#hey this is 3.8k what the hell !

[cuddleprofiler]

FAINTING & FEVER - When you confess your deep buried feelings to your boss in your fever.

Summary: Hiding a fever? Check. Passing out? Check. Confessing your feelings to your boss? Wait woah?

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader, BAU x platonic!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: fever, fainting, rest is good I guess.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This was supposed to be platonic but I didn't feel like it is romantic :) This is my first time writing any non-platonic work. All the pics I have inserted are more clear when clicked if you want to see (Tumblr did something). Positive Criticism is welcomed.

"So, what are you ladies up to tonight?" Morgan asked while driving, his focus on the road. You'd just finished a case, and as usual, Morgan was eager to make plans before another case thrust you back into the world's horrors.

"Well," JJ began with a sigh, eyebrows raised, "I'm going to spend the whole day resting with my boys." She finished with her radiant smile.

"What about you, Prentiss?" Morgan glanced at Emily in the passenger seat.

"No plans yet, but who knows? I might have something by the time we land."

"L/N?" Derek called out when he realized you hadn't answered, lost in your own world.

You sat beside Spencer, staring out the window, oblivious to your surroundings. The heat you felt was consuming every coherent thought.

"L/N?"

"Huh? What did you say?" you asked, turning your head so quickly that JJ and Spencer wondered how you didn't get whiplash. Your voice remained calm and soft.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

"Why wouldn't I be, Spencer?" you replied, mustering a small smile to maintain your façade.

"You just seem...down," he commented, studying you intently. You gave him another small smile, shook your head, and winced. Your head felt as if it had been struck by an invisible hammer. Spencer either didn't notice your wince or chose not to comment.

"You up for some fun tonight?" Morgan asked again, though you were barely aware.

"What fun?" you frowned. The way he said "fun" made you think it might not be the kind you'd enjoy.

"Seriously, sweet girl? You're spending way too much time with Reid. I'm talking about bars, drinks, and if you get lucky, then maybe—" Morgan started with a Cheshire grin, while your eyes widened.

"No," you said in a high-pitched tone, embarrassed at the thought of hooking up with a random guy when you already loved someone.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Come on. We don't get many days off, L/N. You should enjoy them when you can."

"Morgan, I can't," you said, shifting uncomfortably.

"And why is that, sweet girl?"

"Hey! Garcia will take offense if you call someone else 'sweet girl,'" you said with a smile, appreciating his use of a nickname for you.

"Nah. My baby girl will never be offended by this, and you're not just someone else," he replied confidently.

"But answer the question, sweet girl," he prompted, aware you were avoiding it. He assumed your hesitation was due to your reluctance to go out, knowing how you and Reid felt about drinking and socializing.

"I've got some work to do, Morgan. Also, I'm tired," you said, leaning your head back.

Morgan's expression changed instantly.

"Go straight home when we land, Y/N, not to Hotch's office. Whatever files you have to work on can wait. If I didn't know him better, I'd say he's making you do overtime."

"Exactly. Hotch will understand, and there's no need to tire yourself out," Spencer added softly.

Their concern warmed your heart. "Of course, gentlemen," you replied, amusing the others.

The conversation drifted back to their plans while you gazed out the window, watching amoeba-shaped clouds float slowly across the sky. The view was therapeutic, but you didn't tell them how awful you were feeling.

When you woke up that morning, it felt as if hell had descended upon Earth just for you. Your muscles ached, protesting and begging you to return to bed, but you couldn't. Lives were at stake, a case needed solving. Now, the muscle pain had given way to a headache and constant zoning out.

You longed to get home as soon as possible, yearning for your fluffy blankets to engulf you completely, save for your head. You hoped your phone might end up in a ditch for the day, allowing you to remain in your cozy cocoon until you felt well enough to face the world—and potential case calls—again.

Soon, you arrived at the airstrip, where Emily and JJ surrounded you.

"So, where's your mind wandering today?" Emily asked with a mischievous grin. Before you could answer, JJ chimed in.

"In dreams of Hotch, of course. Right, Y/N?" You quickly shushed her, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard.

"JJ, Emily, we're at the airstrip," you whispered urgently. "Someone might hear you. It's supposed to be a secret. Sometimes I think you and Garcia are determined to let Hotch find out." You began trudging toward the plane, feeling drained.

They both laughed and high-fived.

"We do want you two together," Emily said.

"You should tell him yourself," JJ added. "Besides, if he overhears by accident, it'll only speed up your love life."

"By the way, Y/N, will you only go out with us if Hotch is there too?" Emily teased.

"Guys!" you groaned as they laughed.

Your crush on Hotch had started early in your tenure, initially based on his looks. But it deepened into something more profound, to the point where his well-being affected you deeply. You felt terrified when he faced dangerous situations. That's when you knew you were in trouble.

There was no way he'd fall for someone who could barely speak to him. You had your reasons for avoiding him. The days leading up to this decision were hellish. Never had you stumbled over your words as much as you did then. And what did he do?

He always gave you a patient look and nodded softly, encouraging you to speak your mind. It was manageable until you started losing yourself in his eyes or staring at his face constantly. After that, you ensured you were never alone with him except when working on case files. You began doing this so he could go home early and rest, reasoning that a few extra files wouldn't impact your time.

You were startled from your reverie by the memory of Garcia suggesting that Hotch might like you too. You still don't believe her, but a girl could hope.

"If it gets too much, I want you to pull out."

"Sir?" you asked, confused, looking up from your gun at your boss, who was surveying the team preparing to ambush the unsub's house.

"Everyone has off cases, L/N, but with time, most of us have learned to deal with it. Still, we pull ourselves out when needed. You're still new. So, pull out if necessary. Do you understand me?" he said, now looking at you, his gaze sweeping over your shorter form. You looked up at him intently, lost in his eyes until he raised an eyebrow. You could have sworn you saw his eyes soften slightly.

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Hotch, Y/N." With that, he walked towards the rest of the team as you hurried to catch up.

Back at the FBI building, you dashed to Garcia's lair. She was your first friend, and you both had a tendency to ramble about various topics. Sometimes Reid joined in. As soon as you saw her, you hugged her. Hugging Garcia was like therapy—you could feel your worries, guilt, and other negative emotions leaving your body. You felt yourself relax, your body lighter. You called it "Garcia magic”! It was an added bonus that Garcia was fond of physical affection.

When you told her about Hotch's words and your feeling that he was worried and all other incidents where he acted the same—though you thought that was impossible—she flashed her beaming smile, all her white teeth showing. Her eyes, however, held the amusement of knowing something you didn't.

"I didn't know sweet cheeks, he cares for you this much." Garcia mused, clearly pleased by what you'd shared.

This much? And what do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity evident.

"Hmm hmm. He looks at you the same way Will looks at JJ. He's so soft with you and he isn't like this with anybody. Maybe except Jack of course."

“Garcia there’s no way in hell he likes me. Maybe he was trying to be sweet.” you asked her trying not to get your hopes up.

This is a paradox. You are sure. Damn sure! Garcia began laughing while you gave her an incredulous look. She didn’t stop until you threw a teddy at her. “My sweet sweet girl, Hotch is never sweet with anyone. Ask Emily about it if you are unsure but nope nada in my so many years of being at BAU, he’s never sweet with anyone.”

"Maybe you are overthinking this Garcia. Hotch and I don't even know each other.”, you mumbled looking at your hands in your lap.

“That is an argument I will have with you on another day but what I'm saying is that Hotch likes you.", she says with a small almost sad smile.

"If you want you can observe him. You're a profiler baby. Yow will know.", she added gleefully.

Henceforth, you observed Hotch as profiling team members was off-limit. He had a tendency to smile at you softly and he didn’t offer others the same amount of options that he did to you , but you attributed this to being new. You were certain he'd show his more authoritative side once you were no longer considered the newest member. Definitely!

Lost in these thoughts, you suddenly felt your vision blur and your surroundings distort.

"Whoa! You okay?" Emily asked as she grabbed your forearm, while JJ held the other. They exchanged concerned looks when you didn't answer immediately. You shook your head slightly and replied,

"Yeah, yeah. Just slipped."

They didn't seem convinced but didn't press further.

"Be careful," JJ said, patting your shoulder.

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled, trying to regain your composure.

Hotch and Rossi chatted as they walked, their conversation drifting from Jack's football to other topics. Before they knew it, they'd arrived at the airstrip. As Hotch boarded the plane, he froze in surprise. You were seated next to his usual spot—an unexpected sight, given your habit of avoiding him outside of group settings or work situations. Your presence there felt nothing short of miraculous.

Not wanting to give Rossi a chance to tease him, Hotch quickly sat beside you. He was certain you hadn't noticed his arrival, as you were deeply engrossed in the case report—something you rarely worked on during flights.

His attention shifted back to Rossi when the older agent began discussing plans for a pasta dinner. From the corner of his eye, Hotch caught you glancing up, offering both him and Rossi a small smile before burying yourself in the file again. It was odd, considering the report wasn't due for days.

He didn't want to finish it quickly, knowing an empty home awaited him. No one would be there to greet him—just silent walls. Jack was on vacation with Jessica's family for the next few days, leaving Hotch alone in the city. He stole another quick glance at you, resisting the urge to look more often.

Hotch was sure he would never fall in love again after Hayley. He loved her from such a young age and so much that loving someone else felt betraying the love he had bestowed upon Hayley all those years. Even after getting a divorce, he didn't stop loving her completely. Sometimes, he liked to believe they separated not because they fell out of love, but because their love was so intense that their arguments became too painful. However, he knew this wasn't the reality. He sighed and pulled out his file.

His thoughts soon drifted to you. Lately, contemplating love inevitably led him to think of you. Sometimes you don't know what hit you until it does. Falling in love with you was the same. He was falling in and never realised until the day he got a letter. From you.

Hotch had slowly fallen in love with you. That was the truth of his life, he stayed away from for a long time. How could he stay away when your every action seemed to win his heart anew? Each time he learned something new about you, he fell a little deeper.

You were a sweet addition to the team. It didn't mean you were all the time sunshine. Everyone learnt that the hard way. He mentally chuckled at the fight you and Morgan had over dark chocolate to the extent you were ready to beat him black and blue. However, your sweet gestures towards everyone on the team always warmed his heart.

He reminded himself to remain professional. After all, he was on a plane with a group of profilers who could decipher his feelings in minutes if given the chance.

"L/N, can you tell me about the—"

"L/N?" Hotch called out again, surprised you didn't hear him the first time. Still, you didn't reply. Rossi also looked up.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He said, touching your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened?" You looked like a deer caught in headlights, making both Hotch and Rossi confused.

"Nothing happened. I was just asking you about the case," he replied, looking at you. You were looking...different. It was as if every laugh and joy had been drained from your life.

"I'll be right back," you said, standing up and moving before Hotch had a chance to stop you.

The moment you stood up, you knew you shouldn't have done that. You were far better sitting down. Now the pounding in your head intensified, along with the feeling of being shaken up to the point where you could see everything oscillating. You tried to keep yourself still, hoping your surroundings would become normal.

The next thing you knew, everything went black.

Hotch saw you swaying and moved instinctively. He caught you, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder, trying to keep you up while you were dead weight. However, it wasn't as easy as it seemed in the movies.

"Y/N? Y/N. Hey, wake up!"

"Y/N!" He squeezed your body against him.

However, his yelling got him nowhere. You didn't respond, lying still in his arms as if you were taking a nap. Hotch would have believed it if he hadn't seen you go down in front of his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out again, softly this time, yet the response was the same. He swept your hair back from your face.

Unable to keep you up, he gently lowered both of you onto the aisle. He moved his hands to your shoulders, gently shaking you, but you showed no sign of waking up.

He didn't notice anyone else until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Rossi sitting beside him, looking alarmed by the happenings. Morgan was above your head. The rest of the team was also hovering.

"What happened, man?" Morgan asked while taking the sweater Reid offered and putting it under your head.

Hotch didn't answer. He himself didn't know what was wrong with you. One minute, you were standing and the next plummeting down like the apple which led to the discovery of gravity. His hand went to your cheeks, where he felt the heat radiating. His frown appeared and deepened as he touched your forehead.

"She's burning up!" Hotch said worriedly, still keeping his tone full of calmness while his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. Having a fever is one thing but passing out from it is entirely another. He couldn't help but feel the small burning sensation in his chest at the thought of being ill, even if it was a fever.

You could hear people talking, but why would there be people at your home? You scrunched your face and blinked your eyes multiple times before fully opening them. Everything was blurry at first, but soon it became clear, along with the horrible pounding in your head. You tried to sit up, but a firm pair of arms pushed you back.

"Hey Bella, don't try to get up. Stay still."

"Wha-what happened?"

"You fainted," Hotch said. The rest of them had dispersed, knowing Hotch would take great care of you and that a crowd wouldn't help much.

"I don't feel good," you groaned, your hand massaging your head.

"Yeah, I gathered that much. Tell me what's exactly wrong, L/N?" Hotch had your hand in his, rubbing it softly to ease the pain in any way he could.

"I don't feel good," you mumbled again with half-closed eyes. You were mostly disoriented from what Hotch could figure out.

"You have a fever."

"I do?"

It was taking you time to gather what was happening. He blamed the fainting and fever. It took you time, but you slowly opened your eyes fully when you noticed Hotch still sitting at the edge of the sofa. He still held your hand, and your legs were on his lap. Being in touch with him felt like second nature; you didn't even notice until you opened your eyes. You quickly tried to pull back your legs and hand, but Hotch stopped you with his hold.

"Don't move so much, Y/N. Relax," his voice soft and calming, as always.

You sat in silence for the rest of the journey, which wasn't very long. You were clutching onto his forearm as he helped you sit up to go home. When you came outside the plane,

"Hotch, I can go home by myself," you began, your voice small, hoping to regain some of the dignity you lost after fainting in front of your entire team.

"Y/N, you can't stand straight, and you want to drive home by yourself?" Hotch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There are other ways to be suicidal than this, sweet girl," Morgan quipped, walking beside you, not that you noticed. You looked up at him and then at Hotch, concern shining in both of their eyes.

"I'm not joking," you huffed.

"Neither are we," Morgan said.

"Y/N, it's final. I'm taking you home," Hotch ordered. That's what it felt like to you.

Hotch had an arm around your waist, supporting you as your body threatened to collapse. He hurried towards your apartment, aware of your rising fever. He couldn't give you medicine without food, but he was grateful for your unfiltered speech—it revealed the extent of your discomfort.

"You know, Hotch?" you began as he fumbled with the door. You leaned against the wall for support.

"Dahlias are my favourite flowers. They symbolize change, dignity, and elegance."

"They're native to Mexico, right?" he replied as you entered the apartment.

"Yeah! You know about them?" you asked, turning your face abruptly.

"Easy, honey. No sudden moves," he cautioned. "And yes, I've picked up a few facts over the years."

"I've always loved them. So colourful, bright, and beautiful," you laughed softly.

Hotch had never heard you speak so freely. He found himself enchanted by your voice, certain you could rival Reid in flower trivia.

After settling you on the sofa, Hotch fetched water, fruit, and medicine. You tossed your shoes aside and reluctantly took the pills, groaning as you slumped back.

"You should change into something more comfortable," Hotch suggested, removing his own shoes.

You looked at him, startled. Realizing his phrasing, he quickly clarified, "I mean, you should put on some comfy clothes."

At his insistence, you changed. When you returned, Hotch had shed his coat and tie, his shirt partially unbuttoned.

"Aren't you going home?" you asked, confused.

"I'll stay tonight, in case you need anything."

"There's no need, Hotch. You must be exhausted from the case. Go home and rest. I'll be fine."

"Y/N, it's better if someone's with you tonight. You fainted on the plane. I wouldn't be able to relax not knowing how you're doing," he admitted, his voice soft.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and pillow. You both decided to watch Star Wars.

Partway through the movie, you turned to Hotch, staring intently.

"You know, Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Like, really, really love you," you said with a lopsided smile.

Hotch froze, completely still. He hadn't been this motionless since he first held Jack, afraid of hurting his newborn son. He never imagined you reciprocated his feelings, but he knew if he didn't get the conversation going right now, he not going to know about your feelings when you are not loopy due to medicine.

“Yea?”

"Mm-hmm. You're so wonderful and adorable and just... so cute. Yeah, you're intimidating at work, but the rest of the time? Totally cute."

"Oh, am I?"

Though your tongue was loosened by the medicine, you were more lucid than you let on. Having suppressed these feelings for so long, you couldn't stop now that you'd started. You wanted to tell him everything—him about all those feelings that you shouldn't have about him but you do, how couldn't help but fall for him slowly and every day seeing him made your day.

He was so handsome! His pretty dark brown chocolate-coloured eyes are swoon-worthy. Whenever you look into them, you feel hypnotized, unable to look away from them but not being present in the time; you often find yourself lost in them, forgetting his words as you gaze at him. Right now, he was looking directly at you, and you were drowning in his gaze.

How does he not realize the effect he has when he looks at someone like this?

Hotch's smile grew with each word you spoke.

"You're so handsome, ridiculously handsome. Have you seen yourself under that table lamp? You look like some movie hero poring over case files."

He blushed and glanced away at your flood of compliments. You cupped his face, turning it back to you, your eyes wide and intent. His smile made your frown melt into the biggest grin he'd ever seen on you. You looked beautiful.

"I just really like you, but I know you don't like me," you said, your voice small.

He frowned at your words.

"I love you too, honey, but I'll give you the full answer when you're well enough to remember it. Word for word," he replied softly.

You squealed with delight.

"You aren't just saying this to spare my feelings, right?" you mumbled a few moments later.

He cradled your face in his hands. "I would never say such a thing just to spare someone's feelings, Y/N. I love you. More than you can imagine."

Your questioning continued throughout the movie, but you refused to turn it off.

"You must have had many admirers in college. How many girlfriends did you have?" you asked, your head resting on his shoulder while his hand on your waist pulled you closer. Both of you kept your eyes on the TV.

"I only had one."

"No, you're lying. You're far too handsome to have had only one girlfriend your entire life."

'You can become the second.'

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, sweetheart."

"Did you just call me sweetheart?"

"You're imagining things, L/N. It's a common symptom of high fever. Of course, I didn't call you sweetheart, honey."

"Oh, but I—you just called me—"

"What?"

"Never mind. I must be imagining it."

"Yes, you're definitely imagining things."

[elliesbarbie]

hands to herself e.williams

title: hands to herself wc: 3.8k

characters: fwb!ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings: drinking, drug-use (weed), ellie being clingy as hell, public sex, cockblocking.., sub!ellie and dom!reader for like a second if u squint, dom!ellie and sub!reader, pet names (baby, angel, slut) edging, face-sitting, tribbing

summary: ellie thinks you look a little too good in that bikini you chose to wear for the annual best friend vacay and can’t keep her hands off you

a/n: this is way longer than i intended it to be…. the smut is there….. i promise….. proofread SLIGHTLY will probably make changes as time goes on. lmk if i missed anything!

you were the last one to get to the beach house. you had some complications with your car leading to you arriving a whole 3 hours late.

you were pissed to say the least.

exam season had just ended and you were so ready for your only worry to be about what swimsuit you were going to wear for the next few hours, definitely not finding out what the number for roadside assistance was.

with a long sigh you pull into the driveway, as you turn off your car you let your head fall onto the steering wheel. there’s only a brief moment of silence before you hear an excited yell coming from in front of you. you look up to find, dina, one of your best friends since high school, peaking her body through the front door and urging you to come in.

“y/n!! finally, you’re here! come in!!” dina yells and quickly turns her head over her shoulder, “jesse come help y/n with her things!” you smile, already feeling better, this is exactly what you needed after what felt like days of driving.

you turn off your headlights and get out of your car, “what’s up, y/n?” you see jesse smirk at you and slide behind dina to help you with your things. “definitely not my mood” you grumble, hardly holding back your smile as he gives you a side hug.

“hey, none of that shit, you’re here now, be happy” he draws a smile on his face with his two pointer fingers and starts on your luggage. you laugh to yourself and start to stretch your arms, you had your body in the same position for like 4 hours, you felt like a rusted slinky.

“i can get my stuff ya know” you say, coming out of your much-needed stretch, “dina will drown me in the pool if she sees you with any of this, so i got it” jesse’s words sound strained as he begins to walk into the house with two of your bags on each of his arms and you give a quick thank you.

“hey,” ellie says, her voice coming from behind you, “thought you’d need this” you quickly turn around to see her with her arm extended, holding a blunt out to you, well, rather what was left of it.

“ellie” you feel even more annoyed, “you left me like one hit” you felt yourself grow more upset until you can’t help but laugh as you take the blunt from her hand and take a hit.

“it’s the thought that counts, no?” she laughs and crosses her arms. as you exhale you give yourself a chance to look at ellie and you notice she’s already wearing her swimsuit, a black sports bra and black to green gradient swim trunks, you can see her toned stomach and muscular arms…

this is exactly the vacation you needed.

“my eyes are up here, perv” ellie smirks and steps closer to you. she wraps her right arm around your waist and puts her mouth to your ear, “dina’s watching us, let’s not give ourselves away” she lets go and heads toward the front door “c'mon” ellie flicks her head toward the door and you follow with a smile.

she’s too smooth for her own good you think to yourself as you enter the huge beach house that you and your friends rent every year.

you and ellie had history. ever since you two were in middle school, ellie would always get jealous of the other friends you had and you found yourself jealous of the girls ellie dated. then in high school is when you started questioning your feelings for her.

during a sleepover, you guys had gotten to the point of having that deep conversation at 2 AM and you ended up admitting that you had never done anything with anyone. to this, ellie laughed, not at you but at the fact that she thought you were lying straight to her face. cause in what world would no one have made a move on you yet? she knew the only reason she hadn’t was because she never wanted to ruin the friendship you guys had but when you finally were honest with each other, your friendship developed into something more.

to this day you don’t remember exactly how it got brought up but eventually, that conversation sparked the question, “should we be friends with benefits?” and from that night on you two had a countless number of late-night meetups, quickies, and “bathroom breaks”. at first, it started out as “ellie is teaching me things so i don’t have to be embarrassed for my first time” into “ellie, i'm horny. let's fuck”.

as soon as you walked through the door, dina is greeting you with a big hug, “we’re gonna have the best time” she smirks and walks over to the kitchens island, “jesse’s putting your bags away in the room now and when he gets back the party begins so, y/n, i suggest you get ready” you can hear the excitement in her voice as she goes to make everyone drinks.

you laugh and make your way upstairs, catching a glance at ellie on the couch before opening the door to your room.

“you’re a fast worker, jesse, thank you” you say as jesse puts your last bag down and winks at you, “you know it! now don’t take too long getting ready, we’ve already been waiting forever” jesse yells as he walks out of your room and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes.

you open your bag to find the swimsuit ellie bought you for your birthday

perfect you think

you slip on the polyester bikini, take your hair down from your loose ponytail and you’re already out of your room. it fits you perfectly, it’s a pink string bikini that barely covers anything. just ellie’s type.

as you stride down the stairs you can feel ellie’s eyes on you. a little teasing wouldn’t hurt, would it? you think to yourself as you start to sway your hips. you can see her tense, this is the first time you're wearing this swimsuit since she got it for you.

you feel a sense of pride knowing the kind of effect you have on her.

"what's on the menu tonight, barista?" you lean over the marble-covered island making sure to accentuate your ass. dina turns around with the freshly made drinks in her hands, "pink gin spritz and strawberry mojitos" she carefully walks over to the sliding glass door, "gonna put these outside, meet us out there!" you see the door seamlessly open by itself until jesse appears, taking some of the drinks from dina to help her set on the outdoor bar.

before you can even comprehend the sound of rustling on the couch behind you, you feel a hand on your lower back. "knew you'd look fucking perfect in this" ellie breathes onto your neck, barely above a whisper. with her presence comes the smell of teakwood and weed.

her hand travels further down and rests on the small of your back right before your ass. "you're drivin' me crazy, babe" your breath hitches as her pointer finger hooks under one of the strings holding your bottoms on. "would be so easy to just," you can feel her finger start to work at the knot when you quickly shoo her hand away.

"dina and jesse are right outside, waiting for us mind you" when you turn around, ellie's face is inches away from yours. god, if it weren't for the pair outside you would be in her pants within seconds. her emerald eyes stare into yours with such lust your knees about give out.

“ellie” your voice drags. ellie moves her hands slowly from your hips to your waist. humming in response. her hands move higher and higher as they start to graze the bottom of your breasts, moving her thumbs back and forth, barely touching the tips of your areolas.

“so pretty” ellie hums, flicking her eyes between your tits and your eyes, practically giving you puppy dog eyes. you groan and clasp your hands around hers, pulling them away and to her side, “you said it yourself, let’s not give ourselves away” you start towards the sliding glass door and glance behind you, “keep it in your pants, williams”

she scoffs and follows you out.

the luminescent lights flood your vision as you step outside, there’s a cool breeze along with loud music, it’s honestly a beautiful sight. there’s lights hanging over the pool, connected to the patio, and even colorful lights in the pool. you spot jesse on one of the lounge chairs with a beer in hand and want a drink of your own.

walking over to the bar, you decide on a strawberry mojito and see ellie pop-up on the other side of the bar. “what are you drinking tonight?” you take a sip of your cocktail, humming in delight. “you” she says nonchalantly and you can’t help but laugh, “el, pick a drink, im getting in the pool” as you turn to walk over to the pool you can see ellie throw her head back, you’re loving this.

the cool water feels so good as you slowly step into the shallow end. you put your glass on the ledge and dip your shoulders under, leaving your head out of the water. you stand up and walk over to your drink, taking a sip before leaning your head on the ledge, watching ellie get into the pool. as her stomach reaches the cool water she hisses and her stomach tenses, at this rate you’re just about as horny as her. you break out of your daze when she fully submerges herself under water.

it feels like the music fades out when she comes up, her eyes lock with yours, she’s just so beautiful, especially in this lighting. her hair slicked back, freckles showing, flushed face, and her lips curling into a smile. she was just so gorgeous. you almost forgot your close friends were there when she walked towards you and spun you around, wrapping her arms around your waist and settling her head on your shoulder.

you wanted to kiss her so bad right now. you felt yourself grow needier and tried to push down the feeling of your clit pulsing, you needed some kind of friction. silently begging ellie to catch on. and it was like the gods heard your thoughts.

ellie’s knee pushed your legs apart, resting in-between the both of them. you tense, there’s a the tiniest bit of friction and it feels oh so good, but it’s not enough it just makes you more and more needy. you’re losing your train of thought when dina speaks up, “ellie sure is clingy tonight” she giggles as she gets in the pool with a huge flamingo floaty. “you know how she is when she gets high, dina” you’re trying to avoid any questions arising between the group, but ellie just makes things harder.

you can feel her arms loosen around your waist, only for them to find your hips. she buries her face in your neck and above above a whisper she asks you, “can i move them?” she gives your hips a tight squeeze to make sure you understood what she meant. you’re surprised with how fast you respond, turning your head to the side to avoid dina, “please” your hand grasps onto ellie’s and you can feel her smirk on your skin.

she starts out slowly, as to not being much attention to you guys. jesse had gotten in the water and was actively trying to flip dina off her float so it wasn’t hard to go unnoticed.

her hands grip to your side like her life depends on it, the thin layer of your bikini makes every movement feel more enhanced. your clit moved back and forth between the fabric of her swim trunks and onto her leg, the difference of texture making you ache.

“jesse stop!” dina yells and you both practically crack your necks looking over to them. dina was over jesses shoulder, hitting him on his back. “stop fussing! we’re at the beach, i wanna go to the beach” he makes his way over to the back screen door uses a hand to unlock it, “we’ll be down here if you need us!” jesse practically yells.

but you can barely hear him with ellie’s hands lingering ever so close to your pussy. she wastes no time in turning you to face her and places you two onto the stairs of the pool. she’s immediately on your neck, placing quick and sloppy kisses all over.

“such a fucking tease. dressed like this and not letting me touch you?” she hums into your neck, taking a breath in-between kisses to get her words out. you feel as if you’d float away if she let go of you. her hands were attached to your hips, grinding them harshly against her thigh. you moan into her touch and can feel the heat form between your legs.

“el-lie… hold on” you whine and that finally gets ellie’s attention. “what, babe? am i going too fast for you?” the auburn girl tilts her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. a fake frown forms on her face before you respond. “not here, dina and jesse are- “ she cuts you off with a kiss, it’s slower this time, “gone. they’re all the way down at the beach, probably doing the exact thing we’re about to do, so…” ellie’s voice trails off as her thumb rubs over your pulsing clothed clit.

you shudder. “d-don’t bring them up right now” you sigh, arching your back into her. it’s your turn to kiss her now, tilting your head you kiss her slowly at first, wrapping your hands in her hair and tugging. ellie whines into your mouth and you pull her off your mouth.

she looked so good like this. face flushed, head tilted back, lips pink and swollen. her pupils were so dilated you were concerned for a second. only a second. before you lean into her ear and whisper, “want to fuck me in the hot tub?”

ellie practically moans at the thought. as you let go of her hair she grabs at the backs of your thighs and massages them. you gently remove her hands and slide off of her. “needy, huh? follow me, baby” you slowly climb up the steps and over the to the isolated pavilion on the other side of the porch.

ellie is following you like a puppy-dog, practically drooling at the sight of your now, wet body. that bathing suit was the perfect idea, she thought.

as you step into the hot tub, you groan. if you weren’t hot already, you were now. you barely get a chance to adjust when ellie wraps her hands around you to grope your tits. she’s pushing you into the back of the hot tub, you could feel a jet in front of you. “what do you think would happen if we turned this on…” ellie reaches one of her hands up and turns the jets on with a small press of a button.

the hot water hits your pussy and you physically jump back. it’s hits right on your clit, you’re a whining mess. “ellie…. el this is too much” you’re grabbing at her hands, her arms, the side of the tub, but nothing works. ellie continues on your tits, face submerged in the side of your neck, working on your jawline. “too much, angel? seeing you in this suit was too much for me, but you didn’t show me mercy, did you?” you moan.

“ah- i… just wanted to” your mind is scrambled, the pressure on your clit along with all the attention on your tits and neck almost makes you cum. and ellie can tell. just as you start to shake. ellie let’s you go.

you’ve never looked back quicker. it looks like ellie’s gone. you’re confused for a second until you see her submerge from the water, shake off her hair, and stare at your ass. “god damn” ellie looks up into your eyes while she slowly leans you forward, giving her full access to your ass. bent over the hot tub, she gropes your ass. gives it quick kisses and gentle smacks. “so pretty for me, such a fucking slut” she squats down in the water and uses her pointer finger to rub your throbbing clit.

“ellie, please. need it so bad” you grind your ass on her fingertip hoping for some kind of friction as you feel her slide your swim suit bottoms down your ass. “look at how wet you are for me” you can hear her smirk as she spreads your lips with her pointer and middle finger. you could practically cum on the spot.

“stand up for me, baby” as you move, ellie slides to sit under you and immediately brings your hips down. her lips connecting to your clit in seconds. sucking harshly, she grips your thighs, massaging them. “el… god, fuck!” you whine, grinding your hips on her face, her tongue flat against your pussy, letting you use her for your pleasure.

“that’s it baby, all needy for me” ellie moans on your clit. you can feel your orgasm catching up to you quickly, ellies tongue lapping at your wet hole and moving up to do quick circles on your sensitive nerve has you trembling in seconds. “ellie! ellie! fuck!” you ride out your orgasm on her tongue while you try to relax your breathing.

ellie gives your clit a quick kiss before slowly bringing you back down into the water. “so good for me, angel, always so pretty” ellie whispers into your ear and cups your face with her hands, dragging you in for a kiss. you eagerly slip your tongue into her mouth. when you break away there’s a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“ellie, you’re pretty too, you know” tilting your head, it’s your turn to make her feel good.

“was thinking about you, earlier” you slowly grind your hips against her trunks, she spreads her legs slowly, allowing more access. “oh yeah?” ellie smirks and your hands travel to her toned stomach.

“thought about… your abs and your arms” your hands roam her body. “touching me..” you whimper as ellie’s hips move up to meet yours, in slow thrusts. she whispers curses under her breath. she somehow maneuvers her hands under you and slips off her swim trunks, shuddering at the heat of the water.

