with them." she said,"you have a chance to take your last name's legacy and change it, don't throw it away." She said

"Well if I happen to change my names legacy and do what I want with my life and become famous there's already enough judgment in that job that with this hanging over my head then It might give me a heart attack but being famous will also make me happy and jump with joy all I want is to be old enough to move out and fall in love and start a family of my own. But I'm scared that I'm going to go down the same path as my mother." I said

"The more you say that to yourself the more you are going to fail you need more confidence." She said

"That's funny, my theater director says I have two lot of confidence." I said 

"Well we all have confidence, we just all spend it in different places so spread that confidence around." she said

"Hey Y/L, come hang out over here." Markus said

"Sure." I said

Later that day me and markus were in science chatting well the teacher was talking we didn't hear what she said

"Markus, Ann since you too are so chit chatty you too are partners."

She said

After school Markus said "come to my house and do the project there." 

"Okay" I said "let me call my lift my family is  a bit overprotective so they might come." 

"Okay that's fine." He said

I called John and He told me that he would have to come with me a couple minutes later. John was waving from the car.

 I said “see you in a few”

 to markus and went into the car buckled and drove to his house. Me and Markus were in the kitchen and his mom and John were in the living room talking. John had told me that we have to leave by nine. 

"So who is that guy?" Markus siad

"Well he's my best friend." I said

"I'm not your best friend." Markus said

"Well he's different." I said

"He's too old for you, you need to date someone your own age." Markus said

"Not like that. It's complicated." I said

"You can tell me anything." He said

"Well John was the Police officer; that arrested me when I was 7. I was a troublemaker and got in a lot of trouble; for threatening to kill a kid. It wouldn't have been that big of a deal, if Columbine had not just happened. My mom refused to pick me up from the police station. I waited there for a few years till a family member would pick me up. That never happened. When my mom got arrested for selling drugs. I went to my dad he started to drink and abuse me, I got really scared and ran back to my home the cops, there my home there my family. Then I went to my grandmother's house and wanted to know stuff about my family and it turned out that my mother had killed a bunch of kids and adults and was a child sexual predator. John is just a bit over protective of me. All of the cops at that station treat me like family.” I said

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't know." He said

"No it's okay. The court mandatory therapist said that I need to talk about it." I said laughing

"Do not worry I wont tell anyone." He said

"I'm not worried." I said we both started to lean in and look at each other's lips, "I think I should probably be going." 

"Okay see you tomorrow." He said

"Yah yah okay bye."I said

Me and Markus worked on the project for a couple weeks, and didn't talk about what had happened but then the day that we had finished the project.

"Hey, I really liked hanging out with you. Would you like to see a movie with me this weekend after our final theater performance." Markus asked

"sure." I said

John was okay with me going Markus. and I went to a horror movie. which I hated because of paranoia. I already feel like i'm being watched 24/7 so I try to avoid. Anything scary there was a big jump scare and I grabbed Markus Hand after the movies. He asked if I was okay. I didn't say anything I just looked into his eyes and then down at his lips I wasn't going to do it but then he kissed me and I kissed him back. 

"Hay do you want to come over to my house and watch a Superhero movie." he said 

"yah sure." I said

We started dating from there on into highschool senior year. I was a fresh 17 and he was 19. I thought we were meant to be together forever. That he was going to be the father of my children. I still remember freshman year I had gotten onto the Volleyball, Basketball, Wrestling, Boxing and Golfing team as well as still doin theater outside of school. He was a proud boyfriend; he was the one cheering the loudest at the games and performances and when I made the honor roll he was the first one to text me. It was my final Basketball game before summer junior year  and he had hijacked the sound system and started playing my favorite song as soon as I made the basket even though he knew he would be in trouble he told me he didn't care just as long as he got to see my smile. He caressed my face and kissed my forehead. I had my whole life planned out with him. When I turned 17 though everything changed he was 18 and politics were happening he asked me what I would do if i could vote and we got into a big fight that's why I don't vote know as an adult that one moment has ruined my entire life and also saved me I was able to pass all my classes with flying colors. But home life wasn't the best. At 15 my grandma had been diagnosed with Breast Cancer and Liver Cancer. She was fighting as hard as she could but she died a couple weeks before I turned 17. It was just me and grandpa. He tried to make me feel better but nothing helped. She was the only mother figure I had up till then, she was my everything. At 17 I graduated and John and all the cops came. I saw Ezra lee for the first time in a long time after the ceremony. I walked up to her and just said sorry. I didnt realize that she was not aware of what had happened and that our father had told her that her mother was just gone for work

(I need to catch up on all my story’s there will be parts posted by next week and I will figure out how to do a master list.”

