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caffeinewitchcraft · 9 months ago

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The Hero and Hope (part 3/5)

(part 1) (part 2)

Summary: You've been adopted before. That's why you know better than to hope for another chance, especially a second chance with the Bahrs

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It’s not that you don’t want to be adopted. You just know that you’re not going to be. You’re the oldest in the orphanage, barely three years away from aging out. People don’t adopt kids your age, especially not obstinate, mean ones like you.

Besides, you’re a Hero. As soon as you master your power, you’ll be compelled to leave and fight evil anyway. That’s why it doesn’t matter if the Bahrs want you or not. You’re not somebody that’s supposed to have a family.

You barely remember the first time you were adopted. That was back when the Director of the orphanage was mean and biting. You have a vague memory of gold exchanging hands and leaving in the middle of the night. Your new parents barely looked at you and didn’t call you by your name at all.

You don’t remember a lot of that time. You were five and it was a struggle to go from living with a dozen kids to no one at all. Your new family gave you your own room in their small house and told you not to get underfoot.

The first time you ran away from their house, you didn’t get far. The baker in town brought you back to them and warned them about how kids your age are always slipping out when not paid enough attention.

“If you do it again,” the person who paid for you said, “you’re going straight back to the orphanage.”

And you do.

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The day of the picnic, every kid wakes up early without being told.

You watch as Hera fusses over all the younger ones, straightening new shirts and brushing dust off knees. Josiah is reading one of the newest books Mrs. Bahr – Marie – brought, biting the skin on the side of his thumb. You snag Hera as she races to find Annie some ribbon for her hair.

“Hold up, let me brush your hair first,” you say.

Hera frantically pats the braids she slept in. “I forgot about my hair!” She turns large, watery eyes on you. “Islaaaa!”

You snort and help her unwind each braid. She decides to leave it down, charmed by the waves the braids left in her hair. Your hands don’t shake as you work even though your heart is racing. Today is the day of the picnic.

Today might be the day the Bahrs pick one of you to adopt. The younger kids don’t know that, the information carefully hidden from them, but Hera knows. Director Sarah knows. You know.

It’s been a long time since you felt this sort of anxiety. The second time you were adopted was just before the Winter and it wasn’t bad at first. The couple who adopted you ran an inn in town. It was exciting to have your own room and your new mother wanted you to call her Mom right away. Six-years-old and you were so excited just to be able to call someone your parent. This time you were going to listen. You weren’t going to run away or complain if their house felt too big and too lonely. This time you were going to get it right.

You didn’t think about what they wanted from you in exchange.

It wasn’t until the second week when they found out you weren’t really much use for anything that things started getting bad.

You breathe in through your nose and proclaim Hera’s hair finished. She thanks you and races off to find Annie, determined to put the ribbon she picked in the younger girl’s hair.

The Bahrs aren’t like the innkeepers. Whoever they adopt won’t be expected to know how to read or do math or how to take care of horses. If they are required to then Marie and Ivan will teach them first. Both have spent enough time at the orphanage for you to believe that. Isn’t it Marie who’s teaching all of you your letters? Wasn’t it Ivan who taught you how to better put up a fence?

Whoever they choose will be fine, you think. It’s both a relief and a sting. Whoever they choose will be fine. It’s just probably not going to be you. Not when Annie is so sweet and social and Hera is so strong and kind. Not when Josiah works so hard to soak up everything they have to teach him.

“Is everyone ready?” Director Sarah asks. She’s standing by the door. Her clothes are nicer than usual too, a dress made of a light blue fabric you’ve never seen before. Her hair is carefully combed back into an updo and fastened with a tie Hera made for her last winter. She runs a critical eye over all of you. “You all look very nice. Josiah, tie your shoes, please. Annie, leave the slate in your room, what you do if you lost it? Honestly…”

You let Director Sarah fuss over the kids, slipping out the door ahead of everyone. You don’t own a dress, but the button-down shirt is new and starched. Director Sarah helped you embroider bluebells on the collar and sleeves, and you think it turned out well.

You may not be getting adopted today, but you’re excited to see the Bahr family’s estate. The sun is warm overhead, the sky an endless blue. The summer is mild this year, perfect for a party. Isn’t that what Mr. Bahr – Ivan – told you to think of it as? A party. No strings attached.

A wagon comes up the lane. The Bahr family’s home is too far for the younger kids to walk to, past the town and closer to the Lord’s manor. They said they’d send a wagon for all of you, but something still clenches in your chest when you actually see it. Wagons are an expense the orphanage can’t justify, but, apparently, the Bahrs can.

The driver smiles kindly when he pulls up next to you. “Everyone ready to go?”

Before you can answer, the kids are pouring out the front door, chattering excitedly. You help Director Sarah lift the smaller ones into the seats near the front. The wagon is open topped, so Director Sarah can look over everyone sternly, twisting around in her spot next to the driver.

“No playing during the ride,” she instructs. “Mr. Dallen is very kindly driving us so you must listen to him, alright?”

Mr. Dallen also turns around. “I don’t have too many rules,” he says. He pretends to think, scratching his thick beard. He grins “Don’t fall out!”

He’s joking, but that’s why you’re stationed at the back of the wagon. From your seat, you’ll be able to stop any roughhousing before “falling out” becomes a real danger. Already you’re eyeing the way Josiah is fidgeting. He’s incredibly calm when he’s reading, but otherwise he’s like a tornado. There’s a reason he’s the one that fell into the well in the first place. Hera sits primly next to him, her hands folded in her lap. You can tell she’s watching him from the corner of her eye. There’s a reason she’s the one who pulled Josiah out of the well.

Mr. Dallen directs the horses away from the orphanage, through the orchard, and along the road cutting through the fields. When you’re going to the forest to hunt, you take the narrower path that winds through the orchard and more directly into the tree line. The wagon is forced to stay on the wider road where the horses won’t sink into any mud and the wagon wheels won’t catch on rocks or dense foliage.

After the fields is the town. The kids wave to every Villager and Blacksmith they see. “Good day!” “Morning!” “We’re going to a picnic!” Hera pulls Annie back from the edge of the wagon before she tips over onto the street.

You slouch in your seat, wishing you were wearing a hat. While the first family who adopted you left town ages ago to live in the Capital, the innkeepers are still around. You don’t look as you pass their business and try not to listen to Josiah carefully sounding out the name of their inn.

When you open your eyes, Director Sarah is looking at you. You okay? She mouths. She wasn’t at the orphanage for your first adoption, but she was there for the innkeepers. You feign going to sleep. Just tired. She pretends to believe you and turns back to continue chatting with Mr. Dallen.

The kids are excited to go through the forest. Many of them are too young to even go into town with Director Sarah, a privilege you earn at ten years old, and they point to every bird, deer and mushroom they see amongst the trees. You let the sound of nature and the kids’ chatter lull you into a sort of meditation. The estate is only thirty minutes away now that you’re out of town.

You’re nearly dropping off to sleep when Director Sarah’s voice changes in pitch. Your sensitive hearing can pick up a thread of concern in her voice. What makes Director Sarah concerned, makes you concerned.

“—demons in the woods,” Sarah is saying very quietly. She glances out of her peripherals towards the back to make sure no kids are listening. If she notices how you’re only pretending to sleep, she doesn’t show any sign of it. “Shouldn’t we ask the kids to be quiet?”

“The Lord’s Knights have been patrolling,” Mr. Dallen says equally quietly. You can see him scan the trees for a moment before he smiles reassuringly at Director Sarah. “We’ll be okay so long as we stick to the road.”

“Alright.”

You keep a closer eye on the surrounding forest.

“There! There it is!”

Annie’s shout drags you attention from a (suspiciously) shadowed gully. The woods have thinned enough that hedges of the Bahrs’ estate can be seen. You’ve only been out this far once, a long, long time ago. You’ve never been past this point.

You’re just as surprised as the rest of the kids when the hedges give way to a castle.

That’s not a manor. You’ve never seen either, but you’re sure of this. Manors are supposed to look like the orphanage or any of the buildings in town, just larger. The Bahrs’ home has towers. The front doors are three times the height of a regular one and you can see that the handles and knockers are made of copper. The stone isn’t white like the castles in picture books, but it’s clean and neatly cut.

“Wow,” Hera breathes.

You agree.

Mr. Dallen directs the horses right up the main driveway, cheerfully explaining that the roses are the flower of the estate, aren’t they beautiful? Even Hera can only manage a faint noise of agreement, eyes wide on the house.

“The party’s around back,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He clicks his tongue and the horses stop just short of the front doors. “I’ll take you there.”

Around back. You expect him to lead you around the side of the castle, past rows of rose bushes and the fountains that are tucked between the hedges. Instead, Mr. Dallen opens the front doors without knocking and directs everyone to follow him.

You’ve never seen anywhere so grand. The kids follow Mr. Dallen in hushed awe, gaping at the marble staircase that bisects the foyer. There are two chandeliers to either side of the grand staircase that each send a spray of rainbow light across the walls. Is the manor a little bare? The walls empty of portraits and artwork? You eye a pair of crossed axes hanging just beyond the shadow of the staircase.

