#he was using it before but he had to make sure everyone knew after the litter change

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 55: Finding Home

Summary: Moving on to your new lives, you and John hunt for the perfect home.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,282 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, alternate universe, the barest hint of angst, language, the author knows nothing about real estate in the UK

A/N: I'm excited for this one and I'm sure you will be too...

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“You really enjoyed your time on the farm.” John says, his arm wrapped around you as you lounge on the couch in your Airbnb. He’d already gone through and searched for anything suspicious, checking every room for possible cameras or listening devices. You let him do it, staying out of his way as you knew that would make him the most comfortable.

“I did.” You say, your head resting on his chest. It feels good being close to him, even if it was only two weeks you were apart. “It made me feel useful. Gave me something to do.”

“You want to look at places with a lot of land?” He asks.

You nod. “If that’s a possibility. I think it might be good for both of us. Keep us busy. Idle hands and all of that.”

John huffs. “Lily lives by that proverb.”

“You’re telling me. The woman never stops.” You smile. “She was so gracious though.”

“The MacTavishes are wonderful people.” He says, his fingers tracing patters on your arm. “It’s hard not to like all of the in-laws.”

“I’d like to meet all of them someday.” You say wishfully. “You’ve met them all, haven’t you?”

He nods. “I have. The Garrick’s are exactly as you’d imagine. Kyle gets all of his best qualities from them. They live in Birmingham, where Kyle was born. I’ve only met Ashley, though, not the oldest sibling.”

“Sounds about right.” You say. “What about Simon’s family?”

“I’ve met his mother and brother once.” John says, his hand rubbing your arm. “Not long before you joined the pack. I’m honestly surprised he introduced me. He’s very protective of them, but I suppose with everything they’ve been through…”

“I know some of it.” You say. “He told me after I told everyone what happened when I was taken to the institute.”

John hums. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up about meeting them. They’re...a sensitive subject for Simon.”

You fall silent for a moment. You figured that would be the case. You wonder if Kyle or Johnny have even met his family, or if he really does keep them that guarded.

“What about your dad?” You ask. “Could I ever meet him?”

John is silent for a moment. “He’s...complicated. Gruff old geezer now. He still lives in the house I grew up in, in Leominster. About 12 miles from Hereford.”

You frown. “So close but you don’t visit him?”

John sighs. “Only on occasion. We’re happy living our separate lives. I could take you, but I can’t guarantee it would be a good visit. Old man always has something to say.”

You don’t push anymore. He’s told you about his relationship with his father before, and you’re not willing to try and pry anything else out of him. A moment of silence settles over the two of you, a comfortable silence. You press closer to him, trying to get as close as you can. You missed him more than you thought, now that you have him close again.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, leaning his head against yours. You breathe in his scent, the damp woody smell permeating your being. He nuzzles his head against yours, taking a deep breath in. He lets out the breath, a sound almost like a purr rumbling in his chest.

You wrap your arm tighter around him, nearly climbing into his lap. “Missed you.” You whimper.

You’ve been missing him longer than he’s been gone. You had such freedom at the cottage to do what you pleased. The week at the barracks had driven a wedge between you and your pack, your own fear pushing you apart from them. It’s been three weeks now since you’ve been close to him, since you’ve had a chance to really take him in.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, his body pushing against yours. You let him lead, laying back until you’re flat on the couch. He shifts over you, slotting his body between your legs. Warmth starts to pool in your stomach, flowing through your veins as he lowers himself down, nudging your head to the side so he can press his face against your neck. Your arms wrap around his back, one hand trailing through the short strands of his hair. You wonder if he’ll grow it out now that he has that freedom, if he’ll let his beard get wild again like it had at the cottage.

The mental image of him with a beard and long hair has you purring.

An echoing rumble vibrates from John’s chest, his teeth nipping at your scent gland. You whine, trying to pull him closer against you.

“Fuck,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your skin lightly over the scarred over mark he left just a year ago. You shiver, nearly mewing from the pleasurable sensation.

His arms slip under you, pulling you up as he stands. “Let’s get you to bed so I can make love to you properly.”

You shiver at his words, clinging to him as he makes his way down the hall to the bedroom.

You drop onto the bed with a bounce, the springs squeaking. John wastes no time, ripping his shirt up over his head, exposing his chest to you. He’s still soft from his time at the cabin, three weeks back on base not enough to carve it away. The sight of him as you licking your lips, your thighs rubbing together as wetness starts to pool between them.

John undoes his belt and jeans, pushing them down his legs before stepping out of them. There’s a prominent bulge in his briefs, the musky scent of arousal seeping into the air. You breathe it in, your nipples hardening in arousal. You sit yourself upright, tugging your shirt over your head. John’s hands are on you before you can do much else, sliding to your back to undo your bra before tugging it off. The bed dips as he kneels on it, bending his face down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

You let out a quiet gasp, your head tilting back as he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive bud. Your hand cups the back of his head, holding him there as he suckles on your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a pop. He moves to the other one, giving it the same attention as his hands slide down your stomach to tease the skin above your waistband.

He undoes the button of your jeans, pulling the zipper down. His hands slip under the fabric, sliding around to your ass, lifting you as he pushes your jeans down. He releases your nipple, sliding down your body as he tugs your jeans down off your feet. He kneels on the floor, tugging you forward until you’re seated right on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs for him, his hands pushing them wide as he stares down at your panty-clad pussy.

“Fuck.” He groans, staring down at the wet spot on the fabric.

His hands slide down your thighs until they reach the waistband of your panties. He slides his fingers under the fabric before tugging, ripping them apart.

“John!” You cry in protest, lifting yourself up onto your elbows to stare down at him.

“I’ll buy you more.” He says, pushing your legs back open before dipping his head down between them. “I’ll buy you as many pairs as you want.”

Any more protests die on your tongue as his mouth closes over your throbbing clit, sucking hard. You fall back onto the bed, letting out a quiet moan. It’s been a long three weeks without him, without any of them. You’ve missed your alpha, you’ve missed your pack. You missed the kind of freedom you had at the cottage to be with them whenever you wanted, however you wanted.

Now you have nothing but time and freedom.

Another moan leaves your lips as John drags his tongue through your folds, gathering some of your slick before he focuses on your clit again, circling it with his tongue. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your thighs, a feeling you’ve come to miss.

You grip the sheets as he eats you out like a man starved. Well, he probably is. It’s been a long three weeks for him too. You wonder if any of them sought comfort in the others, or if they all were too torn up in the emotions of their missing omega and the knowledge their captain was about to leave. You’d almost be mad at them for wasting the opportunity, but at the same time, it’ll make the next meeting all the sweeter.

You wonder if they all slept in the nest even after you were gone, if that will forever be a staple for Johnny and Simon, a memory of what once was as they move on to this new chapter.

You want a nest. A big one. One that can fit all five of you with room for movement. Lots of movement. Five bodies all tangled together...

A harsh suck on your clit brings you out of your thoughts. You yelp, your head jolting up to look at John. He’s staring at you, pulling himself off your clit with a pop.

“Back with me?” He rasps, his beard shiny with your juices.

You nod breathlessly. “Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” He asks as he dips his head to your folds again.

“I want a big bed.” You say, your breath hitching as he sucks lazily at your clit. “A really big bed. One that can fit all five of us.”

He hums. “Having thoughts?”

You nod.

“Like what?” He asks, dipping down to prod at your opening with his tongue.

“A-all five of us,” You moan as his tongue pushes into you. “Together.” You channel all those fantasies you’ve been having since that day at the cottage the thought had entered your mind. “Me between Johnny and Kyle, full of them while they kiss over my shoulder.” You swallow thickly, hands curling into the sheets. “You and Simon...Simon on his knees, your cock in his mouth, watching while Johnny and Kyle fuck me-”

Your words cut off as his thumb pushes against your clit, rubbing tight little circles. You’re soaked after replaying those fantasies in your head, toes curling where they rest against John’s back.

“What else?” John’s voice is muffled by your thighs.

“Simon fucking Johnny while you fuck me as we take turns sucking Kyle’s pretty cock.” Your breaths are getting shaky, the words trembling from your lips while you get closer and closer to the edge. “Simon making me squirt in Kyle’s mouth.” Your back arches off the bed, heels digging into John’s shoulders. “You and Simon…both at the same time…sinking your teeth into me again…”

You cum with a cry, slick gushing out against his face as your orgasm rocks through you. It’s been so long, the pleasure coming on quick and hard. John laps at you, licking up every last drop as you twitch and shake.

John finally pulls away as the edge of overstimulation begins to burn between your thighs. His face is shiny with your slick, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You follow its path, your tongue slipping out to do the same.

“Lovely fantasies.” John says as he crawls over you, shifting you up the bed slightly before settling his weight on you. “Perhaps we can make those come true.”

You shiver in anticipation for him to make good on that. You know he will. No doubt he’s been having his own fantasies. They all likely have. You’ve all been waiting for the moment to arise, for them to get their chance to have you together. You’re surprised it’s taken this long. You would have welcomed them at the cottage, but it hadn’t felt like the right place for it.

Perhaps once you finally find a place to call home, you’ll all get a chance to properly break it in.

You can only imagine what its going to do to your libido.

John’s hand grips your chin, turning your face back to the center so you’re staring up at him. His eyes are lidded as they stare down at you, lips slightly parted. “Back with me again? Still picturing all the depraved things you want us to do to your body?”

You gulp, nodding.

He chuckles, lips turning up in a grin. “File those away for later. We’ll get our chance. For now, I want you to focus on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You say.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, a thrill of danger and excitement pulsing straight between your thighs. You’re still slick, need throbbing between your legs. You need his cock, you need him to ease away the ache steadily building there.

“Need you alpha,” You whine, pushing your hips up to grind against him. He’s hard, cock trapped between your bodies as you press up against his chest.

He grunts, his hips dipping to grind against you, his cock leaking against your stomach. He’s just as needy as you, but he’s always been better at self control.

“Needy little omega.” He says, sitting up on his knees to press your thighs apart, opening you right up to his gaze. You lay there on display, feeling no nerves, no desire to hide yourself from him. You’ve long since passed that insecurity.

His thumb drops to drag through your slick folds, pressing against your clit for a moment before releasing. You practically mewl, thighs pushing against his hands. “You want it?” He all but growls.

“Yes,” You breathe, staring up at him, holding eye contact. “Need your cock alpha.”

He growls, satisfied with your answer. The tip of his cock drags through your folds, gathering slick there before he’s pressing into you, easing his way into your body.

You let out a breath, relaxing for him. It’s been a while, long enough that the stretch burns a bit. He goes slow, feeling the resistance squeezing around him. “Good girl.” he breathes, his hand caressing your cheek. “You can take it.”

You whine, pushing your hips up to draw him deeper into you. He presses his hips forward, your body shuddering from the stretch as he bends down, pushing in until his hips are flush with yours. He presses his chest against yours, dipping his head so his forehead rests against yours. You’re breathing the same air, the scent of your pussy still faint in his breath.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him down as close as you can. His hand snakes beneath your head, closing around the back of your neck. It rests there, not squeezing, not controlling, just resting there against the most sensitive part of your body. Goosebumps form on your skin at his touch, the vulnerability you’re allowing sending shockwaves through your body. How easily he could dig his fingers in, pull you under his control and have his way with you before you wake up and realize what happened.

He doesn’t, though. He just holds his hand there, holds the back of your neck as he starts to move, grinding his hips against you. You tilt your head back into his hand, baring your throat for him in submission. His mouth presses kisses against your skin, tracing your pulse, dropping to your scent gland and your mark before moving to the other side. He skirts around Simon’s mark, not touching the sacred area that Simon has claimed, that marks Simon’s claim to you as well.

John starts to move his hips faster, his cock dragging in and out, in and out. You meet his thrusts, lifting your hips to pull him in deeper, as deep as you can take him. You want to meld together, melt into one being in this moment, be locked together for all eternity. You’d crawl into his skin and settle there for the rest of time if you could.

God how you’ve missed him.

“Fuck, so good for me.” He breathes, face pressed into your neck, his breath tickling your skin. “Taking me so well.”

“Missed you, alpha.” You whine, your nails sinking into the skin on his back as pleasure builds inside of you with every drag of his cock.

“Missed you too, omega.” The sound of your status coming from him has you whining again. “Missed you so much.”

You moan, getting closer and closer to the edge with every drag of his hips. His thrusts have grown harder, sloppier. He’s getting close too, as he growls against your throat. He could sink his teeth in so easily, yet he doesn’t. You have so much trust in him, so much faith that he’ll take care of you, that he’ll be a good alpha.

He is.

“Cum for me.” he groans, snapping his hips against yours. “Be a good girl.”

You whine, your body trembling, legs shaking as he drives you into another orgasm. You come undone under him, squeezing around him like a vice. He growls, snapping his hips into you a few more times before he stills, warmth filling you as he cums inside you.

His weight settles over you, pressing you down into the mattress. You’re still clinging to him, wrapped around him like a snake. His cock throbs inside of you as you milk every last drop of his cum that you can. He’s still hard, and you know this isn’t the last round, but the two of you sit in silence for a moment, just comforted by the weight of each other.

It had been long enough without him.

You never want to go without him again.

The tickle of calloused fingers on your skin pulls you from the sweet arms of sleep.

The fingers draw patterns on your back, tracing shapes and lines into your skin. You let out a quiet groan, pressing your face further into the pillow. You’re on your stomach, the sheet bunched down around your hips. It’s warm, the scent of sex still in the air.

“What time is it?” You groan, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Just past 9.” John says quietly.

You frown, turning slightly so you can see him. “You’re still in bed?”

“Couldn’t bring myself to move yet.” He says. “Not from this beautiful sight.”

Your face warms and you press it back into the pillow bashfully. He chuckles, his hand flattening against your skin. He rubs your back gently as you float in and out of consciousness, the pull of sleep still heavy in your mind. Yet, you can’t quite reach it, the warm hand on your back keeping you grounded in the waking world.

You hum, rolling onto your side so you’re facing John. His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. His thumb strokes your cheek, the moment soft and domestic and intimate. You doubt you’ll ever get him to sleep in, but you like this change, this new side of him willing to lay in bed with you as you sleep. Of course, if you do win him over and get your farm neither of you will be sleeping in, but right now, it’s nice.

“If you’re up for it, by the time we get ready we could go out for brunch.” He says. You can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, his brows pulling in a frown. “What?”

“I just never expected you to be a brunch guy.” You say, shaking your head.

He shrugs. “I’m retired. I can be a lot of things now.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Brunch would be nice. I’m hungry after last night.”

He grins wickedly, leaning in closer. “Give you a workout, did I?”

You hum, closing the distance to kiss him. “Almost as hard as farm work.”

He growls, rolling you over and pinning you under him. “Then I didn’t do enough.”

You squeal as he nips at your neck, laughing as you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got a few places lined up to look at.” John says as he drives along the highway.

“So you picked an area?” You ask.

“A couple.” He says. “I can’t promise a view of the ocean if you want land, but we’ll be minutes away from the beach.”

“That’s okay.” You say, sitting back in your seat. “Can’t have everything I guess.”

“The first place we’re looking is just outside Troon. Then there’s a couple more just outside the Three Towns.”

You give him a look. “The what?”

“It’s a conurbation between Ardrossan, Saltcoats, and Stevenson.” He explains. You pretend to know what that means. “I’m liking one of those properties more than the others.” He continues. “I think you’ll see why.”

You hum, staring out the window as green farmland goes by. You can almost smell the sea air as you get closer and closer, excitement bubbling in your stomach. The temptation to give up the desire for a farm in favor of a place closer to the sea is strong, but you know it will be better for both you and John to have land and later a farm. It’ll keep John busy, something you know he’s going to be grateful for. Going from constantly having things to do, to having nothing at all to do is going to be rough for him. He’ll go stir-crazy, like a working dog stuck in an apartment. You know he’d never get violent, but without an outlet...you’re not sure what it’s going to look like.

Maybe you can convince him to go to therapy.

“Here we are.” John says, pulling up a small driveway.

It’s...cute. A bit dated, but your expectations were low to begin with. You get out of the car with John, a real estate agent waiting for you already.

John introduces himself and you to the agent, Angelica. You take John’s arm as she tells you about the house, leading you to the front door.

“Three bedrooms, one bath, 108 square meters. It sits on two acres of land, I know ye said ye were lookin’ for land.” She opens the front door, leading you inside.

It’s...something alright. The entryway is nice, if a bit narrow. One door opens on the left to the living area, small with the worst patterned carpet you’ve ever seen. The staged furniture doesn’t help any either.

“The kitchen and bathroom are newly updated.” Angelica says as she leads you across to the kitchen.

It is nice looking, new and clean and fresh. “Spacious.” You say, looking around. Plenty of room for two or three bodies.

The bathroom is new but small and only has a shower, something that could prove difficult during your heats. You were spoiled on base having a tub to soak in afterward.

“Oh, blue carpet.” You say as you head into the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

It’s very blue.

Angelica laughs, nodding her head. “It could use a little updating, but you can’t deny it’s charm.”

She’s not wrong.

There’s one bedroom downstairs and two upstairs, small and simple. You’d really only need two max, but it might be nice to have an extra for visitors. You’re not sure if you could fit the bed you want in them though. There wouldn’t be much room for anything else. Maybe you could convert one room into a closet and storage.

“So what do you think?” John asks when you get to the car after viewing the house.

“It’s cute...needs a lot of work though.” You say.

He nods. “It’s cheap, but that leaves more money for fixing it to how we want. We can even add a second bathroom.”

“That would be nice.” You say. “I’m not sharing one bathroom with four men.”

He chuckles, driving down the road towards the next house. “The next house is bigger.” He says. “I think you’ll like it more.”

It is bigger. Three bedrooms, three bathrooms. Newer looking though the kitchen is a bit dated. You’re not sure how you feel about the linoleum floors though, or the strangest looking bathtub you’ve ever seen. Then again, you’re glad it at least has a tub. The rooms are spacious, just big enough for the bed you want.

“What do you think?” John asks as you drive to the final house you’re viewing that day.

“Better.” You say. “I think it could work.”

“Just wait until you see the last one.” He says.

This one is just outside Ardrossan, one of the ones he said were in this area. It’s the nicest of the three, judging by the outside. Brick, you think, not uncommon for houses in the UK. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, four acres. The largest plot of land you’ve seen today.

You’re in love as soon as you walk in.

It’s spacious, the entryway well lit and no weird carpet. The living area is nice and spacious with a fireplace. The kitchen is big and newly renovated, plenty of space for bodies to move around. The dining area is a bit small but you can live with that.

The three bedrooms are nicely sized, the main bedroom big enough for the bed you want. The carpet is new in them, soft under your shoes. They could use some repainting, but that’s easy to do. The bathrooms are new too, and one has a very spacious tub. There’s also a loft area upstairs, perfect for a cozy space, well lit that maybe Johnny could turn it into an art studio.

The back yard is nice too, a stone patio that leads out to some grass and enough space for a barn and a garden. Just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

“You like that one?” John asks as you sit in the car.

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. It’s the first you’ve been able to picture yourself in. You and your pack living domestically on your little farm, just a short drive to the beach. You can make that place a home, all nice and cozy like you need.

“We’ve got a lot to think about.” He says, pulling out of the driveway onto the road to make the drive back to Glasgow. “And a few more places to see tomorrow.”

You’re trying not to make your mind up already, having hope that there might be something better tomorrow, something more suited to your needs.

You take John’s hand, holding it as he drives. The reality hasn’t quite set in that this is really happening, that you’re looking at houses to live in permanently. John is retired and you’re moving on to this new chapter in your lives. It still feels like a dream, like you’re walking through some wishful daydream of what might be, and you’ll be forced to return to base soon where you’ll live for who knows how long.

That’s not the case, though, and you know that, but to you it still feels unreal.

You can’t stop thinking about that house.

The others you view are nice, but none of them quite feel like the other one did. They’re not as comforting, as inviting. You can’t picture yourself being at home in them like you can the third one you saw yesterday. Even John doesn’t quite seem as enthusiastic either, perhaps picking up on your energy. He must know you’ve already made up your mind, but you know how dangerous it is to get attached to houses. There’s no guarantee you’ll get it, if there’s other bidders.

You’re trying not to think about that too much.

“So, what do you think?” John asks as you sit in a restaurant for lunch. It’s a nice day outside, the sun shining, the sea bright blue.

“I still really like that one house.” You say.

“Yeah?” He smiles. “That’s the one singing to you?”

You nod. “It feels the most like home.” You shrug. “I don’t know how else to describe it. I can see myself settling in there and building a farm and living out the rest of our lives there comfortably.”

“I like that one too.” He says. “It has the most land and will need the least amount of work.”

“Just some painting.” You say. “Get rid of that red in the bedroom.”

“You don’t like it?” He grins.

You shake your head. “I want something cooler, less harsh on the eyes.”

“Well let’s put an offer in first, then we’ll talk about painting and furniture.”

Right. You’ll have to do that too. You don’t even have a bed to sleep in, much less anything else to furnish your future house with. You don’t even have much in terms of decorations besides your things from base. John had packed up your room for you to go through things you want and don’t want once you get settled in.

“You want to do it?” He asks, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You nod. “Let’s do it.”

He smiles softly at you, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “Let’s do it.”

The waiting is the hardest part. You’re on edge, unsure what to do, how to channel that energy as you wait for a response on whether or not the owners will accept your offer. John had gone above asking price, just to try and make sure there was a greater chance you’d get it. You really want that house.

“I hate waiting.” You say, your feet nervously tapping the arm of the couch.

“I know.” John says, his fingers scratching your scalp as you lay across his lap. “We should know soon, though.”

“Hopefully.” You say, stretching your arms up overhead. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

John smirks, wrapping his arms around you to tug you so you’re seated in his lap. “You need an outlet for that energy?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in. “Why, you offering?”

His hand slides up your leg. “I think I can hep with it.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. “At least work some of it out.”

You smirk, kissing him back. “I don’t know, I’m pretty anxious.”

He hums, his hand sliding to the inside of your thigh. You can feel him getting hard under your ass. “Let me take the edge off, then.”

He kisses you again before shifting you so your back is against his chest, legs spread over his. His fingers slide up your thighs, trailing over soft skin before they reach the edges of your shorts. He doesn’t bother removing the fabric, instead lifting a hand to slip it under the waistband. Your pussy is already pulsing in anticipation, slick starting to wet your folds.

He slides his hand further under your shorts and into your underwear, his fingers ghosting over your clit. You twitch, letting out a quiet sound. He rumbles low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back. You spread your legs further, pressing your hips up into his hand.

He presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing slow circles. You whine, your head dropping back against his shoulder. His nose presses into your neck, inhaling your scent from the source.

“So sweet.” He groans, his fingers quickening into slow, tight circles against your sensitive bud. “My sweet girl.”

You moan, one arm curling around to grip the back of his hair. He growls low in his chest, his fingers sliding down to prod at your entrance. You let out a sigh as two of them push into you, stretching you open despite the fact you’ve hardly been able to keep your hands off each other.

It was a long three weeks.

He sinks his thick fingers into you, reaching as far as he can. You let out a long breath, pressing your hips against his hand to try and take him as deep as you can. Your inhale catches in your throat as he curls his fingers, pushing up against that spot inside of you. His free hand drops to your thigh as you attempt to squeeze them closed, forcing it open.

“So fucking tight and wet for me.” He groans into your ear, licking at your throat. “Taking my fingers so well.”

“Alpha,” you whine, squeezing around his fingers as he pushes against that spot with every thrust of his fingers into you.

Your toes are curling already, still sensitive from your morning romp between the sheets. His palm pushes against your clit, the calloused skin dragging against your sensitive bud with every push of his fingers.

“Fuck,” You whine, back arching as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “Gonna cum.”

“Cum for me.” He grunts, picking up the pace, pushing his fingers fast and hard against that spot.

Your legs are shaking as you cry out, body squirming in his hold as your orgasm slams into you. You gush around his fingers, coating his hand in slick. He keeps his fingers pressed against that spot as you writhe through your orgasm, legs squeezing around his hand.

He chuckles, against your throat, pressing a kiss to your pulse point before pulling back. “Not quite as good at that as Simon.”

You’re breathing heavy, letting out a quiet sound as he pulls his fingers free. “Simon has magical hands.”

John hums. “He is very good with them.”

You grab John’s wrist, pulling his hand up before taking his fingers in your mouth. You lick at the digits, cleaning your cum off of them, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue.

John is breathing heavily, his scent thick in the air. You pull his hand from your mouth, sliding off his lap onto your knees. You turn to face him, pushing his legs apart, your eyes locked onto the bulge in his pants.

“Let me return the favor.” You say, hands going for his belt.

You undo it and unzip his jeans, pushing them down just slightly so you can free his cock from his briefs. It’s hard and heavy in your hand, fully aroused and all he did was finger you. He’s such a good alpha.

You spit into your hand before dragging it along his cock, pumping up and down a few times. He twitches against your hand, likely still sensitive as well after you milked him for all he was worth twice this morning.

You lean forward, dragging the tip of your tongue across the tip of his cock. He lets out a groan, his head falling back against the couch as you tease his sensitive head with your tongue.

His hand sinks into your hair as you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue down the length of his cock, careful not to catch him with your teeth. You close your lips around him, sucking hard as you pull back up to the tip. His hips jerk just slightly, a deep groan leaving his lips. His head tilts down to watch you, your eyes locking with his as you sink down on his cock again.

You take him as deep as you can, feeling the edge of your gag reflex as his cock pushes at the back of your tongue. You’re out of practice. You haven’t been sucking Johnny’s dick as often as you used to, missing the quickies before he had to go to training, always late and getting reprimanded, despite the fact John knew where he was and what he was doing. You never told on him, but one look at your face and John knew.

You continue to suck John’s dick, using your hand for what you can’t reach. His hand tangles in your hair, not pushing but holding you there as you suck him off, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, you can tell by the restrained way he tries to keep his hips from bucking, his fingers tight as they grip your hair.

You keep eye contact with him, squeezing the base of his cock as you suck extra hard, dragging your lips up his length. You prod at his slit with your tongue before taking him into your mouth again, sinking as deep as you can. You slide a hand down, squeezing his balls and he cums, spurting into your mouth with a growl. You take it all, swallowing his cum and licking him clean.

He lets out a long breath, falling back against the couch as you wipe the drool off your chin. There’s a moment of silence before his phone starts ringing where it sits on the coffee table behind you. You reach back and grab it for him, still on your knees, his soft cock in your hand.

“Hello?” He answers, leaning back against the couch. It’s not one of the guys, his face too serious as he listens. He’s back to the professional, as if he wasn’t just having his cock sucked less than two minutes ago. “That’s great.” He says, his eyes lighting up.

You hold your breath, tucking him back into his pants as you stare at his face, trying to hear what’s being said but you can’t.

“Great, thank you so much.” He says before hanging up.

He stares at you for a long moment, phone in hand. The anticipation is killing you, nerves and excitement twisting deep in your stomach for what he’s about to say. You know it, you can tell just by looking at him, but you need to hear it out loud.

“We got the house.”

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[flofaiiry]

Washington's Finest — Bucky Barnes x Reader

SUMMARY: Congressman Barnes has heard the stories from his colleagues on committee, he knows the stereotype that politicians in Washington often hire women to pursue their extracurricular activities- but he never expected to be the one to be in the need of such... services, much less the kind of man who'd actually seek them out

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is a sex worker (referred to as a call girl & hooker), age gap (reader is in law school so mid/late twenties), reader's parents are dead, most likely incorrect info about nda's & how they're used, swearing, probably an overuse of italics oopsie, so much kissing, breast&nipple play, oral f!receiving, reader attempts to fake an orgasm (spoiler it does not work), fingering, mentions of masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bucky is kind of condescending, teeny bit of dacryphilia, big dick!bucky, little bit of manhandling, unprotected p in v sex (don't do that!!!), creampie. not proofread!!!

WC: ~7k

NOTE: sorry to all my Pitt & Shawn Hatosy followers that this isn’t your regularly scheduled content, I just got this idea after watching one too many Bucky edits and had to write it !!!😁😁 also I apologize if I portray sex workers in a negative light at all, that is not my intention at all!! I heavily based reader on Laurie from The West Wing, which is admittedly a pretty old show, but I tried my best & I hope you enjoy!!!

Bucky, the junior congressman from New York, knows the reputation that politicians have cultivated. He knows the stereotype of the dead-beat husband who steps out on his wife with a prostitute when he's in D.C., then acts all lovey dovey back in the home state.

He thought since he was single, he could avoid this dilemma. This career ending adultery and solicitation scandal that so many before him had walked into. He thought that he could find some girl to take home at a bar and get his rocks off that way, but that proved to be a harder task than he thought. Everyone in D.C., knew him. Everyone in Brooklyn knew him. Everyone everywhere knew him.

It was nice at first, but now it was starting to get annoying.

Fucking his fist in the shower quelled off the physical urges- and even that was starting to lose its efficacy. But what getting himself off didn't satisfy were his mental and emotional needs. The need to be seen, to be felt, to be touched, to be loved. Bucky wanted that.

But he wasn't going to get it anywhere in this town- or this country for that matter.

He'd heard enough stories through hushed conversations outside committee rooms & caucuses to know that Washington's Finest was the best, most reliable high end escort service in DC. The preferred choice for most politicians on Capitol Hill who dabbled in the art of the extramarital affair.

So, one afternoon when he was feeling especially in need- he made the call.

"Washington's Finest, you've reached Elena, how may I direct your call? The woman's voice is sweet and almost robotic sounding. Bucky isn't sure if it's actually a real person or one of those automated recordings until it starts speaking unprompted.