“fuck, baby, you’re killing me” ellie leans her head back when your hips speed up, you lean forward to kiss on her neck. sucking at her sensitive skin, you can feel her moan, “come on, make me cum, angel” ellie’s hands are in your hair when your lips travel up to meet hers.

your hands eagerly grope her clothed tits as her head falls back again “f-uuuck, baby, im close” your hips speed up as she tightly grips at your hips. her head is cuddling into your shoulder as she finally comes down from her own orgasm and you follow close behind her.

you become a whining mess in her mouth. chanting her name, yet again, and she loves every second of it.

“always so good for me” ellie takes your hands in hers and pulls them down to her side. you lean down and kiss her, “remind me not to wear this suit in front of you again” you giggle and see ellie scoff.

“please, i already know what your next birthday gift will be”

[just-jordie-things]

just like my crush - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, reader is doped up from anesthesia summary: confessing that you have a crush on someone really isn't that hard. all it takes is anesthesia clouding your judgment. a/n: brought to you by my lovely nanami flowershop anon's beautiful brain !!!

___

Injuries in this line work wasn’t unusual.  Someone was always occupying Shoko’s little infirmary and keeping her busy.  Nasty gashes, sprained wrists, broken bones- it was practically a part of the job description.  No, it wasn’t pretty, but at least with a master of the Reverse Cursed Technique on site, the mishaps that came with assignments never lasted too long.

Because of this expectation, Megumi had never been put in a position where he worried over someone’s well being after an exorcism gone awry.  He’d had life threatening wounds get healed more times than he could count on both hands, hell, Yuji lost a hand and got that back! 

So why did he feel sick to his stomach when she took a bad hit during an assignment? Why did his throat close up too tight for him to explain the situation to the manager on the assignment? Or to Ieiri when he got her back to campus? Why was there a cold sweat racing down his spine, but his insides felt like they were on fire? 

Despite all of Ieiri’s insisting that (y/n) was fine, that she’d gotten here just in time, that she was healed and would wake up at any time- likely without the memory of what happened- and that she would still be fine then… Megumi didn’t tear himself out of that room in the infirmary even once.  

When she does wake up- two days and a couple hours later- he doesn’t look too good.  He’d pale and he’s been bouncing his leg for so long it’s gone numb, but the relief that washes over him brings some color back to his face.

Her eyelashes flicker about a few times before she finally opens her eyes, but his attention is drawn to the way her hand twitches above the stark white sheets.

“Hey,” He murmurs, as quiet as he can stand to speak.  He didn’t want to startle her, and he thinks that if she were to flinch back at him, he’d flinch too.  “(y/n), you awake?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything right away.

Then her eyes finally find him, and with a hazy gloss over her blown pupils, she smiles.  It’s slow, and so, so impaired, but it’s pretty nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,” 

Her voice is strained, likely from not having been used for a couple days, but the light and breezy way in which she speaks is enough for him to know that her anesthetics haven’t worn off.  The stoner-like smile also tipped him off pretty well, but Megumi’s sure now.

“You know who you look like?” 

It’s not the question Megumi’s expecting, and his confusion is obvious in the way a tiny knot forms between his brows.  He would’ve thought  ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’ would be in order, but maybe the anesthesia was more on top of her than he would’ve thought, so he hums in response and waits for her explanation.  Surely she’ll have something silly to say, it wouldn’t be the first time she called him a sea urchin for his messy hair.

“You look jus’ like my crush” (y/n) half-slurs back.  She tilted her head in his direction, trying to get a better look at him from where she was laying, but the rest of her body felt too heavy to move.

Megumi’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself a small laugh comes out.  Confusion, humor, and disbelief blend into the overwhelming relief in knowing that Ieiri hadn’t been lying to him to protect his feelings.  (y/n) would be completely fine.

Maybe a little bit high, but still, completely fine.

Her shoulders shake in the slightest when she laughs in response to his own little chuckle, delighted purely by his reaction.

“I’m serious,” She mumbles out, eyes falling heavy for a minute the longer she stares at him.  “And it’s a compliment too, b’cause he’s, like, really cute”  “I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone” Megumi hums, leaning his elbows against the edge of her cot so that he could prop his chin in his hands.  Amusement flickers in his eyes when her expression noticeably shifts.  Her eyes widen and her lips part but no words come out.  Was he actually making her nervous? Who the hell did he look like in her eyes right now that had her reacting like this? 

Megumi can’t recall a time she’d ever talked to him about crushing on anyone.  Nothing of the sort, not even a hint.  And he’d definitely never seen the ruthless sorcerer appear so… 

Well, she looked like a girl with a crush.  A blush was forming on her cheeks the longer he held eye contact with her, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched and betrayed her as she tried to bite back a smile.

“Y-yeah, duh,” She stammers back at him with a sassy roll of her eyes.  Megumi’s quick to push his hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter.  “The point of a crush is it’s secret” 

“So you’re not gonna tell me then?” He asks curiously.

She probably didn’t know it, but (y/l/n) (y/n) was the only person in the world that got to see the playful side of him.  It was hard not to act on his intrigue, though.  It was too entertaining to see her in this state… and the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage made him ache to know more.

But she shakes her head against her pillow, sealing her lips shut to further prove her point.  She’s still smiling, though, and she hasn’t torn her eyes off of his since she woke up.

“How’re you feeling, anyways?” Megumi decides to steer the topic back to one of more importance.  “Anything hurt? Can I get you anything-?” 

“Even your eyes are pretty like his,” She interrupts him, and then sighs as though this was a large inconvenience for her.  “You must be related,” She says matter-of-factly.

He hopes that when the drugs wear off she doesn’t remember this moment, because Megumi knows his face is as red as a tomato with how fiery his skin feels.  A nervous laugh bubbles out of him before he could choke it down, and her whole face lights up in response.

“You must not get compliments often, huh?” She teases in a slow drawl.

“I… I guess not,” He says, followed by more nervous laughter that happens against his will.  “But thank you, (y/n).  That’s very… kind” 

He’s painfully awkward, and he knows that as soon as he leaves this room he’s going to overthink this entire interaction, but for now he tries to bask in the warmth that sparks from knowing she thinks he has pretty eyes.  Or at least, she does when she’s so doped up she can’t quite focus on a conversation.

But at least she's obviously not in any pain.  Megumi’s worries begin to melt away, but that might just be the work of her flattery.

“You’re welcome,” She grins back at him, but she just as soon furrows her brows and regards him curiously.  Even after staring at him so shamelessly, she suddenly doesn’t appear to recognize him one bit.  “I thought Megumi only had a sister, though”

It comes out in a mumble, and he’s sure that she’s talking to herself in her deluded state, but the rush of heat that floods his chest and shoots up his neck is nearly too much to bear.

She actually didn’t recognize him this whole time? Was she talking about him this whole time? Was the flattery not a drug-induced misconception and actually-?

Before he can settle on a question to ask her to clear his confusion, she’s settling back into her pillow and her eyes are falling shut.  Megumi opens his mouth, ready to force out the first thing that comes to mind, but she drifts off almost immediately.  Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements.

It felt like a cruel prank.

Now he was left sitting and gaping at her unconscious form.  His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing again, and Megumi thinks he might be even more anxious for her to wake up this time.

He decides then and there that when she does, and when she’s of sound mind again, he’ll ask her about it.  Because if she really did have a crush on him he’d have to finally get over his ridiculous anxiety and make a move. ___

A week after making a full recovery, (y/n) comes to the decision that if she wants Megumi to talk to her, she’ll just have to corner him.

She’s not sure why he hasn’t been talking to her- hence her cornering plan- but ever since her last assignment had gone awry and she’d been put on a minor hold, he’d been dodging her.  And sure, Megumi wasn’t always the most sociable guy, but he was a friend and even if he didn’t feel like hanging out, he wouldn’t completely ghost her like this.

Of course she’d tried asking Yuji and Nobara about it, but they were a dead end.  They’d been just as surprised as she was that he’d been avoiding her.

I thought you were best friends, Yuji had frowned at the idea of a falling out between his two friends that he cared about so much.

Maybe he realized you have a crush on him and pussied out, Nobara had cackled at the scenario, not feeling an ounce of worry that this weird bump wouldn’t get resolved.

Needless to say, (y/n) was quick to steer her investigation far away from them, before the blabbermouths could do what they do best and blab around the wrong people.

She corners him while doing laundry, of all things.

“Hey,” 

And when she walks into the room while he’s tossing his freshly washed laundry into the dryer, Megumi hits his head on the lid when he swivels around in shock to see her there.

“Oh god, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine- it’s fine,” He answers all too quickly, before she’s even finished her question.  “I’m almost done with the washing machine” 

(y/n) can’t help but chuckle a little bit, seeing as she wasn’t currently holding a basket of laundry, but Megumi’s already back to filling up the dryer.  It appears every piece of clothing he tosses in is monochrome- mostly black, but a few gray pieces here and there.  This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is a bit funny.

“I actually was looking for you,” She tells him, leaning against the doorframe.  It’s half casual, and half to block his only escape.  Megumi responds with a small hum, still putting all of his focus on moving the laundry.  “Are you upset with me?” 

The question has him swiveling again, finally giving her his undivided attention.  It’s a bit unnerving, the way he straightens up and goes rigid as he stares back at her in bewilderment.  She wants to be annoyed that he has the audacity to look confused when he was the one that had been avoiding her for days, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt 

“Upset? No.  No of course not” He answers, and his words are so certain, that she believes him straight away.  But the small bit of truth doesn’t provide much relief.

“Then how come you’ve been dodging me?” She asks, unable to help her frown.  What other reason could there be? If he’s not mad at something, why would act so flaky?

“I haven’t been dodging you” 

“That’s a lie” 

“It’s not?” 

“It is,” She crosses her arms defensively.  “You haven’t been answering your phone and you always have some excuse to not talk to me.  Did I do something?” 

“Not really” 

He winces as soon as the answer leaves his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to get so careless- but it also wasn’t like him to avoid her.  Really, he was falling apart at the seams and trying quite desperately to appear as though everything was normal.  

It wasn’t working.  (y/n) could see the panic in his eyes as clear as day.  Not to mention the way his lips twitched like he was holding back further explanation.  She narrows her eyes as she studies him carefully.

“Not really?” She repeats his lame answer.  “So sort of? So I did do something?” 

Megumi’s certain that she chose to stand in the doorway so he couldn’t make an easy escape.  Would it be immature to summon the rabbits? 

“(y/n) it’s- it’s fine.  It’s me, alright?” He’s not very convincing.

“So you did something?” Another question he doesn’t want to answer.

“No- just- not really- it was just-” He stammers, and then groans, tilting his head back and glaring at the fluorescent light hanging over him.  

He recalls the way he’d sworn to himself that he’d talk to her about her little anesthesia-induced confession, and kicks himself now for cowering out of it.  Megumi never really ran away from a challenge, even when he knew he was in over his head.  But something about standing before her now and explaining how she’d inadvertently confessed to having a crush on him makes his heart beat out of sync and his throat go dry.

“Look I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” (y/n) sighs, giving up on interrogating him so heavily.  “So just… whatever it is, can we talk about it?” 

And he swoons, actually swoons.  His knees physically feel weak and he has to resist the urge to let all of his muscles relax and sink towards the ground.  It was so sweet, so considerate of her to want to mend the nonexistent conflict between them.  Megumi didn’t think it was possible to like her more than he already did, but she had a knack for proving him wrong.

So with an anxious breath, he thinks screw it and just lets it out.

“Do you remember waking up and talking to me in the infirmary?”

Her brows furrow, giving him her answer, and then her features soften with realization.

“You visited me in the infirmary?” She asks, almost in a whisper.  No, she didn’t remember, and no one had told her she’d had any visitors during her short stay there.

Megumi nods his head.

“Yeah, I… I stayed till you woke up.  And you did, for a couple minutes anyways, but you were pretty out of it.  Anesthesia and all” He explains.

She tries to rack her memory for any hazy glimpse of talking to Megumi in Shoko’s clinic, but nothing comes to mind.  She feels a little guilty now, having forgotten so easily.

“Okay…” She trails off, waiting for the rest of his explanation.  “So… something happened then?” 

Megumi hesitates, his expression twisted in mild displeasure, like he just stubbed his toe or has to deliver an oral presentation.  (y/n) tries to be patient, she really does, but the longer he draws this out the larger the pit in her stomach grows.

“Yeah,” The word comes out through a heavy breath, and he pauses for just a moment longer before admitting the last detail.  “You… you sort of confessed that you have a crush on me” 

“Oh,” 

Relief settles into her bones, and then a spike of panic.

“Oh” 

Her eyes are widening and her arms wrap tighter around herself, fingers digging into the sides of her ribs as if she could possibly ground herself with her anxiety reaching an all time high.

For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t this anxious when that Grade One tried to take a massive bite out of her body.

“You were really out of it, though,” Megumi says quickly.  “You were just… high.  You probably just couldn’t see or think straight-” 

“No, I wasn’t just high,” She cuts him off with surprising calmness in her voice, and a short shake of her head.  “I do.  Have a crush on you, I mean.  I didn’t… obviously I didn’t intend to tell you that, but, I guess high-me can’t keep a secret, so…” 

She trails off with a bashful giggle that would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t already filled to the brim with embarrassment.  Megumi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything.  The corner of his mouth twitches a few times too, and still, he’s standing in bewildered silence before her.

It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he was eighty-five percent sure that she’d meant what she said while she was still under the influence of the anesthetics, but that fifteen percent of uncertainty was his paranoia getting the best of him.  But now she was of sound mind, dead sober, and dead serious as she stared at him and awaited some sort of reaction.

No real reaction came, unless you counted the drumming of his fingers against his side, slow at first, but picking up speed the longer they both stood there and waited for the other to say something.

Megumi knows he should say something, and probably something along the lines of; well that’s a relief because I’m actually crushing on you so hard I don’t know what to do with myself… but unfortunately, he really didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Do I even want to know how badly I embarrassed myself?” (y/n) breaks the silence with a nervous but curious smile.

“You said I looked just like your crush,” He explained, heat flooding to his face as he recalled the other things she said.  “It was actually the first thing you said when you woke up,” 

She has to laugh at that a little, to which Megumi feels some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.  The tension in the room also starts to thin out, much to his relief.

“Then you went on about how cute your crush was.  And when I tried to ask how you were feeling, after, you know, surgery and all that, you ignored me and said…” He rubs the back of his neck, growing shy as he realized he was rambling and the subject matter already had his heart racing.

“Oh god… what?” (y/n) gasps, eyes widening, hoping she didn’t let out some dirty thought that she worked very hard to keep in the back of her mind.

“You said I had pretty eyes, and then you sorta let it slip that I was your crush, so I guess you didn’t realize you were talking to me the whole time… and then you passed back out” 

She’s laughing again, but this time she covers her face with her hands in a pitiful attempt to hide her blush until it goes away.  A small groan dies at the back of her throat.  The second hand embarrassment from her past-inebriated-self was just too much.

After all this time she's done so well at keeping her feelings under wraps, of never letting it be known with a slip of tongue or lingering touch, only to tell him so brazenly while in a hospital cot… it was ridiculous.

“God… I’m so sorry, that’s… wow, that’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done” She starts off looking at him, but ends up muttering to herself and looks away, still overwhelmed by the mortification of it all.

A small smile graces Megumi’s face, and in a moment of being true to his word, he musters up the courage to speak up before she could walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.

“It was more cute than humiliating,” He tells her, and she peeks back up at him in soft surprise.  “Maybe just a little embarrassing, just a little… but… still cute” His voice gets softer the longer she looks at him and he starts to lose the confidence he started out so strong with, but he still holds her gaze, hoping that she’ll know he means it.

“Cute?” She repeats in quiet disbelief.  Megumi nods back at her with absolute certainty and sincerity.

He gives into another bout of a confidence boost and takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between them.  (y/n) practically scrambles to straighten up away from the doorframe, her shoulders squaring and her eyes widening as she watches him move towards her.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you have pretty eyes, too,” 

It’s quieter than he intends, but his words are effective in replacing the nervous tension in the room with something much more palpable.  The electricity buzzing between them was so thick they were practically choking on it.

(y/n) smiles, slow at first, processing the sudden compliment, and then all once.  Every inch of her skin warmed from the sweet words, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt flattery like this before.  She’s never taken a compliment so to heart, never known that she was going to go to sleep that night playing it over and over in her head.

Megumi’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, admiring the way she lights up with delight before him, and then he opens his mouth again.

“They look just like my crush’s” 

Her brows furrow and despite that feeling of embarrassment spiking in her chest again, the corner of her lips curl into a smirk that gives into a smile almost immediately after.  Megumi’s clearly amused by this reaction, laughing to himself like he was so proud of his own tease.

“That’s so corny” She mutters, before stepping away from the doorway and closing the last bit of distance between them.

Despite his nerves he anticipates her movements, large hands finding purchase on her hips and practically yanking her the rest of the way that it takes to have her body against his.  There’s no extra time for words before their lips crash fast.  The kiss is surprisingly tender for how rushed their movements were, but it had them both melting into the other right away.

Her hands are gentle as they smooth over his shoulders before wrapping lightly at the nape of his neck.  Her fingers poke into the dark strands of hair that hang there, and when she curls a few locks between her index and middle finger, he presses his lips against hers with a little more fervor.

Even once they part from one another, neither one goes very far.  Gasping for air with lips still brushing each other’s, noses bumping, and hands still holding on tight all in the name of not putting an inch of distance between them.

Still no words are exchanged as they share a look before both glancing at the open doorway behind them.  It doesn’t take verbal communication for Megumi to reach behind her to grab the door by the handle and swing it shut.  The only sound that fills the room is the white noise buzzing from the dryer cycle, and the soft giggle that’s immediately suppressed by warm, inviting lips pressing against hers again.

___

a/n: thank u again my amazing nanami flowershop anon for this really fun idea. also i just love playful megumi. he's so cute n shy <3

xoxo ~ jordie

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 10

PROMPT: "Do that again."

KINK: Shower Sex

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Shower Sex. Fingering. P in V.) I Mentions of injury and blood (from his job)

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

TAG LIST: @missmarveledsblog I @shanimallina87

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

You stood on the deck, the ocean breeze tousling your hair as your eyes remained locked on the horizon. Bradley should’ve been back by now. Jake too. It had been a routine mission, nothing unusual, and yet… they were late. Much too late.

Beside you, Phoenix shifted nervously, her eyes scanning the same stretch of sky. You caught her glance, both of you exchanging a look that said more than words ever could. They were cutting it too close, and the quiet hum of anxiety had turned into a loud, throbbing pulse in your chest.

Every muscle in your body was tense as you waited. A bead of sweat slid down your back, the anxiety knotting tighter with every second of silence. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold on to the hope that they would appear, that everything would be fine.

Then, just as you were about to lose faith, a small speck appeared in the distance. You squinted, straining to make out the shape. It was a jet. Bradley’s jet. Relief started to flood through your veins—until you saw the smoke trailing behind him. Black, billowing smoke, thick and ominous, curling into the sky like an unwelcome shadow.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, and your breath caught in your throat. The plane was damaged—badly. You could see the flames licking at the tail end, and the panic you’d been holding at bay suddenly rushed forward, threatening to overwhelm you.

Beside you, Phoenix stiffened. You didn’t have a headset to hear the communication, but you didn’t need one. Bradley was in trouble. It was all over his damaged plane, the smoke, the way it wobbled unsteadily as he approached for a landing.

A few seconds later, you saw Jake’s plane come into view, circling Bradley as if he were trying to protect him from an unseen enemy. But there was nothing they could do—this was on Bradley now.

You held your breath as his plane descended, too fast, too rough, skidding along the runway in a shower of sparks. It was a hard landing, but somehow, miraculously, he managed to keep the jet in one piece.

As soon as the plane came to a stop, the deck exploded into action. People rushed toward the smoking wreckage, emergency teams on high alert. You stood frozen for a moment, your mind struggling to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. Then, your feet moved on their own, carrying you toward the man you loved without hesitation.

You barely registered the people darting around you as your focus zeroed in on Bradley. He was getting out of the cockpit, slowly, gingerly, like every movement hurt. Payback and Fanboy were already there, throwing his arms over their shoulders as they helped him out.

That’s when you saw him.

Blood streaked the left side of his face, his flight suit torn and singed. His left leg dragged slightly as he limped between his friends, his breathing labored, shallow. But somehow, through it all, he was smiling. That familiar, infuriatingly charming smile you knew so well.

You stopped just in front of him, your chest tight, your throat thick with unshed tears. Bradley looked up at you, his eyes tired but full of warmth. He gave you a small, lopsided grin, his voice hoarse as he said, “Hey, Sweetheart.”

It was as if he hadn’t just been through hell, as if he hadn’t come within inches of disaster. As if he hadn’t almost died.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms carefully around his torso. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he winced slightly at the pressure, but he didn’t pull away. His arms came around you, one hand resting gently on the back of your head as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He then buried his face into your neck and shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded against his chest, the smell of jet fuel and smoke clinging to him. 

“You scared me,” you mumbled into his flight suit, your voice breaking with the weight of all the emotions you were trying to keep in check.

Before he could say anything more, Payback cleared his throat. “We need to get him to medical,” he reminded you gently. “He’s in rough shape.”

You reluctantly pulled away, your hands still resting on his sides. “I know,” you said, your voice shaking. 

His hand brushed yours as they started to pull him away from you, and you clung to that small touch like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I’ll be fine,” Bradley rasped, his eyes flicking to yours.

You nodded, but you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him—or yourself.

* * * *

Later that night as you stood there at the vanity, the shock of seeing Bradley's blood on your skin sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like a distant reminder of just how close you had come to losing him, a tangible symbol of the fear that had been gnawing at you all day. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the dried streaks on your forehead and neck, realizing how tightly you must have held onto him after he landed—desperate to keep him grounded, to reassure yourself that he was still there.

You quickly turned on the faucet, the steam rising as the water heated. Grabbing a washcloth, you soaked it in the hot water and began scrubbing at the blood. At first, you wiped gently, watching as the reddish-brown stains started to fade, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t just the blood; it was the memory of seeing him hurt, the panic that had consumed you the moment his smoking plane appeared on the horizon.

So you scrubbed harder. The heat from the water mixed with the roughness of the cloth as you pressed it against your skin, trying to erase every trace of the day’s events. But no matter how much you scrubbed, it felt like it wasn’t enough. You could still feel it—the weight of the fear, of nearly losing Bradley, lingering beneath the surface.

Your hands moved faster, rubbing your forehead and neck with such intensity that the skin turned bright red. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. It was as if you were trying to scrub away not just the blood but the overwhelming emotions that came with it—the helplessness, the terror.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, scrubbing at your skin, lost in the repetitive motion. All you knew was that your breath had grown shallow, your fingers trembling as they dragged the cloth across your skin again and again, desperate to wash away something that couldn’t be seen.

As your hands moved frantically under the running water, scrubbing harder and harder at the remnants of dried blood, you didn’t hear Bradley approach. You were too lost in your own thoughts, too consumed by the need to erase the day’s horrors from your skin, as if by doing so you could rid yourself of the fear that had rooted deep inside you.

Without warning, Bradley’s warm hands gently closed around yours, stopping you mid-motion. The sudden stillness broke the trance, and you blinked, looking down to see his larger hands wrapped around your own, pulling them away from your reddened skin.

"Hey," he said softly, concern lacing his voice. "That’s enough."

You stared at the stark contrast between his tanned fingers and your flushed, raw skin. Your knuckles were white from gripping the washcloth so tightly, your hands trembling slightly in his grip. You hadn’t even realized how hard you’d been scrubbing, how red and irritated your skin had become. It felt like you could still feel Bradley’s blood on you, a phantom sensation that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried.

“I just... I couldn’t stop,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you met his eyes in the mirror. “It’s like I can still feel it.”

Bradley’s face softened, and he gave your hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them, guiding the washcloth from your grasp and setting it aside. 

He cupped your face tenderly, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t even realized were slipping down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he said quietly, his voice steady, grounding you in the moment. His hazel eyes locked onto yours, filled with a calm reassurance. “I’m right here. You don’t need to do this.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “For a moment... I thought I was going to be a widow. A month into being your wife, and I thought I’d lost you.”

Bradley’s face fell for just a second, a flicker of pain crossing his expression before he quickly hid it behind a soft, sad smile. He tilted his forehead down to rest against yours, his voice low and gentle. 

“It’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me,” he murmured, trying to lighten the mood just enough, but you could hear the weight behind his words.

You let out a shaky laugh, though it was more from the release of pent-up emotion than anything. The tension that had been coiling inside you all day finally began to ease, if only a little.

Bradley pressed a kiss to your forehead, the same spot where his blood had been smeared earlier. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I just...” Your voice cracked as you struggled to find the words. “Seeing you like that... I didn’t know if you were okay. I thought...”

“I know,” he whispered, cutting you off gently. “I’m okay now. I promise.”

He pulled you into his arms then, holding you against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You let yourself sink into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, feeling his solid presence against you. His hand moved to the back of your head, cradling you as he pressed his lips to your hair.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”

You felt the dam break, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilling over. You clung to him, your body shaking with quiet sobs as the reality of everything came crashing down. Bradley didn’t say anything more—he just held you, letting you cry into his chest, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back.

After a while, when the sobs had subsided and your breathing had calmed, he leaned back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up? You’ll feel better.”

You shook your head, the thought of leaving him even for a moment felt unbearable. “I don’t want to.”

His brow furrowed in concern, but then a playful spark lit up his eyes. “Do you want to get cleaned up together?”

A small smile formed on your lips at the suggestion, warmth blooming in your chest. You nodded, the thought of being in the shower with him, washing away the day’s tension, felt comforting.

Bradley’s smile widened, clearly pleased with your answer. “Alright then,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s make this a team effort.”

Without hesitation, he pulled off his shirt, revealing his toned chest. You couldn’t help but admire him for a moment, your heart fluttering as he tossed the fabric aside. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he slid off his shorts, standing before you in just his boxer briefs.

“Don’t think I’m the only one getting undressed,” he said, taking a step closer, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt.

You felt a rush of warmth as he gently lifted your shirt over your head, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He took his time, his touch careful and deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment.

Once your top was off, he stepped back momentarily to admire you, his gaze appreciative and full of affection. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but it felt good. It felt safe.

“Now for these,” he said, his voice low as he moved to help you with your shorts. He crouched slightly, fingers deftly unbuttoning and pulling them down your legs. The moment felt intimate, yet reassuring, a sense of shared vulnerability that washed over you both.

Once you were both left with nothing covering your bodies, you glanced up at him.  A small smile formed on his lips as he asked, “Ready?”

“Always,” you replied, as he reached for your hand.

He reached into the shower and adjusted the temperature. As the steam began to rise, Bradley stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you against him. The warmth of the water cascaded down, enveloping both of you.

“See? This is much better,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned back into him, the weight of the day beginning to lift with each drop of water that slid down your skin.

With a gentle touch, he began to wash your back, his fingers massaging your shoulders as the warmth of the water wrapped around you like a cocoon. You closed your eyes, letting the moment wash over you, allowing yourself to relax.

“Let it go,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I’ve got you.”

As the warm water cascaded over you, the tension in your body began to ease, but Bradley could still feel the tightness in your shoulders and the way your breaths came a bit too quickly. He was determined to help you unwind fully, despite having been the one who had just gone through such a harrowing experience.

He turned you gently to face him, their bodies silhouetted against the steamy backdrop of the shower. His hands, warm and inviting, moved over your skin, working out the knots with a deftness that sent tingles through your body. With each gentle caress, he made it his mission to help you forget the world outside.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

As his fingers traveled down your arms and shoulders, you closed your eyes, surrendering to his touch. But then, his hands began to drift, sliding down to your chest. His fingers found your breasts, kneading the soft skin with a firm yet gentle pressure that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips, and your head fell back against the slick tiles of the shower.

Bradley chuckled softly, a sound that wrapped around you like the warm water. “Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice rich with affection and a hint of mischief.

You simply hummed in response, the sound barely escaping your lips, your mind clouded with pleasure.

“Do you need a little more help relaxing?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave lower, thick with intention.

Again, you hummed, feeling his hand start to move lower, anticipation curling in your belly. Each caress felt electric, igniting a warmth that spread throughout your body. You could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the steam in the air, and you were lost in the sensations he was creating.

“Just trust me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he continued to guide his hands over your body, taking his time, cherishing every inch of you as he led you deeper into relaxation and pleasure.

Bradley wrapped one arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him, his warm body grounding you in the moment. The feel of him against you was intoxicating, a steady presence that made you forget everything outside of the bathroom. With the other hand, he began to explore the space between your thighs, his fingers teasingly brushing against your skin.

He started with one finger, moving slowly, gauging your reaction, the sensation sending ripples of warmth coursing through you. You couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the small enclosure of the shower.

Encouraged by your response, he slid in a second finger, his movements becoming more deliberate as he pressed against the sensitive spots he knew would elicit more pleasure. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as your breath hitched, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and laced with concern, even as his eyes burned with desire.

You could only manage a nod, your voice caught in your throat as he pushed a third finger inside you. The pleasure intensified, and your back arched instinctively, pressing closer against him as a deeper moan escaped you. Each thrust of his fingers sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you, and you could feel the tension within you coiling tighter.

Bradley watched your reaction with a mix of awe and lust, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your body responded to him. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm in the heated moment.

You tightened your grip on him, feeling the strength of his body against yours, a reminder of how safe you were with him. Each thrust of his fingers brought you closer to the edge, the steam swirling around you, heightening the sensations as you surrendered completely to him. You could feel the knot in your belly tightening, and with each gentle curl of his fingers, you knew you were teetering on the brink of something spectacular.

“Bradl-,” you gasped, the sound thick with desire, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as he continued to work you into bliss.

Bradley’s fingers slowed their pace, and before you could catch your breath, he scooped you up into his arms, his strength surprising you even after the mission he'd just endured. You gasped, your body instinctively wrapping around him as your legs hooked around his waist, trying to hold onto him.

“You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” you murmured, a hint of worry creeping into your voice even in the midst of the heat between you. 

The memory of his rough landing was still fresh in your mind, and the last thing you wanted was for him to strain himself. Bradley’s lips curved into a familiar, teasing smile as he leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours. 

“If I’m ever too injured to take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, “just go ahead and take me out of my misery.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your worry momentarily forgotten as his playful nature eased the tension. But before you could respond, Bradley shifted, pressing your back gently against the cool tile of the shower wall. The contrast between the heat of his body and the chill of the tiles sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation building in the pit of your stomach.

He adjusted his grip on you, his hands strong and steady as they supported you, and then, in one fluid motion, he slid into you. The sensation was overwhelming, and a soft moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely. Your head tipped back, the steam swirling around you, making the moment feel hazy and dreamlike.

Bradley groaned softly, his breath hitching as he held you tight against him, your bodies perfectly aligned. His hands gripped your hips as he began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of pleasure. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body responding instinctively to his rhythm.

The sound of the water cascading down around you mixed with the soft moans and gasps that filled the air. Bradley’s pace quickened, his lips finding your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses as his hips moved in sync with yours. Each movement felt like an unspoken promise, a reminder of how deeply connected you were despite everything that had happened.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him even closer, as you lost yourself in the sensation of him moving inside you. Every thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the building tension as Bradley whispered your name against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his words sending another jolt of pleasure through you as you arched against him. 

As Bradley's hand slipped between your bodies, finding that sensitive spot again, you gasped, the sensation making your body shudder against him.

"Do that again," you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper, but the urgency was clear.

Bradley paused for a moment, his lips brushing against your ear as a smirk curled across his face. 

“Yeah, you like that, sweets?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

You nodded, barely able to form words as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. Bradley didn’t make you wait. His fingers moved again, pressing exactly where you needed him, and the combination of his touch and the way he filled you sent you spiraling.

A rush of heat swept through you as you gasped, your body tightening around him as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as the intensity of it all left you breathless, your head falling back against the shower wall. Bradley groaned softly, feeling the way you reacted to him, and continued his movements, riding out your climax with you until you were left trembling in his arms.

As the intensity of your shared climax faded, Bradley leaned his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, your bodies still tangled together under the warmth of the shower. 

A few moments passed in comfortable silence before Bradley gently pulled away, the water still cascading down around you both. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before stepping out of the shower.