“They’re ordering portraits from the Capital,” Mr. Dallen says, gesturing carelessly to the space where a portrait of the homeowners might hang. Then under his breath, “Unless they hang more swords there instead.”

“Excuse me?” Hera asks.

“Nothing,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He guides them past the staircase and a row of doors to the back of the house. The large doors at the back of the house are already open. Mr. Dallen cups a hand over his mouth and calls, “Ho ho, look here! Look who’s arrived!”

“Surprise!” Ivan shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. He’s standing on the stone patio just outside the house, but he’s not the only one. Mrs. Bahr is next to him, her hands clasped in front of her, beaming. Behind her is a dozen other adults. “It’s a party!”

“Welcome,” Mrs. Bahr says warmly. She’s dressed elegantly in a long, red tunic that’s embroidered with the Lord’s crest. The Lord is here as well, his golden hair and eyes unmistakable even amongst the crowd. “Welcome to our home.”

You’re already at the back of the group, but you hang back further as the younger kids cautiously step out into the sun. Your eyes flick from face to face. You recognize a few of the people. There’s the Baker from town and her wife, there’s the Merchant that comes through every third week, there’s the Villager that donates zucchini—

And there are the innkeepers who, once upon a time, told you to call them your parents. They’re older than you remember, light hair gone silver in the sun, but it’s them. They’re right by the Lord, eagerly waiting near him for the opportunity to talk.

It’s very clear what this is. You watch the kids stream out onto the patio to greet Ivan and Marie. The other adults study the kids like zoo animals, eyes flicking to their clean party outfits to their happy faces. This isn’t a party for the kids. It’s a party for them. They’re showing off to each other. Look at how great they are! They’re helping out the poor orphan kids! You’re very familiar with these sort of events from back when the other Director was in charge. You just didn’t think you’d ever have to be near one again.

You take a step back and are stopped by Director Sarah.

“It’s okay, Isla,” Director Sarah murmurs. You didn’t even notice her falling back to your side. Her hand is gentle on your elbow. “It’s not what you think.”

Not what you think? You watch the Villager who runs the general store ask Josiah about the book he’s reading. The Bahrs are proudly introducing Annie and Hera to the Lord. There is something different about it, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. All you can see is the way the adults are watching the kids. You breathe in through your nose like Ivan taught you. In. Out. “What is it?”

“Fixing my mistake,” Director Sarah says.

That gets your attention. Your eyes dart from the happy scene in front of you to Sarah and back again. With the white umbrellas over the food tables, the streamers strung between garden trellises, and the kids dressed in their best, it looks like a painting. In contract, Sarah’s lips are pursed and the shadows of the house make her appear more tired than she is.

“There’s a parlor,” Mr. Dallen says. You jump when he speaks and he grimaces apologetically. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “If you need to talk.”

Marie is looking over the heads of the kids to where you’re standing, a frown on her face. She mouths your name, concern in her eyes. Your jaw clenches when the Merchant steps in front of her, hiding you from view.

“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s talk.” You spin on your heel.

Sarah follows you silently. You feel wrong-footed and caged by the entire situation. This was supposed to be a picnic, wasn’t it? No strings attached? Your dress shirt is tight around your neck and you flick open the top button.

“I should have told you,” Sarah says as soon as the door closes. There are two couches in the room adjacent to a large window that overlooks the party. Neither of you sits down. Sarah folds her hands in front of her skirts. “I apologize.”

“What are they doing here?” you ask. You gesture to the window. “The Lord, I understand. He’s the Lord. But the Baker? The Merchant?” You bark a laugh. “They’re not here to adopt anyone.”

“Maybe not,” Sarah says evenly, “but they’re good connections to have.”

“Connections?” You scoff. You remember watching the empty road through that winter nearly seven years ago. “What good are their connections?”

“Annie loves baking,” Sarah says. She doesn’t flinch in the face of your anger. She watches you calmly and doesn’t so much as shift her weight when you start to pace. “The Baker is a good connection for her to have, even if she doesn’t want to adopt. Many of the shopkeepers in town are open to taking on apprentices.”

You falter. You didn’t think about that. Your eyes drift towards the window. You can hear Hera laughing and Josiah complaining good naturedly. You’re nearly 15, just a few years away from aging out. You can’t say you’ve never thought about the future before. “They said they’d be willing to do that?”

“Who knows what the future holds?” Sarah sighs and goes to take a seat on the sofa. She makes a sound low in her throat when she sits. “That wagon ride was not good for my back.”

“I don’t trust them,” you say. You stop pacing to sit opposite her. From this point in the room, you can see the party on the patio. They can also see you. Ivan doesn’t turn away from the dessert table, but you can sense his attention on you. You swallow. “We don’t need anything from them.”

“I agree,” Sarah says.

You blink. “What?”

Sarah laughs. It’s not her usual laugh that she shows the kids, gentle and fond and warm. It’s cold and a little sharp. You’ve only heard it once before when the snow finally melted, chasing the snow spirits away, and the town came to see what had become of the orphanage.

“You and I are a lot alike,” Sarah says. Her eyes drift somewhere distant. “Like you, I remember that Winter. I remember waiting for any sort of response to our pleas. I remember hearing nothing back. The helplessness I felt as our stores dwindled…” Her voice cracks. She shakes herself, swallowing hard. “Well. I don’t need to tell you what their lack of aid cost us.”

It takes you two tries to speak. Director Sarah feels the same way as you. “So why?”

“Why did I agree to the party?”

“Yes.”

“Because I need to forgive, not forget, if I want to fix my mistake,” Sarah says. Her lips thin. “I’m not perfect. Since I’ve been Director of the orphanage, there hasn’t been a single new hire. There have been no volunteers or extracurricular programs for the kids. I’ve kept us hidden.”

“You’ve kept us protected,” you say. Things under Director Sarah have always been better than what they were before. The kids are happier and brighter, and the pantry is always full. No one disappears in the middle of the night or dies under her watch. “We know you have.”

“I’ve tried,” Sarah says. She opens her hands, palms facing the ceiling. “I rebuilt the orphanage to be independent. I thought that if we were completely self-sustaining, we’d be alright. But in doing so I’ve hurt the children. The orphanage is not supposed to be forever. They need connections with people, with the town, for when they grow up.”

“That—” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You fall silent, your anger fizzling out in your chest. She’s right. As much as you want everyone to stay together, you know that can’t happen. What Sarah is saying isn’t wrong, but… “Today is supposed to be for the kids. Not for them to feel better about themselves helping the orphans.”

“The kids are having fun,” Sarah says. There’s a peal of laughter from outside as if to underscore her words. She smiles as she stands. “Kids includes you too, you know. Let me worry about the adults.”

You stand too. You know the conversation is coming to a close and that, soon, you’ll be expected to go out there with Sarah. “Um…”

“Yes?”

You nearly don’t say it. But the way Sarah is waiting for you to speak is so patient that you muster up the courage. “The innkeepers are here. They aren’t…?”

Again, you’re not sure what you’re about to say. There’s a sick fear in your stomach that they’re here to tell the Bahrs all about how awful you were when you with them. Maybe they’re looking for another kid to demand too much of. Maybe they’re here because, in the end, you didn’t mean anything to them and what happened between you and them doesn’t make a difference--

Even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, Sarah must. Her smile darkens. “I’ll take care of the adults,” she repeats. She smooths her hand over your hair when you follow her to the door. “Why don’t you stay in here for a moment? I’ll just have a word with the innkeepers.”

You wait in the parlor while Sarah joins the party. You twist your hands together to keep from picking at the embroidery on your sleeves. You almost want to stop Sarah from talking to the innkeepers. It was so long ago, before the Winter, it shouldn’t matter anymore. You’re being ridiculous to be so worried about them when there are bigger things going on. You—

Hera throws open the door to the parlor. Her braids are a little frizzy already and there’s a flush high on her cheeks. “Isla! We’re playing team tag and you’re the only one fast enough to catch Marie. Come on!”

You don’t have the option to say no. Hera yanks you by the sleeve out onto the patio. The guests are much more dispersed now, pockets of adults around this table or that. They’re not studying the kids now. They’re just watching them as they run to and fro across the lawn, bemused smiles on their faces.

Ivan cheers when he sees you. Like Hera, his face is bright red. “Isla!” he pants. “You’re on my team!”

Marie sprints past, her skirts hiked up to her knee. She runs as if she’s in full armor, strides long and shoulders square. You wonder if she notices no one is chasing her anymore. “It won’t be enough!” she cries.

Josiah is laying on the grass. He chucks his fist in the air. “Go, Marie! Go!” He gasps for breath. “We’re unstoppable.”

“You’re out,” Annie tells him crossly. She’s also laying flat on her back, but seems to be faring better in the breathing department. “You’ve stopped.”