"Hello?"

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Hi. Um- booking."

Elena makes a little sound of acknowledgement before speaking again, "Alright sir, your call is being transferred, I'm going to place you on a brief hold, please stay on the line!"

As soon as she finishes talking, a smooth jazz music floods through the phone and into Bucky's ear. It's nice, familiar. Just as he thinks he might recognize the song, he's met with another woman's voice.

"Good evening this is Washington's Finest, you've reached booking! I'm Paulina how may I assist you?" She speaks, that same sort of uncanniness present in her tone.

"Hi. Yeah, uh I'd like to book- I guess."

"Great! Well then you're in the right place, may I just get a name to make the reservation?"

He hesitates, wondering if he should give his real name. Paulina seems to notice this.

"It doesn't have to be your name, sir. Just any name that we can refer to you by for the booking."

He doesn't say anything. Paulina fills the silence again.

"Rest assured sir, we deal with many high profile customers, our privacy policies are top notch to ensure that your proclivities are kept-"

"Steve." He blurts.

"I'm sorry?"

"Steve. My name is Steve."

Why he just offered the name of his best friend? He doesn't know. But at the moment it's the only name coming to mind so it's gonna have to do.

The woman on the other end smiles almost audibly.

"Alright then, Steve. What service would you like to book with us?"

"Shit, I uh- I don't know. What... services do you have?"

There's a ruffling of papers, a click of a mouse, then her voice again. "We offer three main packages: the One Night, the Weekend Getaway and the Week Long All-Inclusive. Many first-time customers choose to start with the One Night, helps them to find a girl they connect with to book longer services with in the future."

Bucky nods, then remembers she can't see him. "Right. Okay, sure, yeah- the One Night sounds good, let's do that."

"Great! Sounds good, let's get you all reserved - when were you thinking to book your service?"

"I, um- whenever?"

"How about tonight?" She asks, tapping away almost violently at the computer.

He nods, once, twice- like he's trying to convince himself to go through with this. To stoop down to a level he swore he'd never reach. "You know what- sure, let's do tonight."

Paulina continues with the booking, going over various policies regarding payment and acceptable conduct with the girl he books. Then, she gets to the names. There are three girls with availability tonight:

Anya.

Peggy.

And you.

Peggy's out immediately- way too much baggage associated with that name. He eliminates Anya next, sounds too harsh to him.

Leaving him with you. A girl with a name that rolls of the tongue, who will be showing up at his brownstone in a little over three hours

You get the call a few minutes after Bucky hangs up, Paulina tells you that someone named Steve has requested your company tonight, and you're to attend an address in Alexandria at 9pm sharp.

You get ready as usual, wondering if this Steve will be another senator or congressman stepping out on his wife- citing the 'stress of the job,' for pushing them apart, or if he'll be some rich old guy with nothing better to do with his money, or maybe- a secret third option. What that is, you're not sure yet- but a girl can dream, can't she?

Either way- the routine never strays. Makeup, hair, lingerie under an unassuming outfit (men love it when they get to feel like they're unwrapping you). You're out the door by 8:30 and catch the bus to the address sitting in your email.

You get there a few minutes early, so you sit on a bench a few doors down until your phone reads 8:59PM. Then you start down the street to your assigned place of business.

You climb the steps then knock on the door a few times. A second later the door's swinging open. You recognize the face from the news, and from the museum, the former World War 2 hero turned Congressman.

Bucky Barnes.

Not Steve.

You weren't surprised. Didn't feel catfished. 90% of the time the name you're given isn't legit, but one given by the customer to maintain certain degrees of separation.

"Congressman Barnes," you say, nodding your head slightly to greet him.

He says your name in the same tone, but different- like it's more foreign to him. "Please, call me Bucky." He half smiles, stepping aside in the doorway though still terribly unsure of himself.

"Bucky," you repeat, stepping into the house through the open space next to him. "This is a nice place," you hum, kicking off your shoes while he shuts the door behind you. "Thanks," he replies.

"You want something to drink?" He asks, beckoning you to follow him into the kitchen. You do. "Oh, just water is fine, thanks. And ice if you've got."

He nods, filing your preference away then walking over to the fridge to pull out a pitcher, then a cupboard for a glass.

"So," you say, walking around to the opposite side of the kitchen island as him, "what got you calling up Washington's Finest?" He shrugs, sliding a glass full of ice water to you. You mouth a thanks before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip.

"What's anyone looking for when they order a hooker." He says, blunt as ever. You almost choke on the drink, setting it down with a thunk before coughing the water from your windpipe.

"Sorry- is that not what you're called?"

You shake your head, "no, I mean- hooker's not wrong it's just, we prefer call girl. Evokes a nicer image."

"Right. Call girl." He repeats, nodding his head.

You take one more sip, washing down any stuck remnants of liquid from your earlier near-asphyxiation. "So sex?"

"I'm sorry?" He asks.

"That's what most people are looking for when they order a hooker." You repeat his words back to him, earning a smile from the man. He nods, "can't argue with that logic."

He still hasn't answered your question.

"So... sex?" You try again

He coughs, like he was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

He says the words like they're true, but the look in his eyes says they're anything but.

"Right, okay." You reach into your purse and pull out a thin stack of folded paper. “Got a pen?” You ask, setting them both down on the counter: one in front of you, the other in front of Bucky. He quirks an eyebrow, “yeah,” then opens a drawer to retrieve one, “what’s this?”

“NDA,” you say plainly. He scoffs, “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, “it’s nothing personal, just company policy.” You reach into your bag once more to take out your own pen, “it’s to cover both of our asses.”

He follows your lead, signing his name on the various lines and not bothering to read all the legal jargon. “Both our asses?” He questions, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s.

You nod, not once looking up from the page. “Mhmm, that way if I get drunk and start blabbing about all the congressmen I’ve slept with and your name comes up, then you can sue or whatever.”

He watches as you flourish the pen along the paper, marking your name and initials down, then meets your eyes when you slide the forms away. His brows are furrowed, “you get drunk and run your mouth a lot?” He asks, tone half joking.

You smile, “I don’t, but some of the other girls aren’t as careful, like to brag about their customers ‘n such.” He hums, sliding his own papers forward to stack on top of yours.

“You good? Ready?” You ask, putting your pen and the papers back in your bag. Bucky replies with a borderline shaky sigh. You squint, not normally the reaction you get from customers. “Everything okay?”

He nods, slow and unsure. “How does this work exactly? Do we just… start?” You shrug. “It can work however you want it to work. We can do whatever you want to do.”

“What if I want to just… talk first.”

His behaviour is a refreshing contrast to the men you normally deal with- their minds are set on getting your clothes off the second you walk through the door.

“That’s fine,” you smile, “we can talk.”

He nods and exhales, like a weight’s just come off his shoulders. “So,” you start, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Right,” he says, like he forgot that having a conversation would require actual talking.

“Um. What got you into…” he trails off, looking for the right words, “this line of work.”

You laugh, “oh this is not my dream job, believe me. I’m just doing this to get through law school, only got one year left. I’m getting out of this business the second I pass the Bar.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. “Wow, law school. You go to GW?” You shake your head, “Georgetown.”

“Damn. They've got a good program over there.”

“I know,” you nod, “and expensive.”

“Ah,” he mouths, “hence the…” he gestures between the both of you, referring to the situation at hand.

“Exactly.”

“Parents can’t afford to help you out a little?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that they can’t afford it, they-” you stop yourself with a sigh. Any other customer would get a rehearsed answer about why you’re in this business, but any other customer wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. “My parents died a few years ago, bank gave me a hard time with the inheritance — not that it was a whole lot, and there wasn’t very much left over after I paid off their house & some debts.”

He gives you a sympathetic look, the same one everyone gives after you drop the dead parents bomb. You give him a look that brushes off whatever empathetic sentiment he's conjuring up before he can say it. You shrug, “wanted to go to law school, couldn’t afford it, found a way to afford it. That’s all it is.”

He still doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking into your eyes like they’ve got some answer he’s been looking for all his life.

“I’m not proud of it,” you add, starting to rationalize and he quickly starts to shake his head.

“Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you should be ashamed or anything- I mean, fuck I’m the one who- I don't know, hired you? if anything I should be ashamed.”

You huff, “don’t be, you’re... different.”

Bucky smiles at that. “Different?”

“Yeah, most other customers have one thing and one thing only on their mind when I’m around but,” you shrug, “I don’t know, you don’t? I guess? You care about more than just the sex, I mean. At least I think you do. I hope you do."

You add the last part under your breath- you're not even sure why you add it- you know better than to feel anything more than a tolerance for one of your customers.

“Call me old fashioned, I guess.” He jokes. Some of his nerves appear to slough off when you laugh.

“Yeah, something like that,” you reply.

The room falls into a sort of silence, coming about after your laughter fizzles out. It's not awkward though, just like you're both weighing the options of what to say next.

"How about you?" You fill the air with your voice, the question catches Bucky off guard. "What about me?" he answers.

"Why Congress?" You shrug, "being in the history book once isn't enough for you?" It's teasing, but the question behind it still stands: why politics?

He raises his eye brows, bringing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Okay. Calling me an attention seeker?"

You tilt your head, "most of you are. I don't know why else anyone would chose a job where your employer is the fucking general population."

"First of all," he starts, corner of his lip raising in a challenging smirk, "they're called constituents- I work for the great people of Brooklyn, thank you very much."

You laugh, "right, right, constituents. I ask again, why spend your life doing such... thankless work? I'm telling you, 90% of these congressmen & senators have some small dick insecurity or something and need some big, powerful job title to make up for it."

Bucky scoffs, taking a few steps around the kitchen island to stand beside you now, you turn to face him, leaning your side against the countertop.

"Well, I definitely don't have that problem," he says, leaning in close against your ear. His voice sends a pulse down your spine that's received between your legs- husky and low.

He pulls away from you and spots the way your eyes had fluttered just barely shut in response to his breath against your skin. You blink- once, twice- trying to adjust to his new proximity to you. "I guess I had just spent enough of my life hurting people, and I wanted what life I have left to be spent helping 'em instead." He mutters the words, searching through your eyes like he lost something in them and if he looks hard enough he'll find it.

Then his eyes flick down to your lips, for a split second- like he's wondering if he should kiss you or not. But when he shifts just marginally away from you- it seems like he's decided against it. Your breath catches in your throat when he shifts, a jolt of borderline disappointment passing through you.

"Kiss me."

The words leave you before your better judgement can tell you otherwise. He wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

You swallow. "Kiss me," you repeat- more sure this time.

"Kiss you?" He asks like he's trying to make 100% sure he heard you right.

You nod once. "Kiss me. Please."

Bucky absorbs the words, then brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. He drags his fingers down your jaw, before cradling his hand there at the nape of your neck. His calloused fingertips sit just at the back of your head, then he presses them into your skin and draws you towards him. He pulls you in until your lips are just barely brushing against his.

His lips are dry- not chapped, not rough- but dry like they're looking for something to quench their thirst. They're a stark contrast to your own, meticulously glossed over in that perfect shade that brings out your eyes just right.

Then he kisses you- finally, he kisses you. It's painfully soft, and you're immediately craving more. You bring your own hand up to the side of his face, tangling your fingers into his chocolate brown hair as you deepen the kiss.

He hums into your mouth as his eyes fall shut, and brings his other hand- the metal one- to your waist, pulling your body flush against him. You thought it'd feel harsh, mechanical even, but somehow his touch still manages to be soft.

Suddenly all you can think about is what those fingers would feel like inside of you.

You take your other hand up to the other side of his face, pulling him impossibly closer to you, taking a deep inhale when you do. The air you bring in is mix of second hand smoke and vintage cologne, it's undeniably him.

That snaps the last strand of Bucky's control, the last little thread that had him holding on to any chivalrous sense of decency. He's desperate for you. He thought he was in need of connection- of touch, but the second you walked in his door?

He needed you.

More than he'd ever needed anything else before.

He travels both of his hands down to the backs of your thighs, and picks you up in one seamless motion. You're shocked at his strength at first, but them remember who you're dealing with: Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier- he could probably throw you around like it was nothing if he wanted to.

And God, you really hope he wants to.

You wrap your legs around his waist once he's lifted you, and he starts to maneuver you through his house. Walking masterfully through the expanse of hallways within the brownstone without breaking away from the kiss for so much as a breath.

He pushes the door open with your back, taking one hand from under you to flick on the lamp just enough so he can see where the bed is. The dark orange light from the fixture floods the room, bouncing off every available surface & enveloping your bodies in an auburn blanket of warmth.

He lowers you down onto the bed with ease and crawls over top of you. He presses one last firm kiss against your lips before pulling away. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and you can't help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks when you open your eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, his tone serious, "I know it's your job to say yes, but- do you want this?" If you say no he'd stop, of course he would, but right now he is praying to every higher power that you'll say yes.

No customer had ever asked you that before- asked the woman beneath the call girl what she wanted. And even if they did- it always came with the silent expectation that despite whatever you might want to say deep down, the answer would always be yes.

You nod, still breathless from the exchange earlier- but that's not enough for Bucky. "Words," he whispers, ducking his head down to the crook of your neck. "Tell me you want this, want me," he says, words muffled against your skin as he kisses it softly.

"Want this," you say, still nodding furiously, "want you."

He groans against your neck, raw and desperate. The vibrations ricochet down your body, landing with a throb between your thighs.

Bucky roams his hands down your body, and slides them under your shirt, splaying his fingers against your stomach. One hand's warm, inviting, sultry. The other- cool and unnaturally smooth. But both are soft, and the juxtaposing sensations makes you squirm.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," he mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shirt then pulling it up over your head. You raise your arms to allow him to slide it off of you, leaving your chest covered with just the skimpy black lace bra you picked out before you left.

He travels his kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and across to the top of your ribcage. He moves down your chest, following along the geography of your sternum until his face is buried between your breasts.

One of his hands comes up to cup over the material, inner knuckle of his thumb brushing perfectly across your nipple. You gasp at the new contact, desperate to feel more of him- everywhere.

That sound only encourages him, emboldens him, and before you know it he's tucked his fingers underneath the thin material and is ripping the bra in half at the front seam. He pushes it aside and you shrug off the straps.

This bra was in your all star rotation- it was by far the most flattering one you owned. You should be upset, should scold him with something along the lines of making him buy you a new one, but right now you could not care less about that.

You're yanked from your train of thought when you feel Bucky's lips close around your nipple. His tongue swirling around the bud and teeth grazing it ever so gently. You arch your back, heaving your chest against him by consequence

He brings his hand to your unattended breast, squeezing and grasping at the flesh in just the right spots before pinching at that nipple.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper, rolling your head back into his mattress while your fingers tug at his long dark strands of hair.

You feel him smirk against your chest, before he picks back up his head and slots his lips onto yours again. “Wanna taste you,” he says through kissing you, “can I?”

“You don’t have to, I’m-“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, “please?”

You nod, slow- but incredibly sure.

“O- okay. Yeah. Sure,” you breathe.

He smiles- like really smiles, then kisses you again1 before descending once more down your body. He leaves wet open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your chest and torso, hands working on undoing the clasp of your pants so he can push them off once he reaches the waistband.

He tosses the garment haphazardly somewhere in the room, before hooking his fingers through the band of your panties.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes hooded with lust as he looks up at you for your consent.

You nod- pathetically quick. “Yes. Please.”

The ends of his lips quirk upwards as he pulls the thin lacy material from your legs. It’s too slow- painfully slow. You wish he’d rip them off like he did with the bra.

Once they’re off, Bucky kneels on the floor in front of you, and hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to your clit, leaving a tender kiss over it, before licking a long steep stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hands finding his hair again like there’s some kind of magnet drawing them there. You pull his face against your cunt, forcing his tongue into your hole and knocking his nose against your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moan, arching your hips off the bed and even further into him before he plants you by the hips back into the mattress. He delves his tongue inside you, prodding eagerly through your slick and fucking it in and out of you.

It feels good- feels so good- but it’s not enough.

Your instinct takes over though, months of experience in appeasing men and making them think they’re bringing you to the edge to stroke their ego.

You tone up the moans, raising your volume and repeating Bucky’s name like a mantra. All things to signal that you’re getting close. Your tugs at his hair turn to pulls, thighs pressing around his head, as you lean into the act of an impending orgasm.

It’s not that you didn’t think he could get you there- it’s that you didn’t want him to wait.

“Fuck, Bucky- ‘m gonna cum,” you whine, squirming under him relentlessly. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps lapping at your cunt with his tongue.

“Shit- I- fuck, I'm coming, Bucky I'm-" you cut yourself off with a pornographic moan. One perfected through numerous uses, it's always believable. Always makes the man feel good about himself that he 'made a woman cum.'

Bucky doesn't buy it though. Not for a second.

"No you're not," he says, voice stern and words getting muffled against your pussy. The stubble lining his jaw scrapes at your inner thighs when he speaks.

"Does this not work for you?" He asks, pulling away from you and caressing your thighs. You shake your head, "no- I'm sorry it's not that, I just- it doesn't matter if I feel good or not. You're the customer." You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

His hair is disheveled from your hands being rooted in it, his chin and lips coated with your slick.

"Who the hell told you that?"

You shrug, "just common sense I thought."

He scoffs, "yeah well fuck that. Tell me what you want me to do. What you need me to do to get you there- for real."

"To be honest- I don't really know," you start.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, "you don't know?"

You shrug again.

He sits back on his heels, sigh heaving from his chest. "Well, how 'bout this- when you touch yourself, what do you do that makes you cum?" The question's awkward, but for some reason you don't feel opposed to answering.

He traces his vibranium fingers up and down your inner thigh. The cool metal makes your muscles tense. "I want to make you feel good," he says, "but I can't do that if you don't tell me how to go about doing it."

You release a shaky exhale before you speak.

"I need something... inside."

Bucky smirks, "yeah? What's something?"

You shrug, "anything, really. Fingers, toy, dick."

He laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back up at you and leaning back in.

"Well how about," he starts, voice dangerously slow and fingers inching back towards your core, "I give you my fingers now, make you cum on those 'n get you all stretched out for me... Then, I give you the other thing."

You swallow hard, the anticipation building like a knot in your chest.

"Deal?" He asks, tip of his index finger brushing right above your clit. Your breath hitches when you nod. He smiles, "good girl. Now let me make you feel good."

And with that he disappears back between your legs.

Bucky wastes no time and gets right back to business. He wraps his lips around your clit like he never left, and pushes one finger into your tight cunt. He watches eagerly for your body's reaction, indulging in the way your head tilts into the mattress and your eyes roll back in the socket.

"That feel good?" He asks, the vibration against your pussy adds a new layer of pleasure. You nod quickly, "yes- fuck, feels good."

"Good," he smirks, adding a second finger into your hole and curling them inside you, then sucking harder at your clit. The moans slipping from your lips this time are angelic- ethereal, Bucky thinks. They're that beautiful because they're real. The sounds are a tangible demonstration of how good he's making you feel.

You don't notice when he adds a third finger, or when he brings his thumb to rub little circles at your clit, your senses are too bombarded with all the other inputs to register those little changes.

What you do notice, however, is how quickly you come tumbling towards the edge this time- the real edge, the brink of orgasm, not the metaphorical one you created to stroke the egos of your other customers.

Bucky notices too. Notices the way that when you're really close, you don't get louder, but get quieter- your jaw dropped open but no sounds to be heard. The way you clamp your eyes shut and grip onto his hair and the duvet for dear life. The way your hips writhe under him, desperately and subconsciously trying to create more friction for yourself.

He notices it all.

But his favourite thing he's noticed thus far, are the pretty noises you make when you do cum. No showy, perfectly defined moans, but little breathy whimpers that bleed into louder cries of his name as your release gushes out around his tongue.

Music to his ears.

"That's it, just like that, good girl," he coaxes, working you through the high. He gets lost in the way you taste, the noises you make- all of it.

What he doesn't notice that you've already come down from your first high, and so he doesn't stop. Just keeps laving at your slit, sucking at your clit and pumping three thick fingers inside your cunt until he's sending you hurdling towards a second orgasm.

"Oh my- fuckingGodBucky," the last words tumble from your lips in a single syllable as you cum again onto Bucky's tongue. He dips his mouth down, lapping up every last drop of your release like it could grant him eternal life.

When he finally pulls away, hands resting on your thighs to stop them from quaking, he sees the wet marks down your cheeks, and the new crystalline beads forming at the corners of your eyes.

He stands up quickly, a little concerned and hovers himself back over you again. "Hey," he speaks, voice soft, "you okay?" He brushes the hair from your face and the tears from your eyes.

All you can do is nod, breathing too heavy to form any words at the moment. After a second you speak, "felt too good." Bucky laughs, "too good? That sounds like a challenge."

You raise your eyebrows before tracing your eyes down his body, settling on the very evident bulge between his legs. "You did promise me something..." You trail, dragging one finger against him through the jeans. He lets out a strangled sigh at the tiniest bit of friction.

You smirk at your effect on him, before tugging him down to press your lips to his. You taste yourself on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth, you should be a little grossed out- but you could not care less.

The only thing on your mind right now is getting him inside of you.

You pull him to lie next to you, then roll yourself on top of him, straddling over his bulge and grinding your cunt against him. You moan into each others mouths, Bucky's hands find your ass, squeezing and groping at the flesh while yours move to the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them greedily- unapologetically eager to see what he looks like with nothing on.

He moves his arms to let you slide the shirt off of him, leaving him in just a white tank top which he sits up slightly to take off. You can't help but gawk when he's finally topless. Your eyes wander shamelessly over the expanse of his chest and you trace your fingers along the grooves of his muscles, lingering on the little scars and marks like you're trying to commit them to memory.

"Kids these days don't learn it's not polite to stare?" He says, snapping you out of the trance-like state his shirtless figure put you in.

You scoff, "what's not polite is looking like this and expecting me not to look." You lean down and press a kiss against his lips, "I'm just a girl. I see pretty abs & arms and I stare." You sit back up, shuffling down his legs to sit over his knees, then bringing your hands to undo the button and zipper on his pants.

He raises an eyebrow, "I have pretty abs and arms?" He asks, bending his knees to let you slide the slacks down and off of his legs. You stop dead in your tracks, fingers hooked into his boxers but not pulling them down yet- not when he just said that.

"You're joking, right?" He doesn't say anything, just stares at you with an amused look plastered onto his face, "Jesus Christ have you ever looked in a mirror, Bucky?" You shake your head through a laugh and finally pull his boxers down to free his cock.

You sigh at the sight of him. He's big- this you could assume from the way he carried himself. The confidence he exuded. The way he acted like he didn't have any physical detriments to compensate for.

But he's kind of- obscenely big.

You lick your lips and sweep your hair behind your ears and out of the way, before ducking down to take him in your mouth- but Bucky stops you before your lips even meet his tip.

"Not tonight," he says, "another time."

You raise an eyebrow, "another time?" He smirks, then pulls you up for a kiss, "yeah. Another time," he breathes, before pressing his lips to yours. Just from where you're straddling him, you can feel the head of his cock hitting dangerously close to your clit.

"I don't mean to inflate your ego anymore than it already is," you tease, pulling away to look down at him, "but- respectfully- how the fuck am I supposed to fit that inside of me?"

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, then brings one hand to your hip and the other to wrap around himself, tilting it slightly so it lines up with your entrance. "You can take it. Don't worry." He moves you down by the hip just barely, you gasp when the very first millimeter of his cock prods into your entrance.

"Just take it slow, yeah? Take it slow."

He loosens his grip on your hips, allowing you to take the lead and decide how quickly you want to sink yourself onto him. You nod and plant your hands on his lower abdomen to steady yourself, before slowly- so, so slowly- moving down his length.

The stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. A string of profanities floods out of your mouth and your head rolls back. Bucky's eyes threaten to close at the feeling of your walls hugging so tight around him, but he keeps them glued on where your bodies meet- watching intently at the way you swallow every inch of him inside of you.

"Just like that," he drawls, sucking in a breath and resisting every urge to buck his hips up and shove himself the rest of the way in.

"Holy shit, Bucky." Your breathing is ragged once you've finally sunk all the way down onto his length. The pads of his fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, you're sure they'll leave bruises behind but all you can think about right now is how it feels like his cock is about to split you open.

"I know, baby, I know," he stutters, trying to maintain his composure as best he can. "I can't- fuck- too full, I can't," you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes once again.

He pulls you down by the arm, lacing his fingers through yours then kissing you. It's soft, but only for a second. Before you know it he's sliding his tongue in your mouth and rolling you both over so he's on top now. He braces his forearms on either side of your head, and pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

"You want this? Hm?" He pushes a strand of hair from your face, "want me to fuck you?" His tone is cocky, he knows you want him, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, yes- fuck, please," you whimper, still wholly consumed by the feeling of his thick cock inside you. He smirks, "atta girl," he presses one last kiss to your lips- needy and desperate, before drawing his hips back, then slamming them back into you.

You practically scream at his sudden movement, the pleasure and pain of the stretch blending together and making your vision all fuzzy. The pace he sets is slow, but hard. Unrelenting.

Bucky drops his head to the crook of your neck, biting and kissing at your clavicle. Out of the corner of his eye he spots your hand, desperately gripping at the thin linen sheets to ground yourself. He takes it in his, before pulling it to rest on his back. You nails dig in to the musculature almost instantly, summoning a deep groan from within him.

With that same hand, he takes your leg to sit around his waist, pushing himself even deeper inside of you. The new tilt of his cock now knocks perfectly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars, drilling into it with every thrust.

The room is hot, your bodies sticky with sweat. The only thing you can hear is the sound of Bucky's hips smacking against yours, his breathy grunts in your ear with every rock of his body into yours, and your repetitive cries of his name.

The pleasure is everything. It's all consuming, earth shattering- but somehow it's still not enough.

"Please," you breathe, "need- fuck, go faster."

He picks his head up to look at you, "yeah?"

You nod, desperate- begging. "Need more, please."

Bucky scoffs, "need more?" He repeats- almost mocking you. You just keep nodding. "Well alright then," he grunts, and you can hear the smirk playing across his lips.

His next actions happen in a whirlwind. He pulls himself out of your pussy, coaxing a whine from your throat when you suddenly feel so empty. Then with one strong vibranium arm he's flipping you over, your face smushing into the pillow before you turn your head.

He brings the same hand underneath you, cool metal fingers splaying across your lower belly as he slams all the way back inside you. Your eyes go wide, accompanied by a load moan of his name before they're clamping down shut again.

His new rhythm is cruel. He looks down and watches the ripples of your ass with every thump of his hips into yours. Bucky presses the hand he has under you against your skin, he can literally feel himself sliding in and out of you. Can feel how deep he is inside of you.

"Oh my- God!" You choke out the last word when he pushes on your lower belly, walls immediately clenching around him.

He hisses out a breath, "you wanted this, hm? So take it. Be a good doll and take it."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky 'm gonna cum." Right as the words leave you, all your senses melt into a white hot static as your orgasm rips through your body.

"Yeahhh, atta girl. Just like that- cum on my cock just like that, huh?" His low voice coaches you through it, never once stopping his unrelenting hips against yours.

His hips finally start to stutter, right as his high starts creeping up on him. You can tell from his thrusts getting shallower that he plans on pulling out to finish- while it's the sensible thing to do- it's also the last thing you want him to do.

"Don't," you gasp.

"What?"

"Don't pull out. Wanna feel you, please God, need to feel you."

He wants to ask if you're sure, but before he can form the words he's falling over the edge. He groans your name and shoots his spend deep inside you, marking you- ruining you for anyone else.

Bucky's thrusts into you turn lazy, then coming to a complete halt right before he pulls out of you. One last whimper falls from your lips, your hole feeling both so empty yet so full of him.

"Holy shit," he huffs, sliding his hand from under you and rolling to lie down next to you.

You turn onto your side to look over at him, your eyes still find a way to linger on his chest. Once he cracks his eyes open and sees you ogling him again, he can't help but laugh.

"You've really got quite the staring habit, huh?"

Your lips turn up into a smile, "can't exactly help it."

He shakes his head, letting his eyes fall shut as his breathing finally comes back to a normal pace. The both of you are too tired to say anything, but really- there's nothing that needs to be said.

He wasn't expecting a girl like you to be the one that knocked on his door- nor were you expecting a man like him to answer. Both of you know this was more than just a business exchange. Even though there'd be money deposited in your account after this, it felt different.

This wasn't just a hook up- it was a reckoning.

When Bucky opens his eyes again, there's a different look in them. And when he stares at you, searching through your own eyes for the answer he's been looking for all night- it's like he's finally found it.

He pulls you into him, moving you so that you lay your head on his chest. He presses a kiss into your hair, and traces his hand up and down your shoulder.

Neither of you say anything more, his eyes said it all already- stay.

And you do.

please let me know what you think!!! reblogs & comments mean more than u know!!!

[shesgaymichaelscott]

hiii can i request melissa and fem reader where melissa is still with (literally can't remember any of her boring ass guys names lmao) but somehow their eyes meet and they feel like time stops 🤭 but they get pulled apart before they can introduce themselves and then reader ends up working at abbott and they're pining eeeeee then they become friends and the tension and chemistry is crazy and melissa ends up leaving loser guy bc she realizes she's falling in love with reader :)))

(if you're feeling like writing smut then maybe mel realizes she's never really had great sex before bc of the losers she's been with until reader blows her mind 🙂‍↕️)

Look at Me Again

(sooo much mutual pining it kills me!!, love at first sight, eventual smut🤭)

Word Count: 7.6k

taglist <3: @writerspirit @schemmentigfs @myownworriedshoes

~

Gary was easy.

That was the honest truth of it, and Melissa Schemmenti had long since made peace with honest truths.