Without a word, Bradley grabbed a towel, drying himself off with practiced ease before wrapping it around his waist. Then, with a tender smile, he reached for a second towel and held it open, waiting for you.

“Come on out, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

You turned the water off, taking a moment to steady yourself before stepping out of the shower. Bradley immediately wrapped the towel around you, his arms enveloping you in its warmth just like he had done with his embrace. His hands gently tucked the towel around your body, making sure you were secure, before pulling you into him again.

"You okay?" he asked, his forehead resting against yours, eyes filled with concern and affection.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into him.

[jenomov]

Premium Service [l.jn]

wc: 3.8k || mentions of jaemin, smut

synopsis: “did you hire me to clean or to fuck?”

quitting a job is easy, but getting another is not. especially in the area that you lived in, jobs are hard to find, perhaps impossible.

“this is ridiculous, it says here that you are actively looking for someone!” you yelled into the phone, already angry with the lady on the other line.

“i apologize miss, but we really try to make this work as much as possible—“ click. you hung up. you’re fed up, exhausted even. you turned off your phone before entering your car. maybe a car ride can calm you down.

the number of hours you’ve put into job applications isn’t even comparable to the hours you’ve worked at your office job, days turn into weeks, hell, weeks turn into months and you’re running out of patience. the work is tiring, money is getting short by the minute. you’re thinking about going back to your sloppy old job.

seeing your mail app full of rejection letters every morning made your blood boil, but mostly made you rot in your apartment with the feeling of never being able to find anything, until—

Jaem: hey check this out, they’re looking for housekeepers in the area

you picked up your phone, read the message before typing a reply, sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time this week.

do i look like a maid to you jaemin?

Jaem: i’m just trying to help you out lil sis, plus, it seems like a well paid job, you should think about it

you placed your phone down, staring at your ceiling for a few minutes, you thought about it. while this seemed like some work for old retired ladies, you took some kind of interest in it. so, after a bit, you replied back to your brother.

fine

Jaem: cool! here’s his address, he’s doing interviews tomorrow at noon.

———-

the place looked like a movie set, chandeliers were illuminating the entire hallway with golden statues sitting near the front desk. this was nothing but an apartment building but still— you were obviously in the richer part of the city, so you were prepared to see some spoiled, pretentious and overall disgustingly rich man waiting for you in the lobby.

“hi miss, what can i do for you?” you jumped and turned to the receptionist, nervously biting your bottom lip.

“well, i’m here for an interview, but i think i’m at the wrong place.” you trailed off, looking at the bright red couches near the elevators.

she smiled at you. “i assure you you’re at the right place. it’s for the cleaning services right?” you nodded, tapping your fingers on the marble desk. “great! mr. lee is waiting for you, he’s on the 7th floor, first door to your left. you can’t really miss it, his name is on the door.”

“right— thanks.” she gave you a thumbs up before returning her eyes to the screen sitting in front of her.

going towards the elevator, you repeat to yourself the directions the receptionist told you, waiting for the elevator doors to open. pressing the digit, you wait for the ding, walk a few steps before you find yourself at the door, his door. very nervous, you knock on his door, shaking, a few times before feeling your purse buzzing.

Jaem: good luck lil sis! make some money for me

you rolled your eyes at the text before putting your phone back into the bag. just as you were about to knock again, you heard the door open, your feet ready to turn and run away, mentally scolding yourself for agreeing to take this stupid interview.

however, your thoughts came to a stop once the door opened.

“there you are, thought you wasn’t comin’.” the man said, giving you a slight smile.

“we were waiting for you before i could start.” you shook your head, confused.

“we?”

he chuckles, “yes, we. you thought you were alone?—” you nodded. “many people want this job you know, i’m surprised you even showed up, considering you’re the only one who’s around my age here.” he was a little arrogant, just like you thought about earlier while entering the building, but you couldn’t stop staring at him, he was handsome, smelled nice but your attention was caught when he spoke, voice deep and soft.

what have you gotten yourself into?

————

the apartment looked wonderful, big ceiling to floor windows showed the busy city below, the imported carpets were gorgeous, touches of red, yellow and green gave the living room more color, assorted with decorative pillows on the couches you were currently sitting on. the kitchen was a little dull with grey marble countertops and black cupboards, but the large plants made up for it.

you were sitting next to three other ladies, definitely older than you, one of them eyeing you weirdly made you lose your patience. “what are you looking at?” you spat. you knew this job was for those old ladies that are past retirement, but you didn’t think they’d be so rude. “sorry sweetheart, for a young girl like you, we’re wondering why you’re here i mean— she laughed. “why don’t you find a job that meets your criteria?— you’re probably just here to have sex with this man right?” her and the other two ladies grinned at you.

your eye was twitching and shooting daggers at the women in front of you. just as you got up to leave, a voice made your movements come to a stop.

“ladies, ladies. why don’t we all get along? after all, this is a cleaning job right?” mr. lee spoke. his eyes turning into crescents, “we shouldn’t be so heated over cleaning hm?” his kind expression made you come back to your senses, eyes kind and welcoming. and so, you decided to sit back down on the couch, keeping a small distance from the close-to-casket women.

after an hour and a half, the interview came to its end. thinking you’re surely not getting taken— i mean, you’re young and he’s probably picking women with ‘maid material’, you placed your jacket over your arm, getting ready to exit the apartment, while hearing the women talk besides you. “we would invite you to lunch with us but, we know you’ll have to look for something else, so we’ll leave you to that. good luck though!” you rolled your eyes.

after the ladies left, you scrolled through your phone while looking for your older brother’s contact, getting ready to leave the building when a hand touched your shoulder. “how does monday sound to you?” you hear a voice whispering to your ear. you froze, clearly you’re hearing things right? you turned around to check, it was mr. lee.

“huh? what about the other women?” your body was still frozen. his touch felt warm, so warm. you’ve never felt the heat rise up to your ears this fast before, the man was only touching your shoulder, but his hand was burning your body.

his hand slid down your lower back before he spoke up. “i don’t want rude old bitches cleaning my place while i’m gone, the last one kept misplacing my things.” you looked up at him, pushing his hand off your back.

“i’ll think about it.” you tell him, ready to go home more than ever at this point.

“you know where to find me.” he says, giving you a wink before returning inside.

————-

you eventually picked up the job, and mr. lee even invited you to stay at his place since he had an empty room, free of charge, so you could sleep at his place a few times a week. he assured you that you could call him by his name, jeno, and not mr.lee as it felt too formal for him— you declined as you wanted to stay polite.

the past few weeks have been nothing but normal, the job was quite simple and you had a list of things that you needed to do while jeno was gone. only then, his one and only rule was given to you before you could start— and it was to never enter his bedroom, even if you wanted to wash his bedsheets.

———

“what about the bed? how will i wash them?”

“don’t worry about it. i’ll put the sheets in the laundry basket”

“okay… is there any reason i’m forbidden?”

he smiled, taking a last sip of whiskey before placing the glass down in the sink, indicating that you had to clean it.

“privacy reasons.”

———

it made sense, but still felt awkward as you usually kept the door wide open at night while sleeping. (maybe you should close it more often.)

quite a simple rule really, but you still find it quite odd, questioning how you’ll make his bed after cleaning. without thinking much about it, you tossed your bag in the guest room (now yours) before getting to work.

you started to find jeno a little odd, he’d sometimes come home irritated, locking himself in his room until you’d knock on his door to tell him that your work was done for the day. there was a lot of tension between you two, you’d find him quite intimidating at times, especially when you’d catch him staring at your ass a few times, heat rushing to your cheeks.

now, you weren’t the type to let anyone look at you that way, but with jeno you felt different— ever since he gave you your ‘work uniform’, —which was honestly just lingerie and frankly too revealing for you—, something switched inside him that day.

————

first, it started with cleaning the bathroom floor tiles, usually you’d use a mop, but he insisted that cleaning with a rag, soap and some water would be better. without questioning him, you got to work. his plan was working, it was easy to break your unbothered attitude, you were innocently obeying him to whatever task he demanded. he knew you’d caught him staring a few times, swatting his hand away from your chest or ass whenever you cleaned his apartment.

slowly but surely, he was going to make you his little toy to play with.

he watched you clean on all fours, tiny skirt lifting up every now and then, showing your white lacy underwear. jeno groaned and got up, walking towards you before hovering above you, his hand caressing your ass before ghosting his middle and ring finger over your panties—over the place you’ve secretly wanted him the most these past days.

you jumped, looked back up at him, confused. but before you could speak, you felt his fingers pinching your clit through your underwear, earning him a small gasp.

“how come you’re this wet? you like walking around me dressed like a slut is that it?” you couldn’t bring yourself to realize what was happening. trying to get up from your position, you argued. “what? you gave me this stupid uniform- hey!”

“where do you think you’re going?” he asked. you suddenly felt dizzy, his warm fingers were burning on your skin, in contrast to his cold rings. “i never thought you’d be….” he trails off, both hands grabbing your ass, making you squirm under his touch, falling back onto your cleaning position. “…such a slut,” your body was on fire, panties were sticking to your dripping cunt.

“mr. lee, please stop…” you were lying. you’ve wanted him for a while, probably ever since the first time you’ve seen him but everything felt too sudden, everything was going so fast—too fast even, you couldn’t think about anything.

you whined, wiggling your ass to feel more, arousal starting to drip down your legs. he was right there, fingers so close to where you wanted him the most, losing your mind, the strong facade that you’ve put on over the months slowly crumbling away. “stop? i don’t think you want me to stop sweetheart.” his voice was venom, the bathroom was spinning. you knew there was no way out of this.

you let out a gasp once more, feeling his fingers toss your panties to the side. collecting your wetness on his fingers, he tapped your bottom lip, making you open your mouth, sucking on his fingers. “good girl” is all he says before you hear his belt click and pants hit the ground. “w-what are you-“ oh.

you felt his long fingers stretch you open, the metal of his rings brushing your clit ever now and then, making you lose your balance, falling almost face first on the cold floor. you could barely hold yourself up with your arms, too immersed in your pleasure.

———

for the past week, you’ve been working hard, making sure jeno’s apartment was cleaned up from ceiling to floor. he sometimes tried to get you under him for a bit, but you politely declined each time. not forcing you, he chuckled and went back to his room.

it was sunday. usually you’d go back home on the weekends, but strangely this time you stayed with jeno. he never made you do any work on the weekends, and you were exhausted, so you could sleep in.

you quietly woke up and got ready to eat, taking a pan out of the cupboard, trying not to make as much noise as possible. two eggs and a toast is what you usually went for, so you got that. you didn’t hear jeno sit behind you, placing his glasses on the counter. he cleared his throat which made you jump in shock.

“god! you almost burned me!” you yelled. he didn’t look too concerned so he smiled, making you roll your eyes before finishing up your plate, turning the heat off and rinsing the pan, washing the mess around the sink.

“well good morning to you too darling.” he hums, eyes in a crescent moon shape. you sigh. “mhm. good morning, you could’ve made more noise instead of scaring me and being all silent you know.” you scoffed, placing your plate on the counter, wiping crumbs off.

“you know,—he starts. i think you're playing hard to get." jeno says, flipping the page of his newspaper. you stopped, placed the cloth down, dusting your sleeves before staring at him, already annoyed.

“what do you mean?” you cock an eyebrow, waiting for his answer. “you didn't let me do anything to you last week, are you scared of me?” he asks.

you stare at him, if looks could kill, you’d be in the maximum security of a prison by now.

"did you hire me to clean or to fuck?" you scoff.

he looks around for a moment, then his eyes fall to your shaky hands, fingers playing with the hem of your small lacy apron, pulling the loose strings.

"maybe both. who knew i’d hire a cute little thing like you?” he continues. “never thought i’d be so lucky.”’

“i just think that as an employee, it’s wrong.” you state, trying to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible. he looks up at you, grinning. “you didn’t say that when you came all over my floor three weeks ago. you even cleaned it up like i asked you.”

the familiar feeling of heat rising to your cheeks comes back on your face once more, you almost drop your egg on the floor when you hear him say that.

“excuse me? i don’t think you should— he places his hand over yours. "hm. why don’t you love me baby?” he pouts. god, you thought he was so beautiful, you wanted to kiss him so badly but you stood your ground, still wanted to show him that you weren’t interested in any of this, even if you felt your thighs getting sticky.

“i-i don’t love you like that…” you replied. “i mean i’m just here to work, that’s all.” you picked up your plate, placed it in the dishwasher before washing your hands. while you did so, you felt jeno place his hands on your hips, your back facing him.

you did miss jeno’s touch on your body, his wet kisses, his hands, maybe even his dick— even if you thought that was ridiculous— you couldn’t deny it. he placed his chin on your shoulder before whispering to your ear. “i know my baby misses me. you’re telling me that if i pulled your panties down you wouldn’t be wet?” you nod, biting your lip in anticipation. his voice sent shivers down your spine, his hands slid lower and lower until they reached your lower belly.

he hums. “no underwear?”

you shook your head, “i just woke up and got hungry, i didn’t think about it.” your voice was small, you felt defeated and now with jeno caging you in his arms you had no escape.

“liar .”

you suddenly get picked up bridal style, panic on your face. “what? no i’m not! i swear i didn’t think about that— where are we going?” you hit his arm, trying to make him let go of you— to no avail. “we’re going somewhere special, you’ll love it.”

———

his bedroom was dark, you could barely see anything. his bed was large; however, the duvet and scattered blankets were soft under your palms. you heard jeno coming out of his bathroom, as you waited patiently for him on the bed.

“i thought i wasn’t allowed to be here.” you break the silence. he looks at you, hair still wet from his shower, towel—barely hanging— low on his hips.

he chuckles. “maybe i’ve changed my mind, i didn’t think you’d look so pretty waiting for me.” you felt your ears burning again, not sure of what to say. “c’mon, take it off.”

“what?”

“my towel. take it off.”

you do as he says, trembling hands pulling the cloth and letting it fall at his feet. you sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, waiting for directions.

“what are you waiting for? show me how good you suck cock.” you frown, unsure if you should get to work, his cock was standing right in front of your face, tip leaking on your top, staining it. he was huge, bigger than those college boys you’ve fucked years ago. you started to worry about the size when all of a sudden he takes your hair in a fist and forces your mouth down his cock.

he groans. “when i ask for something, you get to it, and you do it quickly. i’ve been waiting for that mouth for weeks. i think i deserve it, don't you think?” mouth full of him, you choke a few times before he pulls your hair back, leaving spit and drool down his cock. “fuck, that’s a good girl, but you can do better.” his stare made you feel small, but you loved it, you wanted him, all of him, so you quickly got on your knees and stroked him a few times, making him release a moan. you took him in your mouth once more, this time taking him down your throat as much as possible, feeling the corner of your eyes watering.

you felt him twitch in your mouth after a bit, sometimes teasing him by licking your way up from his base to the tip, kissing it right after. the grip on your hair started to hurt, he was pulling hard on your scalp, but you wanted to please him as much as you can. “fuck…fuck— stop i wanna cum inside you.” he insisted and you released his cock with a pop, obeying him.

he climbed on his bed, back facing the headboard, tapping his thigh indicating you to straddle him, and so you did. you felt scared, he was big, it was already a struggle to take him inside your mouth, but your pussy? not a chance. you took your top off, letting jeno’s hands grab your tits, and pinching your nipples a few times. you whined in pain, but you brushed it off and started to unzip your skirt when jeno stopped you.

“no baby, you keep that on for me.” his hands fell onto your ass, groping it and giving it a few slaps, which made you moan out loud. “hmm, you like it? you like it when i play with your ass?” he asks and you quickly nod, eager to receive more. you grind on his cock for a few minutes, your juices coating his thighs and dick, before you lift yourself up and sink down on his cock, biting your bottom lip at the intrusion.

once he’s fully bottomed out, you both moan in unison. you stay like this for a bit, while adjusting to his size. you placed one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder before you’re ready to start.

“that’s it, ride me baby, show me how much you want my cock.” is all you need before you go faster, deeper, losing yourself in pleasure, eyes rolling into the back of your head, nails digging into his skin. you feel his hands grabbing your ass before he fucks into you harshly. you moan his name like a broken record, his pace almost making you lose balance, big hands leaving handprint on your cheeks. “h-harder please… i want more.”

he laughs. “of course you want more, you’re made for my cock and nothing else, got it?”

you nod. this time, tears are falling down your face. you’re a mess, your thighs are burning from going back and forth, but he just feels so good inside you, you never want it to end.

you don’t even realize that you’re mumbling to yourself, lost in your own pleasure when jeno slaps your face, making you gasp. “you feel so good, you’re so good you’re so—ah!“ he flips you on your back, pushes your legs up to your shoulders, placing you in a mating press position. he slides in cock back inside you, this time making you cry out.

“it’s too much, please.” you grab his biceps, boobs bouncing up and down as he goes harder on your already exhausted body.

“you can take it princess, you’re doing so well already, i guess i should reward you hm?” all you can do is whine, the knot in your stomach tightening more and more, ready to unravel anytime soon.

“my little girl is close, is she? cum with me baby.” jeno’s thrusts are uneven, indicating that he’s close too; and just like that, you both cum together, loud moans and heavy breathing are heard in the dimly lit room. you feel his warm load inside you before he pulls out, feeling cum starting to seep out of you, whining at the stickiness between your legs.

he gives you a small kiss before getting out of bed, showing his signature eye smile while heading to the bathroom.

“you should get back to work, you’ve got some cleaning to do.” is all he says before throwing you a wink.

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[iwasntstable]

n.s. | if i'm there

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I didn't want to believe how much you needed help / And I just left you to be all by yourself / And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well / But I just came back to see how hard you fell Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall / You'll have a friend down in Hell after all 　　— If I'm There - Bad Omens

summary: when things start getting bad, you withdraw. ignoring calls and texts, and descending into bad habits as you self-isolate. but noah knows what you're like and he loves you too much to let you suffer alone.

content tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, poor mental health, mentions of disordered eating, discussions of food, self-destructive behaviour, fluff.

word count: 3.8k.

note: having a rough time recently so enjoy the self-indulgent product of my stressing. 　　PS: please tell me if the layout of this post is fucked up so I can fix it for you.

Things are getting bad again. You find your sleep schedule sliding later and later, falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and waking in the afternoon, bypassing the day altogether. Meals are becoming infrequent and poor in quality. Appetite dwindling and opting to eat half a bag of microwave rice at 3am rather than dedicating time to creating a nutritious and satisfying meal. Truth be told, you didn’t have the energy to cook anything more, and the malnutrition itself likely played a part in that lack of energy. The trash was left to build up, and the laundry hadn’t been done in weeks.

The progression of all of this was gradual. So gradual, that by the time you recognised what was happening, it was all but too late to stop the rapid descent into your depression. And as the days go by, you start to withdraw into yourself. Messages from friends begin to go unanswered. You tell yourself you’ll reply later, when you have the mental bandwidth to engage in conversation. But later ends up being not at all. Too many days have passed, and you feel like it’s too late to reply now; you don’t know how. That includes your boyfriend.

　　　　　　　　　　　[Noah 💘]

　　　　　　 　　　　　Tuesday 　　　　　　　　　 　　10:45AM

— Morning! Do you wanna call later?    Miss your voice 

          morning! I have a headache —             right now and I feel like it's             not gonna go away :( I'll let                you know though.                 I miss you too ❤️ —

— Aw I'm sorry :( — I hope you feel better soon — Text me later and let me know    how you are ❤️

　　　　　　　　　 　　02:27PM

— Hey babe how are you feeling?

             my head still hurts :( —

— Want me to come over and look    after you? — Have you eaten yet?

       you don't have to do that, I'd be —            shitty company anyway                   just wanna sleep —

— Okay :( — I'll text you later tonight so    you can sleep

　　　　　　　　　 　　10:09PM

— How are you feeling? — Are you sleeping? — Hope you’re resting well. Text    me when you wake up so I know    you’re okay — I love you ❤️ — Goodnight ❤️

　　　　　　 　　　　Wednesday 　　　　　　　　　 　　08:41AM

— Morning, how’re you feeling?

　　　　　　　　　 　　09:13AM

— Are you awake? — Babe, are you okay?

      hey! sorry I was still asleep. I feel a —       little better but my head still hurts :(

— I’m gonna cancel today and come    over — I don’t want you to be alone when    you’re not well 

       no don’t do that, i’m okay really —              you know this happens          sometimes. I just wanna rest,            you don’t have to cancel for        me. not when work is important

— You’re important too — Please let me look after you

          I love you and I love that —           you want to be here for me,         but all I want to do right now                   is sleep

          I don’t want you to cancel —           important schedules just           to watch me sleep all day                I’ll feel better soon.             just need to give it time. —

— I’d cancel to sit and watch you sleep    in a heartbeat — I love you, I just want you to be okay — I have to go, I’ll text you later okay?

         I’ll text you back when I can, —            if I don’t reply I’m probably          asleep so don’t worry have a                good day I love you —

　　　　　　　　　 　　10:26PM

— Hey babe sorry I didn’t text all day I    was so fucking busy — How’re you doing now? — Are you sleeping again?

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 10:31PM]

— Text or call me when you wake up,    even if it’s the middle of the night I’ll    leave my sound on — I love you ❤️

　　　　　　 　　   　　Thursday 　　　　　　　　　 　　08:41AM

— Hey, are you awake?

　　　　　　　　　 　　08:55AM

— Hello??

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 08:59AM]

— Message me when you wake up

　　　　　　　　　 　　12:20PM

— Babe?? — I’m worried — Even if you don’t wanna talk can     you please let me know you’re okay?

　　　　　　　　　 　　12:46PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 12:48PM]

　　　　　　　　　 　　01:20PM

     hey, sorry I missed your messages —         I’m okay sorry for worrying you —

— I was just about to come over — I still might — I’m worried about you

           please don’t I just don’t —          wanna see anyone right now

— Even me?

                  I’m sorry —             I’ll text you tomorrow — — If that’s what you want — I love you

　　　　　　　 　   　　　Friday 　　　　　　　　　 　　03:47PM

— I don’t want to bother you, I’m     trying to give you space if that’s    what you need — But I’m worried about you — You haven’t messaged me all day — Did I do something wrong?

　　　　　　　　　 　　04:10PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:12PM]

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:15PM]

　　　　　　　　　 　　04:18PM

— Your friends said they haven’t heard    from you in days — What’s going on? You can talk to me. — You don’t have to talk to me if you    don’t want to but text someone back,    please — I just wanna know that you’re okay

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:23PM]

And that’s how Noah ended up outside your door. Banging incessantly and shouting your name through the wood. You could hear him from where you were wrapped up in bed, but you were half hoping he would just drop it and go away. Realising quickly, however, the futility of that hope when you heard another voice join the sound of his. That of your neighbour, the nosy one from the house on the right.

You groan and throw the blanket off yourself, flinching a little when your feet touch the cold floor. You have no choice but to go downstairs, and no time to change your appearance. Hoping to whatever God will listen that Noah doesn’t make a comment on the clothes you’d been wearing for the past week before you can get in the shower and change.

“I’m just really worried about her,” you can hear the unmistakable tone of Noah’s voice through the door before you even open it.

Hesitating for a moment with your hand on the door handle, you decide to eavesdrop on the conversation. “I haven’t seen her for, ohhh let me think... has to be about a week now,” despite the man’s voice wavering with age, it came loud and clear through the door. An unfortunate side effect of his hearing loss.

“A week?!” Noah exclaimed. Having enough of the old man sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, you unlock the door quickly, wrenching it open and taking a surprised Noah by the arm.

“Oh! Nice to see you, dear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The old man sneers.

“Yeah, nice seeing you, Trevor,” you barely extend him a glance as you drag Noah in through your doorway, slamming the door closed and turning the key. You let out a deep sigh, your palms and forehead resting against the cool wood.

Noah calls your name softly. You squeeze your eyes tight and take in a breath before you turn to face him. Putting on the best phoney smile you can muster.

“Sorry about him, he’s always in everyone’s business. What are you-”

“He said he hasn’t seen you in a week,” he says matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. “Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days either, and you’ve been ignoring my texts. And calls.”

Your heart seizes at the sadness in his eyes. He stands there in your front room, his usual sweatpants and hoodie, but he just looks so defeated. You always tell him he looks like an upset puppy when he’s sad, and the puppy-dog eyes are working overtime on you right now. “I told you, I’ve just been busy, and I-”

“And you had a headache, and you missed my texts, and you didn’t want to talk,” his voice was as stern as his expression. You knew he wasn’t an idiot. That there’s no way he’d believe your—at best—flimsy excuses. You stand frozen to the spot, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Picking at the stitches, trying to distract yourself from the lump forming in your throat. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Noah questions.

You swallow roughly, “I don’t know what you... I don’t-”

He says your name firmly and takes a step towards you, “I’m going to ask you how you are, and I would like you to answer me honestly.”

Feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, you swallow again, but it does nothing to get rid of the tightness in your throat. Or the dizziness creeping up on you.

“Are you doing bad again?” He sounds softer this time, and you almost wish he would just scream at you because when he’s kind and attentive like this, you can’t help but crumble and shut down.

You clench your jaw as your breathing gets quicker, shallower, and you feel the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m fine,” your voice comes out cracked and weak, not at all the sound of someone who's fine. 

“Don’t pretend you’re okay. Please don’t lie to me, because I know you’re not okay!” Noah crosses the room to meet you, holding his hands outstretched towards you, “what can I do for you? Please, I want to help.”

You cover your mouth as you choke back a sob, wrapping your other arm around your middle; you can’t hold it in anymore, and the floodgates open. Gasping for breath that seems to never come, you grip the front of your shirt tight in your fist, the clothing suddenly feeling suffocating and stiflingly hot.

“Oh, baby. Come here,” Noah takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into his chest, where you fall into him and cling onto him like he’s your only lifeline. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly, in and out,” he strokes soothing circles against your back as he demonstrates to you how to breathe. “Come and sit down here, yeah? The couch is right here.”

You barely register your legs moving for the numbness extending across your entire body, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. Your tears are hot on your face, and every time you try to wipe them away, they’re just replaced by more in a never-ending stream. The room feels like it’s spinning around you as you move, only worsening the feeling of nausea rising in your throat. The plush cushions of the couch are a welcome relief.

“You’re holding your breath, I need you to breathe. Just how I am, that’s it,” he cradles your head to his chest through your shaky attempts to take in a breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. Your breath hitches uncontrollably with every inhale, taking in tiny bursts of air at a time. Noah, though, has nothing but praise on his lips: “That’s it. You’re doing so well, just listen to my voice.”

You missed his voice. As you worsened and withdrew, you found any excuse to avoid going out to see him, and you had been ignoring his calls for days. You knew you were doing it, and you missed him desperately, but with every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to reach out. It was hard for you to reach out for help in the first place, hard for you to admit to anyone that you needed help. Hard to admit it to yourself. Opting instead to suffer in silence and just push through it until you finally broke. You didn’t know any other way.

The familiar presence of him by your side eases the pace of your racing heart, allowing each breath to come a little easier. A little calmer. “I hate to see you hurting like this,” he whispers into your hair, his hand stroking through it gently, working to soothe the seemingly unquenchable anxiety. “I want to help you, please let me help you.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice. You never wanted to hurt him, but that’s all you seem to do. That cold hand of dread tightens its grip on your chest again, panic filling your lungs and replacing all the air. “I’m sorry,” you barely choke out, gripping onto Noah tighter. Warring with yourself, wanting to hold him close, but feeling like you need to push him away.

“You don’t need to apologise, ever. I’m here, I’m right here,” he runs his hand up and down your back, cradling you close. He can’t help but notice that through the fabric of your shirt, the bones of your spine are ever so slightly more prominent than before. He keeps his mouth shut. Focussing instead on quelling your distress and holding you tight in his arms. 

“I just- I fuck everything up. I can’t do anything right, I don’t deserve your love, I don’t deserve you-” Once you start talking, you can’t stop, finally letting it all out until Noah cuts you off, incapable of hearing you degrade yourself anymore.

“No. No, that’s not even remotely true. Don’t say that about yourself,” he says firmly, holding you just a little tighter. 

You shake your head against him, “all I do is hurt people and push you away, and I don’t know how to stop. You don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“I don’t ‘put up with you’. I love you, and I want to be here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

“You shouldn’t have to drop everything to come deal with me when you’re so busy. You deserve someone that isn’t so fucking hard to love.”

With that, Noah pushes you backwards by the shoulders, holding you there so he can look into your eyes when he speaks. “You are not hard to love. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of doing. You just…” He takes a deep breath, cupping your cheek and brushing away the tears from under your eyes. “You just need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

The image of him blurs when the tears overflow from your eyes again, your face crumpling as you bow your head. “You’ll leave me," your voice shaking with the force of your sobs.

"Why would you ever think I'd leave you?" he asks, dismayed by your fear.

"Everyone always leaves," you tell him, voice brittle and quiet, shaking your head. "It's only a matter of time before you leave too."

"I love you," Noah feels tears prick at his own eyes. "I love you so, so much. And I'm not going anywhere." He lifts your head, once again brushing away your tears so he can look into your eyes, "please trust me to help you."

"I'm just so tired," you confess, and he pulls you into his arms again. 

“I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone. There’s nothing you could do that would drive me away. And the things that would, I know you’d never do,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair as you cry, his other arm secure around your waist. Your tears soak into his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He wants you to give it all to him—all your sorrows, all your grief—so that he can bear it with you.

You desperately want to believe his words. To lean on him when you need him the most, but that insecure piece inside of you won’t let you yield. You don’t know how to open up to anyone without feeling like a burden.

Noah stays right there with you until the tears subside and your breathing evens out. Your head resting in his lap as he reassuringly strokes your hair, you feel the beginnings of a dull ache in your head that makes you drowsy. He rubs soothing circles into your back with his other hand, shifting slightly to get a better look at your face. “Have you eaten yet today?” He asks tentatively. Feeling your throat constrict under the pressure of guilt, you know you can’t lie to him. You know he sees right through you, so you decide to try being honest by shaking your head. “Want me to cook something for you? Or we can order something? My treat.”

You know he means well, but you don’t know how to say you don’t have an appetite without worrying him. He won’t let you go the entire day without eating, but all you want to do is sleep.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.”

On a shaky breath, you settle for a half truth. “I don’t think there’s anything to cook.”

“That’s fine, we can order food then. What do you want?”

Chewing on your lip, you freeze. The silence stretches on far too long for you to be deciding what restaurant to order from, it’s clear you’re unable to answer.

Noah sighs your name, “you have to eat something.” 

“I know. I just… I just don’t want to,” he remains quiet, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t feel hungry. Thinking about it is overwhelming. I just want to sleep so I don’t have to think about it.”

“What have you been eating these past few days?” He asks cautiously, his tone light. Conscious to not sound accusatory.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way of escaping this. “Microwave stuff, mostly,” you play with the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling his leg underneath, fidgeting your anxiety away. “Rice, oats, ramen. Stuff I don’t have to wash up after.”

“Have you been eating every day?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, the tension only thickening when you answer "no,” barely above a whisper.

You feel him nod. Quiet for a moment until he too speaks so quietly, you almost didn’t hear it. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” you confess.

“Please let me help you.”

The desperation in his voice is what does it—the final straw. You sit up straight, turning to face him. Wiping the residual tears from your cheeks and looking him in the eye. You know it’s time to really be honest. 

“It’s hard for me-” Your voice catches in your throat as the threat of crying again creeps up on you, not quite realising how much your body would resist. Taking a second to compose yourself—a deep breath in, eyes closed, releasing it slowly—your resolve strengthens and you continue. “It’s hard for me to open up to people. To admit when I’m struggling. I’m so used to feeling like I’m burdening everyone with my problems, so I just keep it all to myself. And by the time I realise I’m going down that road again, it’s too late to stop it.”

“It’s never too late,” Noah says reassuringly, tucking both sides of your hair behind your ears—the left first, then the right. “I mean this in the most loving way possible, but you don’t get to decide whether you’re a burden. You don’t get to take that choice away from me. The choice to help you. Your problems will never be a burden to me, no matter how big or small. You will never be a burden to me. I love you. I choose you. And I’ll never think poorly of you for needing help, ever.”