“Shut it—”

You scan the crowd. You don’t see the innkeepers anywhere, not even near where the Lord is sitting. You look over your shoulder back towards the house just in time to see Director Sarah disappearing around the corner. She’s talking to someone just ahead of her. Is she escorting the innkeepers out?

“Isla?” Hera slips her hand in yours. Her eyes are knowing. “You okay?”

You clear your throat, aware of all the eyes on you. You tuck some hair that’s escaped her braid behind her ear. “Just trying to decide which team I should join.”

Ivan cries out in dismay. “Isla, please!”

Grinning, you join the game.

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(part 1) (part 2)

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read the conclusion of Isla's tale before next week, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

Up this week is a continuation of my Cinderella Retelling, Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairytales

#my writing #The Hero and Hope #second person

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little-diable · 9 months ago

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Let the Rain Wash Away Our Secrets – Charlie Swan (smut)

It's been some time since I've last written for one of our fave DILFs, so here we go. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is one of Bella's best friends. But as she comes to Forks to visit her younger friend, Bella is too distracted by her boyfriend, giving (y/n) and Charlie the chance to get to know one another.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, best friend's dad trope, quite fluffy, age gap (reader is legal ofc)

Pairing: Charlie Swan x fem!reader (3k words)

Clouds covered the sky, adding to the gloomy atmosphere (y/n) found herself trapped in. Her eyes kept wandering, taking in her surroundings as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Protected from the light rain by her jacket, (y/n) cuddled herself further into the fabric, while she hoped that somebody would finally open the door.

Once again, she rang the bell while wondering where Bella was. It had been days since they had last spoken, but while (y/n) had reminded her friend of her approaching trip, Bella had seemed distracted, as if she was barely listening. (Y/n) had been hesitant to visit after the call, and yet she had missed her friend too much to back out of the trip.

With a sigh clawing through her, (y/n) reached for her phone to call Bella, hoping that she had fallen asleep or was wearing headphones, so she wasn’t hearing the ringing doorbell. But Bella didn’t pick up the call, letting it go to voicemail as (y/n) plopped down on the stairs leading up to the house.

Annoyance flushed through (y/n) as she ended the call. Bella had sent her Charlie Swan’s phone number a few weeks ago, telling her that she could always call him if (y/n) needed her but couldn’t reach her. But (y/n) had never spoken to the man before, unsure what to say to him, and if he would even know who she was, given Bella’s distraction these past weeks.

Uneasiness clung to (y/n) as she clicked on Charlie’s contact, having to deeply exhale before pressing the phone to her ear. She counted every ring, while slowly losing hope that the Chief would pick up the phone if he was currently working. But seconds before she’d be sent to voicemail, she was graced by Charlie’s raspy voice.

“Hello?” Something about the man’s voice left (y/n) trembling, having to clear her throat before she could focus on what she wanted to ask him.

“Hello, Chief Swan, this is (y/n), Bella’s friend.” She pressed her free palm against her trembling knee, hoping that she could ground herself as her nervousness kept flushing through her.

“(Y/n), yes, of course. Are you alright? Is Bella okay?” The concern dripping from his voice left (y/n) smiling. Bella hadn’t told her much about Charlie, but the things the young girl had told her, had been enough to leave (y/n) intrigued. Something about the things Bella had told her, hadn’t matched up, leaving her aching for the man who was undoubtedly missing his daughter.

“I don’t know. She was supposed to wait here for me, at your house, but it seems as if nobody is at home, I can’t reach her.” The groan leaving Charlie drew a soft gasp from (y/n), wondering why he was overcome by this clear wave of annoyance.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n), she’s out with her boyfriend. Give me a few minutes, I’ll come home to let you into the house!”

……

“I honestly wouldn’t mind taking the couch, Charlie.” Charlie had arrived at the house a while ago, greeting (y/n) with a soft smile that had instantly made heat buzz through her system. She had only seen a few pictures of the man before, and none of them were doing him justice. Charlie Swan was handsome, more handsome than (y/n) had imagined, leaving her slightly distracted as he guided her through the house.

“No, don’t worry. I have to get up for work early anyway, I would only wake you.” She followed him back downstairs into the kitchen, watching him reach for two cups. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” The smile playing on her lips kept growing as Charlie poured both of them their coffee before placing the cups down on the table. “So, Bella didn’t tell me about her boyfriend. Who is he?”

“His name is Edward, they met at school. He’s the son of Doctor Cullen, a friend of sorts.” The lack of emotions dripping from Charlie’s words left (y/n) smiling, instantly picking up on the chief’s dislike of Edward. (Y/n) studied him for a moment, taking in the clear confusion and annoyance as well as a hint of sadness.

“Well, you know, I’ve been around Bella for years now, and I’m sure he takes good care of her if she is that focused on him.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her hand from finding Charlie’s, softly squeezing before she pulled away again. His eyes followed her movements, seemingly as shaken up by the electricity that had buzzed through them the second their hands touched.

“She should be proud to call you her friend, (y/n).” She had met Bella years ago, had helped around their house every now and then and had stepped in as a helping hand whenever Renée and Phil had left the city, given that (y/n) was a couple of years older than Bella. She had always supported the girl through whatever she needed, feeling like her older sister – ready to help her through every uneasy water she had been forced to sail through.

“That’s nice of you, thank you, Charlie.” Their eyes held contact as (y/n) took another sip of her coffee. “So, do you have any tips for me? I think I’d like to explore Forks while Bella is out.”

……

“Dad?” Bella’s voice echoed through the house. It was dark out, a comforting darkness that wrapped (y/n) and Charlie in its embrace as they found themselves surrounded by soft lights and candles.

Charlie had shown (y/n) around town for the past hours before they had eaten out at the diner. The conversation between them had flown all too effortlessly, guiding them from one place to the other as if they were old friends, connected through shared memories and unspoken emotions.

“Hey, Bells.” The girl stepped into the room, freezing in her step as her eyes found (y/n)’s features. Bella’s smile instantly fell, groaning with her head rolling back while speaking a few curses. “(Y/n), god, I am so sorry! I completely forgot you were coming today.”

“It’s alright. Your dad kept me company.” Her eyes found their way back to Charlie, who shot (y/n) a soft smile, before redirecting his gaze towards his daughter. Bella seemed all too oblivious, not picking up on whatever was lingering between Charlie and (y/n), seemingly still focused on her afternoon with Edward.

“How are the Cullens?” Charlie’s soft voice left (y/n) smiling. He had told her all about his dislike for the boy, and yet he still cared enough to hear about Bella’s experiences, her adventures, and whatever she was doing when she met up with the rather tense boy.

“Good! I can’t wait to introduce you to them, (y/n). I think I’ll head to bed now, but how about we grab some breakfast in the morning?” (Y/n) could only nod as Bella disappeared upstairs, leaving her wondering if Bella even cared about her visit after all. Charlie seemed to pick up on her confused expression, letting his hand rest on her knee to softly squeeze it.

“As much as I hate it, she’s in love. I’m sorry, she is so distracted these days. But feel free to call me tomorrow if she bails on you again, I’m not working in the afternoon.”

……

“Hi, excuse me, is Chief Swan still in?” She smiled at the policeman who studied her with an unreadable expression. He turned from her to call for Charlie, watching the chief appear a moment later. (Y/n)’s eyes found his, drawing a soft smile to his lips as he guided her towards him with a simple hand movement.

“Where’s Bells?” Charlie allowed her to step into his office, closing the door behind them to offer some privacy. (Y/n) plopped down in one of the leather chairs as Charlie took a seat himself, keeping his eyes on her with every movement. His office had an almost cosy touch to it, warmer than she had expected it to be.

“She seemed quite antsy the longer I kept her from Edward, so I told her I’d roam the town on my own for a bit.” (Y/n) could tell that Charlie struggled to keep his eyes from rolling, while he sunk further down into his chair. They held eye contact as she let go of a soft chuckle, feeling sympathy for the dad of her friend who clearly struggled to accept his daughter’s boyfriend.

“Well, I’m off in a few minutes, how about I take you to the beach I told you about yesterday?” The gratefulness she felt pushed heat through her body, a desperate heat that made it harder for her to ignore the growing crush she had on her friend’s father. (Y/n) could only murmur a barely audible “That’d be lovely” as Charlie turned back towards his computer to finish his report.

It didn’t take long for him to stop writing, before guiding her out of the station and to his car. Soft music filled the small space as they drove through Forks, allowing Charlie to tell her some more stories of the town he had loved for years. She felt unusually comfortable around Charlie, searching his closeness as if he were an old friend, a lover she had been with for years, an all too familiar sensation she hadn’t felt with anybody else.

“There we go, do you have a jacket with you?” Rain was falling from the sky as Charlie parked the car. Their eyes met, and for a second, (y/n) lost all strength to speak, fighting against the pull she felt deep inside of herself. She couldn’t cross that line, couldn’t try and move closer to her friend’s father, but it almost pained her to keep her distance.