[sworn-in-blood]

JESSICA "JESS" BARLOWE

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extra :

✧﹒playlist ✧﹒pinboard

✧﹒faceclaim : kristen stewart (happiest season : abby specifically)

names/nicknames :

✧﹒jessica barlowe ✧﹒jess. ✧﹒"J"

orientation/identity :

✧﹒cisfemale ✧﹒unlabelled, fem lean

✧﹒she/her

languages :

fluent french & english , limited spanish, russian, arabic & mandarin .

ethnicity:

✧﹒french

physical characteristics :

Standing at about 5'9' , Jess typically sports short blonde hair , parted and clipped to the side , along with hazel eyes . Her typical wear consists of thicker jackets with inner pockets , semi-casual wear , gray suits , and darker colors , such as forest-greens , browns , blacks and greys . She wears a slight amount of eyeliner/eyeshadow on a regular basis . Tends to wear a lot of silver rings on her hands - a few of them seem to still have bloodstains on them if you look at it underneath the right light .

age :

birthdate: 04.05.1974 .

24 during RE1/RE2 . Age differs depending on verse/time period .

hobbies :

✧﹒marksmanship ✧﹒gunsmithing

✧﹒poetry ✧﹒travelling

fears

none on record .

occupations :

A mercenary by trade , Jess has been one ever since her young adult days . Familiar with what it takes to get a deal done , she has a price for every single thing that she offers to another - or what they ask of her . There's nothing she's opposed to doing for the right reward - with her own personal intentions thrown in the mix , however .

tattoos :

N/A

scars :

Gunshot scar on left shoulder . Knife scars on her knuckles and left palm .

alignments :

✧﹒neutral evil ✧﹒

love languages :

comprehensive :

A NO-NONSENSE PERSONALITY , Jessica doesn't typically tolerate people trying to beat around the bush with her , or choose to be vague and unclear . She tends to be efficient and cordial with her business dealings - though there's a cold air that surrounds her .

NEUTRAL , Jess isn't one for taking a side . She'll take whatever deal is offered in the best way , and cares very little on what that entails for her - be it protection , assassination , smuggling , information trading , or blackmail - it matters little to her in the grand scheme of it all . She knows how to play the market - and others - often using her own reputation and capability to steer things in the direction that most favours her . Veiled threats , mentions of history , past deals , nothing is off limits if it needs to be used .

LIKES HAVING THE CARDS IN HER FAVOUR ; Jess is someone who prefers to believe she has the upper hand . Be it with her knowledge or her capability , either work . Doesn't typically enjoy being talked down on , and likes to stay ahead of the competition . She can tend to cover her tracks exceptionally well , and is difficult to track down when she wants to be - especially considering the files that she's gathered other organizations are likely forming on her . She tends to move around very frequently , and never stays in one place too long . Jess is extremely confident - or , at least , appears that way to others , and always acts as if she is in control of the situation .

RELIABLE , Jess built her entire reputation around her work , and her drive to get things done for her clients . Her name is well-known in the underground bioweapon markets most especially - she's the one you want to hire if you need to get something sensitive done . Secretive and often isolated , Jess works alone more often than not , but possesses several contacts in several different places - some hooked with bribery or blackmail , some genuine friends . She isn't typically one to let details slip , especially when it comes to her work - she keeps everything under tight wraps .

COMPOSED AND COLLECTED , Jess possesses a mask that rarely falls . She's cordial enough until she doesn't have to be - which is where her brutality occasionally makes an appearance . Jess has little qualms when it comes to violence , and doesn't often care about keeping things clean unless she's specifically asked to . Despite what may be thought of her - Jess doesn't enjoy lying , and typically only does so when she absolutely needs to .

history/backstory :

Growing up Elèanore Auclair in a wealthy family within the midst of France , Jess was never typically one for the world of aristocracy , or the boring parties that tended to be held on occasion . She tended to lock herself away in her room and go over her studies , or rather , that's what she would have had her parents believe . Rather , she often snuck out to explore around . Jess often kept to herself , more often than not - and had a smart tongue all throughout her childhood , which tended to land her in trouble with those around .

Often preferring activities not exactly befitting someone of her stature , she often got herself involved along the lines of different kinds of martial arts , along with convincing a family friend through a great deal of time to teach her marksmanship . It wasn't particularly something that her parents wanted her to learn ; not when she was to manage their state and affairs when she grew up - which was not exactly something she wanted to do .

Upon her 18th birthday , she gathered some of her things and set out in the dead of night , believing that she wanted to make her own way in life ; and didn't want to be dictacted by rules and societal pressure . She changed her name to Jess Barlowe during this time period as well .

Advertising herself as a freelancer , Jess knew she was capable of much more than simple diplomacy . She had a skill when it came to some forms of confrontation , and she enjoyed it .