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes fixed on his. One of your favourite things about him is his big brown eyes. Always so full of comfort. So full of love that even you, with all of your self-doubt, can’t deny it. “I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologise, but I think I need to. I’m sorry for making you worry and for pushing you away. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Noah takes your hands in his. Large palms enveloping your own entirely. “Seeing you hurting is what hurts me the most. I love you so much, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

You squeeze his hands in yours, “I love you, Noah. I’ll try harder, I promise. Feeling so unwanted for so long before I met you, I think I didn’t realise just how lucky I am to have you until now.” Noah raises one of your hands, kissing the back firmly and holding it there, savouring the feel of your skin against his lips. Timidly, you ask, “can we get pizza?”

He breaks out into a smile, “of course we can! But you have to text your friends back first," he bargains, "even if it’s just something short.”

“Deal,” you can’t help but return his smile. “My phone is upstairs, I’m just gonna go get it.”

“Wait!” he calls as you stand, pulling you back to the sofa and into him with a hand on the back of your head, “can I kiss you first?”

Without a word, you lean into him, closing the gap between you and feeling his lips on yours for the first time in weeks. That familiar burn of tears threatening to escape your eyes returns, and when you pull away, those beautiful brown eyes are full of concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, laughing awkwardly, “happy tears. I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” his smile taking on a more solemn appearance this time. “But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, please don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t forget that I love you too. No matter what happens. No matter how stupidly self-destructive I act.”

Noah pulls you in for one final embrace before letting you retrieve your phone. You spend time texting back each of your friends, apologising for your absence and telling them you were okay, that Noah is here, and you’d explain more later. Noah, sitting at your right, creates your pizza order, periodically asking what else you’d like adding.

The two of you spend the night watching trash TV, settling into your usual comfort and hurling insults at the characters for making stupid decisions while you eat your food. Only realising after it arrived just how hungry you really were. And when you’re finished eating, Noah and you head upstairs.

You feel like a new person after you shower, coming out of the bathroom to find Noah relaxed against your headboard. The sheets on your bed changed, and a fresh set of clothes lay waiting for you to change into for bed.

Accepting finally how much lighter everything feels when someone is around to help you. You slide under the clean sheets, comforted by the warmth of Noah’s body beside you for the first time in too long. And just as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hand stroking your back, you’re determined to never let things get this bad again. Knowing you need to trust him, because trust is the foundation of love, and you love Noah with every fibre of your being. And despite how hard it is sometimes, you need to let him love you back.

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[sunflowerwinds]

a confession & question [h.c]

summary: your girlfriend finally tells you what she’s been keeping from you and it is nothing like what you were expecting. hazel asks you to come to an event that tony is throwing and you go on a fancy shopping trip (funded by stark industries).

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: spider!hazel, secrets revealed, mature content: suggestive making out, & pure fluff!

word count: 3.8K

a/n: things are brewing and they’ve made up. i hope absolutely nothing bad happens :)

SPIDER-HAZEL MASTERLIST

It had been merely a day without contact with Hazel. You were battling between writing assignments for your online classes and stuffing bears at Build-A-Bear that day wondering how to approach this situation the correct way. There was no way in hell you were going to break up with her but you wanted to truthfully and honestly sit down and have a long talk about how she was feeling.

To hear her out, to be there for her in whatever way she needed.

Hazel was a mess. She didn’t attend classes that day — which had May up the wall — as she stayed in bed sulking over being an absolute idiot. She was sleeping curled in her soft brown sheets and when she wasn’t sleeping, she was thinking of ways to apologize to you and reveal what has been itching at her for months now; that she was in fact Spider-Woman.

Should she just send a text saying: ‘I’m Spider-Woman. Please, believe me?’

No, that’s weird and pathetic.

She needs to do it in person so she can prove it to her with her suit. But when? Hazel checked her phone every two minutes in hopes your little icon would be there with a message.

It was around 4 pm when she had received a call from Josie. Hazel was pacing her ceiling in her suit, practicing on ways to show you that she was Spider-Woman. She ripped her mask off and aimed her web to her cell-phone on her desk, pressing the green button to accept the call.

“Hey, Jose. What’s up?” Hazel answered, a soft sigh leaving her lips from the tension and pressure building in her head from being upside down for a good while.

“Well, good afternoon to you. Why the hell do you sound like you’ve run three miles in ten minutes?” Josie questioned as her fingers typed rapidly on her keyboard from the other end.

Hazel grunts as she un-sticks herself from her popcorn ceiling to land on her wood floors. She runs a free hand through her unwashed frizzy hair, shrugging her shoulders.

“Just… hanging around,” she makes herself smile.

“Okay?” Josie responded. “Is that a spider joke?”

Hazel was still grinning as she replied: “Yup.”

Even though Josie knew it was a corny joke, she couldn’t help the snort leaving her lips.

“Anyways, uh, Happy told me to call you to remind you about this Sunday.” Josie hummed as she clicked her mouse buttons.

Hazel’s brows furrowed at Josie’s words. Her mind went completely blank.

“Jesus, you forgot didn’t you?” Josie sighed at how silent the spider-girl had gotten after her statement.

Hazel winces as she rushes over to her calendar for the month that was hung up above her working desk. Her eyes darted to the coming-up Sunday and there was just a tuxedo that she drew. What the fuck does that mean?

When does she ever wear a tuxedo?

“No…?”

Josie released another disappointed sigh.

“The charity event Tony is having for Heart Matters. Happy is supposed to take you shopping for an outfit on Friday.” Josie hummed which made Hazel mouth ‘fuck’ as she rubbed at her temple.

Okay, so two things she really needed to do.

“Right, yeah. No, I have a tuxedo on my calendar.” Hazel lied through her teeth.

Josie merely hummed at Hazel, still rapidly typing on her keyboard.

“Is that all you called me for?” Hazel questioned as the line had gone silent.

“Uhh, yeah, pretty much. I’ll call you with… something later,” she ended the call without saying ‘bye’.

The line beeps before clicking off to Hazel’s home screen. She smiled weakly at the photo of you two, admiring the joy on your face and her own. As she continued to look through her album of photos of you, a notification popped up at the top of the screen.

Her heart rate sped up as you had sent her a text after the most agonizing 24 hours of Hazel’s entire life saying that you wanted to have a ‘serious’ talk. Hazel wiped her sweaty palms on her thigh to send you a response that she could come to your place. You told her that worked for you.

Hazel grabbed her mask from where she had tossed it on her bed and slipped it on over her head. This was it.

It was finally time.

You were waiting patiently in your bedroom to hear a knock at your door. In all honesty, you were willing to just let it pass. Tell Hazel that you were being dramatic and apologize until your lips fell off.

That is until your PJ texted you to stand your ground and not Hazel manipulate you which was a bit dramatic but you knew she was coming from a place of love.

Your knee bounced anxiously as you tried to distract yourself as the seconds ticked by. PJ kept sending you messages that you were okay and that Hazel was nothing to worry about. It was way easier said than done. You put on a movie on your laptop to pass the time to refrain from checking the time.

About halfway through the movie, you hear a soft tapping noise. At first, you excused it as rain hitting your window. But the tapping noise only increased in volume. You take off your wired headphones and turn your neck towards the sound. Your eyes widen at Spider-Woman… sitting on your fire escape?

You froze for a moment, not really knowing what to do. The webbed hero knocked one more time and it took you out of the shock. You walked over to the window and hesitantly unlocked it to lift it up. It somehow wasn’t even registering that this could’ve been an imposter that someone had a costume on.

“Hey,” the masked woman spoke, her voice sounding like it was deepened.

“Hello? I don’t mean to sound weird but… what are you doing on my fire escape?” You let out a weak laugh, raising your brows as you stared into the white of the eyes on the mask.

The woman pointed into your room and cleared her throat.

“I said I’d come over, didn’t I?”

This time the voice wasn’t deepened. Your eyes nearly shot out of your head when you realized it was Hazel behind the mask.

“Haze?” You questioned with an incredulous tone.

You step back away from the window as your girlfriend steps into your bedroom in a Spider-Woman suit. Was this her way of trying to cheer you up for lying to you?

“What are you doing in a Spider-Woman costume?” You question as you shut the window and lock it, staring at Hazel taking off her mask.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself when you think that she actually fits the suit perfectly; like it was made for her. Hazel usually wore extremely baggy clothing which she also looked amazing in but this was a nice thing to see every once in a while.

It was kind of hot.

“Well, it’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Hazel cleared her throat, rubbing her thumbs over the material of the mask.

“Okay…” You stare at her with crossed arms over your comfy pj tee. “What? Are you Spider-Woman?”

Your tone was joking, a little snort leaving your lips as you chuckled to yourself. Hazel awkwardly laughed after you but just stared at you with a patient expression. Your laughter died as soon as you saw Hazel with a tight-lip grin plastered on her slightly flushed face.

You blink.

“I am Spider-Woman,” Hazel said slowly, hoping it would click in your head that this was nothing to laugh about.

“Spider-Woman?” You repeat to her in disbelief. “That person on the streets stopping burglaries, buses spinning out of control and a sort of Avenger?”

“Yeah,” Hazel confirmed.

You again blink. You take a seat on your bed as you examine the outfit your girlfriend is wearing. Hazel was scratching at her arm as she waited for a legitimate reaction.

Was this a joke? Why would she joke about something like this after the argument you guys had just had?

Your girlfriend is a superhero. A mutant. Your eyes widen as it settles in your stomach that she in no way is lying about this.

“You’re not joking, are you?” You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I can… prove it if you want,” Hazel rushes out, glancing up at your ceiling.

You, too, glance up at your ceiling with confusion as to why she did. That is until in the blink of an eye Hazel was hanging from your ceiling by her fingertips. You scrunch up your face at the sight, feeling like your brain is short-circuiting as you’re watching your girlfriend just dangling by her hand from the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you haven't moved a single muscle since you sat down.

Hazel released her body and landed back on her feet with a soft grunt. Her big blue eyes were waiting for a response.

“I— I didn’t know how to tell you before because Mr.Stark was extremely persistent on not letting anyone find out. Especially you and May but now you both know so I’m probably screwed but I don’t care anymore. I hate lying to you. I needed you to know so that you don’t think I’m doing it because I don’t want you to know. Do you know how hard it is to not tell you everything that I’ve done as Spider-Woman? I want to share everything with you and—“

“Hazel!” You interrupt with a light-hearted chuckle.

Hazel sucked in a deep breath due to her panicked rambling. You stood up from the bed and walked over to cup her face. You tilt your head to kiss her gently, inhaling as Hazel’s hands settle on your hips.

“Are you mad at me?” Hazel whispered against your lips, eyes fluttering when you pulled away slightly.

You hum and shake your head, running your hands over her shoulders. What was this suit made of? That material was surprisingly thick.

“Haze, I’m just… in shock, I guess. I mean, it’s pretty badass that my girlfriend is Spider-Woman.” You shrug your shoulders, tracing her jaw with your thumbs.

Hazel blushed at your words, feeling all the more at ease that you were not pissed with her anymore.

“I’m sorry again that I kept it from you,” Hazel sighed , her eyes flickering across all your features. I love you, she thought and almost vomited at the overwhelming feeling.

The two of them still haven’t said the three words yet. Hazel has known how for sure she was of her love for you within the first month. You, on the other hand, have been scared and hesitant to accept feelings so intensely because of your past relationship. Hazel never wanted to press and pry about something that was so personal.

It hurt to not shower you with the love that was pent up inside of her.

“Baby,” you shake your head, the pet name putting Hazel at ease. “I’m not mad. I wasn’t really mad, just afraid, I think.”

Hazel frowned at your timid voice.

“Afraid?”

Her sweet and comforting tone almost made everything come spilling out.

“It’s a me thing,” you scoff and wave your hand in hopes she wouldn’t focus on that.

Hazel’s big blue eyes were pulling you in though like she was hypnotizing you into spilling about your past. You needed to say something else to distract.

“So the webs come out of you?” You suck in a deep breath and you take one of her gloved hands into yours.

“Uhh, yeah. It feels really weird but I’ve gotten used to it,” Hazel explains but is still looking at you with worry.

“That’s insane. Were you born this way?” You trace over.

Hazel shook her head, watching your fingers trace the stitching of her custom suit.

“No, it was a spider from that field trip we took to that lab months ago. It died, like, as soon as it bit me. I didn’t think it was anything until I woke up the next day in a cold sweat, my senses heightened by ten and weirdly toned?” Hazel chuckled as she briefly explained her backstory.

You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in. There was something both reassuring yet terrifying about this. Hazel would be getting into danger pretty frequently and the thought of her risking her life daily made your stomach turn.

“When did you decide you were going to use your… power for something good?” You questioned.

“Well, you, actually,” Hazel admitted with a rose blush.

Your eyes soften as you mutter: “Me?”

“Yeah, I thought if I could protect the people of the city, I could protect you.” Hazel turned a shade of red you had only seen a few times.

It was sickenly adorable.

“Hazel,” you lean in to kiss her flushed cheeks.

Hazel shakes her head as she allows you to kiss her cheeks. You let out a few giggles as she tries to act like she isn’t enjoying every moment of your lips on you.

“You know,” you pull away to rank your eyes up and down her body, “this suit is kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“I don’t know,” you begin to shy away, intertwining your hand in her back into your bed. Hazel follows you with narrowed eyes as she watches you.

“Is this,” Hazel motioned down to her skin-tight suit, “turning you on?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe?”

Hazel nodded to herself, a flush on her cheeks.

“Really?”

“Baby, you always turn me on.” You tease as you grab her hand and shove her down on your comforter.

Hazel bounces slightly on the springy mattress as she stares up at you hovering over her face. Your knee was in between her lower thighs and your hands were on either side of her shoulders. Her blush deepened as a sly smirk was plastered on your face as you leaned down to kiss her slowly.

Her gloved hands settled on the soft of your waist, her thumbs skimming the waistband of your cotton pajama shorts. You hum as you pull away to kiss her jaw once. You adjusted yourself so that your knees were now on either side of her hips, straddling her red and blue cladded thighs.

Hazel’s eyes beamed up at you as you lifted your shirt up and off your body so that your lounging bra was the only piece of clothing on your body.

“Wait, wait, wait before we… get to it, um, I got to ask you something,” Hazel massaged your hips as she sucked in a deep breath.

You were trying to pay attention but her palms on you really weren't helping. You tilt your head as she speaks, watching her fumble over her words and her blush deepen.

“Would you want to go with me to this charity event that Mr. Stark is hosting for Heart Matters? I—I have a suit fitting this Friday and I’m sure that Mr.Stark can get you a dress too,” Hazel grinned up at you as your fingers played with the hair at the nape of her neck.

You pretend to think about it before giving her a few loving pecks on her lips.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I’ll go with you. I haven’t seen you in a suit since prom.”

“Okay, this will be a designer brand. Not whatever me and May could grab at the thrift store,” Hazel grinned cheekily, rubbing at your sides.

“Hey, I liked that suit.” You frown.

There was even a photo from the photo booth at your prom on the wall right above your bed frame. Hazel's slightly baggy suit fit her so adorably, her tie matching with the color of your dress. It was one of your favorite photos of the two of you.

“Yeah, me too,” Hazel muttered before straining her neck to kiss you again.

Mid-makeout, you randomly remember that your girlfriend is Spider-Woman.

You’re sucking face with Spider-Woman.

You and Hazel approach the large glass doors lined with deep black . You squint one eye and raise your hand to shield your eyes from the glaring rays of the sun. Hazel’s hand interlocked with yours, giving it a small squeeze.

“Dolce & Gabbana?” You read the lettering, glancing into the empty store.

“Yeah, Mr.Stark insisted,” Hazel nodded slowly. “Happy should be inside somewhere.”

You give her a curt nod as you anxiously stare through the glass. You and Hazel hesitantly walk through the doors, instantly feeling out of place under the bright lights and sleek white floors.

You felt like everyone could see the poor on you.

Well, it was sort of obvious as you were wearing your beaten-down sneakers, a pair of baggy 90’s jeans and a ribbed graphic tee. Hazel sported a similar outfit except everything was a lot baggier.

“Can I help you?” A woman with a slicked-back bun and slim square glasses approaches you two.

“Uh, we’re here with Stark Industries,” Hazel grinned at her.

“Oh right. Mr. Hogan should be just down that hall for your customs,” the woman motioned her perfectly manicured hand down a long hallway.

“Thank you,” you tell her with a kind smile.

You try not to roll your eyes at her obviously fake grin. You walk down the hallway, hand in hand with Hazel as you round a corner. In a big bright room, there stood a man with a peppered goatee and a black and white suit and a woman in the same form of business casual.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the middle of a designer brand store with your girlfriend and her billionaire boss’s assistant watching you get sized for a custom-made dress. You never thought this would be something you’ve never thought you’d be doing.

Hazel was sitting next to Happy, both of them sipping on sparkling water. You felt slightly awkward as you had to squeeze into shapewear to make it much easier to get your dimensions. Hazel reassured you every once in a while that this was going to be perfect.

“So let me ask you something,” Happy cleared his throat as he set his tall glass to the side, pointing at you.

“Sure,” you grin, eyes wide and anticipating.

“How did… you two happen?”

Happy is pretty nice from what you can tell. He gives a teddy bear vibe, trying to be snarky and mean when he’s pretty sweet. Like now wanting to know the gossip of how you and Hazel’s relationship blossomed.

“Hazel was my stalker,” you tease your girlfriend as she turns beet red.

“What?” Happy’s face dropped for a moment, leaning away from her.

“No, no, we were in the same class senior year and we got partnered for a project. Then we just started seeing each other everywhere: her uncle’s bodega, the same coffee shops, thrift stores. Everywhere. One day she came up to me and asked if I was following her. I freaked out because it did seem that way but I like to think it was just meant to be,” Hazel spilled, twirling her few rings around her fingers.

“That’s our little story. I asked her if she wanted to come with me to try a new coffee shop that neither of us had been to. She kissed me on the first date,” you share with a chuckle.

Your eyes soften as the workers around you begin to ‘awe’ at Hazel’s rundown. Happy’s eyes flickered between you and Hazel’s blushing faces, a small smirk on his face.

“I did not think you would be the one to make the first move,” he replied, raising his eyebrows at Hazel.

You bit back your amused grin as Hazel scoffs. The sweet worker measuring your waist made eye contact with you, holding back her own grin as well.

“What does that mean?” Hazel frowned at Happy.

“No offense to you, kid, but you don’t seem like the type to make the first move.” Happy tried to defend Hazel.

She looked over at you with a frown. You scrunched up your face a little to show that you agreed. Obviously, you knew Hazel little moves here and there but she did give a nervous-unable-to-flirt vibe. But in a charming way.

To you, of course.

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I think it's adorable,” you beam at her.

Hazel nods to herself as you reassure her that you love how cute she is.

“There,” the worker measuring you finalized.

You stepped off the lit up platform, giving her a kind smile and a ‘thank you’. She pointed a finger at Hazel and curled it for her to stand on the platform that you were previously on. Hazel stood up from her seat to give you a gentle kiss on your cheek before taking your place. You take hers right next to Happy, glancing at him nervously.

“So, what’s it like working for superheroes?” You question, smiling kindly.

Happy took a sip of his drink before letting out a long sigh: “Amazing.”

His tone told you otherwise. You nod slowly, messing with the fabric on your legs as you wait for Hazel to be measured for her suit. Hazel stood eerily still which kind of freaked you out.

“Baby, breathe,” you state with a teasing smile.

Hazel released a breath as she sent you a weird grin. “Sorry.”

You knew Hazel tended to forget to breathe when she was put in unfamiliar situations.

“You know, you two are a lot cuter than I had thought. This one over here could not stop talking about you every single time we were alone,” Happy chipped in after another round of silence.

You beam at the man, turning towards him as you press for answers.

“H-Happy, you’re sworn to secrecy!” Hazel interrupted with a stutter.

Happy held his hands up in defense as Hazel’s eyes kept darting to you and Happy as the woman measured down the length of her arms.

Happy, even though being sworn to secrecy, leans in to whisper to you: “She’s a real sap for you, you know?”

Your heart flutters as you nod. You think about the many, many photos Hazel would send you of random updates throughout her day, the little gifts she got you, and how often she reminds you how much she cares about you. But you always make sure she receives the amount of gentle gestures she gives you.

You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. Well, you thought you’ve felt like this before. This time it felt true.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m one for her too.”

TAG-LIST: @atyourmerci @mih11 @camilleee222 @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @alesbianperson @slaughtercarrie @cllhan @ahdbodhr @ih8chickentenders @bluerazberrystarz @sc0ttstre3ted @ilovevampires99 @sam-cooperrr @guzzlingplastic111 @rubycruzin4abruzin @cyberchomp @lucicorn72 @angelsknifeprty @lamolaine @cinnamonmilf @elliesprettygirl

[ferida-kahlo]

♡ Hotline ♡

Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.

Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.

Word count: 3.8k

Read below the cut OR on AO3

Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄

For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.

Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…

… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.

“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.

Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.

Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.

Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.

Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.

You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.

He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”

You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.

“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”

“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.

“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.

“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.

You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…

You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.

“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.

“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.

“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.

He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”

You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”

“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”

“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.

“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.

“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.

“That fucking sucks”.

“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.

“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.

It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.

The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.

“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.

“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.

“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”

With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.

There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.

You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.

“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”

“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.

“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”

“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.

“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?

Wait. Is he…?

You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”

A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.

“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”

“You know… freeing the junk.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.

“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”

You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”

A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.

“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.

Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”

“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.

“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.

“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.

Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.

Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.

In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.

He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.

It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.

“… Mike? Are you still there?”

It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-

Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.  

You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”

“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.

You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”, he laughs along.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.

“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah?”, you whisper.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”

Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.

A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.

You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”

His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.

“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”

“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”

“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”

The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.

“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.

He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”

“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”

“Yeah? What kinds of things?”

“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.

“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.

You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”

“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.

Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”

He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”

You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.

“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”

You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…

“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”

“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.

You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you…”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.

“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.

“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.

You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”

At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.

“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.

“Mikey- fuck!”.

Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.

A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.

He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.

You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.

“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”

You notice a shift in his voice.

“Yeah… what is it?”

“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”

You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.

“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.

“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”

“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.

“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.

After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.

[thewriterg]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.3

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; You’re shot and not healing, what could be worse? Everything

word count; 3.8k | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n: First post of 2024 what the hell writers!? 🙈

The walk to the excile point was a surprisingly smooth one, even if it felt like you were walking through hells trenches. The grim reaper himself strides beside you even though your footsteps aren’t matching his. They’re a bit… delayed, the thought that makes you want to trip. Fortunately, it’s nothing too drastic to actually make you stumble. God you hated Americans, so trigger happy with not a lick of skill behind those damn fingers. How they contributed to win some of the largest wars ever recorded was beyond you. Continuing to let your unreliable footing carry you on your marry way, You and Ghost both lead your sergeants, while they in response lead your privates to your designated location.

Soap doesn’t even blink at the weight he had lugged on his back even though it was sure to bite him in the ass when he dialed back to his normal size. The small force of everyone is on guard until the very last moment where your all loading helis. Even then the Scott noted how the Wraith and Phoenix’s shoulders did not seem to drop, even though you were being confined into a temporary security until you could return to base. You, Gaz, Ghost, Price and Himself —along with two lower rank hybrids— load into one of the two aircraft’s waiting for you while the other privates have no choice but to load on the second.

You sit next to Gaz and Soap soon takes a seat next to you gleefully accepting the opportunity, a bit confused when Price seemingly turned his eyebrow up at the arrangement. His head slightly tilted when he noticed you don’t meet the captains gaze but the bucket hat wearing man doesn’t comment on it and neither does he. The ride from that point is smooth until about an hour in your pilot experiences turbulence, and suddenly Your head is spinning, your gums are itching as if you were a toddler teething. Everything is heightened, you can hear the blades of the heilo even through the density of you headphones, your eyes are sensitive to the faintest bit of the moonlight peaking through the windshield, and your body spiked in temperature, burning hot like hell. Your attempt to take a breath was useless when the potent scent of blood hits your nostrils. So sweet yet it felt like the peach fuzz in your nostrils burned and you groaned abruptly.

“You alright Lt? You dinnae look too we-”

“Which one of you is bleeding” You interrupt the Mohawk’ed sergeant with a hiss, placing a hand over your nose and curling over your knees. Heads snap to you like a mouse in a trap and Price is up out of his seat before anyone push the weight on their knees to stand. The brunette kneels in front of you, you’re not looking at him but he can see your eyes are dilated theirs faint veins trailing under your eyes that look like they want to spur from beneath your skin. You irises are layered with a foggy film and you look so far away it could’ve broken the captains heart, but he had to be your superior before he could be your comforter and he was sure you could handle it.

“Hey, Hey! What’s goin’ on? Look at me! What’s happe-?” It happened to quick to process, in the bat of an eye the Scott would say. One moment you’re looking distant and far away in your seat and the other you have one of your privates Tank against the cold steel wall of the heilo with that certain look in your eyes. You see it a few times in his line of work.

Bloodlust,

Fangs sprout from the roots of your gums, deep dark red veins swarm under your eyes, your pupils have taken over the whites of your eyes, and you are not yourself to say the least. In quick action Gaz squawks —even though it’s more like a screech— it put you down to your knees while you hands clutch your head mouth open in a small ‘o’ with a silent scream ghosting from your lips. It throws you off for a minute, but it’s not a minute long enough. You adjust quickly and with the same speed you pinned down the raven haired private you do the same to the rich skinned Sargent, a hand wrapped around his throat effectively stopping is antagonizing screeching. You bare your fangs at him with a hiss and he nods with a groan on his lips.

“I get it Lt, n-no more screeching… you g-got it”

Before you could do anymore damage your soon the one groaning when that scent takes over your senses again. When you turn to the source in your somewhat unconscious mind your realize it wasn’t your original subject, the scent was much more… potent

“This what you want? Come ‘ere, take what you want” Ghost’s gruff voice rings over your ears as he stands tall, combat knife in his right hand his opposite palm sliced open blood dripping like water from the tap. You didn’t quite lunge at the blonde but you weren’t gentle either. It was different… you were rigid as your fangs pierced his jugular taking exactly what you wanted with a hand wrapped around the front shoulder covering of his bullet proof vest. Soon however, you’re groaning into the surface of his skin ready to pull away when your frame was restrained against the wraiths keeping you in place. Your senses are be ridden into overdrive, grunting in protest against the lieutenant struggling inevitably. Shadows slither up your body effectively keeping you still and you’re weaker than ever —it concerns the Brit to no end— effectively out like a light, dead weight pressing against the front of Ghost’s torso. that he takes willingly. The chopper is finally quiet, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. The captain and —conscious— lieutenant are the first to move, the skull masked soldier sits with your unconscious body in his lap. He swings your legs over his knees and holds your shoulders and in his arm supporting the weight.

Price examines your flesh, nothing alarming to the eye until he gets to the ending of your collarbone and beginning of your shoulder blade. It was barely noticeable to the eye with your all black gear a hole is punctured through your shirt —the fabric saturated with blood— just where your bulletproof vest stops.

“Gaz. Bullet wound, collarbone to shoulder area, ammo unknown, no exit.” The brunette calls out to the sergeant and he notes it immediately, going up to the pilots cavity to grab first aid coming back a practical second later. He hands his captain; gauze, scissors, forceps, tape, and medical wrap. Not nearly enough to give you a beginning of a processable recovery but, it’s something to keep you stable and sterilized. Price takes the shears cutting a big enough square in the fabric of your shirt for him to see with the shitty helo lighting. With enough gauze to clear out a cotton field the bleeding is finally stopped. What stands out the most however is your veins, different shades of black and gray spreading from the wounds up your neck and down your arm. Price curses gruffly, Ghost grunts in disdain, while Gaz catches a gasp in his throat and holds it there. Without another word and with a steady hand the dragon goes in with the tweezers fishing about for the stray bullet wearily when you twitch, ignoring how his lieutenant tightens his hold around you. Soon enough without hitting a nerve he pulls out a bullet its black resembling the color spreading abnormally through your veins.

“Never seen anything like it Cap” The brown eyed sergeant murmurs analyzing the bullet while the older brunette begins to patch you up good enough to where you aren’t bleeding out.

“Somethin’ illegal i'm pretty sure, Americans and Russians in wits with one another? Can’t be arsed to think about it” Their captain is cold, no humor in his voice to spare. Soap perks up at it having been waved away throughout the whole process of it all, ‘safety percussion’ the harpy tried to mutter to him softly even though it came off as passive and off putting the Scott got the message. With a knee bouncing in uncertainty the Scott tries his best to see through the gap of two fit frames that are practically shoulder to shoulder, begging to see anything —straining his eyes in the process— but in the end he wished he didn’t.

“Is she still breathing!? Check ‘er pulse how many beats per minute?”

“Mactavi-” The lieutenant begins with a hiss

“Those types of bullets mark hybrids for death, big ones, powerful ones, like us… like her. Wolves, dragons, sirens, cockatrice, harpies, hellhounds, cyclops, every big shot in the books. I don’t know how the ‘ell her heart hasn’t stopped”

“125 beats per minute Cap, her heart isn’t slowing it’s… going into overdrive” Gaz’s brows furrow at the words slipping from his lips as if it wasn’t his own recognition, as if he were learning it for the first time. Price curses moving towards the captain's cavity taking a hold of the mic that connected to his coms that ranged to base, speaking hardened than the brunette ever heard

“This is Bravo six, I want nurses on scene upon my arrival landing time ASAP. I have a member down… if I don’t see medical you won’t see a day of rest, private.” His voice fades out into the front of the helo with thundering steps that demand attention. Gaz kept a pointer and middle finger on your pulse point still counting the beasts as minutes pass, Soap felt short of helpfully useless, and when Ghost finally speaks up his voice is directed and sharp. Looking forward the two lower ranked hybrids one is checking over the other and they both look at him with attentive eyes

“What the hell happened in that building”

💌💌💌💌

“-nd she saved me” Your head is ringing and you can’t find it in you to peel your eyes open. The feeling of being heavily sedated yet pumped full of adrenaline at the same time, it felt so close to suffocation your body forces Itself into fight or flight. You're strapped to an average hospital bed with steel restraints, the cold metal on your hot skin not soothing you whatsoever. When your eyes peel open you eyes your vision is blurry you only make out blobbed figures until blinking a few times. A bright light is being shined in your face and you bare fangs at the person behind it.

“Stitch! Are you trying to lose a limb!? Back off!” The doctor barks at the dirty blonde nurse who flinches double, scrambling to get away from your bedside and out of her superiors way. Kyle is holding your hand at your right not caring if you’d scold him for being so worried all the time, Simon sits in a corner where he can see everything the medical team dies to you while also seeing who comes in and out of the door, John hovers reluctant with all medical staff —with that my team my concern mindset—, while Johnny stands beside Tank and Red near the door as they give the nurses their rundowns. You go to open your mouth only to be met with your vocal cords screaming at you in protest. The inability to speak makes you you groan that sounds more like a whine of a kicked puppy than anything

“I apologize, lieutenant. We believe it’s a side effect of the gunpowder in your bloodstream and we’re flushing you out as quickly as possibl-”

“Are there any updates to the status reports I requested?” You would have usually made fun of the dragons unusual impatience if you were in the comfort of his office; however you're in this cold, stale room that smells of too much bleach.

“Yes captain, the bullet is in fact meant to kill stronger hybrids. Once the hybrids are pierced with it there’s really no return for them, the gunpowder runs through the stream they become lucid quickly and all docile tendencies are forgotten. However, we suspect that that particular outburst from lieutenant y/l/n will be her only one because we’ve nailed down where it came from. We played around with time frames that lined up the best. You were shot and just before the ammo could burst with its gunpowder and spread the toxins through your stream you had fed blood to your lowerank to heal him.” The doctor cleared her throat before giving the room a much wanted update of your condition

“That doesn’t explain why she dropped ‘im like an old toy when Ghost’s blood was introduced.” Price spoke up too many gaps were missing for the brunette's taste as he ran a few fingertips through his short salt and pepper beard.

“I didn’t think such a… uncomfortable topic should be discussed as of right now” At the sound of reasoning Simon moves to stand messy bandaging over the he cuts having waved away the nurses who’d tried to attend to him —a little papercut shouldn’t not taken their attention off of you—. The room seemed significantly smaller when the lieutenant stood

“If opposing threats tread with those bullets we need to know everything about them. Nothing in this line of work is comfortable” His voice screamed demanding; demanding of attention, demanding of response, demanding of results. The middle aged woman visibly swallowed before speaking with a voice filled with discontent.