“Uhm, no, but it’s alright, I don’t care about the rain.” Charlie’s soft chuckles filled the car before he opened his door and stepped outside. She watched him open the trunk to pull out an umbrella before he found his way to her side. With the umbrella covering both of them, Charlie guided her towards the empty beach, watching the waves rush ashore as if they were racing one another.

No words were spoken between them as she kept clinging to him, with her arm wrapped around his. The warmth Charlie emanated left her searching for his closeness, set on feeling him as close as he allowed her to. They walked along the beach with wandering eyes, taking in their surroundings, the dark sky and the high waves, letting an unusually calm atmosphere flush through them.

“It’s funny how nothing around here has changed over the years.” He almost whispered the words, luring (y/n)’s curious gaze towards his handsome features. Charlie was already looking at her, wearing a soft smile on his lips as he slowly moved his hand, stroking one of the hair strands that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Shudders shot down her spine, pulling her closer to Charlie.

“Did you ever think of leaving?” (Y/n) matched the quiet tone of his voice, she kept staring up at him as Charlie’s hand lingered on her cheek. His thumb explored her cheek, stroking her soft skin as if he had lost all will to fight against what was buzzing between them. She tried not to move, tried to stop herself from crossing the small distance between them, but the longing swimming in his pupils made it harder for (y/n) to hold still.

“Tell me to stop, (y/n).” It was a soft plead, words (y/n) couldn’t reply to as she shifted her weight and finally pressed her lips against Charlie’s. The kiss left her lips tingling, letting the sensation buzz through her body as if lightning had struck them. She slung her arms around his neck, groaning at the sensation of his beard scratching her skin – a sensation that made heat pool between her thighs.

His free hand found her waist to pull her against him, while their tongues met, deepening the kiss as rain kept pouring down on them. Only as the sound of thunder roaring in the sky echoed through their ears did they pull away. Both were heavily breathing, staring at one another with bright smiles that left them chuckling, feeling like teenagers in love.

“Come, let’s get back to the car.” Charlie guided her along the beach, back to the empty parking lot. She felt giddy with every step they took, wondering how the next moments would play out while very well knowing that she hadn’t gotten enough of Charlie. She needed more, needed whatever he could offer her.

Charlie pressed her against the car without another warning, kissing (y/n) again as if they were lovers reunited after years apart. Their movements were guided by an unfamiliar longing, something both hadn’t cared for these past years.

He parted from (y/n) with a soft sigh before he opened the car door for her, letting her get inside as he did the same on his side. The comfort the car offered wrapped them in its embrace, drawing relieved sighs from them while the rain kept pitter-pattering down on his windows. Their eyes kept holding contact as (y/n) pondered over her choices, unable to bite down her grin.

“Pull back your seat, Charlie.” He needed a moment before he set into motion, pulling back the seat enough for (y/n) to climb over the middle console and find comfort in his lap. Their lips searched one another like pilgrims, drawing groans and moans, filled with a desperation that urged (y/n) on to move her hips, grinding against his middle. The throaty groan that broke through Charlie left her grinning in success while she moved her hips again, feeling him grow beneath her.

“We have to stop before I won’t be able to pull away, baby.” His words drew a whine out of (y/n), her lips were kissing their way down his throat as her hands worked on his belt, not daring to think of stopping. Charlie’s hand found her throat, forcing (y/n) to look at him as her hands stopped moving.

“Charlie, I want this, I want you.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him groaning, forcing him to slowly nod to wordlessly allow her hands to keep on moving. With a grin stuck to her lips, she freed his hardening cock before she spat into her hand to pump him. Her walls fluttered around nothing, begging to be filled by him, needing to feel Charlie spread her.

“I don’t have anything on me.” She let her eyes flicker up to meet his stormy ones, getting lost in his gaze for a few seconds as she kept moving her hand, feeling him twitch in her grasp.

“I’m on the pill.” Grateful that she was wearing a dress, (y/n) began to shift on his lap, searching his lips for another kiss as she positioned herself over his cock. Their moans were swallowed by the kiss, echoing through the car while (y/n) sank down on him. For a moment, both held still, having to adjust to the new sensation, getting used to the way their bodies fit together all too perfectly.

“You feel so good, baby, fuck.” His words encouraged (y/n) to keep on moving, supported by his hands that guided her. She grew wetter by the second, letting her arousal coat his cock with every hasty movement, chasing an orgasm that was already close. Both knew that this wouldn’t last long, having to get this first orgasm out of the way before he could properly fuck her back at home, touching her like she deserved to be touched.

“Such a good girl, my pretty girl.” Charlie’s praises made her walls flutter, clenching down around him to push them both closer to the edge. (Y/n) kept moving, kept fucking herself on his cock with cries breaking out of her the second his fingers found her pulsing bundle, adding more friction to every movement.

“Charlie,” she sobbed his name as her eyes fluttered close, knowing she’d cum soon, letting go with his name clawing through her any moment now. He began to meet her thrusts, pushing his cock even deeper into her tightness to watch her come undone on top of him.

“Look at me, baby, look at me when you cum.” Their eyes found back together as (y/n) came with a cry, letting his name break through her. His hands kept supporting her, chasing his own orgasm while fucking into her. They were a trembling mess of tangled limbs, and yet both felt more relieved than ever before, thanking their lucky stars for pushing them together. Charlie followed her seconds later, letting go with a deep growl that forced (y/n) to shudder against him.

“Fuck,” Charlie’s pants left (y/n) chuckling. He was still buried inside of her, even as she pressed herself against his chest, focused on the racing beat of his heart. He held onto her with his arm slung over her back, not daring to let go of the woman who fit into his grasp a tad bit too well.

“I don’t know how we will tell Bella about this.” Her whispers rang in his ears, forcing a gritty chuckle from Charlie while pondering over her words.

“I doubt she will notice anything while she is that distracted by her boyfriend.” And with a hum clawing through (y/n), she lifted her head to look at him. Another soft kiss was shared between them, wordlessly communicating their every emotion that grew stronger by the second.

#Charlie Swan smut #Charlie Swan x reader #Charlie Swan imagine #twilight

1K notes · View notes

forlix · 1 year ago

Text

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester��s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

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lvlyghost · 2 years ago

Text

The Things I Never Said: Part 2

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: upon learning about your pregnancy simon thinks there are things he needs to take care of.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tw: Angst, fluff, hurt with a lot of comfort, banter. The task force is there for you💞 i think that's it✨

A/N: here it is, i never planned a second part so forgive me if it's not as good! Still hope you like it. Already working on a request that's similar to this one🐸✨ thank you so much for all the support. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome🩵

Masterlist✨ | Part 1 | Part 3

Simon pulls you closer to his body, one arm draped over your form and hand resting on your stomach. The storm is raging outside, the thunder startles you every five minutes. You stay there in complete silence as the realization of this whole thing settles in your minds. He wants you to be safe now more than ever that's why when he's reliving the events of the day it hits him. He had thought the worst, that you were abandoning him, that you got tired of him. Simon would never say this to you but losing you would be the end of him. Enraged and with his heart racing he had hopped on his motorcycle. The soft caressing of his fingers stops abruptly, body going rigid behind you. You turn your face in worry.

"Simon?" You call him. You were beginning to fall asleep. "What is it?"

"That fuckin' muppet." He snarls. "I was so caught up in you leaving that I'd forgotten he hit you. That cunt... fucking Christ." He sits. "Let me see." He lifts your shirt just above your belly with gentle hands.

"Love, I'm... it's fine." Simon sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes land on the bruised area of your skin.

"What did the doctor say?" He demands, eyes somber.

"She said i should stay in bed for a few days and to not lift heavy things or you know just... overwork myself."

Simon rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands, disgruntled.

"This is on me... my bloody fault"

"Hey, stop now." You stand up, coming to a sitting position to mirror his stance. "You didn't know." Soft hands fall on both sides of his face. "I should've told you before this happened, if anything this is on me."

"If something happened to you i would never forgive myself, kid. Lie down. You need to rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

Simon's been waiting for this day since the incident. You're still at home, recovering from what could've ended with you in a hospital bed and a broken heart.

"You sure about this, Sir?" Gaz asks, worried about what might happen. "It's just training right?"

"Just training." Simon's eyes are set on that bastard. Craning his neck he steps on the sparring mat. As much as he wanted to go find him and kill him he couldn't do such thing. But after the images that flooded his mind made him realize how dangerous it had been. What could potentially have happened the rage within him is boiling his blood. And now he needs somebody to pay the price. Choices have consequences and he nearly had a painful one. If he had insisted just more...

Breathing harshly he looks him in the eye. Poor muppet doesn't know what's coming for him. He stands there confidently, thinking he has a chance against Ghost. Not Simon, the man only she gets the chance to see.

This is Ghost about to fight.

For some reason you decided to stop by the local pastry shop and bring something for the task force. You're feeling much better so that's why you're walking down the corridor of the military compound. With a shirt that's nearly too oversized a pair of combat boots and a cap. You figured you could have these outside of the base and enjoy a nice day with your teammates. You missed them already. Since Simon had been reluctant to leave your side, and you loved it that's for sure, but he wouldn't let you do much as simple tasks like washing the dishes or doing the laundry.