He was easy like vending machine candy when you skipped lunch. Like watching reruns of Law & Order instead of dealing with the mess in the sink. Reliable. Predictable. Someone to warm the other side of the bed without asking much of her soul.

And after everything—her ex-husband, the chaos of her family, the emotional highwire act that came with being needed by everyone in her orbit—Melissa had thought maybe easy was enough.

He was fine. He was sweet. She didn't hate that he knew how she took her coffee or that he gave her space when she wanted it. She didn't mind that he thought her chaotic, oversized family dinners were "endearingly intense," even if he spent most of them blinking in terror.

But deep down, somewhere in that slow-burning place inside her that used to wake for things like poetry and lust and the way someone's voice could curl around your name and make it mean something—Melissa knew she wasn't lit up.

Not really.

She hadn't been lit up in a long time.

"It's one drink, Melissa," Jacob insisted, arms flapping like he was coaching a Broadway cast. "You are allowed to enjoy yourself."

"We're celebrating the grant funding," Janine chimed in, bumping Melissa's shoulder affectionately. "Come on. Just one night out with your work family. Please?"

Barbara raised a brow but sipped her tea calmly. "Consider it a wellness initiative."

"And I'm buyin' first round," Ava added, flourishing her phone like a magic wand. "Because I finessed a corporate sponsorship from this kombucha company that thinks I'm an influencer. They don't need to know the drinks are vodka."

Gregory looked up from his quiet corner, one brow raised in amusement. "What she means is, we'd all like to hang out. With you. So stop trying to ghost."

Melissa sighed dramatically. "You're all like moths in my damn ears."

"Flattering," said Jacob, already pulling his coat on. "Let's go, hot teacher girl."

Melissa rolled her eyes but let herself be pulled along, her coat slung over one arm. She texted Gary a simple 'Going out with the staff. Be home late. Don't wait up' and didn't wait for a reply.

Ruby's was crowded in that warm, familiar way—half dive bar, half community hub. The air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low pulse of music no one really danced to but everyone bobbed their heads with.

Melissa took her usual seat near the corner of the bar, where the light hit just right to keep her visible without inviting too much conversation. She was nursing her whiskey when it happened.

The moment.

That moment.

A figure stepped through the door like they didn't even know they were about to ruin her life.

You weren't dramatic. You weren't posing. You weren't the kind of woman who asked to be seen—but Melissa saw you anyway.

It was something about the way you moved, sure. That slow, self-assured grace. But more than that, it was your eyes. The second they lifted—just casually, just for a flicker—and met hers across the room, Melissa forgot what air was.

Time slowed.

She didn't believe in that kind of crap, normally. Fate. Lightning strikes. Love at first sight. But this—this felt like a ripple in the universe. Like someone had pulled a thread too tightly and it snapped, right between her ribs.

You looked at her like you knew something. Like you recognized her.

And Melissa, for once in her very stubborn, rooted life, didn't look away.

Not until Ava spilled someone's tequila sunrise directly onto Barbara's lap and chaos erupted.

In the shuffle—Gregory trying to help, Janine fussing, Barbara elegantly swearing under her breath—Melissa's eyes darted back to where you had been.

Gone.

Just like that.

She didn't get your name. Didn't know if you really noticed her back or felt that same pull. And yet, the moment lodged itself deep in her, something to carry home like a splinter under the skin.

That night, in bed next to Gary, Melissa stared at the ceiling. She let him rest his hand on her hip, let him mumble something about work tomorrow, let herself pretend that nothing had happened.

But her heart beat just a little faster.

Because something had.

She didn't know it yet, but she'd just met the woman who would ruin her life in the best possible way.

And she was going to see her again.

Soon.

—

Your first day at Abbott Elementary began the same way your morning runs usually ended—sweaty, breathless, and mildly terrified of what you'd just signed up for.

You smoothed your hand down the front of your blazer as you stood in front of the school's side entrance, taking a deep breath. The sign out front was crooked. There was a paper bat taped to the front door that said Don't test me, I bite. And someone was already yelling about a laminator inside.

God help you, you liked it already.

You were the first guidance counselor Abbott had ever had—budget expansions, new district initiatives, blah blah blah. What it really meant was that no one knew what the hell you were supposed to be doing yet.

And that meant freedom. Reinvention. Possibility.

It also meant pressure.

"Deep breath," you muttered to yourself. "You've got this."

Inside, the front office was mid-chaos. Phones ringing. A kid doing the worm down the hallway. A woman with sleek black hair encouraging him to find a better rhythm.

"Principal Ava Coleman," she announced, like it was a name you should already know. "Style icon. Visionary. Professional life coach—unofficially. You must be my new project."

Your eyebrows rose. "Guidance counselor, actually."

"Same thing," she said, waving it off. "You'll be in charge of vibes and emotional crises. Like me, but with paperwork. Come on, I'll give you the world's most chaotic tour."

And chaotic it was.

She breezed you through classrooms and corners of the building that barely passed for code-compliant, introducing you to teachers in rapid-fire bursts:

Barbara Howard, regal and composed, whose handshake felt like a benediction. Jacob Hill, who immediately launched into an unsolicited monologue about restorative justice and the time he cried during Encanto. Gregory Eddie, quiet, observant, and lowkey hot in a flannel-wearing-sad-boy kind of way. Janine Teagues, who practically vibrated with friendliness and already asked if you needed help decorating your office.

They were all warm. A little strange. Deeply loyal to each other in a way you could feel like heat off a sidewalk.

You liked them. That terrified you a little.

"Almost done," Ava chirped, leading you down the hallway toward a door labeled 'Staff Lounge' with a sticker of a possum and the words Emotional Dumping Ground. "Just gotta introduce you to our last teacher. Redhead. Probably yelling about the Philly parking authority or spaghetti right now. She's like if the mob adopted a kitten."

You laughed, nerves easing.

The second the door opened, you heard her voice before you saw her:

"—and then the guy tells me I can't park there 'cause of street cleaning? In October? I said to him, buddy, I've been street cleaning since I came outta the womb, and if you think I'm moving my car in heels, you've got—"

She turned as Ava pushed the door open wider.

And stopped.

Mid-sentence. Mid-gesture. One hand in the air like punctuation that never arrived.

Your eyes met.

And there it was again.

The spark.

No—not a spark. A match dropped in gasoline. That moment from the bar, crystal-clear. Like it had been waiting in both of you, smoldering in the background of your lives until now.

Melissa's breath caught audibly. Her green eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she masked it—fast, sharp, the way you knew a woman who'd learned to protect herself did.

You swallowed.

"Hi," you said, voice just barely steady. "I think we've... sort of met."

Silence, thick enough to spread on toast.

Janine blinked between you two. "Wait... did you guys go to Temple together or something?"

"No," Melissa said, eyes still locked on you. "Ruby's."

Ava's mouth dropped open. "Ohhhhhh. This is the bar girl."

You flushed.

Melissa stood a little straighter, voice gruff but softer now, "Melissa Schemmenti. Second grade."

You told her your name.

She repeated it like it tasted good in her mouth.

"Guidance counselor," Ava added helpfully. "Here full-time. Permanent. Not leaving."

You swore Melissa's throat moved when she swallowed.

You stuck out your hand, because professionalism mattered, even when your heart was trying to beat its way through your sternum.

She shook it. Firm. Warm. A little too long.

God help you both.

By the end of your first week at Abbott, two things were abundantly clear:

Melissa Schemmenti avoided you like it was a competitive sport. And you liked her anyway.

She was polite. Respectful. Occasionally gruff in that Philly way you were starting to realize meant affection—but she never lingered. If you came into the lounge, she left. If you stayed late working on a bulletin board for mental health awareness, she mumbled something about paperwork and disappeared into her classroom.

She was like a cat—always around, never close, watching from the edge of the room with those sharp green eyes.

And you? You had it bad.

You noticed the way she always held the door open without being asked. How she joked with Barbara in the mornings and somehow always had spare Tylenol in her drawer like she was prepping for the end times. The way she lit up around her kids, especially the ones with fire in their bellies and chaos in their notebooks. You watched her soothe, defend, fight for them like they were hers.

So yeah. You had it bad.

And you'd barely spoken since the bar.

Barbara, of course, noticed it first.

It started with a glance. Then a pause. Then a sideways look during a particularly chaotic Thursday lunch when Melissa spent more time staring into her soup than eating it.

Barbara leaned over, calm and motherly. "You've hardly touched your lunch, Melissa."

"I'm just thinkin'."

"About the new guidance counselor?"

Melissa dropped her spoon. "Excuse me?"

Barbara didn't flinch. "You've been distracted. Quiet. You've left the staff lounge three times this week to make calls that never seem to last more than two minutes. Either you're dodging bill collectors or there's a woman involved."

Melissa scowled. "I'm not dodging bill collectors."

Barbara waited.

Melissa sighed. "She's... fine."

"Mhm."

"She's good with the kids. I mean, really good. That fifth grader who wouldn't talk to anyone last year? Already asked if she could have lunch in her office next week. She—" She stopped herself. "She's good."

Barbara looked over at where you were kneeling in the hallway with a kindergartener who had drawn an entire comic book about a squirrel detective. You were animated, laughing, gently guiding the kid's enthusiasm into confidence.

"You mean she's charming," Barbara said, sipping her tea. "And possibly everything you've always said you don't have time for."

Melissa didn't answer.

Because you were. You were earnest and steady in a way that sneaked under her skin. You asked questions no one thought to ask, remembered people's birthdays, brought in tissues with lotion during flu season without being asked. And worse—you saw her.

Every time your eyes met, she felt it again. That Ruby's lightning. The moment that never left her.

She tried to ignore it. She had Gary. Gary, who brought her her favorite pretzels and laughed at her jokes and didn't make her feel like the ground was shifting under her.

But you...

You made her nervous.

She hadn't felt nervous in years.

The thing about nervous energy, though? It builds. It simmers.

It boiled over two weeks later.

It was raining. The kind of cold, sideways rain that made the whole school smell like wet sneakers and permanent marker.

Melissa was standing outside her classroom, arguing with a parent on the phone, when she heard laughter. Real laughter. Coming from the guidance office.

She glanced over. The door was open.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor with two sixth graders between you, showing them how to fold little origami foxes.

Melissa meant to walk away. She really did.

But then one of the girls held hers up and whispered something to you, and you giggled—head thrown back, warm and delighted like you hadn't learned to be cautious with your joy yet.

And Melissa? She couldn't breathe.

She was soaked. Cold. Her nerves were fried from the parent she just had to talk off the ledge. And still, all she could think was:

God help me, she's beautiful.

You looked up and caught her staring.

For a split second, neither of you moved.

Then you smiled. Soft. Shy. Like you knew what she was thinking.

"Want to make one?" you called, voice easy.

Melissa blinked.

And for once in her life—she said yes.

The sixth graders left in a flurry of thanks and half-folded paper animals, their voices trailing off down the hall like echoing laughter. You leaned back against the edge of your desk, exhaling with a smile still lingering on your lips.

"They're sweet," Melissa said, watching the door even after it shut. She still hadn't sat down. She looked out of place here—too much leather and steel inside your cozy, pastel-colored office.

But she hadn't left.

"They really are," you said. "They don't trust easily, but when they do..." You gestured to the pile of foxes. "They give you their whole world."

Melissa's eyes flicked to the desk, where one of the kids had drawn a tiny crown on her paper fox and named it Queenie. You caught the smirk tugging at her mouth and grinned.

"You really wanna make one?" you asked again, gentler this time.

She hesitated.

You held out a square of orange paper. "It's therapeutic. Or infuriating. Depending on your tolerance for tiny folds."

She gave you a look. "You're really sellin' it."

But she took the paper.

She sat beside you. Close enough that her coat brushed your sleeve. Her hands were calloused, strong—meant for chalk and defending small children, not delicate creases. You placed your fingers over hers without thinking, guiding her through the first step.

Her breath hitched. You felt it more than heard it.

"Like this," you said softly, nudging her thumbs inward.

"I'm not great with this kinda thing," she muttered.

"You wrangle second graders like it's nothing. You can handle some fancy paper."

She laughed—quiet, real—and your heart pulled tight.

For the next few minutes, you folded side by side. The air between you was thick, but easy. You worked in tandem, shoulders occasionally bumping, fingers brushing.

"You're good at this," she said finally, holding up her slightly lopsided fox like it was a trophy.

"I'm good at calming anxious minds," you said. "Origami just happens to be part of the toolkit."

She looked over at you. "Is that what you think I am? An anxious mind?"

You smiled. "No. I think you're someone who never lets anyone see when you are."

That stopped her.

You didn't flinch, though your own heart was hammering.

Melissa looked down at her fox, turning it over like it might offer her an answer.

And then—almost too quickly—she stood up.

"I, uh..." she cleared her throat. "I should get back. I've got papers to grade, and Gary's pickin' up dinner tonight—"

The name dropped like a stone.

You blinked. "Oh. Of course. You're... with someone."

"Yeah," she said. Too fast. "I am."

You nodded, trying not to let the sudden heat in your chest show on your face. "Of course. Sorry if that—this—was..."

"No," Melissa cut in, voice low. "It wasn't. It's not. I just—"

She didn't finish.

You looked down at your fox. The silence stretched.

Then you offered her a smile. Small. Safe. "We could be friends."

Melissa froze.

"Unless that's... weird," you added quickly. "I don't want to step on anything. Or anyone."

"No." Her voice was rough, like it scraped on something inside her. "It's not weird."

You nodded. "Friends, then."

She reached for the door but paused, hand hovering over the handle.

When she looked back, something in her face had cracked open just a little. Vulnerable. Searching.

"I don't know what this is," she admitted. "But it's... not nothin'."

You met her gaze.

"No," you agreed. "It's not nothing."

She left without another word.

And for the first time since Ruby's, you felt like the floor beneath your feet was shifting.

Melissa didn't notice how cold she'd gotten with Gary until Jacob noticed for her.

It was a Tuesday—rainy, again—and Gary had shown up mid-morning to restock the vending machines like he always did. Usually, Melissa had something snarky to say. A flirty dig. A hand on his arm. Some tiny gesture of ease.

Today? She barely looked up from her crossword.

"You want anything while I'm at Wawa later?" Gary asked from the break room doorway, shaking his keys.

"No," she said, too quickly. Then, realizing it, added, "I'm good, thanks."

Gary lingered, visibly waiting for something—anything.

Melissa didn't offer it.

She kept her pen moving, focused too hard on trying to find a six-letter word for regret. Her jaw was tight. Her heart tighter.

Gary finally left.

Jacob, sitting on the couch with a yogurt and an Us Weekly, peeked over his container with a look that was way too perceptive for Melissa's comfort.

"Everything okay in heteroville?"

Melissa glanced at him. "Excuse me?"

"You didn't even smirk. Usually, I get at least one 'that man's lucky I put up with him' for the road."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm tired."

"Mmm," Jacob hummed. "Sure it's not, oh, I don't know—internal emotional collapse brought on by gay panic and long-suppressed yearning?"

Melissa snapped her head up. "Jacob."

He held up his hands innocently. "I'm just saying. You've been moodier than a Scorpio on decaf ever since a certain charming guidance counselor showed up looking like a Pinterest board and handing out kindness like candy."

"I'm not—"

But she didn't get to finish.

Because that's exactly when you walked into the staff lounge.

With Janine.

And smiling.

That smile that did something to Melissa's spine.

"Hey, everyone," Janine chirped, brushing water off her sleeves. "It is pouring out there. You'd think this school was cursed with endless emotional metaphors!"

You laughed beside her, cheeks pink from the cold. "Hi, Melissa."

Melissa looked up.

God, you were so warm. It was annoying. That quiet kind of kindness that didn't ask for attention, that didn't need to flirt to make people gravitate toward you.

And worse?

You smiled at Gary.

He'd come back in to grab the dolly cart and was fiddling with the side panel of the vending machine. When you greeted him—sweetly, with no edge, no jealousy—it knocked the wind out of Melissa.

"You're the one who stocks the sour straws, right?" you asked, soft and playful.

Gary chuckled. "Guilty as charged."

"They've saved me like three times this week. I owe you."

He lit up.

And Melissa felt something tighten in her chest.

You weren't flirting. You were just nice. But Gary was basking in it like a goddamn sunflower, and Janine was chatting with him too, and Jacob was watching her like she was on an episode of The Bachelor: Internal Crisis Edition.

Melissa stood.

"Need air," she muttered.

"Melissa, it's pouring," Janine called after her.

"Better than choking," Melissa snapped before the door shut behind her.

Jacob whistled low. "And that concludes our preview of emotional implosion season."

Janine blinked. "Is she... okay?"

You frowned. "Should I—?"

Jacob gently touched your arm. "No. Just... give her a minute."

You looked toward the door Melissa had disappeared through, the sour straw wrapper still in your pocket from earlier when you almost brought her one, and whispered, "Okay."

But your chest ached anyway.

—

You were sitting in bed, half-asleep, the soft hum of a lo-fi playlist keeping you company while your laptop blinked with half-finished notes for a student grief workshop. Your phone buzzed beside you.

Melissa: Got your number from Jacob. Hope that's not weird.

You sat up straighter immediately, your stomach doing something unsettling.

You: Not weird at all. Hey, Schemmenti.

There was a pause. You could practically feel her debating whether to continue.

Melissa: Didn't mean to be a jerk earlier. In the lounge. Was just... rainy. Bad mood.

You: You weren't a jerk. You're allowed moods. You're human. Allegedly.

Melissa: Allegedly. Don't go spreadin' rumors. (...thanks.)

A beat.

Melissa: Didn't know you liked sour straws. I'll keep that in mind.

You: Didn't know you texted after 10pm. I'll keep that in mind.

She didn't reply right away.

But the next night?

She texted again.

It became a thing. A quiet, sacred thing.

Late-night messages about the kids. About ridiculous school meetings. About old movies and music and what you'd order at a diner at 2am. About everything except what was really happening between you.

Melissa: They're makin' us do a trust fall at the staff PD day. If I die, avenge me.

You: Deal. I'll give you a Viking funeral in the parking lot with office supplies.

Melissa: Romantic.

You: Only for you.

She never responded to those texts. Not the flirty ones. But she never ended the conversation either.

At school, it was worse. Or better. Depending on how you looked at it.

Melissa would pass by your office and flick the lights off just to hear you squeal and threaten revenge. You started slipping notes into her mailbox—"Drink water. Don't stab anyone before lunch." She'd toss you a piece of gum with a smirk in the lounge. You'd put her favorite pens in her mail slot like it wasn't obvious you'd noticed.

Your friendship was banter. Heat just beneath the surface. Almosts and what-ifs.

And the rest of the staff? They absolutely noticed.

It was Barbara who made the first move after weeks of the back-and-forth.

She found Melissa in the quiet calm of her classroom during lunch one day, organizing flashcards with a kind of surgical precision that screamed avoidance.

"Melissa," she said gently, sitting down beside her without asking.

Melissa didn't look up. "If this is about me not eating again, I swear I'm gonna—"

"It's not," Barbara said. "It's about her."

Melissa froze.

"I see how you look at her," Barbara continued, voice soft but steady. "I see how you don't look at Gary anymore."

Melissa sat down. Slowly. Like the weight of it all was finally catching up.

Barbara reached out, resting a hand over hers.

"You deserve more than just comfort. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive."

Melissa's throat worked around a tight swallow. "It's not that simple."

Barbara's smile was full of quiet wisdom. "It never is. But what do you want, Melissa?"

And that was the thing, wasn't it?

She didn't know how to say it.

But every time she opened her phone at night and your name was there waiting?

She knew.

Meanwhile, Janine had cornered you in the copy room.

Literally.

"Okay," she said, arms crossed, "you're gonna tell me right now whether you're in love with Melissa or if that's just your face all the time."

You nearly dropped your coffee. "Janine—"

"Uh-uh," she said, holding up a finger. "I've seen the glances. The smiles. The lingering hand touches. This is a rom-com and we're in act two."

You tried to laugh it off, but your ears were already red.

"I don't know what it is," you admitted. "But it's... something. And I think I might be in trouble."

Janine softened. "She's scared. You know that, right?"

You nodded. "I just don't want to push. She's with someone. And I like her too much to mess her up."

Janine tilted her head. "But what if she's already messed up without you? What then?"

You didn't have an answer.

—

The library smelled like cheap coffee, dry Expo markers, and repressed rage.

It was Development Day at Abbott Elementary—aka the one day a year where time lost meaning and even Barbara, poised as ever, looked like she wanted to throw someone through a window.

Ava, naturally, was leading the session.

"Alright," she called, spinning a whiteboard marker like a dagger. "Let's all pretend to care for the next hour so the district doesn't smite us."

Melissa muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "I'd rather be audited," as she sank into the seat beside you.

She hadn't said much since that late-night text where she'd asked if you'd ever seen Moonstruck, and you'd replied, Yeah. You remind me of Cher. If Cher were meaner and hotter.

She'd ghosted for a full six hours after that one.

Now, seated next to her, your knees brushed.

She didn't move away.

Across the table, Jacob was trying to organize color-coded notepads. Janine shot you a look. Gregory looked like he'd spiritually vacated the room twenty minutes ago.

Ava pointed at the two of you with her marker. "You two. The star-crossed lovers. You're in charge of the wellness initiative next week. Don't make it weird."

You blinked. "What?"

Melissa coughed. "What?"

Janine blinked at Ava. "Wait, why them?"

Ava waved her off. "Please. The slow burn tension? The nightly texting I know is happening? The hallway glances? I might not care about children, but I do care about unresolved sexual energy."

You tried not to choke on air. Melissa shifted beside you like she was deciding whether to leap through a window or tackle Ava to the ground.

Jacob cleared his throat, eyes wide with delight. "Um, excuse me, but I would like to officially second the 'star-crossed' comment. We're talking Persian poetry levels of longing over here."

"I hate all of you," Melissa grumbled, voice tight.

"I think it's sweet," Barbara added mildly, sipping her tea. "Though a bit tragic."

Your face burned.

"Alright," Ava continued, tapping the whiteboard. "You're in charge of 'mental health awareness and emotional team bonding,' which sounds fake but is technically required. Go bond or whatever."

The room dissolved into side chatter.

You stayed quiet. So did Melissa.

Until, finally—so softly you almost missed it—

"I'm not with Gary anymore."

You turned to her, pulse suddenly in your throat. "What?"

She didn't look at you. Her eyes were fixed on the dent in the conference table. "Few days ago. I ended it."

You blinked. "Oh."

Melissa breathed in slow. "He's a good guy. But it wasn't enough. And I think maybe... I didn't want it to be."

Your heart was pounding now.

"Melissa—"

"I'm not saying anything else," she cut in. "Not yet. But I thought you should know."

You stared at her profile. The way her jaw was clenched like it cost her something to be this honest. The way her hand was gripping the folder in her lap like it might steady her.

"Okay," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for telling me."

A pause.

Ava glanced back over from the whiteboard, her smirk feral.

"Told you," she muttered to Jacob.

The staff meeting broke up in a blur of chairs scraping and voices buzzing, but Melissa didn't move. You didn't either.

She'd just told you—finally—that she ended it.

You didn't say anything more. You just looked at her. And she felt it.

Later that afternoon, you found yourselves shoved into the smallest workroom on the second floor to "brainstorm logistics" for the upcoming student wellness initiative. Ava had waved a stapler vaguely at you and said something about "zen zones or hugs or whatever" before disappearing with a tray of cookies and no actual leadership.

Melissa was already there when you walked in, arms crossed, hip against the low counter.

You dropped your bag by the file cabinet, closed the door behind you, and smiled slow.

"So," you said. "Do you want the kids to do mindfulness jars or emotionally repressed rage-scribble journals?"

Melissa snorted. "Do I look like a mindfulness jar kinda woman?"

You stepped closer, deliberately. "No," you said. "You look like the kind of woman who would throw glitter at someone on purpose and then claim it was therapy."

She held your gaze. "Not glitter. That stuff's a plague."

You leaned in just slightly, lips twitching. "I'll bring confetti, then. For when you inevitably lose your mind planning this with me."

She didn't answer right away. Just stared. Like she was waiting for you to say something you hadn't yet.

So you did.

"Melissa," you said, voice low, "just to be clear—I'm going to flirt with you now."

She blinked. "What?"

You smiled. "Don't worry. It'll be subtle. Maybe a little dangerous. But technically, it still counts as workplace appropriate."

You took a step closer, barely brushing past her as you reached for a pack of sticky notes.

"I was thinking we could do compliment cards," you murmured, your shoulder grazing hers. "The kids write kind things to each other anonymously. Like: 'You're brave,' or 'You helped me today.'"

You met her eyes. "Or maybe: 'You looked so good today, I forgot how to spell my name.'"

Melissa stared at you like you'd knocked the wind out of her.

But she didn't move away.

"Subtle, huh?" she rasped.

You tilted your head. "You haven't told me to stop."

Her voice was soft. "I know."

The silence stretched, thick and charged. You brushed a speck of lint from her sleeve. Let your fingers linger.

"We could also do affirmation mirrors," you offered, like your fingertips weren't sparking on her arm. "Let the kids look at themselves and say kind things. You could demo it. 'I'm a badass who looks criminally good in red.'"

Melissa let out a low sound that might've been a laugh—or a warning.

"You're not making this easy," she muttered.

"I'm not trying to."

That undid her just a little. Her hand braced on the counter behind her like she needed it to keep her upright.

"You drive me nuts," she murmured. "You know that?"

You leaned in, lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear.

"I hope so."

She let out a shaky exhale.

Then someone rattled the doorknob, and the moment shattered like a wineglass under pressure.

It was Jacob, of course.

"You two almost done plotting your wellness cult?" he chirped. "Ava wants to know if there's going to be a sign-up sheet for drama therapy, and also I need to pee."

Melissa jumped back half a foot. You bit your lip, fighting a smile as you opened the door.

Jacob looked between the two of you. His eyes narrowed.

"Was the air always this thick in here?" he asked.

"Yes," you said sweetly, brushing past him.

Melissa still hadn't moved.

—

It was just after 5 p.m the next day. The halls of Abbott had gone quiet—kids long gone, most of the teachers too, save for the die-hards still grading papers or stress-eating in their rooms. You were curled on the floor of your office, poster supplies strewn around you, taping down borders for the "Self-Love Station" banner when you heard it—

A knock.

You looked up, and there she was.

Melissa.

Still in her boots and leather jacket, still somehow rumpled and perfect, still looking like the decision she hadn't made yet was clawing its way out of her skin.

"I have an idea," she said. Voice scratchy, low. "For the event."

You raised a brow. "You're on fire this week, Schemmenti."

She gave a tight half-smile. "Yeah, well. I've been... thinkin'. Too much."

You pushed aside some markers. "Come in."

She did.

And sat closer than she had to. Cross-legged across from you, elbows on her knees like she might spring up at any second if she dared to relax.

"What's the idea?" you asked.

But she didn't answer right away. Just stared at you like she was looking for something.

Your voice softened. "Melissa."

Her eyes met yours.

"Where's the line?" you asked, barely above a whisper. "Because I've been dancing right on it. And you haven't stopped me."

Her breath stuttered. Her fingers curled into her palms.

"There isn't a line anymore," she said. "Not with you."

The silence buzzed between you, electric.

You reached for her hand, slow and careful. She let you take it.

And when she leaned in—tentative, trembling—you leaned too.

Your noses nearly brushed. Her breath fanned across your lips, ragged and wanting. Her forehead tilted to yours like instinct.

You were right there.

And then—

Her phone rang.

Loud. Abrasive. Sharp as a slap.

She jerked back like she'd been burned, swearing softly under her breath. You scrambled to give her space, heart racing.

"Sorry," she muttered, checking the screen. "It's my sister. She'll call five more times if I don't pick up."

You nodded, trying to breathe evenly. "Of course. Go ahead."

Melissa stepped out, phone pressed to her ear, her other hand still half-curled like it remembered holding yours.

She didn't come back.

You stayed in your office another twenty minutes, just... sitting. Fingers ghosting your own lips. You had been right there.

That night, the texts came earlier than usual.

Melissa: I'm sorry.

You: For what?

Melissa: You know what. I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

You: Me too. Still do.

Melissa: You drive me insane. You always smell like vanilla and soap and something dangerous. It's not fair.

You: You could've kissed me. I wouldn't have stopped you.

Melissa: Don't say that. I'll lose my mind.

You: Already there, Schemmenti. Join me.

A pause.

Melissa: You're not helping. I'm in bed trying to behave.

You: Tell me how that's going.

Melissa: I'm thinking about your mouth.

You: Yeah?

Melissa: Yeah. The way you talk. The way you look at me. The way you didn't pull away.

You: Next time the phone won't stop us.

Melissa: Don't tease me.

You: Not teasing. Unless you want me to.

There was a long pause.

Then—

Melissa: Jesus. I haven't wanted someone like this in... I don't think I ever have.

You: Then don't hold back next time.

Melissa: I'm trying. But I want you so bad it hurts.

The next few days at Abbott were a masterclass in barely holding it together.

Melissa was different now. Not in a dramatic way—no declarations or dramatic sighs or broken coffee mugs. But in the way she looked at you. Longer. Hungrier. Like she couldn't stop. Like she didn't want to.

You'd catch her staring when you weren't speaking, when your back was turned, when you were laughing too hard with one of your students. She'd pretend she wasn't. You'd pretend not to notice.

And the touches? They lingered.

A hand on your back as you brushed past in the hallway. Fingertips grazing your wrist when she passed you a folder. A knuckle brushing your knee under the staff lounge table—once, just once, but it had you both holding your breath.

Jacob and Janine were, unfortunately, feral about it.