A year passed as she worked on what she had to offer . Her first kill came at an alleyway outside of a shady bar - she had been hanging around inside , taking a curiosity almost in a place she almost never typically would go to .

Upon exiting the alleyway , she had a young man , couldn't be much older than she was , blocking the entrance to the main street . He advanced on her , a small blade in his hand , demanding to know why she had hung around so close to him and his table - Jess knew very well what had transpired . Thieves , drug dealers , it was something that wasn't exactly to discuss in such a public space .

It was a few moments , a blur in her head , really , then he was slumped on the concrete , head cracked on the stone underneath . Crimson begun to stain her boots - and Jess wasn't as horrified as she thought she would have been . She was quick to leave , washing away the evidence on her clothing , namely her boots , and often recalled back to it .

She possessed a knack for finding things that people tended to keep hidden , and often used old contacts from her family's knowledge to advance herself through the next couple of years , soon garnering a reputation for information . Jess was more widely known by certain others as just "J" , often preferring to keep her identity as hidden as she could , so she would be difficult to track down .

Jess was soon approached by a member of the Umbrella corporation , which ended up being the catalyst for her mercenary work . She worked for them during a brief stint , transporting bioweapon research and providing easy access through different security points , while also continuing to teach herself the art of marksmanship and knife skills , though still kept up with her martial arts training .

Jess soon grew to add to her list of services , especially as she began to grow older and take on more contracts , her name beginning to start making the rounds in the underground bioweapons markets , along with several other persons .

Upon the fall of Umbrella in 2004 , she began to focus more on her other contracts , for several other persons of interest . A formidable individual , Jess grew to be lethal when it came to her encounters - especially when it came to certain situations . Such was business - was her main ideal - and she held very little qualms about it all . Jess still continued to have a taste for the finer things - at least , when it came to her jewellery , occasional wine , and her dress sense .

Jess took on contracts ranging from assassination to simple blackmail , and everything in between . She took up an interest in cryptography , and more often than not , her communications between clients were encrypted and coded to her own specific key . She left very little to be found , and what she did was more often than not intentional . A dangerous individual , Jess knew what she was doing .

The B.S.A.A. and the D.S.O were quick to notice mentions of "J" appearing within linked cases , and soon began to draw parallels with them all . They began building a case - but there was extremely little to be found - almost as if she was just a whisper in the wind when it came to the business that she made . She caught wind of it rather quickly herself , and since then has remained even more cautious of her dealings , and never stayed in one place longer than a few days to a couple weeks if she could help it .

strengths && weaknesses :

strengths

Jess' strength lies in her ability to stay under the radar ; to communicate and stay on top of what's happening around her . She doesn't typically enjoy being left in the dark , and will do what she can to glean information from various sources - if only so that she can add to her deck . Jess isn't threatening when it comes to a first glance - but there's a cold , unsettling air when it comes to talking with her in person , that cannot quite be described . She's a strong close-combat fighter , and has decent marksmanship , but shines with a pistol . Jess knows how to be quiet ; and knows how to keep her communications confusing to others and sensible to herself and the client she is making a deal with . She is very rarely impulsive .

weaknesses

Jess tends to dislike being left in the dark ; or not being in control of the situation . She tends to rely on her words and her verbal capability far more than her physical , and relies on her reputation to sway clients and opponents , but at the same time isn't afraid to prove what she's known for . Jess does not have a lot of empathy or concern , and typically only cares for her own station and wellbeing , though not to the extent that it would blind her completely .

family && relations :

✧﹒father

ANDRE AUCLAIRE - UNKNOWN

✧﹒mother

HARPER AUCLAIRE - UNKNOWN

✧﹒known relations

UNKNOWN

✧﹒close friends/allies

UNKNOWN

verses:

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#v. power belongs to those who take it

a verse surrounding any work involving/for the umbrella corporation as a mercenary . typically takes place from prior canon to around 2004-ish .

#v. we are the outcasts

a verse typically surrounding any work involved with the connections organization . typically surrounding the events of just prior to re7 , and other assorted time periods .

#v. call me a sinner , call me a saint

a verse surrounding any work to do with the underground bioweapons black market or any business deals done with those involved .

#v. bloody hands with diamond rings

essentially a wandering verse . this is used for anything that isn't directly related to events in a game , such as downtime or other incidents/deals/meetings or anything else in between . still typically extremely active mercenary during this time .

tags:

#––– ❛ aesthetic 【 who told you what was down here? 】

#☆ ⠀ ⠀ 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 ⠀ ⠀ ╱ ⠀ ⠀ visage.

✦𓂅 stay for the night i'll sell you a dream ╱ roleplay

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐇𝐄 ✧﹒ headcanons

⌗ analysis.   ﹙ a lavish distraction from a disappointing atmosphere  ﹚