Walking past the doors you're greeted with loud cheering and yelling at the two men in the middle of the mat. Your smile quivers until you process the scene in front of you. Not surprised, not worried. He's gonna be just fine. The other poor boy... Price is the first to notice you, approaching you in three long strides. He had decided to stop by and watch, that's how they sort things out.

"Here, let me help you with that." He takes most of the desserts from your hands, scrutinizing your features with slight concern. Your eyes glued to Simon's hulking body. "I'm gonna assume he doesn't know you're here. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm not on duty, Captain."

"I'm not asking as your Captain but as a friend."

You turn to face him with the ghost of a smile on your lips.

"I'm feeling better so I wanted to see you all, maybe we could have these together as soon as Simon is done with his personal grudge."

Price chuckles. Reluctant to see the rest of the fight, you keep talking to John until it comes to an end. More cheers and clapping echoing around the place. You take a quick glance and get a glimpse of the younger soldier limping while he plops down on a near bench, his teammates gathered around him holding a towel out for him to clean up his face. Footsteps approach you and Price, Simon's frowning behind the mask you can tell by the way the corner of his eyes wrinkle.

"Hey little lady!" Soap greets you with a big smile, hugging you tightly. "Heard you got all knocked up!"

"For fucks sake, Johnny!" Gaz scolds him. "Have some more respect for the girl."

Johnny rolls his eyes feigning annoyance letting Kyle hug you too.

"Don't bet mad at him. We all know why he had to do it." He whispers before pulling away.

When Simon joins you, you're aware of what's coming.

"You're out of bed." He points out, blankly.

"It's been almost a week. As long as I don't lift heavy things I'll be alright. Remember?" You speak back. You reach out for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. The rest of the team silently walks away to the outside giving you some privacy. Simon studies you, all of you. There's a spark of worry in his blue eyes that you don't like. "Don't worry about me anymore."

He pulls you closer, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he inhales deeply.

"Is that my shirt, doll?" He asks in a hushed tone. You chuckle, burying your face in his chest.

"I missed you, and it smells like you." Simon prompts you softly to start walking outside and join the rest. "You're not hurt, are you?" You stare up at him.

"Don't you worry about me, he wasn't able to land one single hit, love."

You pull him down kissing over the black balaclava where his lips would be.

"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not telling you Simon." You sigh.

"I understand now why you didn't, kid. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself for not making you feel safe enough to tell me. If anything I'm to blame."

"Is there any chance I may touch your belly?" Soap asks as soon as you sit down next to him.

"Yes." You reply with a wide smile.

"No." Simon growls at the same time.

"Jesus! I suppose that naming the child after me is also off the table?"

"Absolutely."

A round of laughs echoing around and along the backyard. Your eyes scanning every person gathered in this very moment. Loyalty, admiration, respect and love.

A family of your own that would soon get a new addition.

"What if it's a beautiful girl?" Gaz interrogates.

Everyone goes silent.

"Fucking hell." Simon whispers.

He's fucked.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod ghost #cod mw22 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost imagine #john price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty ghost simon riley #cod simon ghost riley #fanfic

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weird-is-life · 9 months ago

Text

Doted on

Pairing: Spencer Reid x nurse!fem!reader

Summary: Spencer gets thrown head first against the wall, and you take him home from the hospital

Warnings: fluff, mentions of hospitals, headache, concussion, use of y/n and pet names

Words: 0.9k

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer is currently sitting on a hospital bed with a really awful headache. And a concussion. The case went a little bit wrong while catching the unsub. He got thrown against the rock-hard wall, and it's safe to say he hit it head first.

The entire team is in the room with him as the nurse instructs on what he's supposed to do next.

"You're gonna need somebody to wake you up every few hours," the nurse starts," if there isn't anybody, we're going to have to keep you here."

"It's okay. I have somebody to look after me," Spencer murmurs, trying to pull out his phone out of his jacket.

He wants to call you. He knows your shift is ending right about now so he hopes that you'll come home with him, and take care of him as well.

What he doesn't know, is that you're already on your way to his room. Your best friend, and fellow nurse, let you know about Spencer being admitted into hospital right away. And since your very long shift is finally over, the only thing on your mind is Spence.

You come to the room right as all of the team members discuss who's going to take care of Spencer. Spencer, on the other hand, is ignoring them, his focus on his phone.

You don't understand why he's frowning so much until you realise it. You pull out your phone, and see the missed phone calls. You smile to yourself, and step into your room.

"Sorry, I missed your calls. I had the phone on silence mode," you say as you make your way to Spencer. His whole face lights up at the sight of you.

"Oh, hi," he happily greets you, but then he frowns," are you really here or is the concussion making me see things?"

You chuckle at his words," Spence, yeah I'm really here. I got here as soon as I could when I heard you got hurt. What happened, huh?"

"Didn't see the guy, got caught off guard, and thrown against the wall. Well at least I think I remember it right," Spencer frowns some more, but smiles instantly when you go dote on him.

You look at his plastered forehead, and run your fingers over it slightly. You want to kiss him right there, but there's a cough behind your back. You sheepishly turn around.

Spencer's whole team is staring at you, wide eyed and completely baffled. "Hello," you greet them shyly.

"Spencer, aren't you gonna introduce us?" Derek is the one to ask with raised eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Spencer chuckles," this," he smiles big at you," is y/n, my girlfriend." He says it so proudly, too.

The team just stares at you two. The whole room stays in awkward silence, and you have to try very hard to not run out of there.

Thankfully, Penelope Garcia is as sweet as you've heard from Spencer, and she comes running towards you first. "Oh my gosh, hi. You're so so pretty, I can't believe Spencer has been hiding you from us," she hugs you," I'm Penelope."

It wakes up the others from the shock too, and they come to introduce themselves to you. They are just as nice as Penelope, you can see why Spencer loves them so much.

"How long have you guys been together?" Derek asks curiously. Spencer takes you hand in his, and starts to fiddle with your fingers. Completely ignoring Derek's questions, you think, he must have hit his head pretty hard.

"A few months now," you smile kindly at all of them," we've actually met here. I patched up Spencer's bruised cheek after one of your cases."

"Oh I remember it," Derek smirks," I wondered why Spencer left the hospital so happy. " Derek teases, but Spencer seems to not care like at all.

"Yeah it's true. She gave me her number, of course I was happy." Spencer states, rubbing his temples with his free hand. "Guys, I'd love for you to get to know each other more, but my head is killing so I just want to get home."

Spencer stands up from the bed, and grabs his belongings before he says his goodbyes, and pulls you out of there. You quickly say goodbye to them too with a promise of seeing them again soon.

"Spencer, that was so rude!" You scold him when you get outside of their earshot.

"Maybe, "Spencer grins at you," but I really do have a bad headache, and I just missed you so much. So can you blame me?"

You chuckle,"I missed you too, handsome. But you should be nicer to them."

Spencer just rolls his eyes which makes his head hurt even more," I am nice. Even if not, they can handle it." Spencer laughs when he sees your disapproving expression.

"C'mon, sweetheart, I'm just joking. Don't worry," Spencer in the moment of making your disapproving face go away swiftly leans in to give you a kiss.

"You better be," you banter.

Spencer laughs some more making the headache even worse.

Spencer groans a bit in pain which immediately draws your attention. "You okay? Is your head spinning?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm okay. Just got a bad headache," he assures you as you two finally reach your car, and get in.

"Don't worry, handsome. As soon as we get home, I'll make you feel better," you squeeze his hand before you start the car.

Spencer smiles, he can't say he's happy about being injured, but he is definitely happy to be loved on by you, "thank you, sweetheart. I can't wait."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 24 days ago

Text

YOU WERE, FAKING?

drew starkey x reader x obx cast

SUMMARY: the unspoken prank war between the obx cast finds a new pair in the lead when Y/N and Drew decide to pull a fainting prank.

based on this ask !! i hope you like it anon, and it’s more of a drabble than a full length one-shot so apologies !! :) i kinda wrote it with a gn!reader so it could be enjoyed by everyone, and it can be interpreted as platonic with drew or not, it’s up to you <3

WARNINGS: fake fainting, pure fluff (a teensy bit of angst), the obx cast being hilarious😭 (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 827

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks cast was known for their wild pranks on each other. It had become an unspoken competition of sorts—who could pull off the most elaborate stunt? From fake snakes on set to airhorns hidden in trailers, the bar had been set high. But Drew and Y/N had been conspiring for weeks to deliver the ultimate prank: something serious enough to leave the cast reeling, yet harmless enough to laugh about afterward.

"Are you sure about this?" Drew asked, leaning against the kitchen counter in their shared rental. "You know how dramatic JD gets."

Y/N smirked, tying their sneakers. "That's exactly why it's gonna work. They've pulled worse on us."

"You're evil," Drew teased, shaking his head with a grin.

"Maybe, but you're helping me, so what does that say about you?" Y/N shot back with a wink.