“With previous blood work of you three well, you all line back to lieutenant Y/l/n, or more precisely she lines back to you” Soaps ears perk up and so did his tail, fur rigid against the skin of it. He wants the brightest apple but he wasn’t the dullest pen either. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together but it sounded so off putting. You fed from them? He’d been around vampires before and you did show qualities of one, the fangs, the pitch black eyes when you fed, it was evidence and it was there… but you didn’t smell like one and seemed to have not even the slightest sensitivity to the sun. The mystery of it all killed him

If you weren’t a hybrid what the hell were you?

“Us, but it doesn’t make sense. She had me there could’ve bit into me” Gaz finishes for the medical agent brows furrowed once again the skin between them creased. The doctor nods while prying on a pair of blue latex gloves

“Doctors from both sides of base have been working on it for now, we believe it’s because you weren’t bleeding. It wasn’t potent enough for her to take interest in it. Our second guess? She was attracted to what or who she got done with last.” The room was silent, one heavy fog was replaced with another. No one speaks of what’s been revealed however you’re onto the next topic before you can dwell on it. The head doctor approaches you slowly, as if you were a skittish cat in the wild.

“I’m just gonna draw a little blood from you to run a few tests, make sure we didn’t miss anything.” You blink at her with sharp eyes and tense muscles when you see the size of the needle, not too much length enough to prick a vein the girth however made your hand twitch in Gaz’s palm. It even made the Scott want to tuck his tail with a wince.

“Hey. You’re alright, you’re fine, you hear me? You’re alright” Ghost had stepped up beside Price to your temporary bed, the heart monitor spikes and before you know it the needle is in your shoulder —meer meters away from the bullet wound that was mending itself at an inhuman speed—. You hiss jerking it away but the doctor is a good one and follows your quick motions successfully. Collecting enough blood in the clear syringe to send off to the labs. She quickly bandages your wound back confident, but not ignorant enough to linger around an upset hybrid.

“Test results should be back as soon as possible, in the meantime while lieutenant Y/l/n flushes the toxins out of her body the side effects of the bullet are still possible until further notice.”

“Which are?” The harpy huffs temper running unusually short, palm gripping your closed fist tighter —not enough to hurt but enough to notice a difference— a lick of tired at the woman’s shirt answers.

“Anything from spikes of heart rate, cold sweats, immense… hunger and most of all intense hallucinations. We think by the time her voice has returned most of the threat should be absent. All we can do is let it run its course, I’m sorry.” The brunette discards of her gloves and leaves the room idle. As much as you try to stay away your eyes droop low and are soon closed tight

💌💌💌💌

Soap sits next to your bedside, warm cup of coffee in hand, his eyes straining to look at the small tv mounted on the wall even though he wasn’t actively watching it. He had finally got Ghost to stretch his legs and go take a shower after three days of nothing but cold sweats and spikes of heart rate from you he decided his —other— lieutenant's heart needed a break. After much pestering, convincing, promising to stick by your side, and a little threat that summed up he wouldn’t think you would like to hear about him rotting next to your bedside the wraith finally took a leave after 72 hours.

“Kyle,” The Scott thought he was just imagining things at first or that it came from the Tv but as he stares at you for a while he realizes it was simply not true. He stared at your face for a while until you’re mumbling again and it pangs his chest a little. He didn't know any of you that well —didn’t know anyone except Price and Gaz really— but he still cared nonetheless it was in his nature.

“Simon, dont.” You’re starting to sweat again and your heart monitor is starting to beep. The werewolf moves to stand ringing for a nurse when it seems to get worse, your body is jerking and you keep mumbling in distress.

💌💌💌💌

You're walking up the stairs of some abandoned building, it's eerily chilly and there's really no light except for the dim overhead light on each floor you pass by that continues to flicker. The stairs and walls are concrete to match the walls and floors, you have your rifle pressed against you sweeping each floor swiftly with precision it could almost feel... normal. You reach the fifth floor and there's a stagger in your step. All of your privates lay dead in pools of their own blood like stuck pigs, hybrids and normals alike lie dead. After a spare moment you continue on to finish your mission as you were ordered to, as you were required to. The next floors to come are still filled with dead privates none lie peacefully, all gone in agony, too soon, you could read the tombstones now.

Your boots march almost rhythmically up three more floors and as they go by you are more and more desensitized to the bodies that sprawled the floor. You make it to the final story of the building and there's a door staring back at you, almost challenging you to open it and you take the duel with not the slightest bit of shake in your hand. The door opened with a loud whine at the unusual action and your riffle drops from your arms at the sight behind it.

You see your captain first, bucket hat that you always made fun of inches away from his body. His right horn that sits atop of his head looks damaged beyond repair and his neck is sliced open from ear to ear. Your breath is trapped in your throat and your body doesn't allow you to move. Your mentor, the reason you are where you are, your sacred captain, lies sliced like a sacrificial lamb. Your eyes trail away from the brunette's cold body and you wish they didn't, there lies your sergeant. One of the two full broad wings adorned with brown feathers are gone, singed away. Your sweet brown eyed boy stares at you voidly. There's no crease of his eyes to let you know he's smiling, no brightness to alert you of life, and the look of adoration he always gave you in particular that was taken for granted forever absent. You cradle his bruised face in your palm and this time you can't stop your tears from running downstream on your face.

"Kyle," Your voice cracks at the slightest utter of his name. You don't think you can say anything else or it'll mean it's true, it'll mean your captain and your sergeant are dead. You reluctantly stand a silent promise to come back to them both and make your way further in the room. You can see the back of a balaclava staring back at you and it helps you breathe better. You approach him with his callsign spilling from your lips. He looked to be hacking intel, just like your mission called for. You approach him putting a palm on his shoulder just for his head to fall limp and you could almost laugh. This had to be some cruel, sick, twisted, joke that should end any second now. It doesn't.

"Si get up right now, get the fuck up! GET UP SIMON!" Your body is trembling as you roughly shake his body, there's no response that comes from it hazel eyes rolled deep into the back of his head and you don't know which hurts worse. Your stomach churns when you gently lift the mask off his face to see toxins spreading through his veins up his neck. The best soldier, the strongest man you’ve met, your one and only, was dead.

💌💌💌💌

Put blood, sweat, and tears into this chapter because you guys deserve it

if you voted on my poll from the last chapter then you could see I used all prompts in this chapter except for one which we’ll deep dive into another day🤗

some have asked for a taglist so comment to be added

I hope you guys are having a wonderful year so far I love you and thank you for everything! -G

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Birdbox (3/5)

Word count; 3.8k

For the first time, Y/n had the concious thought about whether they could use their ability to see their surroundings. They always thought their blindness was a curse, but in the apolcolypse, it had come in usefully. Whether this was only an ability in their sleep, Y/n had yet to determine, but they hoped it wasn’t — Y/n didn’t see any other way to survive.

Y/n laid their head against the counter. They plugged their phone in, dreading the day when electricity was no longer available and Siri — Y/n’s only friend — was silenced. And then came the issue of food. They were stuck. Y’n couldn’t help but ponder death. They were aware of how generally awful they were as a person, and that kept Y/n with a will to live and a will to die.

Y/n was selfish, rude, and a coward. They were bitter at the world for being unfair and punished the people around them the same. Too selfish and afraid to die, but too hateful toward the world to live. It was a conundrum. Y/n figured, though, that their general confusion would be the death of them, as they were too confused on what to do. Y/n had their talents in a paintbrush, not a weapon. Y/n couldn’t see. Y/n hardly knew the area because their father often shipped groceries to their doorstep so Y/n only left the house for exhibitions, interviews, and art supplies. 

Their father. Y/n sat up, grabbing the phone. 

“Hey, Siri. Call dad.”

The phone began ringing. The screen was slightly cracked, but its not as though Y/n cared. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. After the tone, please leave a message.”

A wave of sadness and worry washed over Y/n. They recognized that their father was the most important person in their life. Perhaps his phone was dead. Perhaps it was lost. Perhaps he was asleep.

Or perhaps he was dead.

For the first time since hell had descended on earth, Y/n began to cry. They wandered over to the couch to lay down, curling on their side. For the first time in a while, they thought of ‘Last Look’s dreadful day.

“Doctor, why can’t my child see? How can they get their sight back?” their father pleaded.

“Sir, I’m sory, We’ve ran several tests, but sometimes, things like this happen. A hidden gene. A faulty switch in the occipital lobe. Although there is still no noticable differences in their brain development, nerves, or blood work, cases like this happen. It’s unfortunate, and unfair. Sometimes, the eyes shut down entirely overnight from unknown causes. And, currently, we don’t have the technology to do anything about it.”

Their father’s eyebrows furrowed. Although Y/n couldn’t see it, he was losing hope. He wondered if he had somehow failed his only child. 

“I… I did some research. They somehow made a young boy see again —“

“That was a scientific anomaly, sir,” the doctor argued desperately. “And anyway, this clinic is incapable of giving that kind of treatment.”

Y/n’s father began to sob. They are crying, too. The doctor’s words scared them. They clawed and rubbed at their eyes, but their father grabbed their hands, squeezing tightly. He comforted them, whispering sweet words that everything would be alright. That they would make due. That there was nothing wrong with being blind. That it wasn’t the end of the world.

But Y/n was only a child. Their entire future had been robbed. Y/n didn’t know of any blind heros. Anyone out there that made a living or lived independently. Y/n was uneducated. All they knew was that their world had ended, and that they wanted to see again.

And see they now did. Y/n shot up. It was but a blink, but they saw. It was like they physically transcended their body and walked to the door, going right through it. They reached for a canvas, their fingers tracing it like a memory. A man. Middle-aged, beer-bellied, straggling jawline, balding. Pale eyes with a daze. Pounding, over and over. His knuckles bleeding. His clothes torn and bloody. The woman’s corpse beside him, eyes torn open and from her skull, as though his fingers had dug into them to remove them personally. In the woman’s chest, there was an iron rod.

Y/n could still see it clearly. The man was really there, still pounding ruthlessly. Y/n had blocked out the knocking, but with sudden focus, their ears returned to the sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They dropped the brush and went over to the kitchen. They pulled a knife from the drawe, removing the blade cover. The wind was still howling outside, pounding at the windows. They went over to the door.

Y/n suddenly found courage and a voice.

“How are you alive? Why are you here? How did you know I was here?”

The knocking stopped suddenly. With its absense, an eerie silence followed. Y/n suddenly regretted speaking up.

A gruff voice, enchanted yet ery, very dry and cracked, answered. “They showed me true beuty. They want me to show you. Let me give you my eyes, Y/n. I want to give you my eyes —“

“Why is everyone else dead but you? What’s doing all this?” Y/n’s voice was shaky yet steady. 

“…Sinners. All of them. They did not want to see. But I do. You do. They want me to show you it all. Open the door, Y/n. Let me give you my eyes.”

“That’s impossible. I am blind. Please, leave me alone —“

“But you have the sight!” the man suddenly boomed. “They gave it to you a long, long time ago. And now, they will show you everything great and beautiful. Open the door. Open the door. Let me give you my eyes.”

Y/n only grew more confused with every sentence. Nothing made sense. 

“How will you give me your eyes?”

Manic, cracked laughter ensued. “I will tear them from my skull and hand them to you. You must see it, Y/n. It is beautiful! Beautiful, I tell you! Open the door!”

“Leave your eyes at the doorstep. I will take them that way.”

“I wish to see you myself. They speak so highly of you. You are the most beautiful landscape of all. I must see you, Y/n. I must see you and hand you my eyes —!”

Shivers rolled down their spine and they took a step away from the door. Y/n was left with more questions than answers. The whole endeavor was pointless. However, Y/n knew that they couldn’t stand the knocking anymore. And they didn’t trust that this man would just die. Something supernatural had consumed the world. The man’s eyes weren’t normal. Perhaps his biology wasn’t, either.

With that, Y/n didn’t let the fear take over. They unlocked the front door and swung it open. The voice was no longer muffled. They aimed to stab, but the man suddenly bellowed and collapsed to his knees. The man was far more vocally gruesome with a door no longer seperating them. The man bowed.

His scarred, bloody hands touched Y/n’s feet. He scrambled and panted. Y/n is left stunned, allowing the man to grovel at their feet. 

Sobs echoed the empty hallway.

And Y/n was shaking from head to toe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he cried. “They were right! The most beautiful thing in creation!”

His praises fell on deaf ears. Rough hands squeezed Y/n’s feet and they felt overwhelming disgust, overpowering the fear. The hands clawe at their calves and then their thighs. Suddenly, he withdrew, falling silent. His face was drenched in sweat. He glistened with salt and oil. Tears continued to fall, and although Y/n did not know, his eyes were glued to their figure in awe.

And then, he began to claw. He dug his thumb and pointer finger into his eyelids. Y/n stumbled back, hearing the squelch. The man released painful gurgles. Slowly and painfully, he removed his eyes. The man sobbed desperately, and yet all he cried was blood.

Y/n felt a spray against their pants. Y/n had enough. Their selfish, angry side kicked in, adrenaline suddenly bursting through their veins. Gritting their teeth, they stabbed the man in the neck, somehow knowing exactly where to aim. The man gurgled out a cry, dropping his eyeballs and collapsing to the welcome mat. Y/n kicked the man away, feeling their socks get drenched with liquids. The man’s thud was the last sound he made. 

Y/n felt around the corpse for the knife, disgusted. They removed it. 

They slammed the door shut and locked it again.

The corpse sat there. The man lay there, decaying and wet. The eyeballs were completely seperated and long cords spun out from his eyes. Despite the pain he and Y/n had caused, the man was smiling.

Y/n was rattled to their core, turning and sliding down the door. Their hands had intense tremors. They knew damn well they couldn’t stay stuck. The wind was howling, harder and harder. The beast was near. And the insane missionary had found them once. Another one surely could. 

Y/n stayed frozen on the floor, cradling the moist knife like a child, for a very, very long time. It was slowly settling on them that they had commited murder. It didn’t feel like self-defense. The man had worshipped them, for christ’s sake. They couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened, had they taken the eyes? What would they have seen?

They decided to think it over in the shower; they knew they had to move while they had the resources. Siri wouldn’t live forever. Their food supply wouldn’t last. They needed to find a grocery store to camp in — one that wouldn’t be too populated with hypothetical looters.

They also needed resolution on what happened to their father.

When they hopped out of the shower, they began to pack the essentials: their charger, phone, cane, clothing, food, and paints. Everything they’d need to survive, but also live. 

Y/n’s first thought of where to go was the corner store down the block. It’s where they often went for an easy snack. Y/n took their cane and turned Siri on to the corner store. They shoved the phone in their pocket after plugging in earbuds. 

They felt their way toward the elevator. Their ears were keen, but the hallway was silent.Usually, their apatment building was full of hustle and bustle, especially at… god, Y/n didn’t even know what time it was. So, they asked while in the elevator.

“Seven-thirty-three.”

The elevator beeped and the doors opened. More silence. Siri repeated directions, but Y/n knew the way to the front entrance. 

They paused. The beast seemed to follow their every move; it was everywhere. It was the air Y/n was breathing. That much they knew. They hovered, afraid to leave. But Y/n’s will to survive and be selfish was the most important part.

And then they hear it: a screaming woman. Y/n dashed out the door, selfishly believing this was their chance. In Y/n’s mind, the wind would divert its attention, even if it was an entire entity. The screams echoed and grew louder. The wind was bustling and squealing in their ears. They could hardly use their cane, relying solely on Siri’s directions.

“Turn left to reach your destination.”

Y/n skidded to a stop, losing their footing. Y/n grunted loudly, knowing they would probably be left with a nasty bruise. They scrambled onto their knees. They dropped the cane, but as the wind whistled and bustled, the cane was the last thing on their mind. In their world of darkness, they crawled forward, finally feeling at a glass panel. Y/n scrambled to their feet, gripping the handle.

They pulled at it desperately, almost falling again as the door swung open. They felt papers adorn the inside, and a wave of relief washed over them as they pulled the door shut. Y/n was shaking in their boots as they held the position, feeling the wind beat against the door. 

Click.

Y/n tensed, turning wildly and reluctantly releasing the doorknob. Their voice came out as a squeak.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t move. Hands up.”

A man’s voice echoed in the otherwise silent corner store. The man sounds gruff, and Y/n can tell that the man sounds rather redneck. And by the clicking, the man held a gun. Y/n complied.

The man emerged from behind a shelf, crouched slightly, and had a pistol aimed directly at them. Y/n panted, unaware of the man’s exact location. Their head turned every which way, attempting to locate the man. The man wore a dark leather jacket and was somewhat older. He had a peppered beard and a big bald spot on his head. He wore glasses and ripped jeans, giving off the general aesthetic of a retired biker. 

“Now, what’s it like out there? Have you seen it?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s quiet, sir,” Y/n stuttered. “I’m blind — I can’t see the monster —“

“Bullshit.”

“I dropped my cane right outside the door —“

“I know you’re just like the last guy. Trying to fool me, are you —“

“I’m blind! I’m Y/n L/n — I’m famous, haven’t you fucking heard of me, you fucking loser?” Y/n exclaimed, almost insulted. “Just look out, and you’ll see you fucking cane —“

While Y/n had been ranting and tossing insults at the man, he had progressed silently. Y/n stared out blankly, expression angry and unchanging as the man snuck up on them. Y/n paused, breathing heavily. All they saw was darkness, unaware of whether a gunshot would shoot them dead.

“Boo.”

Y/n jumped wildly, flailing to the ground. They burst into tears, which made the man laugh. He glanced out the paper, noticing the cane. “By golly, I guess you are blind. Or one hell of an actor. You don’t got the same eyes as them, either.”

“Jesus, fuck you —“

The man lowered his gun and chuckled gruffly. “Yeah, yeah. If you saw the world we were living in right now, you’d understand. Now, get away from the door and behind this here counter.”

Without asking, the man grabbed and pulled them. Y/n frowned firmly but allowed it to happen. Behind the counter was a small pile of wrapper trash and a torn up sleeping bag. The man beckoned to sit, but they gathered that once they felt the counter. Their movements were still skittery, untrusting of the man before them.

“So, let’s exchange stories.”

“Stories?”

“My name is Mark. I’m the owner of this establishment, although that doesn’t mean much these days,” he explained. “I followed the news religiously, waiting for something like this. Then, I noticed reports of mass hysteria starting in Italy. I shut down shop immediately, and not even an hour or so later, the news turned to shit, and so did the world outside. I learned that whatever’s out there cannot be seen and all that shit, so I’ve got my trusty blindfold around my neck just in case. And finally, I guess it’s safe here for now, but we sure as hell can’t stay here. It’s a fucking corner store. The supplies aren’t endless.”

Y/n listened intently to his ramblings and, deciding to suspend distrust, nodded and replied. “Yeah, okay. So, I’m blind. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. I’m the ‘blind painter.’ I had a gallery that day and was heading home when it all started. Uh, and I was fine until I started having… dreams. Seeing things that were there. Like this cult guy outside my door that wouldn’t leave me alone. I actually saw what he looked like in my head. I killed the guy and he was fucking worshiping me. Something about how he wanted me to see. God, he pulled out his eyes —“ Y/n stopped, replaying that moment in their head and shuddering. “Uh, and I came here… Oh. And I’m Y/n.”

“The fuck?”

“I guess this plague affects everyone differently, but if I’d known that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you in.”

“It’s a gift,” Y/n insisted anxiously. “A stupid one. But my father always told me god gave me eyes in my dreams. The truth is, I think I’ve seen the monster in my dreams. And when I focused, I could see the man outside my apartment. But only when asleep.”

“Prove it. Show me some of your drawings. You obviously brought the fucking supplies.”

“I haven’t used this notebook in years. It’s only old drafts,” Y/n answered, withdrawing the notebook from their bag. 

“Well, if you’re some fancy painter, it doesn’t really matter.”

Without warning, the man snatched the notebook from their grasp and started going through the pages. He slowly goes through them, ignoring Y/n’s angry expression from the invasion. Inside the notebook was several drafts of pretty locations. Some faces. The occasional animal.

Mark paused at a page, his brows crinkling. “This the monster you saw in your head?”

“What is it?”

Mark described it to them.

“Yes. Although that could have been my imagination.”

Mark continued to stare at the scribbles. It was somehow made of clean yet untidy scribbles. There was a large circle surrounding a large head that had long, spindly tendrils, leaving a cavernous mouth. The thing had slits for eyes, and there was a gleam to the flesh of the beast. It was like a halo over it, and Mark couldn’t help but admire the drawing. 

Then, he turned the page to find another one. He was suspicious, but the drawings were aged and marked with a date from several years ago. This drawing had a clearer face image, showing the tall, slimy forehead. The slits for eyes were open, bulbous, and consumed with black charcoal. The tendrils leaked down the paper like Y/n had switched to paint halfway through.

After that sketch, it returned to an image of a mountain waterfall.

“…Huh. So you’re telling me you saw this shit coming too?”

“Hardly. I thought they were nothing but recurring dreams until now.”

“Well, let me get some food. I think there’s a spare sleeping bag in the back, too.”

Mark rose and weaved around Y/n. Y/n remained still, grabbing their notebook back and getting lost in thought.

They thought about how long they would be able to stay, especially in the company of Mark. Another person meant the distribution of resources, but Mark could also see and shoot. Y/n figured their thoughts were selfish, but the world would probably be much prettier without fellow humans polluting it. Yn didn’t care much bout life, but cared enough that they refused to commit suicide. Y/n wondered if their father was alive —

Y/n heard a door open and assumed Mark was returning. Mark returned with a box of Frosted Flakes and a rolled-up, far newer sleeping bag. 

A sense of safety and exhaustion reached Y/n as they silently munched on Frosted Flakes. The taste was slightly stale, and despite their typical pickiness, there was a sense of comfort. They came to terms calmly with the fact that the apocalypse was upon them. That meant that stale cereal, a warm sleeping bag, and a man with a gun weren’t the worst things in the world at that moment.

“You sure you aren’t possessed?” Mark yawned, perking up and cradling his pistol.