They cornered you between the copier and the extra laminating pouches like they were on a mission from God.

"Okay," Janine hissed, "are you in love yet or are we still playing chicken with our emotions?"

Jacob flailed a folder. "I saw her blush today. Melissa Schemmenti. Blushed. Over you. She nearly spilled her coffee!"

"I think she bit her lip in the break room," Janine added, eyes wide. "Bit. Her. Lip."

"She lingered at your door for ten whole seconds," Jacob whisper-screamed.

"I think my uterus ovulated from the tension alone," Janine whispered dramatically.

You groaned. "Okay, stop. Both of you. I know. I know. But I'm not pushing her. This has to be her decision."

Jacob softened. "You're really into her."

You nodded. "Completely."

Janine squealed into her elbow.

That night, it was storming.

Soft thunder. Dim bedside lighting. Your phone buzzed in your palm.

You'd been staring at Melissa's contact for ten minutes already when her name finally popped up.

Melissa: Are you home?

You: Yeah. Cozy. Rainy. You?

Melissa: I can't stop thinking about you. I haven't been able to focus all day. You're in my head.

Your stomach flipped. Hard.

You: Same.

There was a pause.

And then—

Melissa: Can you come over?

You blinked.

You: Right now?

Melissa: Yeah. Please.

You: Send me the address.

The typing bubbles came fast.

She sent it.

Melissa: I don't know what this is gonna be. But I need to see you.

You sat there for half a second, heart in your throat, adrenaline humming in your fingertips.

Then you got up. Grabbed your keys. And left.

The drive to Melissa's house felt like moving through a dream. Rain smudged the windshield, city lights blurred behind your headlights, and your heart was pounding so loud it felt like it was in your throat.

You barely remembered parking.

Barely remembered walking up to the door, soaked hood down, every nerve in your body coiled like a live wire.

The door opened.

Melissa stood there barefoot in leggings and an oversized Eagles sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. Her hair was messy, damp at the ends like she'd been pacing or—God—showering, and her eyes?

Her eyes burned.

You didn't say anything. Neither did she.

You stepped inside.

She shut the door behind you without a word, locking it with a soft click. The silence was loaded.

"Hi," you breathed, voice hoarse.

Melissa took a step closer. "You came."

"You asked."

"I wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn't sure I could not."

Her hands reached for your face like instinct, like gravity, fingers threading into your hair as her lips crashed into yours with a sound so relieved it made your knees buckle.

You kissed her back hard, hungry, like you'd been waiting your whole life to get to this moment and now you were done waiting.

Melissa groaned into your mouth, tugging you closer by the waist until your bodies were flush, her hands hot and desperate on your back.

You gasped between kisses, and she chased the sound—her lips catching your jaw, your throat, the edge of your mouth like she couldn't bear to stop tasting you.

"Tell me to stop," she rasped against your skin. "Tell me to slow down."

You shook your head, breathless. "I don't want you to."

That was all it took.

Melissa's hands slid under your shirt, greedy, reverent. Yours pulled the sweatshirt over her head in one slow motion that left her half-naked and heaving in front of you.

"Jesus," you whispered, drinking her in, her breasts practically begging to be freed from her bra. 

She surged forward, kissing you again, slower this time. Deeper. Her body was pressed against yours like she wanted to memorize every inch of contact.

You guided her backward, gently, until the backs of her knees hit the couch. She sank into it, pulling you with her.

You were still in your bra, jeans undone, breath catching as she hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged—rough, urgent—until you helped her, until denim hit the floor and you were straddling her in nothing but soaked cotton.

Melissa's eyes dragged over your body like she was starving, and maybe she was. Starving for something real, for the heat she'd been denying, for you.

"Come here," she breathed, voice ragged.

The kiss deepened—hotter now, wetter, messier. All teeth and tongue and low, needy sounds pulled from places neither of you had touched in far too long.

You ground down against her with a soft moan, and Melissa swore, the sound guttural.

"Jesus Christ—"

Her hands flew to your ass, gripping hard, dragging you even closer like she couldn't stand the space that still existed between your bodies. Your clothed core slid against the smooth skin of her thigh, and you gasped into her mouth. Her breath hitched—then turned feral.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she groaned. "Is that for me?"

"All for you," you whimpered. "Only you."

Her mouth found your collarbone, then lower. You arched into her as her tongue flicked over the swell of your breast, then circled your nipple until you were gasping, clutching at her hair as your hips moved against her with a mind of their own. 

You didn't even realize she'd unhooked her bra until you felt bare skin on bare skin.

You hissed at the contact, your nipples brushing hers as your hips moved in tandem, your bodies finding a rhythm that was messy and desperate and so fucking good.

"Look at me," Melissa rasped, her voice low and wrecked.

You did. And what you saw there—God, it was everything. Years of pretending, of playing it safe, of folding herself into versions of love that never really fit. It was all there. And so was want.

All for you.

"I need you," she whispered. "Please. I need—"

You kissed her hard before she could finish, slipping your hand between her legs, under the waistband of her panties.

She was drenched.

Your fingers slid through her easily, and her head dropped back against the couch as she gasped, her hips bucking into your touch.

"Fuck, baby," she moaned. "Please don't stop—"

You didn't. You pressed two fingers into her, slow but deep, watching her unravel beneath you.

She was gripping your shoulders like you were the only solid thing in her world, her thighs trembling as you curled your fingers just right, your thumb circling her clit in tight, purposeful strokes.

"Let go for me," you whispered, lips brushing her ear. "I want to feel you fall apart."

With a guttural cry, Melissa came hard around your fingers, her whole body tensing and trembling as she clung to you, her breath hot against your neck.

Melissa was still shaking when she pulled you up against her, kissed you like she needed your mouth to breathe. She didn't say anything—just took your hand, laced your fingers together, and tugged you off the couch.

"Come here," she murmured.

You followed, heart still racing, every nerve still alive from the sound she'd made when she came—wrecked and soft and yours.

She led you upstairs. The hallway was dim, lit only by the occasional flicker of lightning through the windows, but she didn't need lights. She didn't need words. Her hand never left yours.

Her bedroom door clicked shut behind you.

And then she was kissing you again, deeper this time, less frantic and more reverent. Her fingers slid into the waistband of your panties, slow, deliberate, like she wanted to memorize the moment before they fell to the floor.

You didn't even make it to the bed before you dropped to your knees.

Melissa froze, her breath catching, one hand tangled in your hair.

"Wait—are you sure—?"

You kissed her inner thigh and looked up at her, voice low and reverent.

"I've never been more sure of anything."

You pressed another kiss higher. Then another.

She let out a sound that was half curse, half plea, and let you guide her to the bed. She lay back, legs falling open for you without hesitation. She was already so responsive, so raw and sensitive, every inch of her body humming like it remembered your touch and needed more.

And when you finally put your mouth on her?

She sobbed.

Not a cry. Not a scream. A full sob. Like you were giving her something she hadn't known she could even ask for.

You moaned into her, her taste addictive, your hands holding her thighs open as you licked and kissed her like you were worshipping her—because you were.

She gripped the sheets, her hips grinding up into your mouth, head thrown back against the pillows as she whispered your name over and over like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.

And you?

You were so gone.

So gone.

She was everything—her voice, her scent, her thighs trembling around your head. You were dripping, aching, and completely wrecked with how much you wanted her, how much you were giving yourself to her, how deep you were letting her inside you just by tasting her, claiming her, loving her like this.

And somewhere in that blur of pleasure, of tongues and moans and fingers digging into skin—

You came.

No hands. No touch. Just her. Just the sheer overwhelming intensity of it, of giving her everything, of finally being here.

You gasped her name into her skin as it happened, body shuddering against the sheets.

When you finally looked up, dazed and panting, Melissa was staring down at you like she'd just witnessed something holy.

She reached for you instantly.

"Come here," she whispered, voice thick. "Come back to me."

You climbed into her arms, collapsed into the curve of her body, still trembling.

She kissed your temple. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.

"I've never..." she started, then stopped.

You lifted your head, eyes meeting hers.

"I've never had this," she said. "I didn't think I could. I didn't know I could feel like this."

You kissed her, slow and sweet.

"You do now."

Melissa pulled you closer—closer than close—until your body was flush against hers, hearts pounding in tandem. You could still taste her on your lips. Still feel the ghost of her against your tongue.

Her hand slid down your stomach like it belonged there, like she'd been aching to trace you.

You gasped, clutching at her shoulders, your legs parting instinctively as she pressed her fingers against you—warm, slow, deliberate.

Your head fell back as she kissed your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. Her mouth was hungry but reverent, open-mouthed kisses like she was marking you, like she wanted to memorize every sound you made.

And you made them. Soft cries. Whimpers. Her name over and over like it was the only word that meant anything.

Her fingers moved inside you with a confidence that didn't come from experience—it came from desire. She wasn't showing off. She wasn't rushing. 

She was listening. To your breath, your body, the tremble in your voice as you begged her not to stop.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she whispered, lips brushing the underside of your breast before sucking gently, leaving heat blooming across your chest. "You feel like you were made for me."

You whimpered, your thighs tightening around her wrist as her pace quickened just enough to push you over that dangerous edge again.

"I'm gonna—Melissa—"

"I've got you," she breathed. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."

With a cry that cracked through your ribs, you shattered in her arms—spine arching, nails digging into her skin, your whole body trembling against hers like every nerve had caught fire.

She held you through it, kissed you through it, never letting up until you were clinging to her, dazed and gasping, your body wrung out and boneless in her embrace.

The aftershocks hit you in waves, smaller quakes as she slowed her hand, finally easing you down from the high she'd given you.

Your forehead pressed to hers, both of you breathing like you'd run miles.

"Holy shit," you murmured, barely coherent.

Melissa laughed softly, a breathy, wrecked sound. "Yeah."

She pulled you close again, wrapping the blankets around your bodies, her thumb stroking your hip as the thunder rolled in the distance and your breaths began to sync again.

"I don't want this to be just tonight," she whispered into your hair. "I want more."

You tilted your head to meet her gaze, your smile tender and trembling.

"I want more too," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "I always have."

Melissa's eyes softened in a way you'd never seen before, like something in her finally exhaled. She tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering on your cheek.

"You scare the shit outta me," she murmured, half-laughing, half-serious.

You smiled wider. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her thumb stroked your lower lip. "Because this feels like something I could ruin just by wanting it too much."

You shook your head, leaning into her hand. "You won't ruin it. You can't."

Her brow furrowed, like she was still trying to believe that could be true. But you were here, in her bed, your legs tangled with hers and your heart cracked wide open, and she was still looking at you like you hung the stars.

You cupped her face, kissed her again—slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss you gave someone when you wanted them in the morning, and the next morning, and all the ones after that.

She kissed you back like a promise.

Eventually, the storm outside eased, and inside the bedroom, so did the both of you. Her hand stayed on your back, warm and grounding, even as your bodies began to sink further under the covers, into something softer. Something safe.

You shifted slightly, pressed against her chest, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

"Stay?" she asked quietly, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear it.

You nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - part 10

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: Alexia and the girls are orchestrating a plan; there are no chairs left, and a game of charades makes everything messier than it was—thank you, Alexia!

Word count: 5k

a/n: omg...first kiss?! :O

..

It had been two weeks since Y/n and Kika last talked. Two weeks since the park incident.

Alexia, of course, couldn't mind her own business–something she didn't do before meeting Olga. Olga had taught Alexia the fine art of nosiness, and she had absolutely run with it.

Since Y/n refused to say anything about the whole situation (again), Alexia went straight to Kika instead.

At first, Kika tried to avoid her, but after Alexia convinced Romeu to do separate groups based on the players' positions, Kika had nowhere to run. 

The downside of this plan was that everyone could see that Alexia and Kika were having a conversation, and worst of all, Vicky could hear it too.

Vicky was Alexia's baby. 

She would never admit it to anyone, but the kid had a special place in her heart, not the same as Y/n (which Alexia also wouldn't admit), but when she saw Vicky listening to their conversation and making hand gestures to Y/n and Jana on the other side... she snapped.

Vicky looked sad, but Alexia bought her a box of chocolates after training, and the kid was happy again.

What really struck Alexia was how dumb and dramatic Y/n and Kika both were.

When Kika explained what happened, completely stumbling over her words and feeling nervous that her captain was asking her about it, Alexia didn't even know how to react.

She knew Kika was a sweetheart–a little awkward, sure–but from the way she told the story, Alexia could tell she hadn't meant to say what she said. She was just nervous and blurted it out.

Yeah, she could have worded it better, but still... Y/n was also too impatient; she didn't even stay to hear what Kika really had to say. 

Alexia was trying to tell that to Y/n, but the kid was stubborn and didn't want to have any conversation surrounding Kika.

Alexia tried multiple times to explain it, though. Always in the car, always after training, when she knew Y/n couldn't run away from the conversation. She would start the engine, wait for Y/n to climb into the passenger seat, and then properly trap her.

"Kikinha didn't mean it," Alexia said for what felt like the twelfth time that week. "I talked to her. She said she was anxious and just... blurted it out."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. 

Her day had been awful. She had twisted her ankle during a training session, which meant two days off training and physio with Paulo.

 Paulo wasn't her favourite physiotherapist; he always pulled and pressed too hard on her skin, and it hurt more than it helped. Her favourite physiotherapist was Luana, and she was on vacation somewhere warm with her family.

At least someone on the Barcelona team was having the time of their life, enjoying a good beach with people that mattered. Clearly, that person wasn't Y/n, not when she was trapped in a car with La Reina.

"Alexia," Y/n muttered, eyes closed. "Why are you so invested in me and Kika? Just leave us alone. Hell, leave me alone."

She tried to open the door, but Alexia had locked it. 

Great.

"Because I think she's a great girl–"

"Alexia!" Y/n snapped, turning to look at her. "I don't need you to tell me who you think I should date or not. It's not up to you!"

"Vale, vale" [okay, okay] Alexia said, raising her hands as if she was guilty, which she was. "No need to yell at me."

"I have every reason to yell at you," Y/n grumbled under her breath.

The rest of the car ride was in silence. For a moment, it seemed like Alexia had finally given up. But of course not. 

She had a plan. And plans needed collaborators.

Alexia was Capitana; after all, she could get people to help her with the snap of her fingers.

..

First, she talked to Romeu. 

It was a very professional conversation, or Alexia tried to make it out to be.

"I need you to pair Kika and Y/n together during training–always", Alexia said casually, as they watched the team run drills during her water breaks, her bottle in her left hand.

Romeu raised an eyebrow, looking at Alexia weirdly. 

Normally, Alexia wouldn't really ask stuff like that. "And why would I do that?"

"They have good chemistry," Alexia replied.

"On the pitch? You mean?"

"...Sí," Alexia said, watching as Y/n made a pass and sent it to Kika, who passed it to Pina for a goal.

Cata didn't even try to save it. Goal.

Romeu sighed, understanding where Alexia was going with it and already regretting it. "Just don't get me fired. And if y/n asks me anything, I'll tell her it's all you, Putellas."

..

Y/n started noticing a pattern, and it was starting to piss her off.

Every training, every drill, every media duty... she and Kika were always stuck together. Even when it made no logical sense. Even if it clearly wasn't the easiest choice.

When the media team asked for two pairs to film a card game challenge for the barça youtube channel, Vicky and Jana were already paired up, and Esmee (who had been sitting next to Kika) was absolutely ready to go. But somehow, the staff asked Esmee to switch with Y/n.

Y/n, who wasn't even mic’d up. 

Who didn't even know what card game they were playing. Who didn't even know they had any media duty that day because it obviously wasn't sent to her own personal agenda.

She wasn't even with them; she was stretching on the other side of the pitch among other girls, when Carla yelled her name and beamingly asked her to join them.

She couldn't say no. Be all in a day's work.

In the end, Y/n was the only one out of the four girls who was still in her training kit. Her once-white shorts were green from the grass, her hair a messy ponytail, her neck still dripping sweat while Kika, Jana, and Vicky looked pretty, clean, and even had makeup on.

It would be comical if it weren't so ridiculous.

Jana and Vicky were sitting on one side of the table, while Kika and Y/n were on the other, the last two awkwardly playing Uno and trying not to make eye contact while pretending to be excited for the camera in front of them, talking about the most ridiculous things Carla could ask them.

"What's your most embarrassing moment?" Carla asked just as Y/N tossed a nine red on the table.

"Hmm…I once took a screenshot of my Instagram DMs and didn’t realise the other person would get a notification," Jana said, throwing down a nine green.

Y/N didn’t have any greens. 

She was already hating the game.

"Once I fell at La Masia and my pants literally tore. I had to borrow another girl’s shirt to cover myself. It was so embarrassing," Vicky said, putting down a 'choose the colour' card. 

She chose yellow.

Yes! Y/N had yellow.

"When I was a kid, my cousin dared me to steal eggs from this little farm shop near our house. I did it, my dad caught me, and he made me apologise for each egg in front of every single customer there," Kika said, smiling. "I’m still not a fan of scrambled eggs to this day."

They all laughed, even Y/N. But her smile disappeared when Kika placed another 'pick a color' card and chose fucking green.

"It's your turn, Y/N," Carla said.

Y/N frowned, drawing a card from the deck. 

Red. Nope.

"Well, my most embarrassing moment is…" Another card. five blue. "That once I pretended to read this book–" Seven yellow. Still no green. "--and I got caught. I hadn’t read a single page."

The air around the table shifted a little. Jana gave her a knowing look, Vicky was grinning, and Kika stared, surprised, like she hadn’t expected Y/N to bring that up. Well, Y/n didn't expect it either; it just came out.

Y/N ignored them and pulled one more card. Finally, eight green.

She placed it on the pile, and the game kept going.

After that, Y/n and Kika barely spoke. Kika looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Y/N didn’t ask either. 

She needed a shower desperately.

So, once again, everything stayed polite and cordial between them…professional. Y/N didn’t know if she liked that or not.

Still, it felt good to say something about the book club. It made her feel lighter. Maybe the fans wouldn’t understand when they saw the video, but Kika would. That mattered.

..

It continued. 

The weird pattern that no one was acknowledging, the pattern that only Y/n seemed to notice. Y/n hadn't told anyone about it either. Who would she even talk to? 

Alexia? Jana? 

She knew they were behind it all. It would make zero sense to ask them to stop. It was like they were playing a twisted game of puppets with Y/n and Kika. As if they were dogs that they could take on walks together for the sole reason of socialisation. 

Still, Y/n couldn't tell how much Kika was involved in it. Given Kika's personality, she probably didn't know anything. Kika wasn't like that, she was more of a 'go with the flow' type of girl.

She would not force any interaction between y/n  and herself. She hadn't done it before, no reason to start now.

Kika always looked genuinely surprised when they ended up paired together in random team duties, like she wasn't expecting that to happen. As if it hadn't crossed her mind. 

It had only confirmed what Y/n already knew deep in her heart: it was definitely Alexia and the other girls doing it. 

They were pulling some strings to get Y/n and Kika together as much as they could. At first, it was okay; Y/n even thought it was rather funny how they would go out of their way to make it happen.

But now? It was getting weird.

And not awkward weird–but amateurish weird.

They weren't subtle before, and now they weren't even trying to hide it.

And it was distracting. 

In less than a few days, Y/n  and half of the Barça girls were leaving for Las Rozas de Madrid, a city near Madrid, where the Spain confederation would gather for another camp.

She needed to focus. She already got called up, alongside Alexia, Jana and other girls, but it didn't mean she could slack off.

Still, it looked like Y/n was the only one who actually cared about representing Spain's colours.

Last week, Y/n and Sydney were having lunch, just the two of them. Sydney was talking about the online school program she was doing, and Y/n was invested. 

Alexia made her go to a regular school, even after she got promoted to the A team at a young age, so it was fun to see how different it was now.

Everything was normal…until Kika showed up..

She stood by the table with that awkward smile on her face–the one that made y/n want to kiss her right away– asking if she could sit with them because all the tables were occupied.

Y/n and Sydney nodded, of course.

But even as y/n  smiled politely, putting her chair a bit to the left to give space to Kika, Y/N glanced around. 

All the tables were full? The restaurant had barely opened. And it wasn't like Barcelona's restaurant would get a lot of people. Most of those who ate there were players and staff members.

But then, y/n, she saw it. Right by the corner of her eyes, trying not to get caught.

Ona, pushing a table three times her size back into the 'storage room', a small room hidden on the left side of the restaurant, near the bathrooms.

Sydney and Kika were engaged in a conversation that y/n didn't pay much attention to. She took a sip of her water, and then turned her head to the other side– her eyes widened when she saw it: Alexia and Esmee were moving chairs, putting them against a wall…?

This was getting out of control.

Did they think they were in a rom-com novel? Did they think it was funny? Cute?

"Oh, no!" Sidney said suddenly, eyes fixed behind Kika.

Y/N followed her gaze. Vicky was at another table, attempting (badly) to make hand signs. Vicky should just quit the whole hand gesturing thing and stick with talking.

Before Kika could turn around and catch her, Sydney stood up from her chair.

"Sorry guys,” she said quickly. “I-I have to go, hmm, dentist appointment."

Y/n looked at her deadpan. 

"Dentist? We have training, team training in the afternoon."

Sydney shrugged. "I can't miss it…brace stuff," she pointed at her teeth. 

Braceless teeth.

"You don't even have any braces on!" y/n  said exasperatedly.

"I'm getting them today!" Sydney said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, bye you two. Have a good lunch.

Y/n and Kika were alone at the table.

Y/n was mad. She ate her fish, cutting it with more force than necessary. Kika was quiet, but she could feel her eyes on her. 

She was nervous, y/n could tell.

"Uhm," Kika said finally, "they’re acting weird, right?"

Y/N blinked. "Huh?"

She pointed at Alexia's, Vicky's and Esmee's table. They all looked innocent now, eating and chatting. As if they hadn't moved actual furniture from the Barcelona restaurant just to play dolls with Y/n and Kika.

“It’s like they’re doing something behind my back,” Kika said. “And I don’t really know what it is.”

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, “I feel that too.”

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

Y/N stared at her. At her warm brown eyes. At her shiny black hair that somehow always looked like it had just been washed. It always smelled good.

“I think I have an idea,” she said.

..

Y/n was halfway through taking off her shirt in the changing room when she caught sounds coming from the door. Some were giggles that she immediately recognised as Vicky and Sydney. Others were low grunts, annoyed, those came from Aitana and Marta.

Y/n knew exactly what it meant. 

Her eyes flicked to the calendar stuck on Ona's cubby: Thursday. 

The second Thursday of the month.

Merda.

She had to hide.

Quickly, Y/n slammed her cubby and slipped out the door toward the showers. She stepped inside and froze, barely daring to breathe, not moving a muscle as she tried to blend in.

Is that why hunted animals felt? It felt weird to have this much adrenaline on her body if she wasn't on the pitch.

Then, she heard.

Unmistakable.

"Nenaaa," Alexia called dramatically, dragging out the last syllable.

Y/n counted her breaths, the sound of her heart beating against her ribs louder than she wanted. 

She felt like she had to pee. She always did when she was nervous. When she was a kid, she hated hide and seek because of that. She always had to leave her hiding spot to go to the bathroom.

She felt like a kid again. 

But it wasn't her mom who was after her,

It was Alexia.

Alexia was much worse.

The shower door slammed open, and one by one, the curtains next to her were pulled back with an aggressive clang of metal.

Death was near. 

It was coming for her.

Her stomach dropped, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst, and then, Alexia yanked open the curtain next to her, a mischievous grin across her face.

"Well, hello there."

Y/n screamed, making Alexia roll her eyes.

"Ay, dramática!" Alexia teased, but she was already reaching out to pull Y/n from the shower.

"Alexia! No," Y/n snapped, standing her ground. "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are," Alexia said firmly. "You've gotten away the last four times because you were–" she made quotation marks with her fingers, "--cramping."

"Not my fault you always pick the stupidest days when I actually am on my period!" Y/n shot back.

"You are going."

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm your captain, you need to do as I say!" Alexia insisted, voice sharp.

Y/n scoffed right in her face, stepping aside and turning around on Alexia. "Oh, please."

Alexia begged, hands raised as if she were ready to plead for something. "Just this once."

"No."

"Nena!"

"Alexia, I'm not playing fucking charades with the team."

"Why not?" Alexia asked, raising an eyebrow as Y/n pulled open the bathroom door.

"Because Kika will be there, and I still can't look her in the eyes without feeling like an idiot."

Y/n should have been smarter.

She should have seen the way Alexia's eyes widened the moment she said Kika's name. She should have known better than to mention something about someone in a bathroom connected to the locker room.

As the door swung open, there they all were…the whole team, including Kika. Kika looked red, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, while the rest of the players exchanged awkward looks.

They had just overheard Y/n saying she didn't want to join Barcelona's weekly team bonding because of Kika. Because she felt weird.

Great.

At least she hadn't said that looking at Kika made her feel stupid because of how pretty she was. That would have been way more embarrassing.

Y/n barely looked at anyone as she pushed past them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face set in a scowl that said she just wanted to get out of there.

Alexia was right behind her.

"You're coming, right?" she asked in that annoying manner of hers, using her captain voice, as if Y/n couldn't say no even if she wanted to.

Alexia always got her way. 

She always did that by being annoying…she annoyed people until they gave up. It worked for her with everything.

Y/n mumbled something in a low voice, it was more like a grumble. 

"She's coming," Alexia called out loudly, grinning as the rest of the team nearby cheered. "Yay!"

Y/n rolled her eyes hard.

Idiotas, she thought.

"It's gonna be fun!" Vicky said happily, wrapping an arm around Esmee. "It's the last game night before the international break–we need to…bond!"

"Yes!" Pina chimed in. "Kika, Esmee, Ewa, Ingrid, Frido–they are leaving and we aren't going to see them for like, two weeks!"

"I wish I wasn't going to see you–" y/n looked straight to Alexia, Jana and Vicky, showing exactly who she meant by that. "--for the last two weeks."

"Ay, malhumorada!" [grumpy] Pina said teasingly. "I think I know what you need and that is se–"

Patri shut Pina up with her hand, giving her a warning glare. 

"Creo que no quieres hacerla enojar más ahora, Pina" [I don't think you want to make her more mad now, Pina.]

"Por qué no? Me encanta cuando se enoja." [Why not? I like when she gets mad]

Pina dodged when Y/n threw a shin at her. 

Everybody began to change into their clothes and engage in their own conversation.

Y/n reached for the door to leave, but then she suddenly felt someone close behind her. She stopped, tensing, then slowly turned around.

Kika.

Her cheeks still burned red, eyes cast down to the floor.

They hadn't spoken since the restaurant, and Y/n kept telling herself she would say something. But every time she saw Kika, she just turned around and walked the other way.

Right now, running wasn't an option for either of them.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said," Y/n blurted out quickly, the words spilling out faster than she could think them through. 

"I didn't know you were in the changing room, and Alexia was annoying me, and when I get like that, I just start rambling and can't stop…and..."

Kika held up Y/n's shirt. Oh yeah. She had taken that off and left it on the bench while she was running away from Alexia.

Y/N looked down–yep. She was still standing there in just her sports bra. She wasn’t usually shy, but now it felt weirdly intimate, too exposed.

"It's cold," Kika murmured. "You should put it on."

For a moment, the noise of the locker room, the rest of the team, everything just faded away. 

Y/n felt something shift inside her. It was like it was just her and Kika there.

She missed Kika. She wanted her friend back.

..

Y/n hated these stupid team bonding games, and she knew exactly why. 

Alexia was the one responsible for deciding who did what in charades, and Alexia had a talent for making everything as awkward as possible.

First up were Vicky and Ona. Their word was something simple: car. They breezed through it without breaking a sweat. The team cheered as they guessed it on the first try.

Then came Sydney and Esmee, paired together. Their word was "football player." Easy, nothing to stress about. They literally just had to pretend to kick a ball around, and everyone laughed along, guessing right away.

But when it was Y/n and Kika's turn, because, of course, Alexia had paired them. The word Alexia handed over was written in bold letters on the paper: Girlfriends.

Y/n's eyes flickered nervously as she clutched the paper to her chest, shielding it from Kika's view. She looked at Alexia angrily, ignoring everyone around her.

Without thinking, she thrust the paper back towards Alexia.

"No," she said firmly.

Alexia's brow furrowed. "You can't refuse to play charades. It's the rule." She put the paper back into Y/n's hand.

"Fuck the rules," Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes hard. 

Honestly, she had been doing a lot of eye-rolling that day. Maybe she was going to get a headache from all of that.

"Language," Alexia warned, frowning. She hated curse words. That's why Y/n used them so much.

"Look," Alexia continued, voice turning serious but still calm, "you either do the charades, or you don't play."

Y/n smiled brightly, like she had just found the solution to global warming.

"Perfect. Then I'm not playing."

"No!" everyone in the team said at the same time, even those who clearly weren't enjoying themselves, like Graham. Pina and Patri exchanged looks of disappointment, while others shook their heads in frustration.

Alexia sighed heavily, shooting Y/n a look of exasperation. "Can you please stop being so annoying and do one fucking charade? It's just a game."

"Change it," Y/n said, staring at Alexia. "Pick something else, anything else."

Then Salma, as a very good friend, interjected. "That's not fair," she said, arms crossed. "We didn't get to pick. We had to do whatever Alexia wrote for us."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Salma, you had to do a dog. You just barked, and they got it right."

"Still! It's not fair. We have rules for bonding nights."

"You don't get to pick and choose just because you live with Alexia!" Ona said. "This is… special treatment, it's against the law!"

"What law?" Y/n turned to Ona. "This is a charade game–for fun!"

"You don't look like you're having fun," Vicky mumbled.