Drew chuckled, tossing an arm around Y/N's shoulders. "Alright, let's do this. But if I get punched by Chase, I'm blaming you."

—

The cast was lounging around between scenes on set, laughing and swapping stories. Madelyn was scrolling through TikTok, Chase was attempting to juggle three water bottles, and JD was doing terrible impressions of John B. Everyone was relaxed—exactly the atmosphere Drew and Y/N needed.

Y/N glanced at Drew, who subtly nodded. The two had been practicing their act for days. Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood, pretending to stretch before stumbling slightly.

"Whoa, you okay?" Rudy asked, noticing the movement first.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—" Y/N's voice faltered, and they pressed a hand to their forehead dramatically.

Drew was immediately at their side. "Hey, sit down. You don't look good," he said, his tone laced with concern.

Everyone's attention snapped to Y/N as they swayed on their feet.

"I... I think..." Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, and they collapsed, hitting the ground with a thud.

"Y/N!" Madelyn shouted, leaping to her feet.

"What the hell?" Chase yelled, rushing over.

JD dropped his phone, wide-eyed. "Oh my God, what's happening?"

Drew crouched beside Y/N, putting on his best panicked expression. "Y/N, wake up! Hey, hey, come on!" He shook their shoulders gently. "Somebody get water!"

Rudy bolted to grab a water bottle while Madelyn knelt next to Drew. "What happened? Were they feeling sick earlier?"

"I don't know," Drew lied, running a hand through his hair. "They said they were fine, but—" He cut himself off, looking utterly distraught.

"Should we call 911?" Chase asked, pulling out his phone.

"No, wait," Drew said quickly, holding up a hand. "Give them a second. They might've just fainted. Y/N?" He shook them again.

JD, visibly freaking out, was pacing back and forth. "This is bad. This is so bad. They're not waking up!"

Madelyn's voice cracked. "Y/N, please, wake up."

Y/N kept their face perfectly still, barely resisting the urge to laugh as they felt Drew's hand squeeze their shoulder—a silent signal that they were nailing it.

After a solid minute of chaos, Y/N finally cracked. Their lips twitched, and before they could stop it, a giggle escaped.

Drew immediately broke character, a grin spreading across his face. "No way," he said, laughing.

Y/N sat up, bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, you guys! You should've seen your faces!"

The cast froze, staring at the two of them in disbelief.

"Wait... what?" Madelyn blinked, still kneeling on the ground.

"You were faking?" Chase shouted, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Rudy, who had just returned with a water bottle, looked at them like they were insane. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Y/N doubled over, tears streaming down their face from laughing so hard. "You all were so scared!"

JD pointed a finger at Drew. "You were in on this? You traitor!"

"Guilty," Drew admitted, shrugging. "But come on, it was good, right?"

"No, it was not good!" Madelyn scolded, but the corner of her mouth twitched as if she were trying not to laugh.

"You guys had me ready to call 911!" Chase said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, and I thought I was about to give mouth-to-mouth!" JD added dramatically, making everyone groan.

"You wouldn't have done that," Rudy shot back.

"I might've!" JD insisted, crossing his arms.

Y/N leaned against Drew for support, still laughing. "Okay, okay, we're sorry. But admit it—we just won the prank war."

Chase huffed, crossing his arms. "You didn't win. You just... traumatised us a little."

Madelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. You win this round. But we're coming for you."

"Oh, we'll be ready," Drew said with a smirk, pulling Y/N closer.

As the group finally began to laugh it off, JD pointed at Y/N. "You better sleep with one eye open."

"Worth it," Y/N replied with a grin, fist-bumping Drew.

The prank war had officially reached a new level.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a bit of a silly one, and more of a drabble than a full length one-shot, but i hope you enjoy anon !! sorry this took a while, i’m trying to work through like 20 something requests XD but i’m trying my best to get most done <3

of anyone has any angst requests (w/ a happy ending) pls send them, i am in the mood for angst !!

#rafe cameron #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey #outer banks #fluff #obx #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey x reader #outer banks cast #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x gn!reader #drew starkey x fem!reader #drew starkey obx #drew starkey outer banks

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911lonestar911imagines · 8 months ago

Text

..Save me- Possessive Evan Buckley x Reader Smut

Summary: After a close run in and getting robbed Possessive! Evan Buckley is here to help

Warnings: Robbery, Heavy Smut, Degradation, rough sex, sir/captain kink, slight mommy kink, daddy kink

A/n: not proofread or edited, it was made at 4am before work :D

You and Evan hadn't been together long, but Evan knew something was different with you, he was more possessive, protective, territorial, and you never complained. You were an only child, and grew up only knowing a story about a deadbeat father who left whenever he found out about your mother's pregnancy, so if someone wanted to protect you and treasure you, who were you to stop them?

The day went smoothly, you both woke up, had great morning sex, and then went to work, your station as a pediatric doctor at the hospital, and his station at the firehouse. You visited him and the team on your break, and now you both just waited until you were both back home. As you locked your car and made your way towards your apartment you got the overwhelming sense of danger, even as you kept glancing around, never seeing anybody or anything, you still couldn't shake the feeling. As you unlocked your phone, you called Evan, before being slammed face first into the wall, feeling something almost like a gun, press against your lower back "E-Evan! Help me!" You screamed loudly, hoping really anybody would hear, it was a little past two thirty in the morning, and your apartment was mainly filled with older couples, and families with young babies, so somebody had to hear right?

Evan was finishing up checking up on a young boy they had rescued from an apartment balcony, whenever he got the call from Y/n. He wasn't sure exactly what she was saying because of the muffled moving like she was moving her phone around against her clothing, before he felt his heart drop and felt like he was going to puke all at once as he heard your scream pierce through the phone speaker. Evan wasn't even thinking at that point, sprinting past Hen, Bobby, and Eddie before he ever knew he was moving.

You screamed out as you finally broke away from whoever was holding you captive, taking off in a sprint down the hallway, you wanted to go to the safety of your home, but you didn't wanna risk the creep getting into your apartment. As you debated your options you noticed your phone was gone, no longer in your hand, no longer having a line to Evan, to safety, to the person who protected you no matter what. You sobbed, trying to pick your pace up as you turned the corner to run down the service stairs, a quick escape, screaming whenever you collided with a body, being held tightly. Your chest hurt from screaming for help and sobbing, you wanted to wake up, next to your boyfriend, ready to start another day. You felt yourself be pulled towards your apartment before seeing someone dash around the corner "Motherfucker!" You heard Evan yell, his voice echoing off of the walls "See if I don't find you myself!" His voice boomed, you fell against the wall, sliding down the wall as you cried, holding your body tightly, only now taking in you didn't have anything in your pockets anymore. No wallet, phone, keys, or your purse, you were robbed.

Evan froze, deciding on chasing after the guy, or staying with you, he quickly made up his mind as he rushed to your side, his shaky hands cupping your face "H-Hey, hey I've got you, y/n I've got you" He whispered holding you close to his chest, basically pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he held you in a hug "Nobody can get you, I've got you" he whispered slowly standing up, lifting you up like you were a pebble on the ground "Come on" He whispered, you were too shaken up to actually process where you were going, but Evan was confident as he sat you in the passenger seat. "I know..I know" He whispered as you held onto his shirt tighter, slowly he pulled your hands away "We're going to my place...I've gotta get in though" He whispered before handing you the keys motioning for you to lock it as he walked around the jeep. You both knew you lived in a somewhat safe neighborhood, but you felt safer with them locked. Evan got in, buckling in the both of you in, before heading towards his apartment.

The entire drive he was lost in thought, seeing you so shaken up in his passenger seat reminded him of Maddie, sitting there after Doug, his thoughts were cut short by a gentle, shaky hand resting on the bend of his elbow, as he stopped in the apartment parking lot. As he looked over he was met with your soft delicate gaze, fixed on his lost one "You saved me, Evan.." You whispered, he shook his head resting a hand over yours "I was doing what was right..because I love you" He whispered.

It took a bit, but Evan had a dinner made, you showered, and now both of you sat on his bed watching a random tv show you found playing, You sighed looking at him as he traced his fingertips up and down your stomach "I'm gonna talk to Athena tomorrow about filing a police report.." You whispered, Evan hummed in agreement, you ran your fingers through his hair, smiling softly as his hums continued. You moved your hand lower starting to massage the back of his neck, giggling as his hums turned into groans of relaxation and pleasure. As you dug your fingers deeper, his groans grew louder, before eventually he mistakenly let a moan slip through. You both looked at each other in shock, Your giggles growing louder before Evan rolled to hover over you, immeidetly shutting you up. "Why is it...That it's funny when I moan..but whenever I laugh about making you scream in the mornings before work..I'm in the doghouse?" He teased, playfully giving you a pouty face "Yea yea" You groaned, laying back on the bed, watching Evan slowly stalk down your body until he was mouth level with your panty hemline, you could feel his breaths he was so close.