“He said ‘they’’ wanted to give me my eyes back. To give me true sight. The ma worshipped me as a god,” Y/n recalled with a pause. “I wish I was possessed because whatever they are seeing… it must be incredible.”

~~~

Y/n was awoken from a deep, terrifying slumber with animated shaking. “Wake the fuck up!” Mark bellowed. “What are you seeing?”

Y/n scrambled, sleep in their eyes. Mark was on top of things, scrambling for their paint palette and notebook. Y/n felt at them. Some terrified tears escaped their eyes as they scribbled roughly on the notebook paper. Mark was silent and watched carefully as Y/n drew, their gaze staring up fearfully and unknowingly making direct eye contact with Mark.

Y/n suddenly dropped the paint brush and panted. “This. I saw this.”

Y/n handed the notebook over. Some time had passed; according to Mark, they had rationed well, and a week or so had passed. Trust had formed between the two of them. Sometimes, Y/n dreamt and they drew. But based on the violence in their head, Mark must have known something was especially wrong with this one. Y/n often woke up with the sun, according to Mark, but Y/n had the sense that the sun was not up yet.

“I… hope I drew it right. I saw many, many people. A mob. They were walking down a road, dazed and enchanted. They’ve seen it.”

Mak analyzed the work intensely. He was still amazed at his comrade's ability and figured it would be his demise. But at least it kept him on his toes. It made for conversation, too. 

The image depicted rocky, cold, and dying terrain with stale grass and swamplands in the distance. A few abandoned, rotting cars were on a large, spacious road, which was covered in oddly detailed figures. The mob was walking, dazed, just as Y/n had described. The mob was thick, and despite their harmless and dumb expressions, they yielded weapons — anything from crowbars to hammers to guns. 

“That’s Dale. My coworker,” Mark stated, pointing to one of the figures. “We worked at the same local construction company for a while.”

“Local?”

“Local.”

The realization dawned on the pair. Mark examined the road further. “That same road. It’s the main road leading into town.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you know what that means? Why are they coming here?” Mark inquired carefully, perturbed by the situation.

“They’re… coming for me, I think. It won’t take a genius to realize that I moved. Please, we have to go somewhere else —“

“Jesus, I get it. Let’s pack what we can. We can go out to back. And, Y/n, I want you to wear this blindfold. Just in case.”

[patrophthia]

willow | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff fluff flufff, just people being happy and shit, so fluffy i feel like poop for writing it while im single (when is it my turn to be happy) not beta read

word count: 3.8K

originally posted on my wattpad

— from bee: this takes place in sycamore girl timeline!

"i'm not giving it to you, of course," she remarked, voice straining. "i'm only lending it to you."

"i know," he said all too quickly, making her normally extroverted demeanor (when it came to him, at least) falter. "i promise i won't steal it."

she laughed awkwardly, trying to ease any tension off of her shoulder. "you better not, i've only got one copy of it."

"then i'll buy you a million more." he promised, then smiled, adding, "if i happen to lose it, of course."

regulus didn't think to lift his head up when someone sat down besides him. the class was about to start, there was only a limited amount of seats so, really, he couldn't have cared less about whoever decided to sit to his right. he had more important things on his hand —like whether the characters in the book he was reading will end up with one another or continue to beat around the bush.

as he was about to reach the good part, the professor clapped his hands, starting the class. regulus shut his book, intending to put it into his bag when he looked to the side. there she sat, talking to her friend who was on the other side of her as she pulled out her quill and ink.

class began, neither of them starting conversation since it wasn't needed. every once in a while she would mutter something low under her breath, her eyes narrowing on the blackboard before she turned to him and cleared her throat, asking if the words on the board was what she thought it was and he would help before they went back to what they were doing.

"hey, is canada real?"

regulus turned to her with an incredulous look, brows knitted together trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. finally, he answered. "no."

"thanks," she replied with a smile, and turned back to what she had been doing.

the professor then began droning on about the lesson —one that regulus knew through and through, solely because, the book he was reading (a romance though he would never say it out loud) was a modern retelling of the event they were learning. he shut his notebook, pulling out the novel he was reading previously and continued where he left off.

it wasn't long before she finished as well, shutting her book and trying to tune into the lesson but only to feel as though she was being lull to sleep. to her left was regulus black, sitting handsomely as he always did with a hard cover novel (the dust jacket of it removed) in his elegantly pale hands.

the spine didn't hide the title of the novel though. false god, it read. she smiled knowingly at this. the book was about two sorcerers playing lovers when they despised one another, an enemies to lovers romance.

"heaven is when you touch me and hell is when i fight with you," i confessed, staring into her dark brown eyes. "but i can't help but feel as if we're being led by blind faith."

salazar, this novel is sickeningly sweet.

"i know that look."

regulus brows tightened slightly, tuning into her voice besides him and yet, not giving her his full attention.

"they confessed to her, didn't they?"

the slytherin looked over his book, peeking at her to find her smiling at him. clearing his throat, regulus asked, "you've read this?"

"yup," she said quietly, not wanting to be caught by the professor. "it's written by one of my favorite authors so i kind of had to."

regulus tilted his head slightly. "how'd you know what part i was at?"

"i had that same look on my face when i read it."

had she been watching him read? "oh." he let out, there was a pause before he spoke up again. "did they ever end up together?"

"if i told you that, i'd be spoiling you." she pulled out a piece of paper from her book and began drawing out lines before turning them into small boxes, pushing the parchment to the middle of the table, she looked up at him with a sheepish smile. "how about a game of tic tac toe instead?"

somewhere along the lines of tic tac toes and [name] ranting about the recent novels she'd read before lending it to him, regulus became quite fond of her. he had found himself —more often then not— missing her presence when he was with any of his other 'friends.'

it also didn't help that whenever she flirted with him —something he knew she did because, she liked seeing him get flustered after she said something mildly suggestive to him. he had always thought she was pretty ever since he'd first met her in first year (it was hard not to notice someone when you shared classes with them) but it had never been something that stuck as prominently in his mind as it did now.

the news of one of the black brother being engaged spread like wild fire at hogwarts, everyone —and he meant everyone— began bothering him non-stop. wanting to know if they could get an invite to the wedding (the answer to which he always said no to.)

today had been no different, every single person he'd encountered had asked for an invitation. he was tired of it and if anything he longed for the next class he had. the one he had with her. the one where she sat next to him and talked to him about anything but the lesson or the dreaded wedding.

she got to class five minutes later than him like she always did and smiled the second she spotted him, there was a skip in her step as she made her way over. "i just found the best novel ever."

regulus lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving upwards, giving her his full attention.

"right so the novel is called seven, it's written by the same author who wrote false god," she started, eyes drifting towards the door once a while to make sure that the professor wasn't there. "it's about two childhood friends who was separated when they were seven due to family issues from the guys' part. it's so beautiful, regulus. you'll love it."

regulus. they way it sounded so soft coming from her lips had him feeling things he'd never felt before. he would never tire hearing her say his name.

there was a content look on his face, listening and listening as she brought the fore mentioned novel from her bag and handed it to him. "i even annotated it for you. the pink are for the lines that i loved and the green is for the lines i think you'd love 'cause you're a slytherin and all."

he took it in his hand, eyeing it carefully. he flipped the cover over, seeing her hand writings scattered all around it —some of it being her gushing over the characters. he looked back to her, grey eyes going blue with affection.

"i'm not giving it to you, of course," she remarked, voice straining. "i'm only lending it to you."

"i know," he said all too quickly, making her normally extroverted demeanor (when it came to him, at least) falter. "i promise i won't steal it."

she laughed awkwardly, trying to ease any tension off of her shoulder. "you better not, i've only got one copy of it."

"then i'll buy you a million more." he promised, then smiled, adding, "if i happen to lose it, of course."

" 'course."

as he turned to his side, planning on placing the novel into his bag so he wouldn't misplace it. she called out. "hey reg."

reg. regulus noted. that was a new one. he liked it, he really did like it. he let out a hum of indifferent acknowledgment, not yet facing her as he tried not to show just how much the nickname had effected him.

"would you like to go out this weekend?" there was short second of silence, it wasn't long until she picked up once more. "like on a date?"

before he could even stop himself, he blurted out. "i have plans tomorrow."

"oh."

regulus couldn't help but feel like he was being stabbed in the chest by how deflated she sound. he didn't spare a second when he turned to face her, not wanting to drown in his own guilt. "but yes."

"yes?" she repeated unsurely.

"yes," he concurred. "i'd love to go out with you —on a date. what seems to be the problem is that i have plans to meet up with dear brother's and his fiancée, and i don't want you to spend your weekend waiting for me—"

"reg, i'm perfectly fine with waiting." she cut him off. "although, you nearly made me cry with your 'i have plans tomorrow' i thought you were rejecting me."

"i would never reject you." how could he? not when he had been waiting for something between them to happen for the longest time.

•••

sirius and his fiancée bid their goodbyes with knowing smile, leaving him be as [name] made her way over to him. the booth was pretty much empty with him being the only one sat there, cheeks tinted pink as he waited for her to be seated down.

she took the one opposing him, smiling at him prettily. "you look nice."

"i look nothing compared to you," he countered almost shyly. and then, clearing his throat, regulus asked her, "where'd you want to go?"

"i was going to ask you that," she replied, feeling small under his gaze. "should we just walk around until we figure out what we want to do?"

regulus smiled at that. and with a nod of his head; he stood up, standing awkwardly besides their table. she stood up as well and as they made their way out, she stopped, buying two bottles of butter-beer for them to enjoy whilst they made their way to the next location.

hogsmeade wasn't as pack as he had expected it to be. sure, they were hundreds of teenagers around his age walking around with thick scarves signifying their houses colors walking around but, —unlike every other time he'd been to hogsmeade during the weekends— he could still see the road before him rather than it being a field of hair.

he turned to the side, intending to look at her only to find her already watching him. "where do we go from here? left or right?"

regulus thought about it for a second. no matter where they went, he'd still be happy, he was with her and that would be good enough for him.

"your choice."

the date went as well as he could've imagined it to. regulus followed after everywhere she strayed, smiling and giggling brightly at whatever caught her attention. and by the end of the night, regulus had walked her back to her common room and (with all his inner gryffindor courage) kissed her good night.

he'd turned his back at the speed of light right after, hiding just how truly giddy and flustered he'd felt. fuck. regulus black might be in love.

•••

march rolled around, along with it came both remus lupin and james potter's birthday. both of which, the marauders had threw parties for and both of which, regulus had been invited to.

lupin's party was fun; regulus had enjoyed it to bits, it was a small party with those only in the marauder's close circle invited to. potter's party was the exact opposite, loud music and booze could be seen every he turned.

regulus had been waiting for his girlfriend when he spotted sirius' fiancée and her friends come in. he'd join in on their teasing about sirius' (not) crush on his fiancée and quickly caught onto how his dear brother's attitude change when he found out that she was a light weight.

"don't worry darling, i know how to have fun without getting drunk." whipped.

it was clear that sirius was staying sober for his fiancée (that he definitely didn't have romantic feelings for) if it wasn't clear by how he had kept his eyes on her the entire night, then it was extremely clear when james —the reason he'd said he'd stay sober for, asked for his help and all he did was tell him to sod off and went to her aid.

the man was in love and he didn't even know it.

when [name], regulus' favorite person, arrived, he'd had to tear his eyes away from her just so he could converse with other people at the party. she looked so beautiful and he was so, so, so lucky to have her be his girlfriend.

"what are you looking at?"

"you," he answered slyly. did someone spike the punch? why is his words flowing out so easily? what is this. "you're the prettiest girl, i've ever seen."

there was a look on her face, somewhere between shying off and laughing at his words. he'd always said nice things to her, things that made her weak in the knees and completely drunk off of him.

but something, something about him being slightly intoxicated and gushing about how gorgeous he thought she was, made her feel dizzy (all in the good way, of course).

"my love," regulus called out after a moment, grabbing her attention. "would you come to my brother's wedding?"

"as your date?"

"of course, as my date. as if i'll ever let you out of my sight," he replied, words slurring the tiniest bit.

she cracked out a winsome smile, nodding. "of course, i will."

•••

the wedding day came soon enough and sirius made it clear, very clear, so clear that if anyone dared to go against his wishes he would personally hunt them down himself. that everyone he cared for —including regulus himself— would have to get ready at the potter's house because, it is where he'd be and he would need the emotional support to go through this.

the women took over a side of the house, getting all dolled up with the help of one another while the men made snacks and gave sirius pep talks. regulus was sat next to lupin, both chewing on the snacks that potter had prepared and listened to sirius bugger longbottom with as many questions as he could.

longbottom always answered, being the only married man in the friend group made him the most suitable source for answers to sirius' inquiries.

"but isn't scary?" sirius questioned, brows knitting together as james fixed up his bow tie. "sharing everything with one another."

"not really," longbottom answered carefully. "it's scary at first, yes, but after a while it's a very comforting thing. knowing that you can share your inner thoughts with your lover and not be judged."

"but she's not my lover." sirius frowned. "we're just friends."

"then it makes no difference," longbottom said with a small smile. "i was friends with alice before we were a couple —not that i'm trying to force anything between you two of course. what i'm trying to say is, if james is a friend to you and you could share anything with him then you can definitely share everything with her."

"you're not getting cold feet are you?" regulus asked, his tone slightly teasing.

sirius turned to him, his face unreadable. "of course, not. i could never do that to her, not when she's been nothing but lovely about all this."

"not when you think she's so pretty," lupin chirped in lazily.

"that's because, she is."

"sure, she is," remus murmured, making sirius turned to him sharply. remus clicked his tongue, the corner of his lips edging upward. "i never said she wasn't."

"you didn't, but your tone was patronizing." sirius smacked potter's hands away, making him scowl as he backed away. "and quite frankly, i don't appreciate my wife being spoken about in that tone of voice."

"my wife." potter repeated loudly. "are you sure you're not in love with her?"

"what makes you think otherwise?"

"i dunno," potter said stupidly, "maybe because of the way you talk about her."

"or the way you look at her," lupin added. "we could go on for days, mate."

"do you lots hate me or something?" sirius grumbled. "you're always teaming up against me, is it funny to you?"

"it is." came a more feminine voice. the men turn, all finding their dates (except sirius) standing by the door way. "it's the most comical thing ever to hear you deny your love for your fiancée."

"i hate you guys," sirius grumbled. lily and sirius continued on with their banter, but regulus was no longer listening, finding himself too awestruck at the sight of his girlfriend.

she stood besides mckinnon, donning the prettiest he'd ever seen. she smiled upon feeling his gaze on her, an action that made regulus want to do nothing but kiss her until she was breathless. instead, he stood up from his spot and made his way over to her.

"you look handsome," she commented once they stood toe to toe. of course, he did (not that he was trying to be conceited). he made sure he looked as best as he could if he would be having someone as beautiful as her in his arms.

"thank you," regulus said softly, eyes kept on her as he spoke. no words will be able to explain just how divine she looked. and so, regulus chalked it up to a simple compliment. "you look lovely."

"i try to, for you."

bullshit. even if she wasn't trying —and he knew this for certain from all the previous time he'd spent with her; bundled up in her dorm with bags under their eyes as they hovered over her desk and conversed about their projects, heads on the pillow once they wrapped up, looking as though they were on their dying breath— she'd still look lovely.

•••

the start of regulus' seventh years went as well as he hoped. sure, he was drowning in assignments during the first week of classes but he had a girlfriend. and that makes up about seventy percent of it.

he'd grown accustomed to having meals with her by his side so it was no surprise when he was the first thing she found when she made her way into the great hall with a letter in hand.

"guess what," she started up excitedly, taking the seat opposing his. regulus supplied her with a what? encouraging her on. "i got an owl last night."

"who's it from?"

"just your sister in law," she said as casually as she could but the enthusiasm was not lost in her voice. "would you like to know why?"

"yes." he humored her, filling her goblet up with water. "i would like to know why, please."

"well." she placed the opened up the letter and placed it down. "sirius confessed in an overly dramatic way about whether she loved you more than she loved him, long story short they ended kissing. moral of the story, our favorite couple is no longer getting a divorce."

"i could write a romance book about that."

"please don't," regulus murmured, reading the letter for himself. sure enough, there —written in ink— was the details of the said confession and how they would not be going through with their divorce as they try to navigate their new relationship. "oh no."

"oh no?" she repeated, tone drastically different from his.

"oh no," he said once more, as if agreeing to something. "sirius talked about adopting me, if they stayed married that might just happen."

"that's stupid, regulus. she would never agree to that."

"you underestimate just how persuasive sirius can be, my love." he took a sip from his mug, his tea now cold. "he managed to convince her into marrying someone as horrid as him, adoption won't be as hard."

"you say that like he's the worst man to ever exist." he gave her look. one that was practically asking her if she was testing him. "besides, she married him for the money. she won't get anything out of adopting you."

"yes, she would."

"and what would that be?" she asked, mildly uninterested.

"me."

"and that's a good thing?"

regulus mouth dropped into a small O. the black had always had a flair for the dramatics and he was no exception. "yes," he said with full offense. "how could you ever think otherwise. i'm your boyfriend."

"i just—" she shrugged. "—you're not all that."

regulus was gasping now, eyes full with hurt. "i don't think i want to be with you anymore."

"is that so?"

"no." he denied with annoyance.

the grandfather clock rang, signaling the start off class and the pair stood up. regulus standing besides her as he waited for her to pack up her stuff.

the couple shared their first class, so it was obvious for them to walk with one another. once arriving, regulus headed towards the middle table; not too far away and not too close to the professor. he sat first, tapping the empty seat that was by his side for her to take.

she took it, smiling when her friends took to the table in front of them and began conversations with one another. class soon began, the professor droning on about the lessons when regulus found himself in a position he'd never been in before.

her hand was dropped to the side and he'd never wanted to hold something as much as he did now. he was practically begging for her to take his hand but he was too prideful to admit it.

"it's rude to stare," she said quietly, and regulus was distinctly reminded of their first encounter. same classroom, same seats. how history repeats itself never fails to amaze him. "even if you're staring at their hand."

he teared his eyes away, playing oblivious. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"right," she murmured as if she believed him. "did you want to hold my hand?"

"yes."

she took his hand at his answer, intertwining their fingers and placing it comfortably on her thigh before she turned back to the lesson.

time will age as will the both of them, and despite how greedy and selfish it may sound. regulus hoped it would never remove the memory of her smile when he'd first saw her.

life was a willow and it bent right through her wind.

[demxters]

—LOVING YOU IS A LOSING GAME

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: jake's attempt to see his girl the week before finals backfires on him leading them to their first fight and an outcome neither of them saw coming.

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), angst galore, swearing, mentions of alcohol and weed, drunk driving (don't do it), bad parental relationships, academic pressure

part of the loving you universe || also find it on ao3 here

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

Finals sucked. Balancing studying and your social life sucked. Balancing studying, your social life, and your relationship sucked. This was the third week you’ve had to drive Jake away and you hated it. In the beginning he was understanding, giving you a kiss to your forehead when you asked him to leave. Or dropping by the apartment with some take out because he knew you weren’t taking care of yourself. He’d even send the occasional Don’t forget to hydrate! text, to which he would get nothing more than a thumbs up in response. 

He got it, really he did. He understood how much your studies meant to you. You made it very clear at the beginning of your relationship that you weren’t going to drop everything for him. And he respected that. Hell, he admired you for it. He definitely didn’t have the guts to do it.  But it’s been three weeks of him trying to chase you down. Three weeks of quick hugs in passing and good night and good morning texts. Jake missed you. He missed you so fucking much and it seemed like you’ve barely given him a second thought. 

Jake knew he was being irrational. Of course you missed him. You wouldn’t have promised him to go out to lunch today if you didn’t. Yet here he was sitting alone at your favorite diner, reaching the top of the hour, and you still hadn’t shown up. His leg is bouncing up and down impatiently and the apples of his cheeks are red in embarrassment. An older couple a few booths away eye him with pitiful looks and not so silently whisper to each other, Poor boy got stood up. 

He checks his phone for the fifth time in the last three minutes to find no texts or calls from you. Jake desperately tries again, clicking on your contact and sending a distressed Where are you??? He barely waits another minute until he’s calling you once more. 

“Hey, this is Ace, sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message–Jake, stop tickling me! Leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.”

“Unless you're a guy. In that case lose this number! She’s taken!” 

“Jake!” 

He sighs longingly at the sound of the dial tone, remembering the day you two recorded that message. Jake hadn’t seen you in so long. You felt like a lifetime ago. He missed his girl so much that his chest hurt. He’s frustrated beyond comprehension. Before he can even take a second to think about what he’s doing, he slams a wad of dollar bills onto the table, storms out of the diner, and hops into his truck like a man on a mission. 

Jake reaches your apartment in record time. Looking back on it now, he probably should’ve just called Nat, Bob, or Mickey. They would know where you were. Though in his defense, he took your radio silence as a sign that something was wrong. Maybe you were hurt or in trouble and couldn’t reach your phone. In this day and age, anything seemed possible. Could you blame him for being paranoid? 

Hastily making his way to the second floor, he barely blinks an eye until he makes it to the front of your apartment door. The faded gold 86 number plaque is staring him straight in the face and he can barely remember the last time he saw it. Out of respect for you, in case he really was overthinking things, he knocks on the door once. Twice. Three times. 

When he still doesn’t get a response, his heart begins to race, breathing heavy. He fumbles with his keys, fingers trembling as he tries to find the bright pink Hello Kitty replica key to your apartment. So it’s easy to find in emergencies, you had reasoned with him. He thought you were teasing him in the moment, but right now he has never been more thankful for your sharp thinking. 

He jams the key into the knob, turning it counterclockwise a little too strongly, and bursts through the door by his shoulders. 

“Ace?” He hollers into the quiet apartment. 

Jake looks around for any signs that you were there, only to be met with a spick and span living room and kitchen. Curse your stress cleaning intuition. He practically runs down the hall to your room. He sees nothing but your door and the yellow light illuminating from beneath. 

He’s barely thinking as he barrels into your room. He all but falls to the floor as you bolt up from your desk chair at the sight of him. 

“Jake?” You exclaim, rushing over to where he has fallen onto your floor. 

You grab him by the elbows, gently pulling him up. He groans into your touch, just now realizing how much he missed the feeling of your skin on his. Jake has to bite his tongue to stop the moan that wants to leave his lips. 

“Jesus, Ace, you scared me,” he breathes, steadying himself in your hold. Standing back up on his feet, he releases his hold on your arms and brings them up to your face. “You okay?” 

You nod as he continues to look you up and down with concern shining in his eyes. It makes you laugh lightly when he squishes your cheeks just a little more. “I’m fine, are you okay? I think I almost gave you a heart attack…” 

Jake opens his mouth to speak when a slightly staticy sounding voice cuts him off. 

“Hey, Ace? I think I’ll just call you later, yeah?” 

Jake’s heart drops to his stomach at the sound, and not in the way it did when you kissed him for the first time. This feeling was something less comforting and much more painful. It made him want to throw up on your linoleum floor. 

“Yeah, yeah Connor, I’ll call you back later,” you say, rushing back to your desk where your phone was lying face up on an open FaceTime call. You don’t even wait for him to say goodbye as you end the call. 

A burning heat crawls its way up Jake’s features. He’s sure his cheeks are probably inflamed in dark red. Who the hell was Connor and how the hell did you have time for him and not for your own boyfriend? 

“Jake?” You call out, breaking him from the fury that begins to build up in his chest. 

He doesn’t want to be that guy. He will not be that guy. He trusts you and he knows you would never do that to him. That still doesn’t stop the hurt that floods his senses. 

His mouth is open before he can even process the rest. “Do you know what today is?” 

You look at him with wide eyes and your lips quirked downward. “Saturday?” 

He hums. “Yeah, the Saturday we were supposed to have lunch at–” He pauses, giving you the benefit of the doubt. Hoping that you hadn’t forgotten and were just running late. But you don’t jump in and that makes his heart hurt even more. You just continue to look at him questioningly in a way that he would’ve found adorable in any other circumstance. “Rosie’s,” He finishes for you. “We were supposed to have lunch at Rosie’s.” 

“Rosie’s, shit!” You come rushing back towards him, grabbing his hands. You caress the back of his hands with your thumbs and you can only hope that he could feel how sorry you are; how horrible you feel for forgetting about your date. “I’m so, so sorry, Jake. I just caught up with…” 

“Connor,” he deadpans. “Yeah, I know.” 

He doesn’t meet your eye, and you pout at his clear irritation. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. I can do next Saturday? We could do Rosie’s then walk down the coast by The Hard Deck.” 

Jake doesn’t mean to, but he scoffs–much too harshly for your taste. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m afraid my girlfriend won’t be available again. Or worse, she might even forget.” 

You drop his hands, stepping back with obvious hurt in your eyes. “I’m sorry, what else do you want me to say?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe that you’ll try harder to make some time for me? I haven’t heard from you in days! Hell, I haven’t seen you in weeks! Yet, somehow, you have the time of day to call this Connor dude, on the day we’re supposed to see each other!” 

You’re pacing the floor with your own anger bubbling up inside you. You clench your fist before pointing at him with your other hand. “It is not my fault that finals are right around the corner! I have been studying my ass off night and day. Which you obviously wouldn’t understand.” You take a deep breath. “As for Connor, we were just studying together! Something that I can’t do with you!” 

“Cheap hit, Ace.” It was a known fact that he wasn’t the best at academics, but you knew better than anyone how hard he was trying, making your words hurt more than he cared to admit. Jake exhales deeply from his mouth, attempting to calm his beating heart so he doesn’t say something he doesn’t mean. “Finals aren’t until another week! All I’m asking for is a day. Just one day.” 

“It’s not just finals, Jake,” you groan. “Not to me, you know that.” The two of you have been going in circles for the last fifteen minutes. You get where Jake is coming from, really you do. But you also need him to understand you. He knew going into this how important your studies were to you. One day could jeopardize your entire study schedule. 

“I know. But is it so bad for me to want to spend some time with my girlfriend? I mean, we haven’t gone on a proper date in months. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time we had an actual conversation!” 

You turn to him with narrowed eyes, furiously shutting your physics book. “So now I’m the bad guy? It’s my fault that we can’t hang out?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Jake frustratingly runs his hands through his already messy blond hair. He doesn’t know what to do with the overwhelming flood of emotions passing over him. 

You’re sat on the edge of your bed now, too worked up from all your pacing. “You know, I just don’t get you, Seresin. I’ve asked if you wanted to sit in with me. You’ve denied me every time.”

The sound of his last name falling from your lips feels like salt in an open wound. He hasn’t heard you call him that in ages. He knows he’s in deep shit now, but his pride won’t let him admit it. “Sweetheart, it’s not my fault that I don’t find Plato and standard deviation appealing, ” he sasses. 

“So, what? You’d rather I go out and party all night because, ‘Hey! It’s just finals!’” You throw your hands up in anguish as you deepen your voice in a clearly mocking tone of his voice. 

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you even hear yourself right now, Ace? You need to take a break! I’m trying to look out for you. It’s not healthy to be cooped up inside like this all day.” 

“Well, I’m sorry I have other priorities that don’t involve you, Jake,” you sigh. 

“And yet, you don’t have a problem making Connor one of them,” he sneers. 

“He’s helping me study!” 

“I offered to help you study, but instead you told me to sit back because you could do it yourself.” He swallows harshly, feeling the reality of your admission sink in. 

If it hadn’t been for the tension between the two of you, you would’ve been able to bite your tongue and let the moment pass. However, you were so high strung at the moment that you let your temper get the best of you. “Well, it’s not my fault that I can’t just charm my professors and tutors into giving me a pass. Unlike some people, I have actually put in the work.” The moment the words leave your lips, you regret it. Jake’s shoulders fall and you see the way he visibly deflates and shrinks into himself. You desperately want to take it back, but you did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you felt guilty. 

A moment of silence passes between you both. The only sound to be heard is the heavy breathing that escapes you both. 

Amidst the silence, Jake stifles the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes by running a hand down his face. Of all the people to insult his intelligence, you were the last person he ever expected to do so. Not once, even before you started dating, had you said anything about how he struggled with school. Sure, you got frustrated with him, but you of all people knew how much work he put into his studies. Unlike everyone else, you were able to see him as something more than the dumb blond frat boy people joked that he was. When everyone else would claim to be teasing Jake about his studies, you were always the first to stand up for him. Saying, Jake Seresin is capable of more than you know!, making him feel validated and more confident in himself. Now, your words felt like a slap to the face and for the first time, he found himself questioning everything you’ve said about him. 

He should’ve known the honeymoon phase wouldn’t last forever. Everything was going so well, he didn’t have any reason to think things would go downhill so fast. Of course, Jake was too overconfident about your infatuation with him. He shouldn’t have assumed that you were as in love with him as he was with you. That was his first mistake. 

“You know what? I really thought you were different,” he says softly. 

“Jake–” Take it back! The voice in your head shouts. Take it back, you idiot! But the apology, the words of affirmation, the reassurances–they all get stuck in the back of your throat like molasses. 

“I guess I was wrong about you, Ace.” 

You furiously shake your head. You didn’t mean it, you swear you didn’t mean it. In the heat of the moment, you let your emotions get the best of you. You knew it wasn’t an excuse, but you needed him to know that you would never mean what you said. 

You thought the world of Jake Seresin. He is smart and he has so much potential. He was better than you at physics and knew all the parts to an F/A-18 Super Hornet. He could calculate distance, time, and speed, like it was nobody's business. He impressed you in so many ways and you were so proud of him and how much he has improved. Deep down, you knew he was right too. This wasn’t healthy. You should’ve tried harder to make time for him after everything he has done for you. But the shame of the hurt you’ve caused, the shame of what you did prevented you from saying it. 

“You know what? You can have all the time you need with Connor because I’m done.” 

You push yourself to a stand with teary eyes. “Done? Jake, what are you saying?” It was like a nightmare come true, hearing the words you’ve feared to hear since the moment you called it official. But it was probably inevitable, right? You always bring yourself to your own demise. You’re not sure what hurt you more–Jake’s words or the fact that you weren’t so surprised to hear him say it? It was almost like you were waiting for this day to come, knowing Jake Seresin was just too good to be true. 

His heart is fighting against itself. One part of him is begging him to stay and work this out with you. The other is too hurt to even look at you right now. In the end, he ends up listening to the side of him he didn’t even think existed until now: the side that didn’t want him to be with you. “I don’t know. I think I need some time.” 

You nod, agreeing with him wholeheartedly. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you need, Jake.” 

He sighs before turning on his heel and grabbing the door knob. 

“Wait,” your voice cracks. “I love you.” 

Jake swings the door open and leaves. It takes everything in him to not turn around and gather you up in his arms right then and there. For the first time, he doesn’t say it back. 

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You don’t see him for a week after that. You’re so distraught that you throw your entire study schedule out the window. This was all your fault. You know it is, there was no denying it. All Jake wanted was to be with you and you couldn’t give him that. You were so obsessed with the fact that everyone expected you to get perfect grades each semester, that you didn’t even notice you driving away one of the most important people in your life who didn’t care about any of that. That loved you with or without the academic achievements. The only person who cared more about your wellbeing than your stupid grade point average. 

The truth is, you were scared. Things with Jake have been going so good that the fear of something bursting into your little bubble and setting it all aflame only continued to intensify. 

Because you don’t deserve good things unless you earn it, your mother had warned. Because you can’t be loved unless you’re perfect, your father berated you. 

And you are far from perfect, you know that. You also knew that Jake wasn’t your parents. But no matter how many times you told yourself your parents were wrong, their words continued to seep in every single time Jake reminded you that love shouldn’t be conditional. 

So you did what you did best, you studied. You strived for perfection. You hoped that Jake could see that you were worth sticking around for. 

He left and in the end, it just confirmed that nothing you do could guarantee anyone to stay. 

You ended up failing your finals. They don’t hurt your overall grade too much, only bringing them down one letter grade from your solid A’s. 

You don’t tell anyone about the fight you had with Jake. You don’t want to burden them with anything else. Everyone was busy. Nat was happy with Javy and Bob and Mickey were busy planning their San Diego Comic Con trip. You hadn’t talked to Bradley and you assumed that Jake had already told him everything. You hadn’t even texted Reuben about joining him for trivia night at a nearby bar. 

But you do text Jake. You don’t know if he’s read any of them or not, but you text him anyway. You told him that you failed. You told him that you weren’t planning on going home for the summer because you didn’t want to face your parents. You told him you missed him and that you hoped this isn’t the end. But most importantly, you told him that you loved him and that if you could take it all back you would. 

You so desperately wanted to knock on his door and apologize for what you said. To continue apologizing until he knew it in his heart and soul that you didn’t mean a damn thing. You’d imagine how it would go. He would open the door and you would quite literally pour your heart out to him. Then you’d throw your arms around him and tell him you love him before kissing him senseless. 

You imagine that he’d smile against your lips, an action that you loved so much. He’d pull away and tell you that he forgives you. He would hold you close and tell you that he still loves you. 

However, you weren’t naive. He probably hated you now and you wouldn’t blame him if he actually did because you hate yourself too. 

Heartbroken and intoxicated to the bone is how you find yourself after another unanswered text to Jake. You remember him telling you to let loose and take a break so that is exactly what you did. 

The frat house is loud. You’re not sure what’s more surprising, the fact that you showed up to a frat party without telling any of your friends or that you’ve had more alcohol than the amount of water you’ve had in a day. 

Everyone knew about Delta Chi’s rivalry with Alpha Sig, so you didn’t have to worry about running into anyone you knew here. 

You had lost count of how many drinks you’ve had three cups ago and you’re a bit impressed with your own resilience considering how much you hate the smell of alcohol, let alone the taste of it. You find yourself wishing that Jake were here to see you taking a break. That way you could prove to him that you were capable of doing things for him too. 

The Alpha Sig house is packed to the brim with people. Everyone’s faces are a blur as you stumble your way through the crowded rooms and hallways, following the smells of sweat and weed to take you where you want to go. 

You end up making your way to the patio and meeting some Alpha Sigs and sorority girls who were planning on driving into the city to hang out at a bar instead. They shockingly invite you to tag along and your inebriated self happily accepts. 

You find yourself forgetting all about Jake, grades, and your shitty parents. You were just a girl in college who stopped giving a fuck and decided to have some fun. As you continue to giggle with some of the girls in the backseat of a car you don’t even remember getting into, for a moment, you see yourself with Nat, Javy, Bradley, Mickey, Reuben, and Bob. You hear Bradley’s dad jokes and Natasha’s giggles. Mickey and Reuben’s obnoxious singing and Bob’s own laughter follows. Then you see the guy sitting beside you with his arm around you. It takes you a second to recognize that his eyes aren’t your favorite shade of green. Hell, they weren’t green at all. 