Y/n held the bridge of her nose. "That's because I'm not!"

It wasn't possible that she was the only one seeing how ridiculous it all was–not just the charades, but the whole social experiment they were doing with her and Kika!

"What's even on the paper? It can't be that bad," Kika asked again. "Look. If it's like a chicken or something, I can do it. You don't need to."

Her tone was gentle, but even Y/n could see she was getting impatient.

The poor girl had been standing in the middle of Jana's living room for twenty minutes while Y/n argued with Alexia about doing a charade that Kika didn't even know about.

Y/n ignored Kika, turning her attention to the evil master behind it all. 

"Alexia, if you don't change it, I'll just head home."

"Head home?" she heard Kika whine behind her, as if she were a kid. "But I wanna play charades! If you go, I won't have a pair!"

Y/n was seconds from losing it.

"Kika, not now," Y/n said, looking at Kika 

"Just play the game," Aitana said, waving her hands. "Sí?"

"Just fucking do it," Vicky said as if she was bored out of her mind just waiting.

"Have you always been this fun?" Jana asked ironically.

"It's the last time we're going to see each other for a few weeks!" Even Ingrid chimed in. "Try, nena."

In seconds, the whole team erupted in a mess of words, telling Y/n that she should do whatever was written on the paper. 

That she was annoying, that she wasn't fun, that she was ruining game night.

And then it all became too much.

She turned around, feeling her heart beat faster, but not for the reason she wanted–but from frustration, from anger.

For weeks, the team had treated her and Kika as if they were small avatars in a Sims game. Pushing and pulling them together. Putting them in awkward situations.

She had had enough of it.

If they wanted a reaction, they were going to get it.

She locked eyes with Kika, walking toward her with forced determination.

She held onto Kika's waist and pulled her close. The last thing Y/n saw before she closed her eyes was Kika's surprised ones.

In a second, the room that was so chaotic became silent. You could hear the sound of Jana's faucet leaking drops of water.

Y/n could feel Kika's heart beating against her own as she deepened the kiss, her hands pressing against Kika's skin. 

It felt good. It was a very good kiss. 

Somehow it felt familiar, like it wasn't the first time they were kissing.

Kissing.

She was kissing Kika. In front of everyone. 

Merda. 

It wasn't even a spontaneous kiss or a romantic one. It felt good–fuck it felt amazing–it made Y/n warm inside, but it was all performative.

It absolutely wasn't in the way Y/n wanted it to be. She didn't even ask if Kika was okay with it. Hadn't looked her in the eyes before going in, she just walked to her and did it.

Fuck it.

She broke the kiss, breathless. And she stared at Kika's brown eyes, her hands still on Kika's waist. Y/n didn't know what to do, didn't know how to move.

It was like they were bound by electrostatic energy, Y/n kept planted on her feet, Kika too.

There was silence, but then, Vicky decided to break it.

"Okay, let me guess…your charade was kiss?" She said awkwardly. Jana quickly smacked the back of her head.

Y/n looked at Kika one more time before taking a step back and turning to Alexia. 

She threw the paper clutched in her fist in  Alexia's direction, who, just like everybody else, looked absolutely stunned.

It was like they expected an elephant to just materialise in Jana's living room rather than having Y/n and Kika kiss. Honestly, Y/n felt the same.

She didn't imagine she would be kissing Kika when she woke. 

Y/n expected a bit of teasing from the team; laughs, maybe. Instead, there was just silence. Complete and awkward silence. 

Everybody was looking at the scene, some with their mouth agape, others with a hand in front of their mouth, in shock. Everybody was frozen too, as if they didn't want to move, or else the room would turn into a complete turmoil.

They knew this wasn't supposed to happen. They knew they pushed it too far.

Kika stood in the middle of the room, cheeks pink, lips parted slightly, watching Y/n. She didn't seem angry, nervous, or embarrassed, just very much surprised.

Y/n could help but notice how her own gloss was on Kika's lips. 

She didn't like that, she wanted to wipe it away from her face. But she also wanted to put it back there.

The thought felt like a a slap, and suddenly, the realisation hit her. Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't breathe.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. This wasn't how she had imagined kissing Kika for the first time…not in front of everyone, not out of anger, not as some weird performance to prove a point to Alexia or to the team.

Kika deserved better than that. They deserved better than that, but Y/n didn't even know if there was a they to begin with.

Y/N cleared her throat.

"Here's your charade," she said slowly to Alexia, but her voice cracked, even though she tried very hard to be firm.

It was all her fault. Alexia had decided to care, and she didn't know the difference between doing that and intruding. 

Did she think Y/n was so incapable of dealing with her own relationships? But even as the anger rose again, Y/n felt something else underneath, because now she had ruined whatever chance she might have had with Kika by turning their first kiss into a show.

Y/n looked down as she walked to the door, her hands shaking. 

She could still taste Kika's lip balm, something sweet, maybe strawberry, and it made her stomach twist with guilt… and maybe longing? Y/n wondered if Kika felt the same about Y/n's gloss. Well, she didn't want to know the answer to that now.

But then Y/n  remembered that Alexia wasn't the only one to blame in this situation, that every single one of her teammates was involved in this in some sort of way. They had all watched her struggle, watched her and Kika dance around each other for weeks, and instead of giving them space (like any good person would do), they had turned it into a game.

She stopped on her track and turned her head, eyes pointing at all of the girls, except Kika. She couldn't look at Kika again, not yet…maybe not ever.

"Stop hiding the fucking chairs from the restaurant, it's ridiculous."

Then, she held the doorknob and was out in the hallway outside of Jana's apartment. She knew that her last sentence was rather nonsensical now, but she didn't care.

Y/n heard Kika call her name, she sounded soft and confused...maybe a little hurt, too, but she didn't turn around. She pressed her back against the closed door for a moment, just to breathe, just to ground herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What the hell had she done?

Y/n had nothing to say now, not to herself or to others. 

At least she couldn't form any thoughts in her head that didn't involve the way Kika's waist felt on her hands, how her palm still burned from touching her, or the little sound she had made when Y/n had deepened the kiss.

Y/n opened her eyes, taking one last breath before going to the elevator. She had a suitcase to pack and a flight to catch.

..

The next day, Y/n was getting her suitcase ready. She and Alexia were leaving for Ciudad del Fútbol in a few hours, their flight was scheduled soon, just a few hours away.

The other times Y/n was called up to camp, all she felt was excitement, happiness to have a change of scenery, to meet longtime friends who played out of the country, excitement for playing against other teams. But now the whole preparation felt mechanical, stiff, as if it were just another chore, just another responsibility she had to fill.

Olga was on the floor next to her side, folding a pile of clothes Y/n had just taken off the wardrobe, not caring to check if they were appropriate for the weather. Olga was doing it for her, though; she was used to it: making the suitcase of a grumpy footballer. Some would say it was her speciality.

Alexia was also in Y/n's room, a bit far to the left, digging through Y/n's drawer to get her sports gear together into her sports bag. She was being helpful, at least.

"So..." Alexia started, carefully, trying hard to keep her tone casual. It didn't work.

"No," Y/n interrupted without even looking at Alexia.

"But–"

"Alexia, cállate ya." [Alexia, shut up.] Olga gave her a look that shut her up right away.

Olga already knew about everything. Y/n had told her the night before.

From the team trying to set her up, to Alexia giving her a "girlfriend" charade on purpose, and how it had led Y/n to kiss Kika.

"Idiota," Y/n had mumbled the last night as Olga followed her to her room, noticing how stressed the girl was. "Your wife is an idiota! And I'm even more of an idiot than her!"

"What did Alexia do now?" Olga had asked, holding the bridge of her nose.

It all spilt out of Y/n. Olga didn't have to press forward; Y/n talked about everything willingly. She rambled, words came tumbling out of her mouth fast and without much logic. 

She talked about how confusing it was to like someone. How hard the last month had been. How she missed Kika. How it hurt to see her and feel the awkward tension growing between them.

How the girls were acting weird around her, like she felt like she and Kika were just entertainment. How Alexia went from being completely emotionally reserved to a full-on matchmaker in the matter of a few weeks.

How this whole situation had grown out of control, and Y/n felt like it wasn't just hers anymore.

How messy it all was.

Olga just listened to her. She always did; she was a very good listener. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and hugged Y/n, grounding her, giving Y/n the comfort she needed so much.

"Es complicado ahora," [it's complicated now] she said softly. "But it won't always feel like that... It'll be better in the morning."

She pressed a kiss to the top of Y/n's head as the door cracked open.

"Nena... I'm sorry–"

Olga didn't let her finish.

"Go away, Alexia," she said. "Go take a shower."

Y/n didn't see Alexia's face; her head was buried in Olga's shoulder, but she could only picture the lost puppy face Alexia had on. For once, she felt grateful that someone was handling things for her, even if it was small. She was tired of having to deal with it all.

When Y/n was a kid, they had promised her that liking someone was like feeling the sun on your face on a winter's morning, but for Y/n, liking Kika was like carrying stones on her back. They were heavy, and always there.

..

a/n: heheh here's the kiss!! <3

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog

[mycartoonmonster]

Sorry for the long rant but....

Poppy is no less of a child than any of the victims of the bigger bodies initiave were. You cant use the logic that Kevin was a mentally ill child in a body he wasnt his alone for a decade just to later say that Pppy should act like an adult for technically being around 20.

She had to watch how the legacy of her father, someone who, as far as she knows, was a good person that genuinely cared for children and wanted to improve their lifes to the point of building an orphanage and starting a program for their future-being remorsefull for having to kick Harley out due to his problematic behavior (also seeing how Poppy is the only perfect toy that still holds her memories, can talk and doesn't need to eat unlike other toys implies Elliot's attempt actually worked and she might didn't even suffer during the procedure unlike she did with Harley-sure unetheical experimentation but it was Harley who still carried out the BBI not Elliot and maybe Poppy is unaware her dad did things like experimenting on rats)-was tainted by the likes of Leith Pierre and Harley Sawyer, had to go through the horrors of human experimentation and was stripped of her humanity little by little, losing what made her an actual human being and becoming a toy, a thing.

She lost her father aka the only family she had left and her humanity, the only thing she's got left is her freedom which is both limited and taken away from her as well by the Prototype, someone she also trusted and betrayed her by placing her back in her case and made Playtime an unsafe space-A lot of things make a lot more sense if you see them through the lens of a traumatized child like Poppy is which explains the behavioral change in Chapter 2-shes horrified of Mommy and the latter placed her somewhere she couldnt escape which explains why she acts cold initially as she was relieving the trauma shortly after getting free from her case.

She wasn't against a rebellion against the staff but not one where innocent people were killed along people that actually deserved it-lets not forget the bigger bodies initiave was secret among the workers so not everyone knew and those that caught wind of it were disposed of via becoming Boxy Boo's snack or through other shady means-and as she said it, the killing didn't solve anything it just created even more victims thanks to the Prototype, she even cries when talking about it-How many families were destroyed by the Prototype's plans? How many kids lost a parent that day?

Doey is right on the fact that even with their humanity stripped away, they still have human conscience and it would be cruel to take the chance they have at living away on top of already being cheated out of their childhood but the Prototype is also right in the fact that they cant leave the factory-Most of them dont have any family left nor a home they can return to in their current state and who's to say there wont be another Harley Sawyer outside who might put them through cruel testing once again.

It's not that she doesn't care for other toys but she doesn't view other option that isn't passive murder cause if they stay inside, they will continue to cannibalize eachother and live in constant fear of the enteties down there but if they leave they run the risk of getting captured and experimented on again .

It's a messy situation but again she's not heartless, she's shown that she cares about Kissy, opting for helping her herself while Player goes in route to Safe Haven, patched her up the best she could after their encounter and the first thing she says once in Safe Haven is that Kissy needs help ASAP-her indicating with her eyes that Kissy's the important one here to Doey upon entering Safe Haven-and she does value the Player, stopping Kissy from harming them and explaining things to them in Chapter 3 exclaiming they didn't do anything wrong, saving them from the Prototype, advising them to rest once they get to safe Haven before continuing with their plan. And she cares for Doey too, being worried for his safety and later on being upset over his death.

Besides, she was Safe Haven's leader before Doey and everyone looked up to her and its not like she can talk about what happened with the Prototype without looking or sounding like a traitor in Doey's eyes as she already has most of if not all other toys resent her for "leaving" them on top of some propaganda made by Sawyer portraying her as evil and untrustworthy and she can't come clean about any of it-(And even if Poppy did come clean by saying what he did to her others would sure wonder why didn't he just kill her like so many others which might give others the idea they're working together when they're not)-so she not only carries the guilt for not being there for them to ease their struggles but also the shame for trusting the Prototype.

And they all later die indirectly thanks to her plan.

Not just that but she clearly knows that we killed Doey, probably was able to hear his final moments- most likely thanks to the phone picking up the signal when attempting to reach Ollie- where not only does he blame her but himself as well and apologizing in sobs in his last painfull moments as the saw blades were destroying his body. They may differ in what to do about the Prototype but she still cared about him as a friend so she's reasonably gonna be upset that we killed him on top of all of Safe Haven. I imagine that she was only able to hear the part where we kill him and that if she had heard earlier on-upon the destruction of the Safe haven and Kevin taking control over Matthew and Jack-she'd realize that it was for our survival so she wouldn't be as mad as she was at us when seeing each other again.

And Doey isnt the only allie she's lost-Dogday was kidnapped and brutalized by CatNap while she was away, among other 39 lives lost at either the Prototype or the Doctor, most likely including other BBI Smiling Critters like Hoppy and maybe Bobby and eventually all of Safe Haven too. So now she carries the guilt for not protecting any of them.

And as far as she knows, the player was the only one with access to the explosives that blew Safe Haven up so of course that on top of killing one of her few remaining allies she's not gonna think highly of us. So yeah this all can explain why she snaps at us and lets not forget when tragedy occurs its normal to snap at people and it wouldn't surprise me she's feeling massive guilt for not being to protect them once again-she trusted the Prototype and a reign of terror started and she trusted us and then Safe Haven went up in flames-probably reminding her of the Hour of Joy's aftermath. So her reaction when seeing us again is understandable, wrong, but understandable as she suspect we fucked up big time. She doesn't have the full picture like we do.

And she's looking for whatever survivor there might be left aka Ollie, but when she finally contacts him she gets the worst possible revelation at the moment. Ollie, the person she's shared so many secrets, worries and moments as well as having deep talks with for years turns to be no other than the Prototype himself.

And while the Prototype might not be intentionally villainous like Harley or Leith-it is stated and shown he somewhat cares for the conservation of the toys by keeping them inside the factory as well as the orphans just being asleep so they dont have to witness the atrocities that took place in the Hour of joy and what's happening currently, heavily dislikes Harley and what he does to not just him but others in the tests before the Hour of Joy as we can see in their Chapter 3 Tape-the only reason Prototype tolerates and allows him to live is cause Harley's a necessity and instead of leaving Theo to die he went back for him and had the doctors save him even if it meant risking his freedom-he still created what was essentially a dictatorship alongside the Doctor, not unlike the heads of Playtime Co, where everyone suffered and made innocent kids like Theo and Quinn into cruel bloodthirsty machines and extremely dangerous followers like Catnap and Yarnaby as well as taking the chance for the orphans to enjoy their childhood and be free (at this point it wouldn't surprise me that the orphans are around their late teens or have entered young adulthood and whatever babies might have been saved they're around 10 or 13 by now) and even others are afraid of him like how Mommy begs mercy so she doesn't become a part of him-Playtime is his playground so Poppy is reasonably scared shitless of him-heck when we see her in the hallway scene she clutches her chest and breathes heavily. An indicative sign of fear.

Isolation can truly mess up someone's head by increasing the levels of stress and anxiety and Poppy had no type of stimuli nor any type of connection during that decade. She was utterly alone for years. And she doesn't want to go through that ever again.

The Prototype threathens her with a prison she wont escape from this time and the sounds of him coming closer to our position don't ease anyone's anxiety.

In that moment she had no means to defend herself and no allies able to stand against the Prototype on their own-Player is just a human with a grabpack, Kissy's injured and the only ones that could have stopped him are Doey and possibly Dogday but those two are now long gone. She's got no chance of winning this so she retorts to the only stragegy available to her at that moment-Begging. But even this proves futile, so on top of having a panic attack at the possiblity of getting back in the case and with him approaching, Poppy acts purely in self preservation and leaves for her safety. Like how anyone would have in similar situations.

Sure, she may be untrustworthy but you could argue its out of fear and just how painfull her past is. But she´s nowhere near being a villain like Harley Sawyer is nor the Prototype himself. And certainly not the like the heads of Playtime Co whose crimes rank from medical and physical child abuse, forced starvation, child slavery and murder.

But again, demanding and expecting a heavily traumatized child-whose growth process was interrupted-to act like a fully rational and mentally stable adult in horrific and heavily tense situations is foolish beyond belief. Dare I say is part victim blaming and always looking for a perfect victim regardless if the latter doesn't exist and people more often than not will act out of self preservation and it's unfair to compare her to Kissy's behavior. Not all victims act the same.

Kinda reminds of how the internet reacted towards some other other victims in horror videogames. Like FNAF characters such as Elizabeth, Cassidy and Gregory or Six from Little Nightmares. All of them are victims who have different responses to trauma:

Elizabeth is doing what she does in hopes of earning her father's love and due to the things she's witnessed on top of her death she's grown desintized to violence and simply wants out of a place where she alongside others are being mistreated by the staff with electroshocks . Some call her a really evil person for her actions as baby and her character in the comics-true you cant deny the awfull things she does to others but again she's not entirely evil, in the games she's trying to survive and please her abusive/negligent father cause she's still got that child like mentality cause she died a child

Cassidy is a victim of the 5 MCI whose death has been implied to be the most painfull of them all and her life and many others got ruined by none other than William, probably not even having a proper funeral since they never found her body, so of course she cant simply let it go so easily unlike Charlie who was the first victim so she had more time to adapt to her situation than any of the MCI victims-Susie,Jeremy, Gabriel, Fritz and Charlie as well as Cassidy had their full lives ahead of them but William took them away on a whim and ruined many others in his wake like with the 2nd MCI or his own family's with his neglect so Cassidy makes sure he pays for it by making him expierence what Michael and other guards did in Custom Night. There was a part of the fandom that portrays her as a villain to the point there were aus where she had the roles of a villain for reasonably being angry with William but yeah she's a victim.

Gregory, as much as a lil shit he is, he's still a kid who's trying to survive in a dangerous place where he's being chased ny a murderer and other robots want to kill him so he destroys them for his safety-robots can be rebuilt after all, but humans can't and it's shown he cares for Freddy and Cassie.

Six, a 9 year old, was treated like a psychopath for her actions in Little Nightmares II and while yes, leaving Mono on top of eating the gnome was indeed cruel and her behaviour throughout the game and the prequel is off putting I think it makes a lot whole more sense when you take a look at the world surrounding her-Everyone and everything is out to get her so she must survive through whatever means necessary like crushing the Pretender with a rock, chopping the janitor's arms off, attacking the bullies, burning the Doctor alive and killing the Lady-all who have done awfull stuff to several if not millions of people.

Literally the Pretender had other kids turned into dolls for her to play pretend with, the children in the school are dangerous bullies and controlled by the Teacher who has no qualms in harming children-literally one of the few human children we find in the school was brutally murdered by having his body incrusted/impaled with a chess piece and she most likely killed the Fat Kid, the Doctor turned people into mannequins that kill you which is why she breaks the puppet's fingers (plus the place looks cold so excuse her for wanting warmth emitting from an oven) and the Maw kills their guests and operates on child labor. Heck, even the most tame ones are still a danger to children cause Otto puts Noone in situations where she's exposed to danger in the Nowhere and the Ferryman takes children to places where they run the risk of being harmed by the creaures that reside there like with the other kids Six finds in the Maw in the comics and plans on finding another child with the same situation as Noone, essentially becoming a predator.

And its not like she can rely on others for help-the girl in the yellow coat left her alone to die at the hands of the Butler in Very Little Nightmares and Mono, although trying to help her, constantly puts her in dangerous situations throughout the game from start to finish and when she needed help from the Thin Man, Mono couldn't save her and she was trapped in the Tower for a long time and was turned into a monster with just a small thing that offered her any comfort and Mono just goes and breaks it to bring her back, which was a painfull process judging by her screams and cries. And her reasons for leaving Mono behind could be out of fear and self preservation cause she now knows he's the Thin Man and is afraid of him and feels like she can no longer trust him. Her partners either end up betraying her (from her POV, the eyes of a heavily traumatized child looking for survival) or just dying. Also you cant truly blame her for eating the gnome cause she was starving and wasn't aware that gnomes are kids just like her.

But to Six's credit- Despite what the original owner of her coat did, she still helped her by crushing the Pretender with a rock and throughout Little Nightmares II you can see her looking worried for Mono and she doesn't look proud of dropping him and even brings an arm to her face almost as if she was wiping tears

But then you got the nice victims like Runaway Kid or Charlie/Charlotte and Cassie and finally Kissy whose behaviors are more acceptable but dare I say their situations are somewhat different-Charlotte was the first victim and had the most time to come to terms with her death and she tries to help others in the best ways she could with what little resources were available to her in her situation even if it meant having their souls trapped in metal bodies, Cassie didn't have to worry about Vanny chasing her or the ... and she had help which Gregory lacked in his run through the Pizzaplex and Kissy at the very least interacted with some subjects during her isolation and after the Prototype took over the factory so it wasn't as bad as Poppy had it. Plus their behavior is more acceptable in the eyes of the public.

Dare I say its more victim blaming than anything (with a bit of mysoginism) and the vitriol towards children characters which happens most of the time in all kinds of media. Like how many people were quick to shame abuse victims like Pink Diamond or Lapislazuli from SU for their behaviour whilst not having healthy coping mechanisms calling abusers themselves, or characters got villified like Homura from the Madoka franchise for essentially going against her friend's wishes but with a good reason in an attempt to give everyone a better life thinking very nicely of Kyubey while fully ignoring that hes essentially a groomer targetting people with still developing brains and taking advantage of girls in precarious situations and lies by hiding the truth or keeping things obscure to make sure they can become magical girls just to be later slained as witches (and more often than not I feel people dont grasp nor try to understand the psychological damage the girls go through in the timelines), Gwen from Spiderverse or Ben from Telltale TWD getting so much hate for acting like how a scared teen would act when their world crashes around them and ruins his life with the arrival of the apocalypse.

All victims act different and sometimes they do messy things but we shouldn't demonize them.

We still got one chapter left so it wouldn't surprise me Poppy apologizes and finally tells us the truth a la Chapter 3 and she help us fight the Prototype, redeeming herself in the process.

People want a flawed female character and yet they can't even handle Poppy.

"Poppy is evil" theories here and "I wanna punt Poppy" there

So sad. Poppy is a traumatized kid who got experimented on over and over again, got contacted by the Prototype disguised as Ollie to find out every bit about her while they were both constantly being taken apart. So he could later use that against her. The Prototype lied to her, saying they would leave after The Hour of Joy, which is why she initially agreed, only to then be told after The Hour that they would stay there forever since leaving would have people know they exist. People would continue to hurt them and people would be experimented on just like they had been. And she knew he was right. She just misses her dad, Ludwig.

But because she disagreed with whatever experiments he and Harley were doing, the Prototype locks her inside that case for years where only we finally let her out.

Initially she just wants to let us leave, but after defeating two Bigger Bodies? Defeating Huggy Wuggy might have just been luck, but defeating Huggy Wuggy AND Mommy Long Legs? That's skill. So she decides we are her best bet against the Prototype.

She has decided the Prototype's way isn't the right way, but killing everyone would be better. The human orphans are important, they can still be saved. But the Prototype, she herself and any other toy needs to die so this can never happen again. She doesn't like it, but it's the only way out she sees. Otherwise, she will just continue letting toys cannibalism one another like the Prototype currently is.

But then everything goes up in flames. Suddenly everyone is dead, she only has us and Kissy. She wouldn't suspect Ollie of any potential sabotage. She has known him for over 10 years! Since before The Hour of Joy. The Prototype would never have manipulated her for that long. But he has. And he threatens her with putting her back inside a prison she cannot escape from. So she runs, because she is still a scared little girl that has been trying to put on a brave face

You can disagree with her actions, but it's not like she had no reasons to do them. All the kids we met were put through the ringer and trying to act like Poppy is some evil bitch rather than a scared little girl when the game has shown the lengths these kids go to time and time again? That's missing the point

[adhdevankinard]

Even if the writers bring in a new LI for Buck, no one is ever gonna beat Tommy Kinard. Sorry! But just look at this material:

Tommy personally knows and respects the life of a firefighter and why it’s so important to Buck, something that Buck’s previous love interests found difficult to understand

Tommy can be involved in calls and can help the 118 in a way others can’t (as we’ve seen)

Even before dating Buck, Tommy had strong connections to the main characters — the most important people in Buck’s life

Buck himself said Tommy is his most transformative relationship since Abby (whom Tommy is also connected to)

Speaking of Abby, Buck pined for her, but it was clear that Abby was ready to move on when she left him. With Buck and Tommy, both of them want each other back. Neither is ready to move on. They pine for each other.

Tommy is one of the very few people who call Buck “Evan” and the only one to do so regularly and with such affection. It was only during the breakup that Tommy called him Buck. The worst day of Buck’s life was the day Tommy called him by the name everyone else uses for him. Because Tommy isn’t everyone else. And no one else will ever be Tommy to Evan.

Tommy was a part of the call that ended with Bobby’s death. Tommy was the only one who saw Buck’s grief after losing the person he considered his father. Tommy was a pall bearer and walked with the main characters at Bobby’s funeral.

Speaking of Bobby, Tommy is the only LI of Buck’s that Bobby approved of. The only one Bobby will ever approve of. Bobby knew Tommy and Tommy knew Bobby. Tommy was part of the 118 when Bobby began again. Tommy saved Bobby’s life before Buck met him.

It was Tommy’s decision to transfer that opened the spot at the 118 that changed Buck’s life.

Literally, Buck is the happiest he has ever been when he is with Tommy. He can be giggly during sex and hold funerals for dead cowboys. Buck smiles and looks at Tommy with so much affection. And Tommy shows up for Buck – whether it’s attending the hospital wedding after an exhausting shift or making sure he’s resting after he’s injured or cooking him a literal feast or stealing a helicopter.

Any LI after Tommy would pale in comparison. The writers will do what they will but … why even attempt to outdo this ... You simply can’t!

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Faulty Intelligence

Mycroft believes that everyone has a price. The evidence he has collected and his experiences during the years tell him that much.

His brother used to be the easiest to cajole. Before he started school, mind you. After three months in the presence of other children, Sherlock became suspicious of everything and everyone, suspecting foul play always. Even from his beloved big brother. Mycroft admits it broke his heart. In fact, his heart has been broken so many times over the years, he’s surprised it still beats. 

All this heartbreak has everything to do with Sherlock, of course. No other human being will ever be able to shatter him like his baby brother did and still does. 

He was reluctant to re-live these moments. Not when his brain was buzzing with activity. For the first time since he was a boy himself, someone other than his brother had rendered him almost speechless; surprised beyond belief admittedly.

When surveillance of an ex-army doctor, unassuming at first glance, moved in with his brother after an encounter that lasted mere minutes, Mycroft’s hackles rose. Sherlock’s work ensured that he was approached by all sorts of…people, and this man could be an assassin for all the oldest Holmes brother knew. 

He didn’t trust anyone to deal with this. Granted, he let Anthea pick the good doctor (was he good?) up, but he interrogated John Watson himself. 

Which didn’t go quite as expected.

Mycroft Holmes was used to people turning into blabbering idiots under his supercilious behaviour and intense scrutiny. Doctor Watson was not among those idiots. He actually stated that he didn’t find Mycroft the least bit intimidating. (The audacity of the man!)

Mycroft had done his research meticulously as he always did. He knew that the doctor didn’t exactly roll in dough, to put it politely, and yet he refused the money Mycroft was offering him to keep an eye on Sherlock. To give himself some peace when he wasn’t around to ensure his brother’s safety.

Spying, wasn’t a word he was willing to use, but the distaste on John Watson’s face suggested that he had spat it out like a fire-breathing dragon.

Loyal should be the man’s middle name instead of Hamish, he thought to himself back then. 

It is still a valid word to use four years later.

Mycroft straightens his tie, makes sure his boutonniere is in place, and walks to stand beside his brother, waiting for the loyal doctor to appear. 

The doctor who in half-an-hour will be Mycroft’s brother-in-law.

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

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[lheslie]

Mark Variants with a Clumsy Reader

- Main Mark

Mark sees your clumsy nature as something adorable and terrifying at the same time, as small mistakes are cute, but they sometimes lead to a dangerous disaster. He thinks that he has superspeed, so if anything bad ever happens, he's already there for you to either protect or assist you.

He always panics whenever you injure yourself and always rushes you to the GDA's private hospital, demanding Cecil to cure you or fix you. he sometimes even calls his mom if something were to happen and he didn't know what to do about it.

"Mark you have to calm down, I've been through this before and I won't die." You worringly sighed as he went through panic again and again.

Sometimes you're both injured and you stay in the hospital together, lying on separate beds but close to each other.

"Do you want to hear a joke?" You laughed, looking at your side as he lay there healing from injuries.

"Sure?" He replied.

"You know the word I love you to the moon and back?" You giggle.

"Yeah?" He looked at you.

"Instead of the moon, we have something else. I love you to the Emergency Room and back." You burst out laughing

"Wait what?" He questioned you.