"Evan.." You whispered lowly, you could see as he held back as groan, instead biting down on your hip bone "Easy baby boy" You whispered, you could see his eyes snap towards yours "Uh uh, you were top this morning, plus, you had a hard night" He said as he grabbed your chin tightly, you looked at him through your eyelashes as he kissed you deeply. "I'm gonna make you feel so good" He whispered grinding against you, you didn't care how many times he fucked you, his size always shocked you, how could someone be so perfectly hung? Just thick enough and long enough to hit every spot. "Please Sir" You begged arching your back, Evan had to hold back his own moan, between your little 'yes sirs' and the way your tits fell perfectly out of his work button up. "Don't worry, I'm gonna take care of you" He whispered "Gotta get me nice and ready though, baby girl" He whispered pulling his sleep pants down lower, his cock springing up halfway hard "f-fuck" You whispered, all of a sudden you were seeing his naked for the first time again, taking his cock in your mouth for the first time "You've got this, baby girl...You've taken it before so well. you're my good girl" He whispered kissing your forehead gently as you slowly crawled to the end of the bed, he could feel himself growing more possessive, how dare someone else touch you? You brought him out of it as your warm mouth wrapped around him, his hand flying to the back of your head, and his legs spreading wider "Fuck" He grunted leaning back taking in the sight.

You were laid in front of him, ass up, legs spread, tits hanging out of his shirt, as your mouth was stretched around his cock, spit slowly pooling from your lips, dripping down to the very point of your hardened nipples. As his mind wondered it went back to being possessive, How dare someone else touch what's his? Try to hurt what's his?

You noticed Evan was lost behind his eyes as you swallowed around him, about to stop before a loud growl errupted from his chest, his hips bucking into your mouth, his cock sliding down the back of your throat. You relaxed it as you focused on his words that were muttered angrily under his breath

"....Touching what's mine"

"She's mine"

"Fuck my good slut"

"Even knows she's mine"

You gulped as he lifted your mouth off of him, you made eye contact with his possessive almost crazy stare "Who are you?" He whispered, the growl vanishing, his tone not matching his eyes, making him seem even more crazy "I'm yours" You responded just as softly, panting softly as you cupped his cheek, he never moved an inch, just letting out a huff "Who. are. you." He growled, you repositioned yourself over his lap, grinding against his cock, desperate to feel anything "I'm yours! I'm Evan Buckley's!" You screamed out as he held your hips against his as he grinded against you, hitting your clit almost perfectly "What else." He snapped, halting his movements almost as fast as he started "Just as loud, slut" He growled loudly "nobody can care for me like you, Evan! Nobody can fuck me, love me, or please me like you do, Evan Buckley! I'm yours" You panted as he squeezed your nipple between his finger tips "And nobody does it like you, baby" he whispered in your ear before flipping you onto your back, holding your hands above your hand "You want fucked? Want me to fuck you so hard with my cock you forget where you are?" He panted in your ear, you whined loudly spreading your legs, Evan just moved his knees to hold them as far open as you possibly could. You never experianced Evan like this, yea he's been a heavy dominant in bed, but never possessive dominant.

You almost screamed as Evan ripped your underwear off, biting his lip as he stared at your pussy, watching it slowly pool more wetness out, already soaking wet from your panties. "What baby? Where do you want my cock?" He panted in your ear, reaching under your pillow to use the silk ties you bought for his house a couple weeks ago, with your hands tied he smirked leaning up to sit on his knees "Please Sir! I want your cock, Please Evan!" You whined before moving your tied hands down to run your fingers through your folds spreading your wetness around to tease him "I want..your big cock..right here..please Captain Buckley" You whispered biting your lip teasingly as you started to push a finger into yourself slowly, you knew Evan always wanted to have the authority of captain, but he'd never take Bobby's place, and he'd never leave the 118, so Captain Buckley was a strong one for him. You could almost see his cock twitch "Don't you dare touch what's fucking mine" he growled before shoving himself fully into your pussy, bottoming out and kissing you deeply as you cried out around his lips as his cock stretched it's way through you.

"Fuck yes!" You squealed, allowing Evan to take his chance to kiss you deeply, shoving his tongue through your lips, exploring every part of your mouth, his cock never slowing it's brutal pace. "Nobody can touch what's mine" Evan growled taking your nipple into his mouth sucking and biting as you arched your back "Yes! Yes!" You started to chant before Evan clasped a hand over your mouth "Change of plans. You're mine tonight, and I don't wanna hear a peep until you're making a mess screaming my name" He growled, his voice was almost enough to have you creaming around him, but you held strong. You could feel the bed moving and the headboard hitting the wall as Evan fucked your pussy mericiless "D-Daddy!" You cried out as you came around his cock for the first time, Evan freezing before looking at you with the most evil smile.

He carried you to the kitchen, laying you over his kitchen island before resuming his brutal pace "Say it again" He grunted as he watched his cock disappear inside of you "I said say it again!" He demanded louder, you cried out as you felt his finger slide inside of you next to his cock "Fuck Daddy! It's too much!" You cried out as he found a steady pace, removing his finger pushing it into your mouth, moaning as your tongue circled his finger, cleaning any of your juices off of it. "Yea. My good fuckin wife. Taking my cock in the kitchen like a whore desperate to please her husband" He growled, you never knew Evan was the roleplay in bed type, but you couldn't lie, imaging you both married, him bending you over the table after a long day at work and having his way with his wife was orgasm inducing. "J-Just wanna make daddy feel good after work!" You moaned grinding against him, he just growled moving you both to the couch, positioning you on the arm rest so his cock was buried deeper inside of you.

"Don't worry, I'll make mommy feel good too" He growled as he sped up his pace, you gasped and moaned loudly feeling his warm cum pool inside of you, he slowly pulled out, using his thumb to push back in any cum that tried to leak out of your swollen pussy. You had no time to rest before Evan's tongue swiped over your clit "E-Evan too much!" You whimpered, already overstimulated by both of your orgasms and from how deep his cock was buried inside of you. He just growled against your clit, causing a vibration across your pussy "Daddy!" You whined trying to close your legs, but Evan lifted his head "You can either Squirt around my cock or my mouth." He said lowly, almost in a cold tone, like you didn't have a choice You knew you did though, you knew your safeword would stop everything but you liked this side of Evan. "Mouth it is" He snapped before sucking your clit into his mouth, you cried out again, chanting nothing but a song of 'Evan's and 'daddy's. Evan's tongue and mouth abused your clit as you squirmed on the couch. Evan never let up on his abuse until you were squirting around his tongue and into his mouth.

You screamed out as you soaked his face, riding his tongue desperately to ride out your high, once you got to the point, you pushed his head away whimpering, your legs shaking in his hands. "Such a bad..bad girl for me..now look at my couch.." He whispered motioning to the wet splatters coating the arm rest "Guess you'll just have to make it up to daddy" He whispered looking back down to his raging hard on, already painfully turned on by how desperate you looked. "Yes sir.." You whispered smirking...

Part two?

#911 abc #911 smut #911 show #evan buckley #buck 911 #bi buck #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #evan buckley smut #buck smut

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy, i was wondering if you could do an Toto wolff x reader. I was thinking kitchen sex?? Like Toto getting turned on because he found out that reader was trying to make him his beloved pumpernickel bread for breakfast. I’ve been seeing tiktoks of Toto and his love for pumpernickel bread, and was just wondering if you could write abt it, though it’s TOTALLY ok if you don’t. Sorry if this was a little messy, this is my first time rqsting something. ♥️

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐰/𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you make toto his favorite bread. he’s going to thank you for this surprise properly. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. implied age gap. kitchen sex. rambling about bread. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. morning sex. reader and toto are married. beta-read. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.2k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: toto wolff x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: can't take my eyes off of you (i love you baby) • lauryn hill

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: can you tell i did way to much research on the types of pumpernickel bread? no, well, i don’t care 🙂 i WAS NOT familiar with toto wolff and pumpernickel bread so a quick youtube search opened my eyes to it and uh what can i say, this was born. ALSO: i feel like i’ve self-diagnosed myself; i am ashamed to admit that my kink might be somebody making me their wife…because why can’t i go one fic without making the reader be referenced to as a wife (m sorry i crave love). i honestly feel like it could be better, but y’know i hope i did your request justice (sorry it took me so long, ktober beat my ass). anon! i hope you see this, and i hope all the toto wolff lovers enjoy !!!

the yellow dish gloves on your hands protect your brown skin from most of the heat of the scalding tap water. the sound of your hums airily reverberate within the high ceilings of your open-plan kitchen as you clean the expensive dishes you’ve dirtied. you’ve taken off your wedding ring and placed it on top of your phone in the middle of the island to avoid any possibility of it falling down the drain or getting damaged.