Your world comes crashing down in an instant. You’re not with your friends and you’re not with Jake. You don’t even know where and who you are with. You just know that you want to go home, that you want to be with Jake. 

Before you can even think about begging the person in the driver’s seat to stop the car, you hear a scream then suddenly, your vision goes dark. 

a/n: in my defense, i haven't done a good angsty fic in awhile*immediately goes into hiding* pls don’t hate me….. and again, as always the inbox is always open and thank you all for reading!!

a/n 2: also ty @intrepidacious for giving me their first fight idea it was a big help!!

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Heyy y’all this is my first story sooo please be nice🫣I’ve been watching snowfall for the past month and I’m in love with Franklin Saint he is soo sexy I couldn’t stop writing about him, and this is just my version of franklin saint if he had day one type chick you know, this takes place in season one.

Word count: 3.8K words 18+ mdi!

Summary: this OC(Alexia“Lexi”Johnson) and Franklin Saint mostly I'm going to work in everyone on the show, but it will be about them. in this chapter we are getting to know these beautiful people and h how they survive in south central in the crack-cocaine business.

Warning: AFAB reader, n-word usage, cursing, grinding, dry humping, fingering, eating out, blowjob, over the pants handsy. I think that is all of it. (Franklin is 19 and reader is 19)

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“Hey momma, you think I could go out to the skating rink to to hang out with some of my friends?” as you stand here nervously waiting for her to say yes she’s just staring at the television mindlessly watching Good times “mhmm and whose is going to be there?’’ looking up at you waiting for your answer and not even realizing you were picking at your necklace that Franklin gave you over last summer it’s was a gold necklace butterfly pendant with a green dots eyes and when you asked him where the hell did he get all this money for the necklace, he just tells her “I’m just runnin’ a business, aight.” and being every confused on what he meant you just decided to leave it alone and walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck standing on your toes and kissed him on the cheek “thank you for this Frankie, I really appreciate it.” feeling his arms wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you closer and bringing you tighter “of course Lexi.”

Your momma starts coughin’ to cutting into you train of thought and looking up at you, waiting for your answer “well it’s gonna be me, kevin, leon and uhh franklin” you say nervously and coming with a quick lie “and melody with be there as well” actually you didn’t know if melody was working today hopefully she wasn’t ,she just made the excuse she so she can leave and see her friends “I don’t like you hangin’ around them boys Lexi the neighborhood is talking about them” “O my goodness momma I just want to hang out with my friends! That’s it!” “HEY ALEXIA I just don’t want you to be in their shit 'cause look at your father he was in the game as well and look where he AT!!” slamming her hand down on the light brown coffee table as she yelled, it shook the table so hard that all of her cigarettes buds fell all over the yellow ugly shag carpet that they have, huffing out a sigh you walked to the carpet picking up all of the buds on the ground you’re mom tapping her foot away she looking of into the distance you look you at her to say “momma I just want to hang out with friends. please?” as you rise to walk into the kitchen throwing all of her buds in the trash.

“Okay you can go to the rink, but can you get me a pack of smokes for me baby, just go around the corner at Cho’s for me.” “okay momma I will.” turning your back to go in to your room to grab you purse your mother stops you “ a-and make sure you clean you room as well looks like bull ran through a china shop in there!” you rolled eyes as to walking in to your room ,stuffing all your clothes into your closet and making up you bed quickly, you take a quick look around your room satisfied enough to your mom thinking that it’s clean.

Your momma hands you a crispy twenty dollar bill “you can keep the change in case you want to get something at the rink." her smiling sweetly at you “thanks momma I’ll be back with your smokes and then I’ll leave.” you kissed her on her cheek saying your goodbyes as you were about to walk out when your mom grabs your wrist to stop you “look baby I know they are your friends but they are not just selling dope, it’s much more than that okay I just don’t want you to get hurt is all." you replied "I know momma ill be back, I promise."

As you walked around the block you hear arguing “nigga you know that the bitches loooove me why do think that the always pagin’ me -oh this is one of my bitches right now hold on.” you hear some running towards you “oh Lexi how have you have been?” You look up to see kevin “hi kevin hear one of your bitches is calling you,the pay phone is just around the corner.” You see Kevin looking down at the ground,almost starting to see him to blush “oh yeah I didn’t known you heard all that.” you put your hand on his shoulder “ it’s okay kevin I know it was your momma. You’re secret is safe with me.” you giggle with your teeth glowing and your eyes pulling down to look at his pager and looking to see if it was his momma and your were in shock that you didn’t recognize the number on the screen, hearing kevin sighed he hears his page go off again he starts to walk to towards the pay phone “bye lexi see you later -aye I’m still gonna see you at roller rink right?!” “Yeah, I’ll be there.” as you see kevin walking away he turns “cool.”

You turn the corner to see a a short king with a beautiful crown on his head “aye what’s up leon is that one of your bitches pagin’ you too?” you see Leon pull his into a smirk and then to smile “uhh naw actually I’m tryin to get this paper, I was going to pick up from this plug I know.” your mother’s words started to bounce around in your head “it’s much more than that.” what was she tryin to say because you know the only thing more addicting than weed would be cocaine, what could be more addicting than that? Leon puts his hand out to dab you up, you grin at leon to put you hand out as well and you do your handshake since the same one that y’all knowin for years, you both snap your fingers at the same time, you push leon away from the door “aight nigga I’ll see you later at the rink and you ready to get your skate on.” you doin a little dance in front of the door, giving franklin a front row seat to see you dancing “yeah right lexi you don’t know how to skate with the two left feet that you got.” flipping him off while you continue your dancing you do spin around to have you back to be facing the door you start bend you knees to start twerking, shaking your ass up against the door.

Franklin is just standing there staring at the glass door,he couldn’t believe to see lexi,his Alexia to be gyrating like that he’s never seen her move like that before, something sparked in his eyes, he felt his stomach to grow warm spreading down to his dick starting to feeling it to grow more and more “shit” looking down to see his sporting a chub on him now before he can move he hears the door bell ringing.

“Oh hey Frankie what’cha doin down there?” you labored breaths flowing through your body, looking down at franklin to see him looking at the merchandise fixing the potatoes chips even though there all right side up, looking over his shoulder “sup lexi I didn’t even hear you comin’?” looking at franklin slowly standing up to his full height to look at her. Their stares were longing, franklin had a little fro goin’ on with his red and white baseball shirt and his khakis, making his chocolate skin just mhmm, bringing you eyes lower looking at his khakis to see that he has a wet spot on the side of his pants, you gasp, turning your head so fast to the gum ball machine at the corner of the store, digging in your pocket to find loose change.

It was quiet, you accidentally drop a quarter on the floor it startling them both franklin ran to the bathroom to clean up his pants, closing and locking the door "fucckk" grabbing the papertowels to wipe everything off of him then the thoughts were coming back to him, the way lexi was moving her body it was incredible he couldn't believe that the same shy little girl that lived two house down from him when they first met, for her to be moving her ass like that, franklin hears his name being called "frankiee?”

Hearing the toilet flush you turn your head, seeing franklin coming outta the bathroom looking nervous, his eyes were looking everywhere but on you, trying not to make things awkward you spark up the conversation "so, are you still comin' the rink with me, leon, and kevin?" "hell yeah I'll be there but after my shift I was gonna go home and change my clothes I smell like sweat." you stiffen you laugh "yeah me too my back is already sweating just from my house -oh can I get a pack of camels?" "l've never token you to be a smoker lexi?" as he is ringing you up, you bust out laughing to the point where her stomach was hurting, the giggle fades out of you, you grab your purse to take your money out, franklin exchange to give your exact change back. saying your see you later's you run back to your house so can give your momma her cigs and get pretty for the rink.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your afro is pick out in a perfect circle, your makeup has a little shimmer in the corner of your eyes to make them pop, winged liner, and glossy lips. You put on your necklace on you, ‘bitch you look sooo good’ saying to yourself, top was dark red halter top and booty shorts to show off your thick and smooth legs, you put on your chucks on and walk out your room, before you leave you put a note on the coffee table ‘hey mom I left your cigs on the table, I’m going to the rink I love you. love,alexia’ you locked up your house to walk towards the rink, you see Mr.Wright sitting on his porch chair reading the newspaper, you wave at him smiley like he waves back then looking back at the newspaper.

You walk inside the rink to look for your friends, you hear someone calling your name, “AYE LEXI!” fully turning your body to see your friends, sitting on a bench putting on their skates “hey y’all, I still need to get me some skates actually I’ll be back” walking towards skate rack “hey I’ll come with you.” you see franklin almost losing his balance with the skates he had on, leon and kevin were laughing at franklin, at his demise”aye how was that trip nigga?” coming from the both of them, regaining his balance he flips them off “aye fuck y’all.” laughing at the same time.

You walk up to see melody working at the rack 'fuck' you thought to yourself, you see melody helping a customer giving her skates and grabbing her shoes and leaving, you walk up to the front and say your hello’s “hey melody, workin’hard?” “hey lexi, and no it’s pretty boring right now I might have to come out there and show y’all a thing or two.” while looking at franklin smirking, you weren’t blind to know that there is something between Franklin and melody, but that didn’t stop you to shut that shit down “well maybe, frankie here is going to be my skate partner today, maybe another time?” “okay.” while looking up and down at you, you grab your skates to go sit down, franklin is following you like a lost puppy, lacing up your skates, rolling into the rink.

In the corner of your eyes you see kevin mackin’ to some girl by the snack bar and Leon is skating by himself, slowly approaching behind him to scare him, you smack his shoulder, leon falls backwards on his ass “FUCK! LEXI YOU PLAYIN’ TOO MUCH!” “oh come on lee I’m just fuckin’ with you.” rolling backwards “yea-yeah aye check out our boy he looks like his the one with the two left feet” looking up to see franklin holding on to the rail slowly moving so he won’t get hit “hey I’ll be back,you good?” “yeah nigga I’m good.’’ you leave leon to skate up to franklin, looking at him, he’s wearing a dark green shirt with some black jeans, wrapping your hands his waist slowly pushing him forward “ay-aye stop it.” looking stern at you, spinning around rolling backwards, holding you hand out “come on, frankie skate with me?” you pout your lips, franklin let’s go of the rail to follow her with both of their hands interlocking.

The lights were changing into multicolored lights of pink, blue, red,and green colors were flashing everywhere with a disco ball shimmering the rink, lexi still holding franklin, the dj turns on the mic ‘alright y’all we gonna slow it down lil’bit for all the couples out there’ switching the song to Fire and Desire by the one and only Rick James, slowly stoping your skates turning to franklin “hey I think I’m gonna hoop off.” franklin looking confused “no don’t go, I still want to skate with you.”

You reluctantly nod your head and continue to skate, spinning your body around having your back towards him, franklin comes up behind you, putting his hands around your waist, you feel his breath on your neck, kissing up your throat he pulls you up to the corner of the rink, stopping right in front of you, and you look at him like really looking at him, staring into his brown eyes, those eyes that can tell a story in a matter of minutes, those full lips they look so soft you wonder how they would feel on other parts of your body, franklin stops your train of thought “aight gonna be honest with you.” you shook head nervously “come on let’s go sit down so we can talk.”

You both walk to the furthest table which was a slightly unlit area, with the music playing softly, both of you sitting across each other, franklin grabs your hands his thumb rubbing the spot between your thumb and your pointer finger, he takes a breather to tell you what’s on his mind, but you beat him to the punch “frankie whatever you have to tell me, it will be okay, we can still be friends okay.” “that’s just the thing Alexia, I just don’t want to be just friends.” “What do you mean?” you slowly put your head down, feeling disappointed, this is it he doesn’t want you, he wants melody “I-l want y-you to be my girlfriend.” Realizing what he said. “what?” franklin leaning backwards to get a look at her glittering eyes “yeah I want you to be my girlfriend.” still trying to process on what he said “o-okay.” franklin has a toothy grin spreading across his lips, he leans over to grab your face to bring you in, but he stops just a few inches away from your lips, looking into her “Alexia,will be my girlfriend?” Asking for reassurance one more time you nod your head.

You push face forward, finally felling his soft and luscious lips on you, you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to you couldn’t, slipping his tongue in your mouth, you moan “o-oh god.” biting your lip but you stop “wait.” franklin looks frazzled, you put his hand on his chest “as much I love kissing you I don’t like eyes staring at us, come on.” franklin turns around confused to see melody was gawking from the rack area, seeing the entire thing happening right in front of her. You stand up to pull franklin with you, walking towards melody in hand, taking your shoes back and giving her the skates franklin does the same thing, melody looks up at the both of you, trying to say the words that was on her mind Franklin just comes out to tell her "Melody, we can’t see each other anymore. I’m with alexia now so whatever we had it’s over now, you have a good night.’’ As you both walk out outside feeling the cool california breeze on your body franklin is pulling you towards a Honda motorcycle, feeling confused, you stop "frankie is that yours?" he turns around with a grin on his face “yeah come on." he pulls you close to the bike, taking out his keys and revving up the engine "hop’ on I’ll take you home." you get on behind him, closing in on him wrapping your arms around his strong stomach, laying your head on his back smelling his cologne, sand wool, honey, and lavender. Slowly cruising off back to your house.

Franklin pulls into his driveway shutting off the engine, you jumped off, franklin puts his arm over your shoulder giving you a forehead kiss, bring his lips lower to kiss your eyes, temple, nose and finally your lips, and not having any distractions to stop you, putting your tongue in his mouth, franklin put his hands on your hips to bring you in tighter fully wrapping you in his arms, you feel his large hands gripping your ass, massaging it, you feel yourself being push to a wall, franklin puts one of his legs in between of yours, you start grinding feeling yourself getting wet "god baby you feel what you do to me?" you moan in his mouth “ughh’’ he grabs your hand to place it right it on his dick, it’s big like really big. Moving your hand up and down, gripping the sides of him, franklin puts his head back, pushing his hips forward getting satisfaction, he groans "fuck babygirl you really workin’ me?" licking his lips to kiss him again, he keeps moaning in your mouth like you're inhaling it "fuck baby I can’t take I need to nut, can you make me nut baby?"

You unlock the front door your house, pulling your finger to your lips to insinuate that your momma was sleeping, closing your room and locking the door, seeing franklin sitting in your bed, you get on your hands and knees slowly crawling to him, once your got close to him you lift yourself to your knees, rubbing his thighs, fingers grazing over his zipper, but franklin stops you “you don’t have to do this is if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended" you nodded, looking deeply into his eyes "I know franklin, but I want to. I want to make you cum." You kiss one more time before you take off his pants with his underwear, once you pull them down, you rise up to look at it. "O my god. You’re really big frankie. I don’t think that will fit." You were being truthful, you really think it’s not going to fit in your mouth it’s too wide with few veins all around it, precum was leaking out of his tip, you bring lips to the shaft kissing under, sides, even licking his balls. Finally, your tongue licking up the precum off, pushing further down breathing through your nose so you can take more "fuck baby you’re makin’ me feel soo good, yeah you like that shit. Huh?’’ Not saying anything just nodding, looking into his eyes "fuckfuckfuck, I’m gonna nut babygirl. You ready baby?’’ sucking faster to bring him to climax, moaning with a closed mouth, skyrocketed franklin climax "yeahyeah fuck take it. Take all of it baby.Take this nut." Tasting salty cum with some sweet in it, you need more it, you need something to relief you after that.

Franklin pushes down on the bed, kissing up your thighs, putting his hands on the back of your legs lifting them on his shoulders, he starts inhaling your scent "mhmm baby, you smell good I bet you taste even better." Closing your legs tighter "I’m nervous frankie." He looks up "what’cha you got to be nervous for it’s just me.’’ putting on that beautiful smile of his "exactly frankie I have every reason to be nervous I’ve never done this before, like someone going down on me." He relaxed his face " we don’t have to do this is for you don’t want to. Okay." looking at his lips remembering how they felt on yours, wanting to know how they felt on your lower lips, you kissed him "I’m ready frankie." franklin not looking so convinced "are you sure." "Yes, Franklin I am."

Kissing your thighs on each side, spreading them further so he can get a better look at your pussy, "god baby, look at you it’s soo wet and juicy, is this for me baby?’’ getting closer to your pussy, feeling his breath on you "yes baby it’s all for you, you made me this wet fuck." he dips down licking all of your sweetness "ooh ughh" his lips are licking all over you, he stuck his tongue your hole back, forth, back, forth your thighs are shaking sweat rolling into your hair line, his takes tongue up to your clit, sucking slowly, hard, fast like if he was conducting you or something. You feel fingers touching your pussy slowly rubbing your hole “can I put a finger inside of babygirl." You moaned out "yesss please frankie I need it." Franklin slowly moving his finger in while sucking your clit "fuck baby I was right you do taste better. Come on nut on my fingers baby. Pleases" franklin slips another finger in you making feel so full right now "you better fuckin’ nut right now, o-oh yeah I feel you squeezing so tight, look at me baby, that’s right fuckin’ take it." Raising on your elbows to see Franklin hovering over you, he puts a hand of your mouth so you wouldn’t be heard. Moving his hand faster, feeling like hot water before hitting a boiling point, eyes rolling backs, your legs were shaking, you're moaning inside of franklin hand, feeling your climax washing over you, you never wanted to leave this place, even though franklin does.

You watch franklin put on his underwear smirking at you, you tell him "You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met." He walks up to "oh am I?’ You nod your head in agreement "yes. you. are." kissing with every word "lucky for me I’m with the most beautiful. gorgeous. sexy woman ever" you look at him with puppy dog eyes "you really mean that baby." Franklin kisses you one more time before leaving "of course I am baby. You are mine and I am yours. Forever." He slips out of your window, looks at you again "aight baby I gotta go but I’ll see you later." You pull him towards the window to kiss him "I had a great time frankie, not just the rink, also the other stuff too." feeling the shyness creeping up on you, franklin kisses your hand "me too lexi me too." You hear shuffling coming around the house, waving bye to franklin, closing the blinds, changing into your pajamas, slowly unlocking the door. As you lay there remembering of what just happen. One thing is for sure nothing is going to stop you from being with Franklin Saint. Not now. Not ever.

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HOLY FUCKING SHIT I still can't believe i just finish my first storyy!!! YAAASSSSS BITCHHHH i thought i would never finish this story but im glad i did and also i wrote alitte smut, i was listening calling on you by jon b and something came over me i could help myself, but THANK YOU SOOO MUCH IF YOU READ THIS, yall let me know how i did. love yall, love nazzy ;)

[twohearts-hs]

Defying The Odds: 13 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 3.8k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

Synopsis: Y/N was a victim of the mob since the age of fifteen, however, falling in love with the wrong guy and having an argument got her 25 years in prison for murder. She had a plan to get out in faith of her husband until she met Michael Scofield, who, despite his plan, fell in love with her. Now she has the mob and Michael Scofield's escape to worry about.

Warnings: Swearing, Prison, Intimacy, Murder, etc. you know the deal...

A/N: this is a complete series of ~105k words. Based on Season 1 & 2.

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

Y/N watched as dozens of officers and guards move away. Squad cars and SUVs speed away into the night while some hurried-on foot. They were there, hiding in the ally port in the trees. Michael was next to Y/N watching in front of them.

            “Yo, come on, man we gotta roll,” C-Note worried.

            “You don’t got to do anything but wait right here and let them get ahead of us,” Michael stated, watching the cops in front of him.

            “I don’t know if we’re gonna get a chance, papi,” Sucre said.

            “Dogs,” Y/N whispered, spotting the German Shepards up ahead. “Fuck,” she mumbled.  

            “They’re coming right for us,” Sucre stressed.

            “Nobody move,” Michael ordered.

            The dogs came, slowly but surely as they were loaded into the truck. Everyone stayed quiet. Michael whispered, “They can’t smell us.” However, the dogs started barking loudly.

            “But they can see us,” Y/N hissed.

            Officers came with flashlights, slowly to them looking for the fugitives. However, they all stayed quiet. The dogs continued to keep barking, but they made a move for it.

            All of a sudden, Michael ushered them to run. Through the trees, bushes and grasses. They ran for what felt like forever. Eventually, they got to an old mill. They all crouched down.

            “Where the hell is the van?” Sucre questioned.

            Silence.

            “Eyetie, where in the hell is the van?” C-Note asked.

            “Ye of little faith…Come on, come on,” Abruzzi said.

            Michael grasped for Y/N’s hand, pulling her along as they ran. They found the van and all got in. Michael bashed the lights of the van telling them about being invisible. He got back in the van, sitting in front of Y/N despite wanting to sit next to her. He turned around, looking at her and she smiled. “It’s gonna be ok,” he whispered as he leaned in, kissing her cheek. “We made it out.”

            “John, where are the keys?” Lincoln asked from the driver’s seat.

            “What?” Haywire asked.

            “They keys, where are they?” Lincoln pressed.

            “I told you, in the garbage can by the trees in a plastic bag,” Abruzzi said.

            “What are you waiting for?” Lincoln spat at Haywire.

            “Oh, the keys…” Haywire mumbles, getting out.

            Once he was gone, Abruzzi gave the keys to Lincoln. The van turned on and then it went, leaving Haywire behind.

            They were driving down the road when T-Bag spoke up. “Hey, John, I’ve got to ask you why you were so intent on Lincoln driving here and you taking that particular seat?”

            “T-Bag you stole my fucking spot,” Y/N spat.

            “Wanna sit with your boyfriend, sweet cheeks? Too bad.” T-Bag mused. “Now, John, what is it exactly you got up underneath there, huh?” He revealed handcuffs and quickly cuffed Michael’s hand.

            “Fuck!” Y/N exclaimed watching the whole thing. `

            “What the hell are you doing?” Michael spat, seeing his hand cuffed to T-Bag.

            Abruzzi held up a gun to T-Bag’s temple. “You think that will stop me?” Michael kept pulling against the cuffs.

            Michael looked at T-Bag absolutely infuriated by his actions. “Think twice, Johnny boy. Hm? You shoot me, Pretty here’ll be draggin’ around 170 pounds of dead Alabama flesh with me. And considern’ how much you need to get this Fibonacci vendetta of yours, huh? I just don’t think you’re gonna be pullin’ that trigger,” T-Bag taunted, breathy.

            “No?” Abruzzi said, cocking the gun.

            “You’re gonna give me the key to those cuffs, T-Bag,” Michael threatened. “Give me the key, you son of a bitch,” he spat. Michael looked for the keys, but T-Bag expressed that they were between his teeth. Michael grasped him by the throat.

            “Come on. Spit it out!”

            “Spit it out!” Y/N yelled.

            However, T-Bag swallowed it.

            “You fucking bastard,” Y/N barked, slamming the back of the chair.

            The van kept going, but the tension was high. Y/N stood up and leaned over the chair to pop her head next to Michael. “It’s gonna be ok,” she whispered. “We’ll get you out even if I have to fucking slice his hand off.”

            “Y/N, not now,” Michael responded.

            “If you think I won’t gut you myself to get that key,” Abruzzi threatened, gun in hand. “You’re in for a big surprise.”

            “I encourage you to remember the last time you came at me with a knife…” T-Bag mocked.

            “Shut up! Shut up! Both of you!” Michael yelled, getting frustrated. “You can settle this in Mexico.”

            “How far to the airstrip?” Lincoln asked.

            “I guess five miles, maybe,” Michael muttered.

            Y/N leaned back and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Sucre then began to mutter about his girl and her pregnancy when Lincoln broke the conversation as there were police cars up ahead.

            “Fuck,” Y/N muttered, grasping onto the seat.

            The van pulled over and conversations began to talk about what is next. It was the only road, and they wouldn’t make it on foot. However, they agreed to go off the road, but the van got stuck. Everyone got out.

            Michael was still attached to T-Bag as everyone pushed the van, but no hope. More bickering happened as Y/N watched.

            If women were in charge of this, it would’ve been a completely different story. How, she was ready to see another woman again and get far away from a community of men. They agreed to run.

            Michael stayed with T-Bag as he looked at Tweener. Y/N turned around, walking back to see them talking.

            “This is as far as you go, my friend,” Michael said, halting Tweener.

            “What? No, you can’t leave me out here, not like this,” Tweener replied.

            “We had a deal, remember?” Michael stated.

            “Yeah, but come on, bro…” he scoffed.

            “You and I, we’re not bros,” Michael pressed. “And I don’t think you want me telling the guys what I know. Now walk.”

            Y/N’s eyes were fixed between the two. “Good luck,” Y/N muttered, voice sincere as she began to run with Michael and T-Bag as helicopters came. They hid from them by the cliff.

            They made it to a car which wouldn’t start as the engine was gone. Y/N sat on the hill with Michael, looking out. Therefore, they continued to run to an old warehouse/barn. Y/N stopped, catching her breath. However, as soon as Michael and T-Bag got in, hands were on them as they pulled T-Bag against a table. Pliers were found and Sucre tried to separate them but they were no good. Michael was getting more and more frustrated…Y/N had never seen him like this before. She stood away, letting the men work.

            T-Bag began to chuckle, but Abruzzi found a axe and all of sudden, chopped his hand off.

            Screams, loud and hot happened as Michael stepped away, shocked.

            “He’s lucky I didn’t take this to his head,” Abruzzi stated out of breath.

            Y/N just watched, eyes widened as she got flash backs to Sebastian and the rat a year and a half ago when he did the exact same thing. She walked into it in the basement of their villa in Italy.

            “You cut his… You cut his…” Sucre mumbled in disbelief and shock.

            Y/N saw how panicked Michael was and went straight to him. He was cradling his hand and Y/N took it. “Hey, hey,” she whispered, before cupping his cheek. “It’s me. Take a deep breath. Think of five things you can see,” she tried to calm him down. However, his eyes were focused on the hand on the ground.

            Then they were on the move again.

-

Warden Henry Pope had to make a call to the governor because Frank Tancredi’s daughter was now a fugitive

            “Yes, this is Warden Henry Pope at Fox River Penitentiary. I need to speak to the Governor,” Pope said. The line clicked through before Frank’s voice cut through. “Governor, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s been an–“

            “Are you watching this?” Frank cut through.

            “Watching what?”

            “I suggest you turn on your TV, Warden.”

            “I understand that, but your daughter has just escaped my prison and is on the lose.”

            The line went dead.

-

Running and more running. They stopped behind some trees. Police cars came by.

            “The airstrips on the other side of that field,” Michael told them. “Just 500 yards, and this whole thing’s over.”

            “He’s not moving,” Sucre expressed.

            “Every second we stay here is another change for them to find the plane,” Abruzzi says.

            “Not shit,” Y/N muttered.

            “We got to go now.”

            “Wait, wait,” Michael said grabbing Abruzzi’s arm. A police car came racing by. “All right, let’s go. Let’s go.”

            Then they were off again. Running and running.

            “Freeze, don’t move!” a police officer said.

            However, they kept on running. They ran across the field towards the plane. They spotted it, but it began to move. Police cars came racing by trying to capture them. Y/N knew…she knew then and there that they were going to miss it. It was moving and they were ot fast enough.

            However, as Michael says…have a little faith.         

            But they missed it. Police cars came.

            “What do we do now?”

            “We run,” Michael said, grabbing Y/N hand and pulling her across the field.

-

It’s been hours of running, over night and through the morning.

            “What the hell is that?”

            In the distance, a train whistle went, and they all walked a few steps to see.

            “Let’s go,” Lincoln says, running. “All we got to do is make it to the other side,” Lincoln yelled, running up to the train.

            Michael and Y/N were behind, as they continued to run. They watched as Lincoln and Sucre made their way through the train. Michael got up, grabbing onto Y/N’s hand and helping her up before going inside. Bellick shot a fire at them but missed.

            Then they got out on the other side of the train, running further. Then the race continued. Panting occurred as they finally stopped.

            “I thought I thought this out. I thought… You saw all those guys back there?” Sucre said out of breath.

            “The key is, they’re back there and we’re up here,” Michael said, trying to calm everyone down.

            “How long is that gonna last?” Sucre pipped, unsure.

            “Especially since we don’t have a pot to piss in, thanks to Abruzzi’s magically disappearing jet,” C-Note said, pointing to the mobster.

            “Hey, you were never gonna be on that plane, brother,” Abruzzi responded.

            “Don’t think I don’t know where you were going either,” C-Note said, pointing to Michael.

            “And where am I going?”

            “I don’t know. Utah?” C-Note exclaimed. “When were you planning on telling us about the money, man?”

            “What money?” Sucre pipped up.

            “The $5 million that Westmoreland planted in the desert in Utah,” C-Note shared.

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael muttered, walking forward.

            “You wish I didn’t know,” C-Note mocked.

            “Wait, wait, what money?” Sucre exclaimed.

-

Michael, Lincoln and Y/N were sitting on a dock. Y/N was focused on the water, feeling the sweat against her body as she let her feet dangle off the edge.

            “We need to dump them, now,” Lincoln said.

            “Can’t. They know about Utah,” Michael told him glancing around.

            “All the more reason to dump them,” Y/N muttered from behind Michael. He glanced over to see her looking at the water. “They are just bringing us down.”

            “If they get caught, the Feds will know exactly where we’re going,” Michael explained. “They’ll tell them. We just gotta make sure they stay afloat till we’re off in Utah, doing what we got to do.”

            “You really think the money is going to be there?” Lincoln asked.

            “Charles might have had a flexible relationship with the truth. But at the end… At the end there’d be no reason for him to lie about it. I figure, once we bag it, we cross over into Mexico. Take a whole bunch of bumpy, second-class bus rides till we hit Panama.”

            “You really got a fix on this dive shop thing, huh?” Lincoln joked.

            “Yeah,” Michael chuckled. “Right now, I wouldn’t mind swinging in a hammock for the next ten, twenty years.”

            “We got half the country after us,” Y/N said moving to sit next to Lincoln. “We aren’t going to make it to Utah or Panama.”

            “Not without help,” Lincoln added.

            “Veronica can’t help us,” Michael said, shaking his head.

            “How can you say that? We don’t have money, clothes…”

            “I already got all that,” Michael explained.

            “I thought the plan was Abruzzi’s jet,” Lincoln said.

            “Abruzzi’s jet was Plan A.”

            Michael shared that they were going to a place where he stored things. As they walked back, Michael explained they need to go somewhere so they can not look like cons however, a figure appeared.

            “Hi,” a little girl said.

            Y/N looked at her and then took a step. “Hi,” Y/N said, kneeling down.

            “What are you doing?” she asked.

            “We’re just fishing,” C-Note said, coming to crouch near the little girl.

            “With no poles?”

            “We like to fish with our hands,” C-Note explained.

            “Yeah, hand fishing,” Sucre chuckled.

            “I think the question is, what are you doing out here?” Michael asked, walking over.

            “Hunting,” she said. Her name was then called out.

            Her father appeared and instantly, he had a gun and explained to get away from his daughter. “You’re those guys from Fox River. Don’t any of you move a freaking muscle.” The man began to yell to get away from her. Y/N and C-Note got up and began to walk away.

            “Hey, it’s ok,” Y/N said, hands up. However, she was calculating, eyes darting around to see what she can do.

            Then Abruzzi grabbed the little girl and pointed the gun in the father’s direction. Yelling occurred between the two parties, but Michael stayed calm and collected. “John, let go of the girl.”

            However, it escalated. Abruzzi kept demanding to put the gun down and threatened to shoot. The man eventually put the gun down.

            Y/N went and grabbed the gun, holding it in her hand as Abruzzi let the girl go and she ran back. Michael asked where his car was and demanded the keys.

            Y/N handed the gun to Sucre and followed after Michael. They all got into the car and drove to Oswego. -

In the cramped, dimly lit interior of the stolen car, the tension was palpable. The quiet hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires rolling over the cracked highway filled the silence. Y/N sat in the back seat, wedged between C-Note and Sucre, her gaze fixed on the window as the world sped by in a blur. She barely heard Abruzzi muttering directions to Lincoln from the passenger seat or the hushed conversation between Sucre and C-Note. Her mind was somewhere else—far away from the chaos of their escape.

Michael sat beside her, his eyes constantly scanning the road, the tension in his body mirroring the weight they all carried. He glanced at Y/N, noticing the distant look in her eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. He leaned closer, his voice soft and concerned. "You okay?"

Y/N blinked, her focus shifting slowly to Michael. For a moment, she didn’t answer, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, she let out a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I ruined him, Michael."

Michael frowned, his brows knitting together as he leaned in slightly. "Who?"

"Remington," she said, her voice thick with guilt. "He helped us… and now his career, his life—it’s over. I manipulated him. Lied to him. He didn’t deserve any of this."

Michael’s face softened as he placed a gentle hand on her knee. "You didn’t have a choice, Y/N. You did what you had to do to survive. We all did."

Y/N shook her head, her voice wavering as the weight of her actions pressed down on her. "He trusted me. I played with his emotions, made him believe in me. And now, he’s going to lose everything—his license, his reputation, maybe even his freedom. He could go to prison for what he did."

Michael’s hand remained on her knee, his thumb brushing in slow circles. "I know it’s hard, but Remington made his own choice. You didn’t force him to help us. He did it because he believed in you."

"But he’s a good man," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And I used him just like I used people before. I promised myself I’d never do that again."

Michael sighed, leaning back slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know. But we’re all running from something in here. And sometimes, the lines we swore we’d never cross get blurred. You didn’t mean to hurt him, Y/N. And when this is over… you’ll have the chance to make things right."

Y/N nodded, though the guilt still weighed heavily on her chest. The thought of Remington—his life shattered because of her—made it hard to breathe. She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back the flood of emotion threatening to spill over.

"I just hope he forgives me," she whispered, her voice barely audible as the car sped on into the dark night.

Michael’s hand squeezed her knee gently, offering her a quiet, unspoken reassurance. But the heaviness in her heart remained.

“Where’s Oswego?” Lincoln asked.

“Half a mile, maybe,” Michael responded.

-

They got to a storage unit where they got shovels. Eventually, they got to a graveyard and stopped in front of a gravel. They all began to dig including Y/N. Still dressed like cons, they all focused on the task at hand.

“Somebody’s gonna see us,” C-Note said.

“Keep digging,” Y/N responded, a little grumpy from the lack of food, water and sleep.

“We’re gonna go to hell, guys. Swear to God, we’re gonna go to hell,” Sucre whispered.

Y/N got out of the hole while Michael gave her a trash bag. She pulled it up and placed it beside her. Michael opened the bag and began to pull out clothes, handing it to people. “Originally, this was supposed to be a week’s worth of clothes for me and Linc. But I figured you all need just as much as help as we do, so…” Michael explained.

“You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, Fish?” Abruzzi retorted.

“That’s right, John. The heart. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

“Damn, Snowflake. This is tight, man,” C-Note said.

“It’s like I said, we gotta stop being cons,” Michael stated, handing Y/N a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, “and start being civilians.”

Everyone began to dress, but Y/N stayed still. Her eyes looked over them and Michael saw her, holding the clothes. “Behind me,” he said. She walked around and stood behind him as he turned, holding out his old sweater to block her. Y/N quickly changed.

Michael walked over to Linc, throwing a backpack. “Money, passports, prepaid phone cards.” Then he glanced at Y/N who looked at them. “But I didn’t expect to meet you, so–“

“–It’s fine,” she muttered. “I didn’t expect to meet you either.”

Michael walked over to her, his fist out, clenched. She put her hand out and opened it for him to put something in. He did and she looked down.

“My wedding and engagement ring,” she muttered.

“That’s one big rock,” Michael chuckled. “Must have loved you a lot.”

“Yeah, must’ve,” she whispered. Then she looked at the rest of the jewellery in her hand. Cartier bracelets and one ring beside her wedding tokens from Sebastian as well. “Pawn them,” she said. “We can make a lot. One of these bracelets alone costs like five thousand dollars and I swear my ring is at least thirty grand. It’s all gold,” she muttered. Michael took them back and placed them in the backpack.

Lincoln began to look at the passports, chuckling. Michael glanced over. “We’ll get you one.”

“If we get to my apartment in New York, I have five,” she responded. “Mob life,” she shrugged.

“Five fake passports?” he asked, and she simply nodded.

Lincoln pulled out keys and held them. “These?” he asked, holding the keys out.

“The keys to a car that’s waiting for us a couple of hundred yards from here,” Michael explained as he did up his tie.

“She’s coming?” he nodded to Y/N.

Michael nodded. “Indeed.”

“So, it’s the three of us or the six of us?” Lincoln asked.

“That’s the three of us,” Michael stated.

“They know?” Y/N asked, looking over to the group.

“Not yet,” Michael said.

Then, a dark SUV began to pull up, and Y/N sighed. Here they go again…on the run. Always on the run. Michael took a hard look at the guy, adjusting his tie as he narrowed. How did he know? He continued to stare at this man, almost as if hatred ran through him.