"Well since we keep ending up in the Emergency Room together and-"

"OHHHHH, now I get it." He burst out laughing as you laughed beside him

- Omni Mark

He always assists you whenever you need help to avoid any casualties that might happen, he knows the nearest hospital routes available and the doctors in different specialties in case anything bad happens, he knows first aid and has a first aid kit available inside the house, he made sure the house was clean and spotless and also safe for you to move in, he never told you but he silently baby proofed the entire house to make it safer and accessible for you.

"Mark, I can do this myself." You muttered. "I know, but I love doing these things for you." He gently smiles "You can sit back and relax and let me do this for you." He adds.

- Target Mark

He gets irritated at the fact that you always accidentally hurt yourself from even moving an inch, he doesn't hate you he just hates that his consort is injured, he treats you like a jewel that's ment to be appreciated and adored so he orders his subjects to assist you in everyway possible and if you were to walk they had to make sure everything in the room was cleared and if there were ever something that could make you accidentally trip, it would be off with their heads, so they all had to make sure to follow this as everyone would die if even a scratch even appears at your leg.

"Don't scare everyone Mark, you know I don't like that." You sighed. "They're useless if they're not able to follow such simple rules, and they're always replaceable. We have billions of slaves who'd be happy to get the chance to serve us, so they should be happy that they're even lucky to do this." He replied glaring at his incompetent subjects.

- Viltrum Mark

He would be worried a lot as you were human; you were weak and fragile in his eyes as he could easily snap you in half, so he made sure to not let you out of your shared house, and even in your shared house he was still worried about you as he doesn't know why you're this clumsy.

Whenever you go out, he doesn't leave your side unless someone else is watching you for him, so if the two of you have any children, he would ask the children to watch over you, not the other way around, you reassure him you can handle yourself but he doesn't believe you after you almost slipped and fell off the stairs.

He doesn't know if you're doing this on purpose to get his attention or you were born with a sickness, so he takes you to get checked on the best doctors that the galaxy has to find a cure for this sickness.

- Shiesty Mark

He's the kind of person to joke about your clumsiness. "Wow, I knew you fell for me, babe, but you keep falling for me again and again. I'm flattered." He joked while you suddenly tripped out of nowhere where and he caught you.

"How do you trip on air? Or are you doing this on purpose to get my attention?" He looks at you smugly.

"Even if you keep failling again and again, I'll always catch you and you're beautiful ass." He winks at you.

He asks for kisses as rewards for saving you again and again, he calls himself your knight and shining armor for saving your distressed ass everytime.

- Sinister Mark

He thinks it's pathetic and adorable; he always anticipates your next move just like how a predator looks at its prey. Although he looked uninterested and uncaring, he always cleared out any obstacles you might face in advance.

"This is pathetic. Why do we even need to go out for this?" He complained looking at you. "You're safer at home yet you indulge yourself in meaningless and reckless behavior." He added

- Prisoner Mark

He went through a lot and he's afraid of you hurting even in the slightest, so he's very attentive and alertive in his surroundings whenever you're going to even move, he's afraid of you easily breaking like glass, he has super hearing so he can hear it whenever you move even from another room, and if senses that something bad were to happen, he's immediately there before it even happens.

He clings to you, hugging you, following you around like a bodyguard or a shield, protecting you even from the slightest of accidents.

If you ever got injured, he's prepared with a first aid kit, he'd apply medicine to your wound slowly and delicately.

"Does it hurt?" He looked serious while he was applying medicine to a single scratch on your knee.

"Not anymore, you really like to take your time applying medicine even in the smallest scratches." You giggled while you lovingly looked at him as he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

"Then know that this is how much I love and care about you." He declares under his breath.

- Mohawk Mark

He made sure that you stayed beside him so he could closely monitor you if anything bad were to happen, he also had to make sure that there were infirmaries available in case he had to rush you to a doctor, he would ask the enitre place to be baby proofed so you won't have any accidents

"You know one day I might build you a huge fucking crib so you won't get injured anymore, fucking hell how do you even trip on air, I love you and your ass but please stop trying to die." He kisses you on the cheek.

- No goggles Mark

This man is wild and rough, but whenever he's around you he treats your clumsiness as a game whenever you stand up to do something he looks at you and waits for something to happen so he can help you, but at the same time your clumsiness does it's own effect randomly so he waits for something to happen, so he follows you around waiting for something to happen and when it does he helps you.

So he plays a game of waiting and anticipation, which helps you have your quiet time as he's intently staring at you and everything that you do, and it keeps him preoccupied.

"I'm not glass Mark, I won't shatter from something so trivial." You laughed at him.

"Yes you aren't, but you are to me. I can literally snap you in half babe." He grins as you get the chills.

[nickythehickey]

...yall are fuckin fast lmao. i did not expect such an overwhelmingly positive response in such a short time

anyway, i'm so very glad everyone's been so appreciative of the list! i kinda just randomly thought of doing it and then it ended up being (pleasantly) surprisingly long and a major task and ngl by the time i got to the end i was pretty tired of looking at it so i just said fuck it and posted what i had. as you could probably tell haha. i wasn't joking about the "taking me seven hours" thing. you could probably also tell which plays i like most based on the detail levels, cough cough tree bandits cough milkman

and, just like i expected, a lot of you pointed out things i'd missed. and just like i expected, the one's i'd left off initially were almost all from shows i haven't seen yet. naturally.

ahem *emcee voice* so, presenting as promised,

an update to my list of disability rep in the sfthverse, using your contributions!

*same rules as before apply

canon (either explicit or heavily implied)

how in the world did i forget that sherlock is a cane user. that's not even exclusive to tomlock, seriously how did i forget that??? he also very clearly has some form of dementia in midnight circus, which i also absolutely knew and just forgot to say before. clearly we're professionals here at nickythehickey dot tumblr dot com (thank you @spacedustmantis and @fairy-princette for the reminders)

so @spacedustmantis suggested watson (specifically midnight circus watson) could have psychosis or a dissociative disorder in the vein of did. honestly im not sure i can claim either of these as accurate, i need to rewatch midnight circus bc from what i remember that whole situation was really vague in terms of what's happening psychologically. but i won't deny them for now

the pianist (death for a dollar, which i haven't seen yet) is missing fingers (from @fairy-princette)

mama twillitger (green leaves on a summer's day... which i haven't seen yet, shocker) has a glass eye (from @ethernitty)

here's one i found on my own- the keeper of the oil (the lighthouse) has back problems. pretty severe back problems too based on luke practically standing sideways to portray it

pinnochio (the grape depression). also should be here but idk what to call whatever his deal is. he's just generally fragile and weak

mrs jeffery (the milkman) makes a comeback! this time for her bad hip. i actually didn't forget about this one, i didn't include it at first bc for some reason the implication i got was that it was an injury rather than a disability, like i swear i remember david saying she fell or smth, but now im realizing that apparently i just made that up and the nature of her condition is never specified. so im down to add it to the list for ya, @spacedustmantis

jimmy (toby's secret pocket) also gets an update! bc @sosbanfach64 pointed out dyspraxia and im kicking myself for not thinking of that myself! especially since i already addressed autism with him and autism and dyspraxia have like an 80-90% comorbidity rate iirc (could be wrong).

patreon haver @bewilderednobody has graciously informed me that the-middle-child-maybe-named-johnny (oh no it's a door) has a stutter. that absolutely counts for the list, and had i known before that it was a thing i would've included it

the bard (the bard with a scar) gets to join john hobson sr in the ptsd club (from @fairy-princette)

madame petrova (ballet on the battlefield) switching from performing to teaching after an accident left her with limited mobility is another one i was just big dumb about. excellent addition @sw33t-transv3stit3

headcanons (still implied like at least a little bit but mostly up to interpretation)

@ethernitty, would you believe i only left tobias (wine under the bridge) off the first one bc i forgot his name? but yes you're very real for intellectually disabled tobias, to me it kinda goes with what i said before about troll-son and allegories and the play being about finding yourself and embracing your differences even when society outcasts you for them

@sosbanfach64 i also rewatched tsp and sure why not dyslexic doohickey

i finally have words for the absolute specimen of a man that is titch (the unrelenting aubergine), and get ready bc it's a lot of them. @sw33t-transv3stit3 put it really well- "I also get autism vibes from Titch. He reminds me of me, in that he’s 100% suffering from gifted kid burnout and the pressure to succeed, causing him to lash out and feel physically weak/tired all the time. maybe that’s just me projecting… idk" this is absolutely what i was trying (poorly) to get at before. "gifted kid burnout" is an excellent way to sum it up. he's so much like me in those ways that i wasn't sure if i was projecting and making things up. also he hits that very specific brand of "everything has to be this exact way and someone will die if it isn't" that could go to both autism and ocd and i haven't been able to make a call about which (leaning more to autism though)

yeah sure, @cuntvonkrolock, i can adopt that into my belief system

@rocketfromthefrog i thought a lot about your chip did theory, and i do have to say it doesn't really work bc 1) from what we see there aren't really any dissociative periods (which is a pretty important diagnosis criteria considering dissociative is literally in the name of the disorder) and 2) french chip isn't a fully separate identity, he's very much still chip, just french. if anything it would be osdd, but that isn't the best fit either due to the aforementioned lack of dissociative periods (DONT TAKE WHAT IM SAYING AS GOSPEL THIS IS BASED ON KNOWLEDGE FROM AN ENTRY LEVEL COLLEGE PSYCH COURSE)

didn't watch, but read about priscilla's final petal and i like feels like too positive of a word take interest in the idea of annabelle having postpartum psychosis, causing her violent behavior and ultimately her death

okay i lied about going to sleep earlier so i really do need to go to bed now. love yall

*emcee voice* hello sfth fandom, by the request of myself and literally four people (hi @not-an-idiot @very-confused-alpaca @chaostributary97 @bbatcat), i give you

my best attempt at a list of disability representation in the sfthverse

*for the purposes of the list, "disability" includes physical/mental/developmental disabilities, neurodivergence, chronic illnesses, and mental health conditions

*i went through and added as many as i could think of but easily could've missed some. also i can't get the patreon rn so there's no patreon exclusive characters, sorry. if you know of some more feel free to reply/reblog and i'll add them!

canon (either explicit or heavily implied)

bubba (inside the mysterious cube) is stated to be an amputee with prosthetic legs

peter steven (the milkman) is stated to have adhd; granted its a throwaway line but i think it's true. since adhd has a large genetic component, that implies that either janet or david or both likely also has it- my money's on david since peter seems to mostly take after him

post mortem, L (the creak in the attic) is mute and uses mime/sign language and possession as forms of aac

donnie (the detective vs. the christmas tree bandits), my personal blorbo, is explicitly stated to have adhd and a seizure disorder- likely photosensitive epilepsy based on the mentions of the lights in the strip club. "i was never good with numbers" could be interpreted as dyscalculia as well. frankie may also have adhd bc again genetics, but if he does he can mask like a motherfucker

chip (the cardboard stegosaurus) has an unspecified seizure disorder (although i can't find one that turns you french), and while she isn't present, we learn that his mother marie-claire was suicidal

queen of representation that she is, amanda (clarissa's diy wedding) is all but confirmed to have prosopagnosia, or face blindness

according to divorces and teddy bears, the entire north pole elf population has adhd. congrats on the diagnosis luke i mean snowball

"that one gas station man" as @doodle-ratz called him (the pilot's final flight) is blind

mrs jeffery (the milkman) was blind at the beginning of the scene, they ended up not going with that but she probably does still have poor vision

the bartender (the hare who wore a sweater) slut dropped so hard his knees exploded, and that's now a sentence i've said on the internet. im.... not sure what to count this as tbh, but as a person with vague undiagnosed joint fuckery myself, he makes the list regardless

they don't like... SAY IT say it, but john hobson (the creak in the attic) with the whole "thunderstorm killed my parents" thing probably has ptsd. like yall see it too right

based on body language, granddad (wine under the bridge) appears to use a walker, suggesting mobility issues

headcanons (still implied like at least a little bit but mostly up to interpretation, this is mine)

*(this one's messy, its more me sensing vibes than anything else, there's almost definitely some projection in there, honestly you can disregard it if you want. spoilers its mostly autism bc that's me)

frankie (the bard with a scar) says that he can't run fast, maybe implying mobility issues? i like to think so

i don't think their ages are ever established so i may be completely off base and they're just meant to be children, but jimmy (toby's secret pocket) and jeffery (party quirks) are both autistic teenagers/young adults to me. jeffrey specifically bc he reminds me immensely of how i acted the first and only time i threw a party

i get... a vibe. from titch (the unrelenting aubergine). im not sure what it is, but its there

fellow autistic people yk how there's this weird kinda split that happens where when you're a kid people think you're mature for your age but then once you're older people think you're immature? yeah johnny and janae (the neighbor's under the bed) are the extreme incarnation of that dichotomy

someone in the comments of ballet on the battlefield pointed out alexa stimming after she befriends janusz and i love that so im saying she's some flavor of neurodivergent

troll-son (wine under the bridge) probably has some kinda allegory for something idk

because of the way i visualize character designs for sfth, pretty much any character luke played while wearing glasses (like andrew (all eyes on nigel) or fullset o'hands) also wears glasses. im not gonna list them all just know they're included

i've been working on this list for seven hours. i feel like sysiphus (thats a very smart reference). im going to bed

[ladykailitha]

The Last Dragon Slayer Part 5

Wasn't that just the funnest cliffhanger ever?! No? Well I enjoyed it. ;) And that twist? I loved coming up with that!

Here we have a change in story and this means that I can start posting dragon slayer snippets on WIP Wednesday again. That will be nice. Too bad all my other stories are hitting critical spoiler territory soon if not there already (side eyes Street Racer).

In this we have some backstory and some sad stuff. I apologize for the sad stuff.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

It was heart breaking for Steve when Joyce decided to pack up Will, Jonathan, and El to California. And if Steve hadn’t been sure in his ability to protect those kids at any cost, he would have been very upset with her.

She was the only adult who knew about the Upside Down left and she was leaving Steve in charge if anything happened. He had barely graduated from high school when she dropped this on him.

“I know it’s hard,” Joyce said after they had loaded everything into the moving van the government had provided. “But this really is best for everyone, especially Jane. She doesn’t have her powers anymore and deserves to live a life away from Hawkins and all the bad things that happened to her.”

The unspoken “Now that Hopper is dead," lingered in the air between them.

“And what happens if the Upside Down comes back?” Steve asked crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“It won’t.”

“That’s what you guys said the last time and the time before that,” he reminded her.

“Then Jane will be far away from it and will never know,” Joyce said simply. “It’s not her mess to deal with.”

Steve bit down hard on his lip to avoid spitting vitriol at her, the feeling like ash on his tongue. So he threw his arms in the air and saw something that broke his heart.

“I doubt I’ll be able to find anyone who plays D&D out in California,”

Will said shyly, looking down at the bag in his hands, “and I know you’ll take care of them.”

Erica stared at the bag with a quivering lip. “They’ll never let me play. You know they won’t.”

Will smiled at her sadly. “Then you’ve got to recruit your own friends into playing. You’ll find people.”

“You might be able to find someone to play with you too,” she insisted, holding the bag against his chest firmly, refusing to take it.

“It’s yours,” Will said letting go of the bag.

Erica lunged forward to stop it from hitting the ground, but by the time she looked up, Will was at the car. He waved at her and slid in the back seat next to El.

The Byers had already said goodbye to everyone else and so Joyce got into the car. She smiled sadly at Steve, then shook her head and began to reverse into the street.

~

“Come on, Lucas,” Steve huffed with laughter. “You want to make the team, you’re going to have to be faster than that!”

Lucas fell face first on to the cool grass in front of Steve’s house.

“How are you faster than me? You’re so old!”

“Fuck you!” Steve bit back. “I’m not old, I just graduated in June.” Lucas rolled over onto his back and threw out his arms spread eagle.

“Why am I even doing this? It’s not like I have a chance to get on junior varsity, let alone varsity as an incoming freshman.”

Steve leaned over him with his hands on his hips. “Which you don’t actually know for sure until you actually tryout. Now on your feet, lazy boy. We’re going to do that again, but with less tripping over your own feet.”

Lucas covered his face with his hands and let out a long sigh. He then reached out his hand and Steve took it, helping him to his feet.

Steve picked up the basketball and began dribbling. “How are things going at Hellfire since Will and them left?”

“Eddie’s been using that weird dragonborn character as an NPC,” he said, dusting off his backside and getting into to position in front of Steve. “Which is absolutely driving Mike and Dustin bonkers.”

Steve made to pass Lucas but he deftly got in the way. “Why? I don’t understand the game, like at all, but if it’s not a player character then why should they care about the dude’s backstory?”

He went for the layup and it went in. “Nothing but net!”

Lucas turned around with a groan. “I swear you must have been playing this game for years to be as good as you are.”

“Quit calling me old!” Steve protested with wry smile. “But seriously what’s their problem with Eddie’s dragon thingy?”

Lucas shrugged as he went to go pick up the ball and dribbled it back to Steve. “They just don’t like that Will allowed it and then moved to California.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Ah.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “So it’s less about Eddie and more about being upset Will isn’t there anymore.”

“Yep!” Lucas huffed, popping the P.

They continued to practice.

~

Jeff dug in his heels. “I just think the volcano is more interesting then going into the town.”

“But there isn’t any reason to go to volcano,” Gareth said with a frown. “It will cut the session short if we go that direction.”

The room’s temperature dropped a full ten degrees.

Eddie rested his chin on his threaded fingers and stared directly at Jeff. “Yes, Jeffy. It’s almost as if you want to cut the session short. Now why would that be?”

Jeff squirmed in his seat but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m not trying to cut the game short. I just don’t think we have to go to the town is all. At least not yet. It’s clear that that’s where Eddie wants us to go. But this isn’t do everything Eddie says game. This is Dungeons and Dragons. So let’s go dungeon it up.”

Dustin peeked over at the man in question and it was like literal smoke was coming out of his ears and he would swear on his mother’s life that his eyes flashed crimson.

“So you want dungeons and dragons, do you, Jeff?” came the cold, calculated voice of their DM.

“Yeah,” Jeff said leveling him with a glare. “That’s what I want.”

Eddie turned to the rest of the club.

“And what say the rest of the party?” the voice was still cold and it sent shivers down everyone’s spines.

“I think we should go to the town,” Lucas said. “Because besides in character reasons of trying to get clues to where we need to go next, you’re asking Eddie to pull dungeon out of his ass with no prep time.”

Gareth growled. “Eddie could do it. I vote for the volcano too.”

Mike shook his head. He saw the gleam in Eddie’s eyes, he knew that look all too well. “You know if you go, the chances of your characters coming out alive are slim to none, right?”

Then it was Brian’s turn to bristle. “You think we can’t handle anything Eddie throws at us? We’ve been playing with him for years. We can handle it.”

Everyone turned to Dustin.

“You either split the party,” Eddie said darkly, “or you all go to the volcano.”

Jeff grinned as though he had won. “What’s the first rule of D&D?”

“Don’t split the party!” Brian and Gareth cried together.

Dustin shook his head. “Yeah, but I’m not suicidal and actually like my character thanks. I vote for splitting up the party. They can go explore the dungeon and you do them first then do us in the town.”

“Done!”

Jeff, Brian, and Gareth all groaned. They were doomed.

~

“Eddie was so mad when Jeff wanted to go check out the volcano,” Dustin huffed, when Steve picked him up from school. “If looks could kill Jeff would have been dead on the spot. Like his eyes almost looked red that’s how angry he got.”

Steve snorted as he pulled into traffic. “Brown eyes can sometimes look red in the wrong light.”

“Your eyes don’t go red,” Dustin groused, folding his arms.

“That’s because they’re not brown,” Steve said rolling his eyes at him before turning back to the road. “They’re hazel, so they can look green or brown or even yellow sometimes.”

“Anyway,” Dustin said, rolling his eyes back at Steve, “the volcano was a bad idea because it turned out to be the home of an ancient gold dragon who was pissed they broke into his house.”

Steve grimaced. “I’m guessing from your tone that’s not a good thing?”

“Oh yeah,” Dustin said, “if they hadn’t made their reflex saves they would have been flambeed and eaten for dinner.”

“How much do you want to bet that had they gone into town like Eddie had wanted,” Steve said with a weary tone, “that the volcano would have been far less dangerous?”

Dustin giggled. “No bet. That’s what we kept telling him, but he did it anyway.” He paused for a moment. “I think Jeff was trying to derail the session because he had a hot date.”

“Ouch!” Steve said shaking his head. “If there is anything Eddie hates more than someone rescheduling last minute, it’s someone trying to cut the session short.”

Dustin just hummed his agreement and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

“How do you know so much about Eddie anyway?” Dustin asked after a couple of miles of not talking.

Steve risked a glance his direction. “I did go to school with the guy. He’s very loud and very opinionated about everything.”

“But still,” Dustin said rolling his eyes again, “you still seem to know a lot about a guy who is like your social opposite.”

Steve rolled to a stop in front of Dustin’s house. “Dude, you literally don’t talk about anything else but Eddie since you joined Hellfire.”

Dustin blinked at him for a moment and then half shrugged. “Yeah, okay.” He opened the door and hopped out. “Bye, Steve! Thanks for the ride!”

Steve shook his head as he pulled away from the curb. He dreaded the day that asshole got his driver’s license. Then he really would be a menace to society.

Steve got out of the car, roses in hand. He hadn’t thought anyone thought Nancy and him were dating. He really didn’t want to date anyone. But Nancy had seemed so nice and he was just such a tactile person. Always picking people up and swinging them around, huge hugs, kisses on the cheek.

Then last night at the Halloween party she thought their love was bullshit. That they were bullshit. And when she couldn’t even remember saying it the next morning but doubled down on that she never really loved him. Which is when he caught onto the fact that they thought she they were a couple.

So here he was bringing her roses as an apology for accidentally stringing her along. He hadn’t meant to.

After he broke off being friends with Tommy and Carol, he had latched onto Nancy and Jonathan for their friendship and now he learned that she had only been nice to him because she thought they were dating.

He had never felt so stupid before in his life. He kept repeating the apology over and over to try and get it right so he didn’t trip over his words.

He didn’t even get to the door.

Suddenly Dustin, who had just come from the house, spotted him and beelined straight for him.

“Great!” Dustin said brightly. “You can help me!”

“What now?” Steve asked in confusion.

Dustin yanked the roses out of his hands and tossed them over his shoulder. “You won’t need those, she’s not home.”

“What?”

And just like that Dustin had barreled into his life to chase the monster that ate his cat. Dragging Steve back into the world of the Upside Down.

~

Tag List: FOUR SLOTS OPEN

1- @niniel-karenine @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs @chaotic-waffle

2- @gregre369 @tartarusknight @cryptid-system @kultiras @themoonagainstmers

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow @stedestielfrattficlover

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gutterflower77

8- @just-a-tiny-void @beelze-the-bubkiss @wheneverfeasible @notaqueenakhaleesi @w1ll0wtr33

9- @stripey82 @estrellami-1 @gloomysoup @steddieislife @ollyxar

10- @eyehartart

[mintchocolove]

Before you go

They meet you one last time before they leave to follow their destiny, as if fate had given them something to return to afterward.

Pairing: OT7 x f!reader Instead of yn I'm going to use Eunjin as the readers name, but each Eunjin is different. I'll take recomendations. English is not my first language so please be kind.

Lee Heeseung - Late-night harmony

One week before I-Land starts, Favorite, 2020

Heeseung was pissed at himself. I-LAND was less than a week away, and even now, he couldn’t stop messing up his performance. Not everyone was rooting for him, he knew that. Many trainees had been denied the chance to participate in the reality show, and they were mad at him.

News and rumors traveled fast in the building, and he wasn’t surprised that many believed the show had been created solely to guarantee his debut. The pressure was becoming unbearable, making him want to cry. His feet moved on instinct, only stopping when he found himself in front of practice room A-16. Once again, music drifted from inside—but this time, it was accompanied by a soft voice.

His hand moved to the door handle, pushing it open gently as the voice sang the lines to “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. A smile tugged at his lips as he caught sight of the girl inside, her back to him. She wore a bright orange sweater with purple bows—instantly recognizable. It was the same girl from the end of last year.

Suddenly, the song stopped, and Heeseung locked eyes with you through the mirror. You looked almost scared to see him standing there. But he didn’t want you to run away again like last time—his mouth acted before his brain could catch up.

“Your voice is good. Want to sing together?”

You froze, beginning to gather your things immediately, then looked up at him like you’d just heard a ghost whisper in your ear. You seemed to be searching his face for any sign that he was joking. Instead of saying more, Heeseung walked into the room and stopped in front of you, waiting.

“Sure… yeah, that…” you let out a breath and smiled, gesturing to the floor beside you. “That would be good.”

And gods, he thought, if your voice was good when you were singing, it was even better when you were just talking. His cheeks warmed with a blush, slightly embarrassed, as you grabbed your phone and opened Spotify, glaring at it like it had personally offended you.

“You choose. I’ve been having a crisis over this for the past hour.”

If it was possible, his smile grew wider. Heeseung took the phone from your hands, scrolling through songs before settling on one. You grinned at his choice, whispering how much you loved that track.

Time passed quickly. You sang together, sitting side by side, and the tension in your shoulders eased. Heeseung no longer felt the pressure that had been eating away at him all day.

After a few songs, you decided to get a snack from the vending machine down the hall. You walked quietly beside each other, and Heeseung finally took in your clothes—the hideous sweater, the mismatched Converse. You definitely had a unique style. And it made him smile.

“My name’s Eunjin, by the way,” you said, not looking at him, too focused on deciding between cookies or chips. “Sorry I ran away last time. You kinda scared the shit out of me.”

This time, he couldn’t hold it in. A laugh burst out of him, loud and genuine. You turned to him, startled, your cheeks now a deep shade of red.

“Sorry for scaring you. I’m Heeseung.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, then turned back to the machine, shrugging as you pressed the button for chocolate cookies.

“Yeah… you’re well known in the building.” Stepping aside so he could pick his snack, you stared at his face, still boyish under the soft hallway lights. “I heard about the reality show. I bet you’ll do well, Heeseung. Don’t pay attention to the jealous trainees. Just do your best every time.”

His heart skipped a beat. He looked at you, studying every line of your face. His eyes stung unexpectedly with tears. It wasn’t that your words were the grandest encouragement he’d ever received, but somehow, coming from you, a near stranger who seemed to believe in him anyway, they meant everything.

“Then root for me while I’m there. If I debut, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

You smiled, nodding before whispering your reply. That night, when Heeseung arrived home, his phone buzzed with a message. He wasn’t surprised to see it was from you: “Lee Heeseung, I was rooting for you anyway.”

Park Jongseong - Bookstore browsing

One month before I-Land starts, Manga, 2020

Jay had not rested well last night, even as he walked around school with his hands shoved in his pockets, he wasn’t entirely paying attention. His eyebrows were knitted together as he tried to remember the lyrics of “The 7th Sense”. It had been happening a lot these days, maybe he really did need to rest. With a sigh, he started heading toward the library.

The library was silent and almost empty, except for a few students sitting near a window, apparently too focused to notice him. His eyes drifted to the second floor, and since he couldn’t see anyone from where he stood, he started climbing the stairs. The second floor was indeed deserted; the chairs and tables were perfectly in place. This was where the fantasy books and manga were kept, so it wasn’t surprising that not many people came up here.

He considered falling asleep at one of the tables. He only had two classes left, and one of them was P.E.—missing them wouldn’t be the end of the world, and he could get some rest. Finally giving in to the temptation, he sank into one of the chairs farthest from the entrance and took off his jacket to use as a pillow. The manga section was just in front of him, so chances were slim that anyone would come to bother him.

His mind drifted off quickly, falling asleep without paying much attention to his surroundings. He didn’t know how much time had passed when the sound of movement stirred him awake.

There was a girl standing on top of a chair, reaching for a manga with a slight frown, standing on tiptoe. Jay watched as the chair wobbled slightly, his body moving before he could think, just in time to stop the chair (and the girl) from falling.

“God, that was close.”

He looked up and met your eyes, you looked startled, a shaky breath escaping your lips as your trembling gaze landed on him. “Can you help me down?” you asked softly.

He nodded immediately, finally exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Once you were safely on the ground, you bowed politely. “Thank you, if it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve fallen.”

He nodded absentmindedly, glancing up at the shelf you had been reaching for. The Attack on Titan collection stared back at him. “What volume were you trying to get? I’ll help.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you murmured that you were looking for volume two—if it wasn’t too much trouble. Less than a minute later, the manga was in your hands, and Jay was putting the chair back in its place, not noticing that you were following him. When he turned around, you were standing there again, facing him.

“I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but… have we met before?”

He almost joked that you were in the same school, so it was likely. But there was something oddly familiar in your face, the way your eyes looked at him with quiet curiosity.

Then it hit him. You were Soyeon’s friend, the one who had been at his cousin’s wedding, smiling politely but looking a little out of place in the middle of the party.

“You’re Eunjin” he said, more like a statement than a question.

Your eyes lit up, a smile spreading across your lips, revealing braces. “Yes! How do you know that?” He smiled as well, walking back to the table he’d been sleeping on while you followed. “Wait, I do know you! You’re Soyeon’s cousin, Jay, right?”

He nodded, and you looked oddly pleased with yourself, your smile widening as you sat across from him. “She said you went to the same school, but I didn’t see you after that day.”

“You were looking for me?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. You blushed, muttering something about how you weren’t. “I’m joking, Eunjin. Why don’t you tell me about the manga?”

Your face lit up at that, and you launched into an explanation, telling him you were rereading the series for an art project inspired by it. You talked for what felt like hours, and when you finally parted ways at the school entrance, Jay stood there for a moment, watching your back.

Then, suddenly, you turned around and jogged back to him, eyes lowered to your shoes as you pulled out your phone. “Could I have your number, Jay?”

You parted ways with a big smile on your face—and his heart felt lighter, his mind more at ease, even if he had only napped for half an hour. He was already looking forward to talking to you again.

Sim Jaeyun - Coffee shop

Four months before I-Land starts, Cold days, 2020

Jake tugged his scarf a little higher around his neck as a gust of wind slapped his face, his cheeks already red from the cold. Seoul winters were brutal, nothing like the ones back home in Australia. He exhaled, watching the fog of his breath disappear into the busy street, and pushed open the door of a coffee shop he’d stumbled across during a walk meant to clear his mind.

The warmth inside greeted him instantly, along with the soft sound of indie music and the hum of hushed conversations. He stomped the snow off his boots and looked around. The place was small but cozy; brick walls, warm lighting, and shelves filled with mismatched mugs and books.

He ordered a caramel latte and made his way to a corner table by the window, unwrapping his scarf and pulling out his sketchpad. He wasn’t the best artist, but lately, he’d found that doodling helped with the nerves. Practices were getting more intense—more pressure, more eyes watching. The weight of what if I don’t make it? had been sitting on his chest all week.

He was halfway through drawing a messy-looking tiger wearing sunglasses when a familiar voice made him freeze. “Jake?”

He looked up instantly, blinking in surprise. The girl in front of him had a black beanie pulled low, a thick puffer jacket engulfing her frame, and a steaming cup in one hand. But the face—and that smile—he recognized instantly. A grin spread across his own face. “Eunjin?”

She grinned, her nose red from the cold. “I thought it was you! I almost didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure. Wow.” The familiar accent almost made him tear up; he missed having someone to speak English with.

He stood up quickly, warmth flooding him despite the chill outside. “Wow, yeah,” he laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are the odds?”

“I know, right?” She rocked on her heels before glancing around, eyeing his table. “Mind if I sit with you?” He nodded immediately, pulling out the chair in front of him. She smiled and plopped down, setting her drink on the table.

“I was at a makeup store down the street,” she said. “Thought I’d grab something warm before heading back to the dorm. I didn’t expect to run into my airplane buddy.”

Jake chuckled, the memory warming him. “That flight feels like it was a year ago.”

Eunjin nodded, muttering something about her hands still being cold before looking at him again. “How’s training?” Jake blinked, surprised she knew. Had they talked about that on the plane? He certainly couldn’t remember. At his confused look, Eunjin smiled.

“You said you were here for an audition,” she reminded him, eyes twinkling. “I guessed you made it in. I did too—not idol stuff yet, but I’m getting there, I guess.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, leaning in a little.

The conversation flowed from there, both opening up about how they were feeling these days, the pressure of not being enough, of falling behind. After a few minutes, Jake felt his hands tremble as he looked down at them.

“I want it so bad, you know? But I wonder if wanting it is enough.”

“You’re here,” she said, tilting her head. “That already means something.”

Her words settled something in him, soft and grounding. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks, the city muffled by the foggy window beside them. Then Eunjin reached over and tapped the sketchpad.

“Your cat’s got swag, I’ll give you that,” she teased, grinning.

Jake snorted and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling for the first time in days. “It was supposed to be a tiger, actually.”

They talked for almost an hour, sharing stories of their dorms, their daily routines, and how much they both missed their moms’ cooking. When she finally stood up to leave, Jake felt the familiar tug of hesitation he’d had at the airport months ago.

“Hey, wait…” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “Let me get your number this time.”

Eunjin smiled, pulling out her own phone. “Took you long enough.”

They exchanged numbers and stood outside together for a while, the cold biting at their fingers as they awkwardly lingered before saying goodbye. As she walked away down the snow-covered street, Jake looked down at her name now saved in his contacts.

Maybe Seoul’s winter wasn’t so cold after all.

Park Sunghoon - Ice rink

One week before I-Land starts, One last dance, 2020

Sunghoon pushed the door open slowly, letting the cold air hit him like a familiar embrace. The same scent of resin, polish, and faint sweat lingered in the air. He knew it too well. Tightening the scarf around his neck, he let out a breath, watching it fog briefly in front of him.

This place had been a second home for years, early mornings, late nights, bruised shins, and blistered feet. But in a week, it would all be behind him. I-LAND was calling, and skating would become just a chapter in his story.

Still, he laced up his skates, needing one last glide. Just one. He whispered it to himself as the ice creaked under his weight. The floodlights were dimmed, and the playlist that usually echoed through the speakers had long ended.

There was another skater on the far side of the rink, moving slowly, lost in thought. Sunghoon let the silence carry him, his body moving on autopilot; a quiet loop, a small jump. Nothing special, just a goodbye.

Then came the sound of another pair of skates scraping the ice. He turned instinctively, blinking through the low light. A slim figure in a black hoodie was gliding toward his side of the rink, her long ponytail swaying gently as she moved.

“Sam Eunjin?” he called, voice cracking just slightly. He wasn’t sure she had heard him until she turned, startled, then slowed to a stop. Her face lit up with recognition, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Park Sunghoon” she said, skating closer with the grace of someone who had practiced most of her life. “Didn’t think anyone else came this late.”

Sunghoon looked around, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how awkward he probably looked. “Just… needed one last skate.”

She smiled at that, a sad kind of understanding in her eyes. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her gaze spoke more than her words, filled with emotion, sparkling under the soft lights. “Same.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from the blades beneath their feet. “I heard from the coaches you're retiring,” she said after a beat, glancing over.

He nodded slowly. “And you?” he asked, skating in sync beside her as they traced a wide loop around the rink.

She shook her head. “I got a role in a drama. Not a huge part, but… enough to finally make the switch.”

There was a pause, heavier than it should’ve been. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke again, eyes drifting across the empty bleachers. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? All those years of routines, music, medals, and then just—”

“Gone,” he finished for her.

They circled the rink in silence for a while. It was peaceful, two people giving a quiet farewell to a version of themselves they weren’t sure they’d miss yet.

“I used to think you hated me, you ran away everytime as kids” she teased after a moment, smiling as they both slowed to a stop at the center of the rink.

“I’ve never been good with girls, I get nervous” he admitted, lips tugging into a half-smile. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, quietly, Eunjin stepped back and gave a small bow.

“One last time?” she offered. “Just for fun?”

Sunghoon hesitated, then bowed too, a smile finally reaching his eyes. “You lead.”

They moved by instinct—no choreography, no music. Their skates glided across the ice like they had for years, two quiet souls saying goodbye not just to the rink, but to the people they had been within it.

When they finally slowed to a stop again, both breathless and smiling, it felt like something had lifted.

“Thank you, for skating with me,” Eunjin said softly as they sat side by side, unlacing their skates. The silence was no longer heavy, but warm. Outside, snow had begun to fall. Like a curtain closing on a long-awaited final scene.

“Thank you,” he said back. “For letting me.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon said as they stepped out into the night. “When your drama airs… text me. I want to watch it.”

She looked up at him, a small laugh escaping. Her eyes were full of emotion—so much that he wanted to drown in them. “Only if you debut.”

And with that, they parted ways again, their steps light despite the weight of goodbye. Maybe their paths had only crossed briefly, like lines etched in ice, sharp, fleeting, and beautiful in their impermanence. But they both hoped they would cross again.

Kim Sunoo - Convenience store

Two weeks before I-Land starts, Rainy day shelter, 2020

It was raining the kind of rain that clung to your clothes no matter how fast you ran. Sunoo pulled the hood of his school jacket tighter around his face, clutching his bag to his chest as he hurried down the street. His clothes were already soaked, and the cold had crept into his bones.

He didn’t even know where he was going, really. Just... walking or running. Anywhere that wasn’t a dance studio, a classroom, or a cramped practice room. Anywhere he could just be Kim Sunoo for five minutes, not “trainee Kim Sunoo”

A neon glow appeared through the foggy blur of rain ahead: a small convenience store, buzzing quietly against the gray. Without hesitation, he darted toward it, the bell above the door chiming as he stepped into the warmth.

He shook out his hair and rubbed his arms, slowly pacing down one of the aisles, letting his breathing slow. “Still craving ice cream in this weather?” a voice said, lightly teasing. Sunoo turned, blinking in surprise.

There she was — a yellow backpack hanging heavily from her shoulder, the same one from that tiny ice cream shop weeks ago. Her bangs clung to her forehead from the rain, but her expression was bright.

“You” he said without thinking, his tone sounding almost accusing as she stepped closer, her smile widening.

“Me,” she replied, mirroring his tone with a light laugh. “I’m Eunjin, by the way.”

“Sunoo” He let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “Didn’t expect to run into you again.”

“Same. I guess fate just wants us to keep meeting near frozen desserts” she replied, glancing toward the freezer section. “Though I think they don’t have many flavors here, right?”

Sunoo made a face, and Eunjin laughed, then reached into her backpack and pulled out a small, half-wet hand towel. She walked over and gently tossed it toward him. “You look like a drowned cat.”

“Wow. Flattering.” He dabbed at his face with the towel, suppressing a grin. His mood had definitely improved. “Thanks. I really needed that today.”

She tilted her head. “Bad day?”

Sunoo hesitated. He wasn’t sure how much to say. But her voice didn’t feel judgmental, and there was something comforting in the way she just stood there — as if they were picking up an old conversation instead of meeting for the second time. “Just… tired, I guess.”

She nodded, and they ended up in front of the warm drink machine, both choosing hot chocolate. They paid in silence, then sat at the small tables near the entrance, watching the rain blur the world outside.

“I’ve been thinking about you” Eunjin said suddenly.

Sunoo blinked. “Really?”

“Well, not obsessively,” she added quickly, cheeks turning pink. Sunoo noticed that she didn’t seem to have a filter — and somehow, that made him smile. “Just… sometimes.”

He looked down at his cup, embarrassed but smiling. “That day was weirdly important. I didn’t even realize it until later.”

She glanced at him, curious, so he continued. “Because everything feels temporary right now,” he admitted. “I keep meeting people, or seeing places, and wondering if it’s the last time before things change. That day, it felt like a small moment I got to keep.”

Eunjin was quiet for a moment. The rain softened slightly outside. “That’s kind of nice, she finally said. “Sad, but nice.”

They both sipped their drinks in silence again, this time a little more comfortably, like a secret moment neither of them knew they needed. Eventually, Eunjin glanced at the time. “I should head out before it gets too dark.”

“Wait,” Sunoo said before he could stop himself. “Do you want to—” She looked back at him, eyebrows raised, a lopsided smile tugging at her lips.

He cleared his throat. “I mean… do you want to meet again? Just, you know, in case we keep ending up in the same weather.”

Eunjin smiled. “I’d like that.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled receipt, scribbling her phone number with a blue pen.

“Text me next time you need someone to rescue you from bad weather or bad flavors” she said, handing it to him with a grin.

Sunoo took it like it was something precious. “I will” he said, and meant it.

She stepped out into the rain, pink umbrella snapping open, her yellow backpack bouncing with every step until she disappeared into the blur of city lights and drizzle. This time, he wasn’t going to let the moment slip away.

Yang Jungwon - Amusement park

One month before I-Land starts, Pretty smiles, 2020

The amusement park was loud, messy, full of laughing children and overpriced snacks — not the kind of place someone with a secret folded tightly in his chest should be. Jungwon was supposed to be resting — whatever that meant when your world was about to flip upside down. Only the company knew. He carried the truth quietly, like a note slipped between pages, waiting to be opened.

So he wandered. One last walk through the city. His feet brought him to the amusement park before he even realized where he was going. And that’s when he saw her.

Eunjin.

She stood in line for ice cream, laughing at something Minhyuk had said. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, making it shimmer like something from a memory. Jungwon watched from a distance, wondering — not for the first time — if her smiles were always that soft. If she ever frowned in a way that wasn’t playful or tired. If she’d ever thought about him since the skateboard accident.

Because he had. Maybe too often.

He waited until she stepped away from the vendor, two cones in hand. Minhyuk turned, his sticky fingers pointing in Jungwon’s direction.

“Hyung!” Minhyuk called, his voice far too familiar for someone he’d only met once. He waved enthusiastically, nearly spilling his cup.

Eunjin followed the boy’s line of sight. Their eyes met. And just like that, Jungwon couldn’t breathe.

“Oh,” she said softly to herself, the word barely carried by the breeze.

Then she smiled — slow and warm, the way a smile should feel. Jungwon stepped forward, brushing imaginary dust from his jeans, trying to steady himself. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said once they reached him.

Her smile grew and she leaned down to whisper something to Minhyuk, who nodded and took off running toward the playground. “You look tired,” she said, stepping up beside him.

“I’ve been busy,” Jungwon answered, gaze drifting to the crowd bustling around them, everyone unaware of how strange the world felt right now. He was going to miss this. All of it.

They found a shaded bench beneath a tall tree. Eunjin sat beside him not too close. The air between them buzzed with the quiet static of things unsaid.

“I’m going away soon,” he said suddenly. He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe he just wanted her to know. Even if they weren’t close. Even if she didn’t know him, not really.

“For long?” she asked, her voice low.

“It’s… complicated.” He fiddled with his hands in his lap. She nodded. Like she understood. Maybe she didn’t. But she didn’t ask questions. That meant more to him than she probably realized.

“I’ll miss this,” Jungwon murmured. “Not the park, exactly. Just… days like this. Normal days.”

“Yeah,” Eunjin replied. “Those are rare.”

He turned toward her, really looking.

There were faint shadows beneath her eyes, like she carried too much for someone her age. But her smile was kind. And there was something open about her — not loud, but like a window left ajar. He noticed a freckle near her jawline he hadn’t seen before. And when she smiled, it reached all the way to her eyes.

“You have a really nice smile,” he blurted. His ears immediately turned hot. He could feel them reddening. Eunjin blinked, surprised, then laughed — soft and bright, her eyes crinkling as she did.

“Thanks,” she said. “Yours isn’t bad either. The dimples make you look… cute.”

He looked away, chewing on the inside of his cheek, smiling to himself.

Life was moving. And in a month, Jungwon might be on a screen somewhere… or nowhere at all. “I probably won’t have a phone for a while,” he said, suddenly. “But I’d really like to talk to you before that happens.”

Eunjin tilted her head. “I have your number from last time,” she admitted, her tone sheepish. “But I never called because it felt awkward to say I just wanted to see you again.”

Jungwon stared at her, surprised. His ears somehow managed to get hotter. “Call me,” he said. His voice was quiet. “Please.”

A whistle blew in the distance, signaling the next parade. Music bloomed in the air, grand and glittering. Minhyuk darted toward them again, grabbing Eunjin’s wrist with sticky fingers. “Come on, they’re throwing candy!”

Jungwon watched her get pulled away, her laughter like a ribbon trailing in the air. She looked back at him before the crowd swallowed her whole. And smiled. Her lips parted as she shouted over the music “I will call you, Jungwon!”

And that smile — wide and real and full of promise — stayed with him long, long after she vanished into the crowd.

Nishimura Riki - Bus stop

One month before I-Land starts, Umbrella, 2020

The rain had been steady since early afternoon, not heavy enough to cancel anything, but persistent in that moody, drizzling way that clings to your clothes and makes the city feel smaller. Ni-ki’s sneakers left damp prints on the sidewalk as he neared the bus stop, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. He didn’t mind the rain, really—it gave him an excuse to slow down, listen to music, and pretend the world was quieter than it really was.

The stop was nearly empty. Just an older man with a briefcase and...

His steps faltered. Her.

She sat beneath the narrow awning, a pale pink umbrella closed and leaning against her knee. Even from behind, he recognized her. Same baby blue hoodie. She was staring at the bus schedule taped to the pole like she was trying to will it into making sense.

He hesitated. Debated pretending he hadn’t seen her. But before he could decide, she turned and their eyes met. For a split second, neither of them said anything.

Then her eyes widened slightly, like the memory had clicked into place. “Ni-ki?”

He pulled out one earbud and gave a small nod, a shy smile breaking across his face. His Korean was still a little rough. “Eunjin.”

“Twice in one city,” she said, standing to brush off the bench beside her with a napkin. “That’s either luck or fate.”

“I vote luck,” he replied, sitting beside her with a murmured thanks. “Fate sounds too romantic.”

Eunjin laughed softly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye while tugging at her hoodie sleeve. “Maybe I like romantic.”

He gave her a scandalized look, and she laughed again, light and warm. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it settled between them like something familiar. Rain tapped steadily on the metal roof above them. She stared at the road, her foot tapping to a rhythm only she could hear.

“You’re out late,” he said eventually. “Were you at school?”

“Drama club practice.” She turned slightly; cheeks pink. “I want to be an actress. I mean—someday. Right now, it’s just school plays and getting stage fright in front of twenty people.”

“You want to be famous?”

She shrugged, eyes lifting toward the gray sky. “I want to be seen. Heard. I want to play someone else and still be me inside it, you know?”

He nodded slowly. “I dance. Kind of the same, I guess.”

She grinned. “What kind of dance?”

“Mostly hip hop. A little contemporary.” He toyed with the edge of his sleeve. “I’m training full time now. Not sure if I’m allowed to say more.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Secret agent vibes?”

He laughed quietly. Just then, the bus pulled up with a screech and a hiss of steam. They both stood. Ni-ki noticed it before she said anything, her umbrella was broken, one rib bent uselessly out of shape.

She stared at it and groaned. “Of course.”

He held out his own umbrella—one of those plain black ones the company probably bought in bulk. “We can share.”

She blinked, surprised for just a second before her expression softened. She stepped in beside him, and for a moment, he forgot about the cold. They sat together on the nearly empty bus, still a little damp from the rain. Eunjin leaned her cheek against the back of the seat, watching the raindrops slide down the window.

“I almost didn’t go to the store that day,” she said suddenly and Ni-ki looked at her.

“But I was craving something sweet,” she added. “Funny how one decision can make you meet someone.”

He smiled faintly. “I was too scared to ask the manager for help.”

They rode in silence again, but this time it felt full. Just before her stop, she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and placed it gently in his hands. Then she took his and started typing something into it.

“Put your number there. I’m giving you mine,” she said. “Just in case you need a translator.”

Ni-ki did as told, and when the bus doors closed behind her and she waved from the sidewalk, he looked down at the contact’s name she’d left:

Eunjin 🎮

The bench beside him was empty now, but somehow, he still felt warm.

If you read this, thanks. I accept requests.

[marvelous-slut]

Slow Nights - Dr. John Shen x Reader

Note - ya’ll! As much as I love my DILFS this man has me in a chokehold. He had what 20 minutes of screen time if that? I can’t

Warnings - 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! Shen is arrogant af in this, fingering, talks of masturbation, pure smut is all I’ve got to say.

It had to be the slowest night in the history of the ER. A broken hip from the nursing home had been the most interesting thing that happened so far and that was only because the family called telling the unlucky soul who picked up the phone their plans of suing the nursing home and how if they knew what nurse let their dad fall, they were in for it. Other than that, a few stomach bugs, constipation and a migraine have made their way in and out. You sit at your desk charting, when you hear the last voice you wanted to on a night like this.

“I don’t know what’s up guys. I’ve said it’s quiet about six times tonight, still nothing. Not even a laceration!” You’re attending, John Shen. You roll your eyes listening to him talk. You couldn’t put your finger on what you disliked about him, maybe it was his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude with every single case that came in the ER doors. Part of you had a little envy that he had such a careless attitude. Of course, he got the job done, he made sure those who could be saved made it. He handled families well when they were upset or if he had to inform them someone had died. He also was the type after telling someone their husband of 46 years had died to ask “Whats everyone got to eat?” Maybe it was how when you were doing a procedure, if it wasn’t fast enough for him he’d grab whatever equipment or tools you were using and start on his own. He really did try to teach, but he could sense the fear you had at times and sometimes there wasn’t any room for that to happen. Especially when a life hung on the line. You think mostly it was because you tried your to flirt with him and it didn’t go as well as you’d pictured in your head. Mostly you think it was the way he talked. You wondered often if he really was a dick head, or he just came off that way sometimes.

“Alright, go take a break. I’ve said it’s slow, it’s quiet, I’m bored. Nothing, but maybe this is the calm before the storm.” He says, leaning over the counter to grab his drink. You roll your eyes, standing up to head to the on call room. He notices you walking that way, yelling your name as you do.

“Aren’t you usually a sit outside and look at the moon on break kinda girl?” He asks. Why is he asking that? Better yet, why does he notice your routine? You turn to look at him, puzzled written across your face.

“I don’t feel great tonight, I have a headache. I’m gonna take my measly break and try to nap. Page me if something comes in.” You say before darting into the room. Finally. You flop down on the bed, trying to decide whether to shed your bottoms completely or slide a hand into your panties instead.

A dirty secret you kept since you’d started months back. You had a lot of pent up sexual energy and no one to help release it. Besides it was rare you had a moment to do this on a shift. It was nice, the thought of getting caught but knowing you wouldn’t because you kept the door shut and locked, you’d make an excuse saying you slept like shit during the day, the neighbors kept you awake. Most of the time, no one bothered you or even tried to. If they needed you, they’d page. What they didn’t know is you’d lay on the bed, spread your legs and let your fingers work on your clit. It pissed you off sometimes, trying to focus on a good fantasy, thinking about TV characters or a good porn video you’d seen in the past but somehow the thought of Dr. Shen buried inside of you always made its way to the things you got off to.

You pull your scrubs down, leaving on your red laced underwear. It was impractical to wear for work, but you never know what could happen. It had been so long since you’d had someone else pleasure you, there was a small hope that maybe you’d run into someone after work and end up in a hot one night stand (or in your case, maybe a one day stand?) You slide the thin fabric to the side, running a finger into your wet cunt and back up to your clit. You always try to make it quick incase you are needed, sometimes getting interrupted and having to finish the shift with that ache of needing to release. It made for an earth shattering orgasm when you got home and finally could let go. You’re too gone in your thoughts to hear the door start to swing open, only brought back to reality by the light beaming into the room.

“Hey, you left you- Whoa.” The absolute worst case scenario that could have happened has come to light. You get up to sitting position, feet now on the floor, throwing the thin sheet over your exposed lower half. Shen holds your pager in his hand, still trying to process what he has just walked into. He feels himself getting hard at the quick glance he caught. He shuts the door fast behind him before anyone else can see this same sight, locking it as he turns back around.

“Uh.” You can’t say anything, your brain can’t even make out a word to say. No good excuse. Nothing. He smirks, laying the pager down on the table in the room.

“So, this your remedy for that headache?” You want to punch him, slap him, anything. He’s so smug as he says it, leaning against the wall. “Don’t let me stop you.” You shake your head, trying to look for your scrub bottoms without making it noticeable.

“It’s not like that. I- I was- I have a bite or something and-“ He comes over to you, standing in-front of you. The familiar strong woody scent hits you, you hate to admit it but the scent drives you insane. You smell it on him all the time, especially when you two are close in a room working on patients. He leans down, placing a hand under your chin making you look up at him.

“It looks like to me, you were trying to get yourself off.” You swallow hard, a range of emotions flowing through your body. You’re horrified, humiliated and oddly enough aroused. “Do you not lock the door for extra fun or was that an accident?”

“Accident.” You whisper out, wishing you could look away from him, but your eyes are locked with his. He smirks, running his free hand through your hair.

“All this time, I thought you were the smartest resident I had. You still are, medically. Common sense I’m starting to think differently.” Your chest tightens, you wonder what’s going to happen next. Two things cross your mind. The first, he is going to tell anyone and everyone on night shift about this. The second, you’re getting kicked from your residency. The last thing you imagined would happen is him pulling the sheet away slowly and running his hand up your thigh.

“Leaving the door unlocked, that’s a mistake. You were in here pleasuring yourself and that’s not the first thing you made sure to do was lock the door?” The way he talks in this situation is just like he does on the floor. Condescending, arrogant. Never spewing evil and cruel words, but in a way to make you think later on ‘was he trying to say I’m an idiot without saying it?’

“Unless, you wanted someone to catch you with your fingers inside of you? I think maybe you did, I don’t know a lot of people who wear their best underwear to work.” You can’t even speak. This. Can’t. Be. Real. Of course, the idea of someone walking in was while you brought yourself over the edge was an alluring thought, but you also thought of all the horrible possibilities of people that could walk in on the act.

“You sure are quiet now. All I ever hear you do on the floor is talk, talk, talk. Just like out there, when it’s time to step up, there’s always that hesitation from you.” His fingers run under the laced fabric. “So what’s got you quiet now? Are you embarrassed?” You shake your head yes, it’s all you can do. You’re afraid if you try to speak, you may vomit from nerves.

“No, let’s use our words here.” He has a grip on your underwear now, almost like he’s just waiting for you to say go.

“Yes. It is embarrassing, Dr. Shen.” He smirks, he runs his hand across your cheek. Part of him enjoys hearing you call him ‘Dr. Shen’ especially in this situation. His lips are dangerously close to yours, you can feel the heat that your bodies are building between one another. Before you know it, his hands are off of you and it’s like a rug has been pulled from under you. He stretches his arms in the air.

“No need to be embarrassed. Everyone has to relive themselves right? I’ll let you get back to it.” He turns to walk out the door. You’re in shock, what just happened? Before your brain can say don’t do it, your mouth opens.

“Wait!” You yell out, hoping no one outside this room hears you. He smirks, turning back around to face you.

“What? Do you need help getting yourself off, like you need help with everything you do on the floor?” He knows what he’s doing. He has to. He has known how to get under your skin since the day he met you. He knows eventually you’ll snap back at him. It’s like clock work.

“Actually, no I don’t. I’m sure I pull it off better than you ever could.” He shrugs. You stand up, going to grab your scrubs out of the floor, when you raise back up he’s dangerously close to you again.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that? Or are you hoping you can find out?” You can’t take it anymore, the shit talk and the tension. You slam your lips onto his, feeling his hands make their way to your ass. He grips your ass tightly, trying to somehow bring you even closer to him. You feel his bulge through his scrubs. Before you know it, you’re back on the bed, his hand feeling over the lace.

“Did I make you this wet? You’re soaked through this thong.” He breaks the kiss as he asks. You take a second to catch your breath.

“I did that all by myself.” He lets out a soft laugh, before you have a chance to say anything you’re instead letting out a moan as you feel two fingers sliding into you. “Fuck.” You manage to mutter out as he starts moving. You imagined he’d be rough, the careless attitude he presented with at work? You never dreamed he’d be about trying to make sure his partner got off too.

“It’s amazing how you try to convince me that I don’t turn you on. I see the way you look at me.” He is knuckle deep inside of you now, you’re trying to focus on not cumming so soon. That would be even more embarrassing than him walking in on you with your hand in your panties. “I see the way you brush against me in codes, even when you have all the room in the world to get past me. The way your neck turns red when I talk to you.” He feels you tighten around him, knowing you’re almost there. “I just need to hear you say it.” Before you have a chance to react, you feel him pull his fingers out of you. Leaving you feeling empty.

“What the fuck?” You ask, still trying to catch your breath. The fabric of his scrubs rubs against your skin.

“Like I said,” he starts as he pulls your thong off, throwing it across the room. “Just need to hear you say it.” It’s disgusting how he has you like puddy in his hands now. It pisses you off, but turns you on even more.

“Okay! You turn me on, I need you inside of me, please John.” He jerks his scrubs and boxers down in a swift motion, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Tell me more.” He whispers, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit.

“I get myself off to the thought of you fucking me. You make me crazy, especially when you run that fucking mouth of yours.” He could listen to you talk like this all night, but he knows before long if they haven’t already that the nurses are gonna wonder where you two are. You feel him push himself inside of you, stretching you out. He covers your mouth as you let out a loud gasp.

“Fuck. You are tight.” He groans out, slowly moving inside of you. You hadn’t been with many men, and never someone the size of Shen. It takes you a minute to adjust, which he notices. Still moving slowly, he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head and picks up the pace. “Did you ever think this would happen? Fucking your attending in the on call room?”

“No. No- I just thought it would stay a fantasy.” He runs his fingers through your hair, grasping it tightly but not enough to bring you any pain.

“I didn’t either. Since the day I saw you, I’ve wondered what it would feel like.” His fingers touching your clit gently, rubbing circles slowly. “How my cock would fit in you, what your face would look like while I fuck you.” It’s all too much. The way he feels inside you, the words he speaks. You feel your face heat up, your stomach burning.

“John.” You start, feeling his hand slide toward your neck. He picks up his pace, slamming into you. If no one heard anything before, you were certain they’d hear the bed hitting the wall.

“Mostly, I’ve wondered how you’d sound cumming for me. That’s what I get off to.”

“Holy fucking shit.” You whisper out. Before you can scream, letting the orgasm take you over completely. You feel his hand covering your mouth, applying force so that you and him are the only two that can her how undone you’ve come because of him.

“Let it out, that’s it. Maybe I should move my hand and let everyone hear how you scream my name.” The muffled ‘fucks’ leaving your lips, unheard by anyone but you two. You feel your body trembling, tears forming in your eyes. Not from pain, not from shame but from sheer pleasure. Once he notices that the best part has come and gone, he removes his hand. He looks at your fucked out face, still seeing pleasure run across your face as he continues slamming into your sensitive cunt. He slams his lips onto yours one more time before pulling away.

“You want me to let you walk out of here filled up with me?” You smirk, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him in close.

“Please.” You whisper out, it’s all he needs to hear before he releases himself into you.

“Fuck.” He moans out, finishing his orgasm shortly after you. He pulls out of you, lying down beside you trying to catch his breath. Before either of you can speak a word, your pagers are going off and you hear ‘STROKE ALERT ETA 10 MINUTES’ echo through the walls. He jumps up, pulling his scrubs back on.