“We got go, hun,” Y/N said, tugging his hand. Then they were off again. They ran down some train tracks to the middle of the town, where they began to walk. Y/N threw her hair into a ponytail, before putting on her baseball cap and tucking the pony out the back. Michael caught up to her, walking beside her.

“You look quite dashing in your suit,” she stated, looking ahead. “Can imagine life before this…you this big-time structural engineer, all tailored in sharp, fine suits. Delicious,” she hummed.

Michael chuckled; however a man stopped them to ask the time which freaked Michael out slightly.

They got to a warehouse and Y/N stood in the corner while Lincoln walked off to make a call. She adjusted the pants as they were totally not her size and the shirt clung to her like cling-film.

Michael glanced over, seeing her adjusting her clothes. “You ok?” he asked coming up.

            “Yeah, just this bra is not doing wonders with all the running,” she chuckled. “But, its ok. Just no support.”

            He nodded. “Didn’t think to pack a bra,” he muttered.

            Y/N looked at him. “Why would you? Didn’t expect me in your life,” she stated, tying the pants.

            “Are you in pain though?” he asked. “With like no support?”

            She shook her head. “No, I’m ok.”

            Just then, Lincoln began to stumble back, falling to the ground and Michael and Y/N went over, leaning down beside him. He began to hyperventilate. Y/N began to rub his back, telling him to breathe.

            Veronica was dead and Steadman was alive.

            However, their proof was locked away in a safe house.

-

Here you go!

Hope you enjoy :)

I had so much fun writing this.

Much love,

Ava <3

-

Taglist:

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

@enha-stars @wonuskie @believeinthefireflies95 @esposadomd @peachmartini @rougegenshin

[frankcastlescumslut]

A House in Nebraska

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: gore, violence, minor character death, amy bendix (lol), language, angst!!, eventual smut

summary: He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

a/n: hey! I’ve been sitting on this idea for months and finally ready to work on it :) this will definitely be a two-parter(maybe more), but I’m selfishly enjoying this little AU loosely following season 2!!!!

next chapter

comments/reblogs/likes are so appreciated, I love to hear your thoughts <3

“So… how did you guys meet?” “Stay still.” The strong stench of rubbing alcohol burned your nostrils as you leaned over, her foot tapping mindlessly beneath her crossed legs. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Amy,” you interrupted, her blue eyes baring right back into yours. “If you want me to paint your nails, sit still.” She huffed at that. You were used to it by now, never taking her attitude personally because being sixteen was hard enough, so you paid no mind. It was almost reminiscent, a painful familiarity with the way she embodied your sister, but you chose to forget the feeling like your life depended on it. In a way, it did.

Her nail disappeared beneath a glossy black polish, the surrounding skin also falling victim to an unsteady hand. She let out a sigh and continued to count the number of stripes on her socks.

“We met in Nebraska.” “Nebraska?” She sounded disgusted, and the small room filled with laughter. “What the hell is in Nebraska?” “Absolutely nothing.”

Ghosts. Distant memories. Everything was in Nebraska.

It’s where he found you, hiding as some housekeeper in a shitty motel. You were both running from things neither of you cared to talk about while sober, so you didn’t, but he kept looking for reasons to come back.

He blamed it on the esteemed breakfast, a vending machine honeybun, but you saw through him like he was an apparition haunting your strained heartstrings.

Come with me, he asked. Where to? You didn’t really care.

You were in too deep by the time you made it to Michigan—you both were, and yet neither one of you would admit it. There was something sacred about the secrecy and inability to label what you both knew was love, or something like that; it was too precious, and you avoided any chance at jinxing it.

“But you two are together, though, right?” Amy was obsessed with knowing everything. You think it’s her way of pretending that everything was fine. Fine.

“No.” “Oh.” She straightened a bit, and you didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed. “That disappoint you?” “A little.” “Good,” you smirked. “You’re too nosey.” “I call it a healthy amount of curious.” Her back hunched again, and she watched the way your eyebrows scrunched over her fingers. “You guys are shit at hiding it, anyway.” You chuckled at that, manually manipulating her hand to inspect your work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh come on,” she says matter-of-factly. “You guys fuck.” “Amy!” You could feel your eyes bulging from their sockets. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands before jumping from the mattress. “You don’t know anything.” “Oh come on,” she searched your face, expecting to find any confirmation to her assumptions, instead finding your lack of eye contact disappointing. “Not even once?” “No,” you lied. “Happy?” “Not really.”

The mattress failed to hide the sound of her disappointment as she threw her body onto the spare bed. You allowed yourself to find amusement in her attitude long enough to sift through a dirty duffel bag, keeping your mind occupied with something other than Frank’s absence.

Gaining Amy meant losing Frank. Hour by hour, piece by piece, chunk of flesh by chunk of flesh. The waiting never grew easier, but you adjusted, just like you always do, ending up in motels that smelled like damp polyester and cigarettes.

“I’m starving,” she groaned, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’ll get something soon.” Your stomach gurgled in agreement.

Static crackled throughout the room, momentarily stunning you, before being replaced by a weather report.

High of 89 today with an 80 percent chance of rain, folks! Grab an umbrella and stay dry!

You laughed to yourself at that—stay dry—like you ever left those shitty rooms.

It was bittersweet with Amy. You missed the sun. You missed the late night diner runs. You missed waking up to forehead kisses and soft touches. You missed the easiness of it all, pretending to be two normal people that had two normal lives, and now you were confined to a room that reeked of nail polish and gunpowder. A prisoner and caretaker.

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Huh?” “Dinner,” you stated. “I’ll go when—“ A knock at the door ended your conversation. “Amy,” you locked eyes with her, “get in the closet.” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you pointed the gun towards the door. “No, it’s fine!“ She practically leapt from the cheap mattress. “Closet. Now.” Your arm aches almost as much as your stomach as Amy reaches for the door handle. She was so far away, it seemed, and your legs felt cemented to the floor. “I ordered food,” she smiled, opening the door to reveal a woman holding a box. “See?”

It felt like you were staring at one of your polaroids; Amy looked pleased, beaming at you with a sense of accomplishment that she got dinner. That she could do things. That she didn’t need your help—Frank’s help. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for her.

“You can keep the change,” Amy offered the woman a handful of cash before turning to you with that same naivety.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew it was coming, and yet your stomach still dropped when her smile faded and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Amy’s lips moved frantically, but you were too focused on the way the woman’s gun left imprints against her temple.

Stupid, stupid girl.

The woman looked satisfied, puffing out her broad chest while Amy tried to talk her way out of it. “Kid,” you commanded her attention, ignoring the way you could hear Frank’s voice in the back of your head. She stared back at you, tears welling in her eyes, and you hoped to God that she would understand what you meant as you meticulously cocked your head towards the closet.

The stranger wasn’t an idiot, and she shuffled backwards, somehow digging the gun further into Amy’s head. “If you try anything funny—“

Point. Shoot. Kill.

Amy flinched as warm blood decorated her cheeks like a crimson blush.

You wish you could embrace her and muster out a lie—that it’s all over, that everything is okay now, that things can go back to normal, but you can’t, so you pull her into the room. “Closet, now.”

She listened, for once, ducking her head and hurrying to the small space Frank had designated as hers. A part of you selfishly wished she had fought back against your order. Maybe then things would feel normal, and you could pretend that the brain matter surrounding the door frame was some maximalist’s creative direction. Maybe then you could imagine that the body below you was just a rolled up carpet that was being discarded because it was too much of an eyesore for the motel regulars.

You pretended, ignoring the corpse’s vacant gaze as you patted its body, shoving any remaining bits of your humanity down as you pocketed a wallet and fully loaded gun.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

It was one of the first lessons you had learned while on your own, and one that Frank never let you forget. He was right, unfortunately, and heavy footsteps reiterated the importance of the mantra as they approached your temporary home.

There weren’t many places for you to hide, but you made it work, you had to. The bathroom was small and smelled like mildew, but you couldn’t care about the dangers of black mold when you had a target on your back. The gun felt lighter in your hand this time, and your posture felt natural as you crouched against the bathroom wall.

Time didn’t exist in moments like this. The moments where the world sounded like warm, rushing blood and high pitched screeching. Moments where you become reduced to your primal state, clenching jaw and eyes blown wide as they study the mirrored motel room. Moments where you held your breath, watching and waiting in anticipation of who would barge into your temporary sanctuary, noting the constant footsteps..

The footsteps never stopped, not even as they stepped over the limp body and pooled blood. You foolishly hoped you would have been met with the familiar darkened gaze, that he would lift you by your shoulders and tell you that you did good, but the man that barged into the room was ruthless. Cold-blooded.

His gun was already drawn, spraying the mattresses and walls with bullets and fury, sending drywall crumbling and flaking onto your head and shoulders.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

You inhaled, not even considering it could be the last time your lungs expanded to its full capacity, before glancing in the mirror a final time.

You looked like a version of yourself you had buried long ago—a version that hadn’t emerged since you had left home. It was reminiscent of something you fought to avoid, but you couldn’t run this time, not as the pang of gunshots echoed throughout the motel room.

He moved quickly, and you wondered if he was trained on the same basis: shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t the first one you had encountered, trigger-happy and determined, and you knew they always ran out of bullets quicker than they should.

Your golden opportunity sounded like a few seconds of silence followed by a huff of air leaving your lips before you reached around the corner, catching the man off guard as you unleashed three rounds towards his rigid frame.

“God damnit!” he shouted as a bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh.

His eyes were black, rolling into the sockets like a blood hungry shark, and you genuinely thought his teeth would crumble under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

The bathroom was no solace; you were cornered, backed into a cage like an animal waiting for its turn to be brought to the slaughterhouse. Surrendering wasn’t an option. It didn’t exist for people like the one hunting you—for people like Frank.

The thought of Frank coming back to your makeshift home, littered with blood and bodies, made your stomach churn. It meant you failed, that you weren’t capable of keeping up with him, and it was embarrassing. You failed him; you failed Amy, and you failed yourself once again, though that mattered little anymore.

Your golden moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of grunting and a continuous stream of popping inching towards your hiding place. The wall exploded and ceramic tile flew towards your face before you realized what was happening, and you instinctively receded towards the small spot between the toilet and cabinet.

“Come on out, honey,” he called. “Can’t hide forever!”

You could tell he was hovering outside the remnants of the doorframe, probably waiting for you to crawl out so he could pretend to be merciful by putting a bullet in your head, but his labored breathing told you everything he wasn’t. Your guess was a severed artery, and although he should be down by now, you learned to never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose and steadied your gun on the edge of the counter.

“Just tell me where the girl is and we can figure this out like adults!” “Like adults?” You called out, scanning the bathroom for anything that could help your situation. “Sure,” he huffed out. “We can play house after this. What do you say?”

The toe of his boot peeked around the corner, and your body moved before your mind could catch up.

The man let out a guttural scream and folded in half, instinctively grabbing his bleeding foot. You wasted no time yanking the cheap plastic shower curtain from its holdings before leaping towards the assailant.

He looked like a beached shark, thrashing beneath the fogging curtain, but felt more like a mechanical bull as you held onto him with your thighs, tightening your grip around the curtain.

It happened quickly. So quickly that you hadn’t registered the throbbing pain in the base of your skull as you crashed into the already crumbling drywall. You weren’t sure how he stood, how he gained enough momentum to fling you off of him, but your mind and body remained disconnected as he towered over you.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man coughed, failing to cover his mouth. “Where’s the girl?”

This wasn’t supposed to be the end. This was humiliating, and yet there you were, blinking away stars and choking on dust. You attempted to sit up straight, regaining your dignity, before your knuckles hit the familiar carbon steel.

There was only one shot, and you prayed Amy had made it out and ran as far away from you as she could—this wasn’t a place for young girls, yet you felt small enough in that moment. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

He fell with a great thud, nearly landing on top of you. His mouth and eyes were still open, completely unsuspecting of his demise, and you were hypnotized by the crimson dripping from the bullet-sized hole in his forehead.

It was seamless, and you think Frank would have been proud had he walked in through the blown out door, but he doesn’t. Nobody was coming.

“He talked too much.” Her voice startled you, and you instinctively reached for the gun. “Whoa,” she warned, “it’s okay, it’s just me.” She showed her palms, emerging fully from the small closet.

“Amy,” you whispered, afraid that she was just an apparition.

“You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question the second it left her mouth, but she asked anyway—she at least meant it.

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “We have to leave.”

“Leave? What about Frank?”

You had already limped across the room, adding the new guns and wallets to the duffel bag, and didn’t need to see the confusion on her face to know she was skeptical of your plan. “He’ll find us,” you tried to believe yourself, but you knew he would understand.

You’d had this conversation before; if anything were to happen to him, you and Amy were to find a Madani somewhere in New York. It was a 10 hour drive, but you were confident you could make it in six if you left now.

The room felt smaller with two bodies and crumbled drywall littering the floor. You could ignore the claustrophobic feel, but Amy stood frozen in place, studying the tread marked puddle of blood beneath her feet.

“Hey,” you started, “look at me. Look at me, Amy.”

She was pale, her eyes sunken into their sockets. It was impossible to make sense of how she looked so young, yet so hardened at that moment, but there wasn’t enough time to wonder. “Amy, we have to go, okay?” Her cheeks were soft beneath your palms. You tried to pull her from her trance, begging her to come back to the shitty motel room of death, but she stayed tucked away in the safest corner of her mind.

“You’re bleeding,” she muttered. “What?” “Bleeding. You’re bleeding.”

Her eyes led a trail to the soft curve of your waist. Your shirt stuck to your skin with an uncomfortable warmth, and you pretended it didn’t ache when you placed a few fingers over the gash.

You wanted to laugh at the irony, deluding yourself with a false sense of accomplishment. It was always too good to be true, and you were reminded of the cruel fact that things could always be worse as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled you from the pain. Amy ran towards the familiar hiding spot without being told, and your heart broke into smaller pieces.

It was getting old, the pointing and shooting and killing. It was getting old, and you were tired of calling the shots—you were tired of waiting for Frank to come back.

Fuck him. Fuck him for leaving you. Fuck him for leaving Amy. Fuck him for making you add two more heads to your roster.

Your arm ached as you leveled the gun, and you let out a sharp cry as your skin pulled in separate directions, the cotton of your shirt peeling from the wet wound. It was a matter of seconds before you would claim your next victim, but all you felt was the burning rage towards the man that left you in this position. It was automatic at this point; all you saw was a threat, so you acted, unloading rounds until all that remained was a busted door frame and tear stains against your grimy cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispered, not even acknowledging the body that he stepped over. “No no no, what happened?” He strung a hand behind your neck, forcing you to watch the way his eyes scanned your face. He meant well, you think, but you couldn’t look at him, especially as he thumbed through the tears that escaped your waterline. “Where’s the kid?”

God damn him. “Closet,” you choked out.

He was gone as quickly as he came, and your knees took the brute of the fall with a thud, masking the sound of the closet doors falling as Frank ripped them from the hinges. The stars in your eyes glistened, your peripheral shrinking, and you weren’t even sure if he was real. If he had actually come back, if he had actually left you on the floor, face to face with your bloody work.

“You okay, kid?” He crouched to her level, but she quickly uncurled herself, practically jumping from the small space to push past Frank and joined you on the damp carpet. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowing as she studied your face. “I’m fine," you whispered, bracing yourself against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. Frank hovered, like he usually did, unsure of his place between the two of you. His anger was palpable, and you made yourself as small as possible, limping towards the disheveled duffle bags. He watched you, noting the way you winced with each step. It killed him, knowing that his shit would eventually catch up to you, too, but he gulped it down, turning his attention towards Amy.

“I’m sorry,” Frank started, grabbing Amy’s shoulders before bending to her level. “I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have left.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Seriously. It could’ve been worse.” “Yeah, you coulda been killed. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Alone. The bile rose from your stomach and burned the lining of your throat at the indirect insult.

“I wasn’t alone,” Amy snapped at Frank before sinking into the mattress. “Look, this is all my fault. I was the one that ordered food, she didn’t know.” It was humiliating having Amy come to your defense like that, even though she was right. Frank’s stare burned, and your feet involuntarily took you to the destroyed bathroom to escape his attention. “What?” He spat. “I mean, really. I probably would have died but she handled them.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “It was actually kinda cool.” “There’s nothin’ cool about this,” Frank hissed. “C’est la vie, I guess.” “C’mon,” he ordered. “Pack up.” “Everything’s already ready.” She motioned towards the perfectly lined duffle bags that you had assembled.

He didn’t have much to say. He was almost relieved at the fact that you were ready to leave him. You could make it on your own, he knew that much. You were strong enough, but a part of him wished you didn’t have to be—that you didn’t have to deal with his shit.

Amy watched as he shifted his weight outside the bathroom door, his fingers flexing and clenching in anticipation.

His heart broke as he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the busted mirror, your head hanging low as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

“Time to go,” he finally knocked against the remaining wall. You were quick to listen, pretending that you hadn’t been crying, and you pushed past him. The carpet squelched beneath your stride, and you ignored it long enough to pull Amy into your chest, focusing on the sweet smell of her shampoo. She stayed there for what seemed like forever until she became cognizant of her flickering facade. “You okay?” you whispered, nodding your head as if you could somehow convince her she was. She followed suit, swallowing down any trace of emotion that threatened to spill over, but her eyes betrayed her. Frank had seen enough.

It was too much—too much of a reminder that he had failed again, that his perpetual failings would always result in the loss of a life. Your commitment to Amy’s safety was evident; it was a continuation of what you couldn’t give your sister, and he was ashamed that he brought you back to the place where he met you. “Let’s go,” he cleared his throat. You listened, as you always do, breaking your moment of respite with Amy to shove two heavy duffle bugs over your shoulder, not caring to look behind you as you head towards a bulky van. Amy watched you disappear, shuffling her feet in frustration. “You really should take it easy on her.” Frank said nothing, instead sifting through the empty pockets of corpses. “Hey,” she kicked the limp hand, forcing Frank to stop his search. “I mean it. Lighten up.” “You done?” He stood, completely towering over Amy. His jaw clenched against his will, yet she held his gaze. “Be nice.”

“Time to go.” He didn’t wait for her, so she watched her footing as she tiptoed over the broken bodies.

She lingered in the doorframe, committing the bloodbath to memory. It was fucked that she had to—that the motel room reeked of blood and guts instead nail polish remover and pizza. But that’s how these things went, and you watched from the safety of the van as she slammed the door shut on that dirty fucking room.

You pretended that her clumpy mascara was still intact as she climbed in the van's backseat. She pretended you didn’t jump at the sound of Frank slamming his door closed as he slid into his seat. He pretended that this wasn’t his karmic debt catching up to him.

A caravan of fucking liars.

“Where are we going?” Amy broke the uncomfortable silence, and you held your breath. “New York,” he said with a sigh.

New York, a Madani, and a caravan of liars.

There was a poetic moment of silence and anticipation, and then the engine roared to life.

next chapter

[smok3r7]

Three, Two, One - Draw! One-shot

Cowboy Joel Miller x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Main Masterlist & My Ao3

Summary: In Tombstone, you’re the bartender at Wyatt Earp’s saloon, a favorite actually. You’re one of the fastest shooters in the west, having learned from the best - your brother, Doc Holiday. One night after your shift at the saloon, your husband Joel Miller, tells you he wants to practice your draw speed. However, he’s not talking about guns.

Word count: 3.8k

⚠️Warnings: Age gap (not specified), no outbreak, brief sexual harassment, slight angst, clothed grinding, vibrator use, unprotected PiV, cream pie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pregnancy talk

Okay look, I know vibrators didn’t exist back then! BUT JUST FOR THE SAKE OF THIS PLOT, JUST IMAGINE THEY DO!!

@strang3lov3 here it is bug, finally got it all figured out bahaha💓

@chloeangelic 💓

—

The Dexter Saloon - Wyatt Earp's bar here in Tombstone, was busy with cowboys that have their whores and then the red bandits also with their whores. But on two separate ends of the saloon, everyone knew better than to go onto the others - otherwise all hell would break loose. Not saying it never happened, but people knew the consequences.

Everyone was either sitting at the gambling tables or they were watching others play. Then there were the older guys who just sat in their designated bar stools and drank until they couldn’t see straight. This was an everyday occurrence, this saloon was rarely ever empty, you could count on one hand the amount of times that’s happened.

“Hey honey,” Eric, an older cowboy, raises his empty glass towards you on the other side of the bar top.

“Comin’ right up,” you chirp back as you slide over to grab his glass and take a whiskey bottle from behind you as you fill it and hand it back with a wink. The cowboy raises his glass, “Thanks hon.”

You have been the bartender here at The Dexter for, shit, like fifteen years. Which is a pretty big deal because men are usually the only ones who can bartend, however you and Doc Holiday are siblings. So people knew not to fuck with you, and if they did, they were in for hell of an awakening - either from Doc or from you.

Ever since you could walk, Holiday would teach you how to handle your guns and how to fight with your hands. At the age of eleven you could beat your older brother in a gun match, you were a straight shooter, no hesitation - center mass all day long, fast ones at that. But since you’re a woman, you knew that you wouldn’t get the same chance as your brother would, as fucked up as it is, you understood it but you use it to your advantage.

No one fucks with you, they damn well know better. Well for one, everyone here in Tombstone knows who your brother is, and secondly, some have personally been shown why they shouldn’t mess with you.

—

One of the first nights you started at the saloon, a group of red bandits came in and tried to harass and intimidate you. Howdy sweet thing, what’s a pretty girl like you working here? I bet you let all the cowboys run on you huh? Why don’t you let us have you, huh sweet thing?

All you could do was smile and ask what they wanted to drink or if they wanted in on some tables. However, all they did was stare at your body like you were a piece of candy just waiting to be unwrapped.

Okay yes, you used your tits and ass to your advantage, but you work in a saloon full of rowdy men who are easily manipulated into giving tips. So why not? You’ve always gotten harassed, so it usually doesn’t bother you, but when it comes to your job - you tend to become a loose cannon. Because It’s not like you were whoring yourself out to all these men, you have been loyal to one man for years and years - Joel Miller.

However this group of bandits ignored your questions and tried to violate your sense of safety. But you were quick enough to grab the two steel revolvers that you keep in your hip holsters and you pointed them at two of them, they all froze.

“Now, you have about five seconds to get out of this saloon before I blow holes in all four of you bastards.”

You weren’t scared, you just wanted them to leave so you could continue your job. The two men that you’re aiming at start to laugh, but the click of you clocking the two steel guns makes them stop.

“You think we’re scared of some pretty gal with some guns she don’t know nothing about?” The older one chimes, you only have the two younger ones on lock, but the other two haven’t even drawn their weapons.

“Who said I don’t know my way around a gun?” Give me a reason I dare you. A beat goes by and you watch the two that are only a mere two feet away from the silver barrel, and they are terrified. Your eyes then go to the older two and you watch at how they observe your actions, go ahead do it.

You’re not sure what makes the group of men back down and apologize for the incident and leave the Saloon. Maybe it was the way your face had zero emotion or the way your hands weren’t shaking in the slightest. Whatever it was, they left and you haven’t seen them since.

—

“Howdy darlin’,”

Your hands stop wiping down the inside of glasses and you turn your head, Joel. As you turn your body towards the swinging doors, you smile. He causes your head to feel dizzy and your heart to flutter, you’re not quite sure how you got so lucky.

He’s now walking towards the bar and when he reaches it, he leans his elbows on it as he looks you up and down. He’s wearing a brown cowboy hat just like yours, a red flannel that’s tight around his arms and chest, his dark jeans causing his thighs and ass to stick out.

“Just ‘bout done, just waiting for Mary to come and take over,”

Joel does a quiet, alright, as he watches you go back to drying off glasses and putting them back onto the shelves behind you. You can feel his eyes on your figure when you’re turned away, your light washed jeans hug your curves in a way that makes everyone stare.

“Want a drink before we go?” You ask him as you grab the bottle of whiskey that’s just about a quarter gone and spin around to show him. Your hair that laid on your shoulders now behind them from your spin, exposing your cleavage to him. His eyes go straight to the opening of your light blue button down and he smirks as he goes, “Only if you are.”

Why not? My shift is basically over, Mary is just finishing washing off the main tables, she’ll be over here any second. You think as you set the whiskey bottle next to Joel and spin back to grab two of the glasses you just dried, Mary can wash them.

You fill the glasses just over half full, been needing this after the day today.

“Damn darlin’, sure you can do that in one go?” Joel chuckles as you put the bottle back onto the shelf with the dozens of other liquors.

“Really Joel?” You laugh, now you’re directly across from him on the other side of the bar counter. You grab the full glass and rest your elbows on the bar top, causing your tits to squeeze together more. “Bet I could take it easier than you.”

His eyes leave your cleavage and dart to your eyes, his eyebrows furrow and his face reads, are you sure about that? You nod your head as you bite your bottom lip in a smile, you then remove your weathered brown cowboy hat and set it on the counter, Joel does the same.

You raise your glass to meet his with a clink and a hit of the bar top then you knock back the thick dark liquor. The burn in your throat is instant, but with determination to keep it down without a problem, it doesn’t bother you. All you do is shake your head once and grab your hat to put it back on, whereas Joel does a shake and a god damn.

When he slides the glass over to you to put in the sink he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with a hint of mischief in his brown eyes. Before you can say anything smart to him Mary comes around from the back and chirps, “You’re all set sweetheart!”

“Perfect timing dear, I’m just ‘bout to go bring her to test her draw speed and I wanna do it before it gets too dark here.”

As you hand Mary the keys to lock up after her shift, you quickly turn your head in disbelief of what he just said.

“What did you just say? You wanna test MY speed?”

“That’s what I said hon.”

You’re at a loss for words, does he not understand what he just did? When anyone tries to challenge you, in anything, you become extremely competitive - almost annoyingly competitive.

“Good luck with that Joel,” Mary laughs as she swiftly walks past you behind the bar.

As you walk towards Joel you watch how his eyes travel up and down your body, he reaches his hand out to take your hand. But you're quick to pull away and walk past him, as you push open the doors you turn your head and tell him, “Let’s go see who’s faster then, cowboy.”

—

You and Joel own a good size farm house just outside the small town of Tombstone, far enough that you have to take your horses. So tonight you make sure to stay a couple feet ahead of Joel, he’s so irritating, you think as your ears fill with the click clack of your horses hoofs.

Joel knows that this topic gets you worked up because you have had so many instances where men don’t believe your skills, but Joel was never one of those men. However, it now seems like he is, and it hurts.

Honey, can you wait up a second, you hear from behind you but you ignore him, you just want to get home and go to bed. Your feet hurt from standing behind the bar all day, you’re starting to get a migraine, the whiskey shot you took is turning your stomach. I just want to sleep.

After another minute of ignoring Joel, you reach the dark red home you two share. Go girl, you say to your horse as she takes off towards the back so you can tie her off for the night.

“What's wrong with you?”

You’re about to snap, you stomp up the porch stairs as you reach the back screen door and swing it open, along with the wood door and storm off towards the shared bedroom. Fuck you Joel.

He’s not far behind you. He’s asking a million questions to try to get you to answer but you just don’t, because if you do - it will not end well.

Now in the brown themed bedroom, you hear Joel shut the bedroom door and repeat, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You decide to finally turn around. But as you turn, you reach down to your hip holsters and quickly pull your two stainless steel revolvers out and point them in the direction of Joel.

“Woah, woah darlin’,” he sputters out with both hands up.

“Who wants to test who’s draw speed?” You grit between your teeth. Your vision is pure red, you haven’t cocked the hammers, but your thumbs are close to doing so. Rage is flowing through your veins.

“I- I was just- ”

“Just what Joel? Trying to get yourself killed?”

“No, no! Just look,” he says as he points his right hand down to his hip holster.

Still pointing your revolvers at him, you move your eyes down to where he’s pointing and your eyes widen. Wait, what, a vibrator? You then drop the guns and bring your eyes back to his whiskey orbs, his face now is smug.

“I was just tryin’ to be clever, that’s all darlin’,” he slowly steps towards you and when he reaches you, he gently grabs hold of your weapons and sets them down onto your nightstand.

“Well that was a stupid way of being clever, and you know that.” You tell him, your anger gets pushed away, now only a foot away from each other.

Joel chuckles, “Yeah well, I like seeing you worked up. Haven’t seen you like that in awhile.”

“You like almost being killed, cause that was the next step.” You chuckle as you look up into his cocky face, god he knows exactly how to get under my skin.

He knows that, he just won’t admit it, but he also knows that you wouldn’t hurt him. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, Joel was your best friend and lover, you would never put him in real danger. When it comes to Joel, you’re all bark and no bite.

A minute of silence passes, you’ve totally forgotten about the black vibrator that’s in his gun holster. Until he swiftly pulls it out and holds it to your chest, “Caught you slackin hon.”

You softly laugh at the realization of what he wants to do. You kick off your black cowboy boots next to the bed, and you hang your hat on the hook on the wall - Joel throwing the black wand onto the bed as he mimics your movements.

You undo your belt buckle along with your holsters, and slip your bootcut jeans off next to your boots on the hardwood floor. Crawling towards the top of the bed and you partially sit and lay down so your head rests just below the headboard behind you, slowly unbuttoning your baby blue shirt as you watch Joel tear his clothing off so he’s only in his black boxers.

“My pretty girl,” he murmurs as you let your shirt fall off of your shoulders and lay on the pillows beneath your warm body.

You’re now only in your red bra and panties set. This swirling feeling in your stomach causes you to feel excited, you two have a normal sex life but toys have never been implemented before. This was a new kind of feeling.

“Come show me what you got, cowboy.” You purr as you spread your legs to reveal the damp spot between your thighs.

Joel is quick to pounce on top of you, the toy is forgotten on the bed for the time being, he just wants to taste you for himself first. His lips are instinctively on yours, kissing you harshly like you two haven’t seen each other in decades. Your hands go to the back of his head as your fingers intertwine with his dark brown curls that have a hint of silver throughout, and your legs bent so Joel can grind his warm body on yours.

The groans that leave both his and your mouths are filthy, his hands are gliding up and down your rib cage then on your tits, then they’re gripping your hips. His bulge grows as he continues to grind onto your aching cunt beneath him. It’s like a crazy obsession you have with Joel, all you ever want and need is him. His hands, his cock, and his tongue, only Joel.

You’re so lost in the taste of him that you don’t even feel his right hand let go of your sweaty skin until you get this sudden vibration directly on your clothed clit.

“Joel!” You yelp as your hips jump from the strong new sensation, but he doesn’t let up. All he does is sit back on his heels and leave the toy on you, and he watches how you instantly start to squirm and whine.

“Calm down darlin’,” he chuckles as he watches your face contort from the pleasure of the new black wand.

“Fuck-“ your mouth makes an ‘O’ shape as your eyes roll back, a tight feeling starts to grow in your lower abdomen, already? Not even a couple seconds later, your thighs start to jiggle and your back arches, a string of right there, yes baby, yes, escape in breaths.

“So pretty, I knew you’d love it. There you go baby,” Joel growls as he watches you unravel beneath him.

That’s the last thing you hear until your ears start to ring and you feel this warm release in between your legs. Your eyes tightly shut and loud moans leave your lips, Joel finally eases up and takes the vibration away from you.

Your chest rises and falls erratically as you try to collect your breath. Your eyes still tightly shut, the smell of sex and sweat fill your nose as you breathe in and out, in and out.

However, your time to recover is quickly halted when Joel slides your panties to the side, and thrusts his thick cock into you.

“Baby-“ you scream as your eyes burst open. Joel’s fingers dig into your hips, enough for some bruises to appear tomorrow morning. His thrusts are strong, the feeling of his cock going in and out of your dripping cunt has you seeing stars and has turned your brain into mush.

“Look at you, sweet thing,” Joel grunts as his rhythm increases, “Takin’ my cock like the good girl you are. I jus’ had to fuck the attitude outta you, is that it?”

Yes baby, yes, you slur as you reach your right hand to rub your clit to relieve that pressure in your lower belly that is growing closer to snapping. But before you reach your mound, Joel is quick to swat your hand away, nu-uh I got a better idea. Before you can cry out to him, you watch through your hooded eyes as he grabs the black wand on the bed and turns it on. You glance up at his face and you see the corner of his mouth lift in a smirk, he then pulls the band of your red panties up and directly puts the toy on your swollen clit.

Your hips once again jump, your body is not used to this stimulation, it’s all new to you. The mixture of Joel’s thick cock slamming into you, his large free hand still gripping your skin, his moans and whispers that leave his mouth, and the vibrator on your clit has you in complete shambles.

“Let it go darlin’. Cum on my cock, claim it baby, like how I’m gonna claim you. Ma-make you mine,” Joel groans as his eyes watch how your tits bounce to the rhythm he’s set. “Gonna put a baby in you, let ev-everyone know you belong to me.”

“Yes, Joel, mark me as y-yours,” you coo as you reach both of your hands up to Joel’s face to let him know you wanna touch him, you need to touch him. The coil that’s been brewing in your belly is so close to snapping, you just need a little more of him. Still with the wand on your clit and his cock still fucking into you, but now with a little slower speed, he leans down and lets your fingers caress his straggly beard and forces his lips onto yours.

The kiss is hot and sloppy, the mix of his and your saliva seeps into each other. Your hands are now on the back of his head like before, your fingers grab a bit of his curls and pull him back. As you do that, he pulls the vibrating wand off of you and halts his thrusts, his cock still deep inside of your tight walls.

You take a second to breathe and look into his eyes, all you see is pure bliss glistening in his whiskey colored eyes. The very ones that you love oh so much, and you do realize one thing - you want him to mark you, make you his completely.

“Put a baby in me,” you purr, lips only inches away from his, both of you smirking. Yes ma’am.

Without any hesitation, Joel puts the vibrator back on you and his hard thrusts begin once again. You both stare into each other's lust filled eyes as the two of you moan into one another’s mouths. That coil that’s been in your belly finally snaps as you feel Joel’s hips speed up and his moans become more broken.

Your back arches, your arms pull Joel into your body and your face burrows into his sweaty shoulder, your broken moans muffled by his warm skin. Joel orgasm isn't far behind yours. Suddenly his thrust stalls and he lets the black wand fall from his hands and it lands on the bed beneath your bodies. His beard scratches your neck as he moans into your skin, and his fingers dig deeper into your hip as his warm seed shoots inside of you. A shiver runs down your spine when his hips move a tiny bit, making sure his cum stays in you, like you begged him to.

Your two sweaty bodies stay like that for a minute before your high comes down and now you’re just sweaty and want his heavy body off of yours.

“Cowboy,” you squeak as you put your palms on his shoulders and try to push him, but he won’t budge. Hmmm, rumbles your skin where his mouth lays on your neck, you chuckle causing his body to jump with your laugh. “Can’t breathe.”

The vibration from him laughing tickles, causing you to push him harder but he still doesn’t move. Joel, you drag out with a whine, okay okay, he finally gives in. As he pushes himself off of your sore body, his cock slips out of your pussy and he watches as the mix of your arousal and his cum slowly seeps out of your pulsating cunt.

Your body jumps when you feel Joel’s thick middle and ring finger swipe the liquids and pushes them back into your overstimulated pussy. Followed by him pulling your soaked panties back over and giving a soft pat, your hips jump once again.

“Gotta make sure you get it all.”

You sit up on your elbows and you just stare at his sweaty body; his chest heaving trying to catch his breath, his cock covered in your creamy arousal, his curly hair a complete mess, but you wouldn’t change him for the world. The image of him in complete disarray in front of you, is an image that will forever be ingrained into your mind and soul.

Your lover. Your husband. The father of your soon-to-be child. Your Joel.