“Find your stuff and get out there.” He says, you sigh as you turn to go on the hunt for your underwear and scrub bottoms.

“We can talk about it later.” You feel your heart flutter as you give him a quick smile before he shuts the door.

So much for a quiet night.

[sanriobuny]

The Buried Truth

SerialKiller!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Psychological manipulation, blood, implied murder, gaslighting, suspense

Summary: Rafe was always intense, but love made it easy to overlook the red flags—until one night, a bloodstained secret threatens to unravel everything. Now, trapped between fear and loyalty, the reader must face the truth about the man she thought she knew.

Kildare Island used to be quiet. The kind of quiet where you could hear the waves from miles inland, and everyone knew everyone’s name.

But lately?

The silence had twisted into something sinister.

Missing persons posters flapped from telephone poles. Headlines screamed across every paper. And curfews—for teens, especially—were tighter than ever. The sheriff’s department was scrambling, trying to patch together the bloody holes left by a string of unsolved murders. The whole island was on edge. In a town this small, everyone knew someone who had turned up dead.

The latest?

Ruthie.

Her death shook your friend group. Not because she was loved—at least not by you. Ruthie had always been fake, her smiles laced with venom, especially when it came to your boyfriend, Rafe. She was jealous. Always had been. You’d even had a blow-up fight with her the day before she died.

It happened at the beach. Her group rolled up and—of course—set up right next to the Pogues. You didn’t mind at first. But deep down, you knew something would boil over.

And it did.

She tried to run over Kie and the others—actually hit a baby turtle in the process.

You snapped.

Called her self-absorbed. Reckless. Told her karma would catch up with her. You hadn’t meant death. Just... consequences. But the timing? It was bad. Now, your friends avoided your eyes like you were contagious. Like maybe—just maybe—you knew more than you let on.

Like maybe you had something to do with it.

That’s when you spotted a familiar van approaching.

Not John B behind the wheel—but his blonde-haired friend. The one Rafe definitely didn’t like.

JJ Maybank.

The van slowed beside you, tires crunching against the dirt shoulder. The window rolled down.

“Hey, you need a ride? It’s getting late,” JJ said, casual as ever, one arm hooked over the wheel.

The offer was innocent enough—but it put you in a weird spot.

Rafe would lose it if he knew you’d gotten into a car with JJ Maybank. But what would make him madder—JJ giving you a ride, or you walking home alone while there was a killer still on the loose?

You glanced at JJ, meeting his eyes under the fading light.

“You sure you’re not the murderer running around town?” you joked, trying to mask your nerves.

He smirked. “As cool as that would be, I’m no murderer, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary cap.

You laughed, unable to help it. “Okay, thanks... but only because I don’t want to get caught out here alone.”

He gestured to the passenger side. “Hop in.”

You slid in, placing your bag at your feet. The door closed with a soft thud. The van felt lived-in—worn seat cushions, a tangled phone charger, the faint scent of saltwater and cheap pine air freshener.

Weirdly cozy. Like it had stories.

As JJ pulled back onto the road, the silence settled. It wasn’t awkward—just... observant. Like he was waiting for you to speak first.

After a minute, he glanced over. “Where’s your boyfriend? Kinda surprised he let you walk home alone.”

You shrugged. “His phone must be dead. He’s been working nonstop with his dad. Lost track of time, I guess.”

JJ raised a brow but didn’t push.

“So why did you even offer me a ride?” you asked, trying to keep your tone teasing. “I thought you hated Kooks.”

He smirked again, eyes back on the road. “One, I can’t let a pretty girl like you walk home alone when there’s a literal murderer on the loose. And two, I kinda owe you—for sticking up for us at the beach. That was... cool of you.”

You smiled faintly, settling back into the seat. Outside, the sun was dipping low, streaking the sky in fiery pinks and fading golds. It cast a soft glow across JJ’s face, making his features look a little softer than usual.

“Speaking of…” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Are you okay? With everything that’s happened—Ruthie and all that?”

You hesitated. Your fingers picked at the sleeve of your hoodie. You stared out the window.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “We weren’t close, but… she’s dead. And the last thing I said to her was that she’d get her karma.”

JJ’s brows lifted slightly. “Damn. That’s rough.”

You nodded. Your throat felt tight. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was mad—she tried to run you guys over, for God’s sake. But now my friends barely talk to me. They look at me like I’m some kind of psycho.”

“They’re just scared,” JJ said quietly. “People always need someone to blame. Doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“I know… it just sucks. I didn’t kill her. I just—”

Your voice cracked, and you stopped.

JJ glanced at you again, this time for longer. His gaze held steady.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said, not joking this time.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Thanks, JJ. Real comforting.”

“I mean it,” he said, more serious than before. “You stood up for what was right. That takes guts. Way more than most of the people you hang out with.”

You looked over, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. No trace of sarcasm. Just... truth.

“Besides,” he added, lips twitching into a grin, “if anyone knows what it’s like to be the town’s favorite punching bag, it’s me.”

A smile broke across your face—small but genuine. “Yeah. I guess we both have a talent for getting into trouble.”

He gave a mock salute. “Professionals, really.”

The mood shifted—lighter, easier. The weight pressing down on your chest didn’t disappear, but it eased. Just enough.

“Where am I taking you?” he asked.

“Just take me to Sarah’s,” you said. “It’s easier that way.”

He nodded, eyes back on the road. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... safe.

But just as the Cameron house came into view through the windshield, JJ asked, “What do you even see in Rafe?”

You blinked. The question hit harder than it should have.

“He’s... my boyfriend,” you said too quickly. “I love him. He’s different with me.”

JJ mock-gagged, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s not a bad guy, JJ.”

JJ snorted. “Rafe and I have never gotten along. You know that.”

You sighed, looking down at your hands. Memories flickered—bloody knuckles, harsh words, you yelling in the middle of a fight that left everyone breathless.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually said that.”

JJ looked at you, a little surprised.

“Yeah, well... it wasn’t your fault.”

He pulled into the driveway and parked. The lights inside the house were dark. Empty. Silent.

“Thanks for driving me,” you said, reaching for the door. “I owe you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, voice soft.

You stepped out and shut the door gently behind you. The van lingered for a moment before slowly pulling away, its headlights vanishing down the street.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Sarah was gone—probably with John B. Wheezie’s door was closed, music faint behind it. But Rafe... wasn’t home. You checked the time. Strange. He was usually back by now.

Still, you told yourself not to overthink it. He’d be glad to see you.

Upstairs, you pulled one of his shirts from the drawer, breathing in the scent without meaning to. You stripped off your clothes and took a short, hot shower.

You were wrapping a towel around your hair when you reached for the bathroom door—and found it locked.

Your hand froze.

You jiggled the handle, confused. “Rafe?”

A pause.

“Yeah,” came his voice. Clipped. “Just—what are you doing here, baby?”

Your brows pulled together. “Did you lock this? Let me out.”

“Hold on. One sec.”

Something shifted outside the door. A footstep? A drawer? You couldn’t tell. You pressed your ear to the wood.

“You alone?” you asked.

“What? Yeah. Don’t be weird.”

“Then open the door.”

It creaked open. Slowly.

Rafe stood there, calm. Too calm.

You stepped out and looked around. Nothing out of place. His room was spotless, just like always. Too perfect.

“What were you doing?” you asked.

He offered a thin smile. “Door was stuck.”

A lie.

You felt it in your gut.

He reached out, touching your waist, letting his hand slide around your back. You didn’t resist, but your body stayed tense.

“How’d you get here?” he asked, pulling you closer.

“I finished work early,” you said. “You didn’t answer when I called.”

His smile faltered. “Phone died.”

“I didn’t want to walk alone... so I got a ride.”

“From who?”

You hesitated.

“JJ.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

His jaw tensed, just slightly. “JJ Maybank.”

You nodded. “He was driving by. It was nothing.”

“Nothing,” he echoed, voice flattening. “So you just got in with him.”

“Rafe. It was getting dark. I felt unsafe.”

His grip tightened.

“And you thought Maybank would protect you?” he asked, too soft. “You trusted him?”

You opened your mouth, but his expression stopped you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice smaller now. “He just dropped me off. He didn’t come inside.”

For a second, he didn’t speak. Then:

“You know I’d come for you, right?” he said, tilting your chin. “Drop everything?”

“I know.”

He studied you. Then pulled you in, arms wrapping around you, holding you close—tighter than before.

“You can’t trust people right now, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “Not with what’s going on. Someone’s out there. Someone dangerous.”

You nodded, unsure what else to do.

“Just us,” he said. “That’s all we need.”

He kissed your cheek. “I’m gonna change. Put something on. Movie night?”

You gave a faint smile and sat on the bed as he stepped into the bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, you exhaled sharply.

You tried to steady yourself by cleaning up your clothes. You walked to the hamper and opened the lid.

Something wet touched your fingers.

You pulled back quickly—and saw red.

Your breath caught.

Heart thudding, you reached deeper. Under the shirt, your fingers found a handle.

A knife.

A bloody knife.

You yanked your hand back like it burned, shoving the shirt over it and slamming the lid shut. The room felt like it was spinning. Cold. Silent. Wrong.

Not Rafe. It couldn’t be.

But the blood was still on your hands.

You stumbled back and sat on the edge of the bed. You reached for your phone, panic clawing at your throat. You needed to go.

Now.

The bathroom door creaked open.

“I forgot my—”

He stopped.

You didn’t turn around.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

You wiped your hand on your jeans, struggling to stay calm. “I think I’m gonna go. I’m not feeling great.” You forced yourself to stand, shoulders stiff.

His steps were silent behind you. Then—his hand landed on your shoulder.

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you, baby?”

The gentleness in his voice made your skin crawl.

You shook your head. “No. Of course not.”

His thumb brushed your cheek. Not soft. Not rough. Just controlled.

“You’re shaking,” he noted. “Why are you shaking, huh?”

“I told you. I’m not feeling well.”

He let go and stepped back, eyes scanning the room. Then... they landed on the hamper.

Your stomach dropped.

“I was just thinking...” he said, voice light, too casual, “people are quick to assume. One day, you're friends. The next, they're whispering your name like you’re a killer.”

You didn’t move.

“That’s what happened to Ruthie. Everyone thought she was a bitch. Maybe she was. But who really knows what happened to her?”

Silence.

He took another step forward.

“I think it’s funny,” he continued, smile turning cold, “how people think the truth’s just sitting there—waiting to be found. Like they can dig through someone’s stuff and just know.”

You felt your pulse pounding in your ears.

“I didn’t look through your stuff,” you said. Weak. Transparent.

He tilted his head. “Didn’t say you did.”

Then his smile faded.

“But you did… didn’t you?”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

He stepped closer.

“What exactly did you see?”

You swallowed. “I—I don’t know. It could’ve been anything. Maybe it wasn’t even—”

“A knife?” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Covered in blood?”

You froze.

He leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek.

“You were snooping,” he whispered. “Now you don’t know what to do with what you found.”

He pulled back, eyes locking onto yours.

“But I can help you with that.”

Then, gently—too gently—he touched your cheek again.

“Because if you really love me… you’ll understand…”

A pause.

“Some things are better left buried.”

And he kissed your forehead.

Soft. Chilling.

Authors note: ohhh, my god. I got this idea from my dreams. I've been writing this one for a few days trying to get it just right, but I love how it turned out 🥰

[s0s1mple]

hello, hope you are doing fine! i have a request! the mc is a playgirl and has casual flings with a lot of people, including the 02z line, seperately. but yandere 02z thinks that they are in a relationship with her and it is serious & comitted. so, when they start to plan to marry her, all three of them find out about her other flings, leading to them thinking she is cheating on them. the ending is upto you, the three could come together and decide to share her or whatever you think suits :)

Oooh ooh ooooooh!! Interesting! I’ll try my best! (Also sorry for late response, I had to get everything in order for summer! Promise I didn’t forget about you guys!) (also my bias is in this line I had to hahahaha)

————

Breakdown - 02z Line

(Sim Jake, Park Sunghoon, Park Jay)

TW: General yandere behavior, kidnapping

Masterlist

————

You were a bit… easy.

Yeah, that would be the term you’d use. Not a slut, god no, but certainly open and definitely wanting to experience all life had to offer. And if that came in the form of satisfying your high libido with a few more men than the average person, then so be it. You enjoyed casual hookups, one night stands, having friends with benefits and all. In all honesty, it wasn’t really a big deal. You liked to have fun, you were safe, and you still built friendships and lived your life as normal, so what was the big fuss?

No feelings got hurt since everyone knew what you were like, right?

—————

You two had met at a club. You were four shots in by the time he arrived, and it wasn’t long after you met on the dance floor that you tried to seduce him. Really, it should have been nothing new. Just a bit of fun, because Jake himself was no blushing virgin. But you’d been very obviously wasted by the time you two stumbled out of the club, and since Jake was a whole lot more coherent he didn’t exactly feel great about the idea. He called you an uber, accompanied you to your place, and helped you up the stairs. You’d pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, muttering about how nice he was, and Jake slipped a piece of paper with his number into your palm so you could let him know you’d woken up just fine.

You did so, and soon a brunch so you could thank him was in order. And then a coffee date. And then the two of you tangled in his sheets, panting like animals in heat. Then warm showers, the two of you washing each other off and giggling, before going out to walk Layla. You hugged him easily, cuddled into him, vented about work and listened to his frustrations in turn. Days passed, weeks, then months, and Jake fell harder and faster than he had for anyone before.

And then… then he’d seen it. Out and about with his two best friends, he’d seen it. You, leaning up on your tippy toes to kiss someone else. A quick peck, sure, but the bedroom eyes that came with it were unmistakable. He could feel everything go numb in that moment. Jake’s hand pressed hard against his wallet, all too conscious of the receipt for the engagement ring he’d purchased. This- this couldn’t be real, right?

You two were meant to be soulmates. Nothing felt as right as it did with you, and here you were cheating on him? When he turned his head and spotted Jay and Sunghoon’s expressions, similar empty horror painting their faces, the world crashed down around him.

Was he just someone to lead on? To play with? Pressure built behind his eyes like he wanted to cry, but nothing came. Instead an incomprehensible mixture of rage and pain swelled up, enough to make him want to lash out somehow, something he was never prone to doing. He wanted to hit something, shatter something until it mimicked how he felt inside, wanted to tear something down with his teeth, wanted to make you bleed for causing this pain-

Jake bit his hand instead, teeth sinking deep enough to where it snapped Jay to reality to take him to the hospital. Sunghoon rode along quietly, staring out the window.

Sunghoon hadn’t thought himself the lovey-dovey type. Not until he met you. He’d met you completely independently of Jake, at a park of all places. It had been winter, and Sunghoon had been standing along the edge of the frozen over lake, contemplating if it was thick enough to walk on. Cue you sprinting out onto the ice willy-nilly, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the danger. “Yah! Careful!” He’d shouted out in surprise. You fell then, not through the ice but instead flat on your ass. A loud thud, you pitifully spinning out across the slick surface while seated, and you burst into laughter.

Sunghoon had fallen head over heels.

You were spontaneous, unserious, never failing to bring him to new places and force him to open up. He experienced things he never thought he would, was risky and did things for himself for once in his life, and you were there the whole time to hold his hand through it. Others had said you were flakey, a playgirl, and Sunghoon could admit you might have been in the past. But you were with him now, right? There was nothing to worry about, and you weren’t like that anymore.

He thumbed over the ring box in his coat pocket, staring at his phone after he canceled his reservation. This couldn’t be real. You were cheating on him. That- no- there was no reason for you to, right? You just couldn’t be that sort of person, to date him and take him out on grand excursions, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms so tenderly around him, only to betray him like this. Surely not. Surely Jake and Jay weren’t feeling the same thing he was, surely you hadn’t also led them on just to break their hearts too. Or maybe they did it to hurt him? No, they wouldn’t…

Sunghoon just didn’t know anymore.

They pulled into the hospital and entered in. Jake was soon attended to, and the three sat quietly as the nurse stitched up his hand. Jay watched the needle move methodically, mind a whirl.

Jay and you had met at a bar. It was a nice, but homely spot. Nothing too expensive, just lowkey and chill, the perfect spot for Jay just after work. He settled down and looked about, spotting all the regulars, until you sat next to him. You too were a regular, one he’d seen flitting around with a new male on your arm all the time. A few drinks later, and you two were acquainted. He said a stupid joke, you laughed until you snorted, and then laughed harder at the noise, and Jay couldn’t stop his smile for the rest of the night.

He’d known how you were. He’d been well aware of the fact he’d initially be the latest in a long line of flings, but truthfully it had drawn him to you. Not like Jake, no, not because your nature matched his, but because he could see so much warmth in you, so much life, that just had to be redirected to the right place. And Jay wanted to do that, wanted to be the one to curb your interest in playing around with others, wanted to take you out to nice restaurants and dote on you on rooftop bars. And he did. You came with him to so many outings, shifted from someone unfamiliar with expensive nightlife to the picture of a socialite under his care. You were going to achieve that dream you had of opening your own business, and it was all thanks to Jay and the connections he’d made for you.

And in return, you made him so happy. So, so happy. Jokes and laughter, soft moments leaning against each other as you stared at the stars, nights cooking together in his kitchen…

Jay debated chucking his engagement ring, done up with beautiful jade and diamonds, into the trash bin.

Were you just pretending to love him for that power? Were you just sleeping with him as a bizarre sort of payment, a manipulation? Was anything real? Jay wanted to scream, to lose his composure and punch something hard, but he just grit his jaw and stared at the nurse as she worked. She seemed to get uncomfortable and leave soon after.

He hardly registered that fact.

Finally, the silence was broken. “What‘s going on?” Jay managed. Jake blinked, seemingly pulled back to earth, and fidgeted. He glared hard at the ground.

“You guys tell me. Seems like you were fucking my girlfriend-“

“Your girlfriend-?” Jay grit his teeth, resisting a snarl as something ugly bloomed inside him.

“No, we were dating.” Sunghoon said icily. Jake huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

“What, so you think we were all hers? No way. No. That can’t be.” He hissed. It wasn’t born of real anger though, just a deep set sadness that hurt awfully.

“We were all led on.” Jay finally managed, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Someone else has to know what was happening, right? S-Should we ask around? See who else was led on?”

Sunghoon held up his phone. “Already texted her brother. They talk about everything together. “

“I know.” Jake and Jay both answered sharply, crowding around Sunghoon and his phone all the same. A few texts and, for the first time, they were getting answers. Not quite the answers they wanted, not that you were committed or loved any of them, but that you’d simply never talked about any of them that way. That as far as he could tell, he wasn’t under the impression there was a relationship. Just that you obviously thought of them as friends and nothing more, as occasional fuck-buddies and people to experience the world with.

The idea was a slap to the face. You didn’t love any of them? They’d somehow read everything painfully wrong? At the same time though, it was a relief. You didn’t betray them, or at the very least didn’t know you were doing such a thing. In some ways, you were still theirs. In some ways, there was still a chance.

Panic, craving, something born from even that moment of pain and perhaps something deeper, clawed itself deep into their chests. Jake gnawed at the inside of his cheek.

“So what now?” He finally asked.

“She hurt us.” Sunghoon responded icily. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, and then seemed to decide better of it.

“She didn’t mean to though…”

“Were we not obvious enough? I know I was. I took her out to eat at the nicest places in Seoul.” Jay mumbled, brows furrowed.

“You’re rich, Jay, she probably thought it meant nothing since it’s chump change for you.” Sunghoon deadpanned. Jay shot him a quick glare, and pressed his fingers to his temples as if easing a headache.

“Do we just let it be? Forget about her?”

A long silence, the three of them meeting each other’s eyes to see ironclad intent. No. That wouldn’t do. Someone else might do such a thing to avoid embarrassing themselves, to avoid heartbreak, but these three? No. Since you came into their lives, everything revolved around you. In fact, that seemed to be how the whole world operated. Everything fell into orbit around your magnetic personality, everyone doting and catching your attention, and…

What if you didn’t have any more of that debris to distract you?

“There was a communication problem.” Jay finally said. His tone was sliding into something final, a conclusion coming to mind that both of the other males seemed to pick up on instantly.

“So let’s make communication easy then. She’ll have to love one of us back, right?” Jake asked softly, hopefully. Sunghoon hummed an affirmative.

“If there’s nothing else to draw her attention, she’ll have to.”

————

“You’re fucking insane! Let me out! Help! Help, anyone-!”

Sunghoon clapped a hand over your mouth, shushing you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re hurting my ears, baby…” He’d never heard you screech like this, not even at the carnival, and it was exhausting more than anything. Jake, sitting off to the side and staring adoringly at your profile, piped up.

“Look, I know this is unconventional, but this whole situation is unconventional too, right? I mean-“

You jerked your mouth out from under Sunghoon’s palm. “You kidnapped me just because you bastards thought you were entitled to me just because we fucked! I- I thought you were my friends!” You sniffled then, eyes welling up, and the words died in your throat. Jake had the nerve to look like a kicked puppy.

“Sweetheart, we’re glad you thought so positively of us. We are. But you mean so much more to us,” Jay said patiently, pushing some hair from your face. He was calm, the picture of neutral, save for the intensity of his gaze. “And somehow you couldn’t see it, so now we’re giving you the chance to. That’s all.”

There was a long moment as you glared hard at them, eyes wet and cheeks red. “I hate you.”

“And we love you.”

[frillydolle]

a bite of love and yearning　 ─　 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷

synopsis: no one has seen mr morgan for weeks, and yet work was still getting done within camp. the only person who knew what was going on was you.

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 femreader　 chapter six time　 vampire!arthur　 slight angst at the start

he roamed the streets now. he did go back and forth between shady belle, but he wasn't strayed further and further away, almost never coming back until he was sure no one would be awake.

he was mourning. well, not really. he was only mourning that he couldn't see the sun kiss your skin anymkre, or he could never see your smile as his callous hand caressed your face, that the two of you couldn't take a stroll in saint denis while pretending you two were a high society couple.

it was strange. looking sick but not feeling sick, being physically strong like a bull, and feeling weak like a lamb. it was a foreign for him to feel such a way, to be in such a state. although it took a while for him to get used to. hell, it took him a long time he was now part of the story that mary-beth and karen were talking.

he was a vampire, now. he had to accept that if he liked it or not. it was like his self-loathing is now a lot worse than before.

he's watching you, hidden by the trees that surrounded the front of shady belle. no one has, but somehow, work got done overnight. there were pieces of wood that were ready for the fire, and more food was put down by pearson's wagon. arthur mustve still be around, right? but what happened to him?

only you knew. sort of.

he didn't tell you, but you didn't know what was wrong. it still sounded like a myth, like he was a mythical being. of course, you were open to it. more specifically, you were open to letting him drink you. drink you dry if he needed to. you would do anything for that helpful man.

“you need to drink or you'll─ y'know i don't mind, you've done it before.”

“sweetheart... alrigh', promise me you'll tell me if it hurts, okay?” he murmurs softly, pulling out your wrist and he takes it up to his lips and you wore you heard a sigh of anticipation.

“i promise.”

soon, your heart began to beat a little faster out of suspense. feeling his fangs caress your wrist, teasing you in a way to make what's about to come less painful. you felt his indec finger rub in a circular motion, comforting you before you felt his pointy teeth pierce your skin. he was delicate and fragile, like he was afraid that he'd break you in half with his new profound strength.

he looked up at you, and you looked down at him in return. the moment of intimacy was definitely in the air between the two of you, but that's something he wasn't sure if he wanted after his.. change. he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he's.. really a monster, now.

recently, he yearned for you even more, hell, he craved you now, and he wasn't sure why. maybe it was because you didn't tell anyone about him, that he's changed, he won't be coming back to camp now. he surely did miss everyone dearly, but he couldn't bear anyone else to see him like this.

he just trusted you deeply.

[toasttt11]

new years

December 31, 2024

Mackenzie slipped on her last ring looking in the mirror. It was New Year’s Eve and Cat and Tyler mostly Cat were hosting a New Years party and Cat wanted everyone dressing up.

The Sharks had an earlier game today against the Flyers loosing 0-4 and Mackenzie and Will went and got a late lunch after the game before he reluctantly dropped her off alone at the Thornton house.

Mackenzie decided to let her hair be fully curly and down for the party, she never did end up getting her next straightening treatment after Will saw her curly hair for the first time. There is still days where she isn’t comfortable with her curls and straightens her hair or tosses it in a bun but she is getting a lot better.

She bent down slipping on her gold heels with little bows on the back and stood fully back up smoothing her hands down her all gold sequin dress that ended right about her knees.

Mackenzie let out a slightly nervous breath she wasn’t used to dressing up like this and she didn’t not like it just wasn’t use to it.

Mackenzie decided to not grab her purse just grabbing her phone and lip gloss knowing Will always wants to hold her purse and it’s easier just letting him hold her things in his pocket.

Mackenzie walked out of her room just as there was a knock on the guest house.

She opened the door and her breath got caught seeing Will, he had on his tighter pair of black trousers, black silk buttoned down with buttons opened, black blazer and all gold accessories expect for one, the bracelet she got him.

Mackenzie could smell he had on his fancier cologne too.

Will’s mouth slowly parted looking at his girlfriend, she always glows but seeing her in all gold outfit he might have just found his favorite color on her.

“Woah.” Will slowly let out looking memorized as his eyes dragged across her making Mackenzie flush.

Mackenzie softly smiled at his reaction feeling better about her dress immediately, he didn’t even realize how much he just reassured her.

“You look stunning.” Will breathed out reaching for her hand and slowly spun her around making her giggle softly, “Absolutely beautiful.” Will mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You look handsome.” Mackenzie had her hands resting on his chest looking into his eyes being closer in height due to her heels.

“Are you sure we can’t skip the party?” Will asked half joking but knew he wouldn’t be the reason Mackenzie missed out no matter how much he wanted to be alone with her.

Mackenzie just gave him a look smiling and pulling him away from the door and towards his car letting Will open the door for her and she got in.

Will kept his hand on her thigh the entire drive as he always does. Will slipped her phone and lip gloss into his pocket once they got to Cat and Toff’s house before giving her a hand as she got out of the car and they walked up to the front door together.

“Willmack!” Cat opened the door giving her two favorite rascals a teasing smile and gave Mackenzie a soft hug, “You look great Mack!”

“What about me Cat?” Will teased back.

“You don’t need more of an ego Will!” Cat quipped right back making Mackenzie laugh softly.

Will just gave Cat a pout in response.

“Woah it looks great Cat!” Mackenzie looked around the house they didn’t even look recognizable with how much it was decorated. The house was already packed.

“Thank you!” Cat beamed at her words, “You both can have champagne as long as you both stay here tonight.” Cat gave them a very stern mom look.

“Deal.” Mackenzie and Will both easily agreed.

Mackenzie found Toffoli as Eklund stole Will from her. Mackenzie stayed with Toffoli till Cat made everyone go outside for a group photo. Mackenzie leaned into Will’s side as he wrapped an arm around her waist as they smiled at the camera.

Mackenzie laughed as she held up one of the large number balloons that spelled out 2025.

Will pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head as she was laughing holding the ballon.

A couple of hours later Will and Mackenzie were surprising not next to each other. Mackenzie was with Eklund both of them definitely tipsy on the champagne as Will was across the room with Henry and keeping an eye on his girl.

Will glanced at his phone seeing the time and grabbed his blazer that was resting on the back of a chair and waked over to his girlfriend resting a hand her lower back, “Gonna steal her for a bit Eks.”

Eklund just gave them a bright grin and when over to find Fabian.

Mackenzie looked over with a smile, “Hi!” Mackenzie giggled just a bit, She wasn’t drunk just had a little champagne that makes her giggly.

“Hi gorgeous.” Will softly said back kissing her forehead before guiding her out of the room with the hand on her back, “Come on i have a spot for us.” He may of asked Cat a good spot to go to in the house with some privacy and to see the fireworks.

“It’s not fair to have your sleeves like that.” Mackenzie blurted out and immediately blushed realizing what she just let slip out.

Will smirked perking up her words, “I’ll make sure to remember that.” He will definitely make sure to roll his sleeves up again.

Mackenzie groaned knowing she is going to her teased for this, “We could forget i said that?” Mackenzie asked as Will opened the sliding door to the upstairs patio and thru stepped door.

“Not in a million years my love.” Will kissed her cheek and Mackenzie just sighed.

Mackenzie walked to the railing leaning on the rail looking out.

Will knew neither of them have ever had a New Years kiss and he wanted their moment to be just them.

Will walked up behind her and draped his blazer over her shoulders that he grabbed specifically for her knowing how easily she gets cold.

Mackenzie let happily sigh at the warmth. Will grabbed her hip and gently turned her to him making her hands go up to his neck resting on the nape of his blonde curls and his hands settled on her hips.

“I love you.” Will spoke softly leaning closer to letting their noses brush.

Mackenzie’s eyes softened, softened in a way that’s purely only will ever be for Will, “I love you too my pretty boy.”
Will’s cheeks and top of his ears turned red as they do every time she calls him pretty boy.

The countdown started and Will brought one hand to her cheek. The sky filled with fireworks and cheers rung out.

“Happy New Years My Love.” Will softly mumbled to her.

“Happy New Years.” Mackenzie mumbled back pressing her lips to his and they finally had their first new year’s kiss.

Mackenzie giggled against his lips as he pressed multiple kisses to her lips after their first kiss. Being with Will was the most perfect way she could start her new year.

She smiled as they pulled back and her thumb softly rubbed away the lip gloss covering Will’s lips.

It was the first of many New Years together for Mackenzie and Will.