you woke up a little after dawn, quickly shutting off your alarm to avoid waking up your husband; it’s the off season for him, you won’t wake him up at insane hours when he’s not needed to work. sneaking out of bed was a battle of its own—there were several close calls as you struggled to slip out of the tight hold of the austrian man. it took seven minutes for you to escape his warm embrace, but you made it through by thinking of the surprise you were going to cook up for Toto—or bake up for him. it’s no secret to anybody that the mercedes team principal loves pumpernickel bread, and that he’s very particular about how he likes it. of course, there’s no way you would be able to make the traditional german pumpernickel bread before he woke up—it takes fourteen hours to cook and it needs to rest for an entire day to allow it to form properly into its crunchy, cookie-like consistency. so, you decided to make the simplified recipe that only takes roughly an hour and a half to bake and prepare, while the original takes its time cooking. your husband will have to be happy with the more loaf-like treat until his preferred bread is ready. you’ve never been more thankful to have two ovens.

everything went well. both breads are prepped and baking away at their respective temperatures, and you’re carefully attempting to clean up the mess you’ve made in the process. you may not have been quiet enough based on the footsteps you hear heading your way. Toto pauses in the doorway and you smile, not needing to turn around to see the baffled expression on his face. you turn the faucet off and grab the cloth resting on the oven handle to dry your hands, “good morning, bär. slept well?” you teased gently with a small smile in Toto’s direction. you take an appraising glance of his form; he’s only wearing this pair of pajama pants covered in the mercedes logo (George gifted him those when the team did secret santa last year; Toto said he’d never wear them), leaving his toned torso exposed for your viewing pleasure, sleep lines from his pillow are still faint along his left cheek, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. your husband nods half-heartedly, and blinks in confusion as he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

you're wearing one of his white button-up shirts—half of the buttons are fastened, the sleeves are rolled up and cuffed right above your elbow. you aren’t wearing a bra based on the way he can see how your nipples are pebbled through the shirt, and he assumes you’re only wearing underwear based on your bare legs. your feet are warmed by a pair of black, fuzzy house slippers, the bottom of the shirt rests along the middle of your thighs, and the collar is shifted to the side exposing your collarbone. your hair is free, allowed to rest however it wants to on this winter morning. he starts, making to finally enter the space of the kitchen and give you a proper morning greeting, but notices a smudge of flour along your jawline. and then he sees the baking utensils gathered in the sink, and a rich aroma starts to permeate the air. it smells slightly like coffee and slightly like dark chocolate—it’s sweet. then, it dawned on Toto, you’re baking pumpernickel bread. for him. his heart flutters; you usually sleep as late into the morning as possible, but today, you woke up at an insane hour just to make him his favorite bread from scratch. you’ve always teased him for how difficult he acts about his breakfast treat yet you sacrificed hours of sleep to please him. Toto’s mushy mindset is broken, as you cock your head at him, wondering why he hasn’t responded to you, and the collar of his your shirt shifts and falls to expose the top of your chest. mmm, yes, he should thank you properly.

you don’t even have time to register toto crossing the space between you, before your lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss. a shocked squeal is muffled against toto’s lips, as his large hands hold your waist steady, and your own hand flies up to hold his head. your other hand rises to tap at his chest frantically, as you begin to run out of air, and toto pulls away with an amused chuckle. dazedly, your hand on his chest pulls back to touch your lips, like you needed further verification that he just kissed you.

Toto smirks, “good morning, schatz.”

you nod unsteadily, “yes—g-good morning.”

your husband laughs louder at your stutter, and tugs you into his chest for a proper hug, rubbing at the nape of your neck with a heavy hand. the two of you stand tangled in the middle of the kitchen, uncaring of how many seconds fly by, and your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing motion of Toto’s massaging hands.

“i’m going to fuck you on the island, now, “ Toto informs you kindly.

you startle, pulling your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes. his gaze is serious, and you can’t help how your cheeks warm under his attention.

“well…” you murmur, “i’m not going to say no.”

from there, it’s all a rushed haze. you go from having two feet firmly planted on the tiled floor to being lifted and placed on the marble island as toto speeds through unbuttoning your collared shirt. you try to shrug it off, but Toto halts your motions firmly telling you to leave it on. you hum absently and pull him into a kiss. Toto moans into your mouth, and the sound has your hips bucking forwarding to grind against the bulge in his pants. his hands reaches for your left hip and assists you in grinding against him, and a sigh of pleasure parts your lips. the austrian eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, and he tastes a bit of sugar from whatever you snacked on while making his bread. oddly, that causes more of his blood to rush south and he breaks the kiss to lean back and tug your panties off.

you simultaneously pull his pajama pants down, and squirm happily at the fact that he slept without boxers. Toto gently guides you to lie back on the countertop, and coos softly when you shiver from the cold surface; he’ll warm you up soon. he pulls your panties off from where they were dangling around your right ankle and drops them to the floor, kicking them to the side along with his pants. tugging you forward, your ass rests on the edge of the counter and he leans down to press kisses on your throat.

moaning highly, you crane your neck to expose its full length to his mercy. your right hand tangles in his hair to guide him exactly where you want, your left hand holds at his shoulder for support, with your nails digging into the meat of his muscles. Toto pauses, and pulls back to grab your left hand. a broken whine falls from your lips, and you buck your hips upward searching for friction, the slide of his cock along your folds feels delicious. his knees buckle at the sensation, and he forces your hips back down with his free hand, as he pulls your left hand in front of him to look at it.

“where’s your ring, liebling?” Toto asks, warm eyes focused on your bare ring finger. you laugh disbelievingly, amused and surprised at the fact that he managed to feel the absence of your wedding ring, and pull your hand out of his grasp smoothly. you reach behind you and pluck your ring from its spot on top of your phone, and slide it back on your finger. brandishing your ringed-hand in his eyeline, you impatiently try and buck your hips upward to no avail, his one-handed hold on you is unbreakable.

“okay! fuck me—now, please,” you demand desperately.

Toto hushes you, and holds your left hand steady. he stares into your eyes as he presses a kiss on the wedding ring he bestowed you with. your cheeks burn hot, and you roll your eyes as if your heart didn’t liquify at the show of devotion. your husband guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in carefully—thankful he fucked you open last night. you whimper softly, tender and sore, but you nod frantically to encourage Toto to push further in. he groans throatily as he bottoms out, throwing his head back in pleasure, and your moan harmonizes at the feeling of fullness. the stretch burns slightly, but you’re more focused on achieving an orgasm than the space he caves out in your walls.

you squeeze your knees around his waist, and grind up on him to encourage him to move. Toto grabs your left leg, bringing it to rest over his shoulder, while your right leg remains resting on his waist, both fuzzy slippers falling from your feet at the movement. it has him sliding slightly deeper inside you, and a spark of pleasure races up your spine. Toto begins to thrust, setting a quick pace from the get go. he fucked you open eight hours ago and the tightness of your cunt has him considering that he didn’t fuck you well enough. the bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips suggest differently. it’s ridiculous, how lost the two you get in each other’s bodies. your moans are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock dragging against your most pleasurable spot every time he sinks in you. Toto should be embarrassed at how quickly this is ending, but your sounds are too erotic for there to be any other outcome.

he lays his hand on your navel, gently adding pressure over where he’s reaching inside of you, while his thumb circles rapidly over your clit. your back arches sharply as you screech from the unexpected flare of pleasure, raking your nails down his back in thin red lines as you cum at the added stimulation. it’s a multitude of sensations and emotions that had you hurtling over the edge quicker than you thought possible, and Toto has no choice but to follow you into the abyss, unable to hold back his orgasm at the unbearably hot and wet grasp of your cunt. your husband rocks into you through the afterglow, pausing only when you start to whimper in too much, and not feeling good. staring up at toto with a blissed-out smile and half-lidded eyes, you sigh sweetly as he slips out and leans down to kiss you again. the press of his lips is syrupy sweet and you find yourself getting lost under the feeling of him pouring his love and devotion into you—even though you don’t need the reminder—and the timer you’ve set on your phone blares jarringly causing you and toto to jump apart, startled.

“what the fuck,” Toto deadpans as you scramble around to turn off the alarm.

you sigh in relief once the aggravating sound is silenced, and nudge at Toto’s hip with your foot, “well—don’t just stand there! get the bread out before it burns!”

the austrian huffs exaggeratedly, like it’s such a chore, and pulls on the oven mitts to take out the pumpernickel bread adaptation after you direct him to the proper oven, not wanting him to disturb the traditional bread baking. the sight of the known headphone-smashing, hothead mercedes team principal completely naked spare for a pair of oven mitts is amusing, enough that you can’t quiet your snort, uncaring of how Toto glares at you. he places the baking tin on the cooling rack you set to the side, and hums happily at the aroma—even though it’s a far cry from the usual bread he prefers. like the oaf he is, Toto reaches to pull a piece of the fresh pumpernickel to eat, but with lightning quick speed you reach over and slap his hand away before he defiles the bread.

“aht aht! what do you think you're doing? it needs at least forty-five minutes to cool before you can take a slice,” you scold the grown man.

Toto pouts (astounding, honestly), and then he brightens considerably, a sleazy smirk spreading across his lips, “ah? we have time for a second round then, maybe three…” you laugh hysterically, ignoring the way your stomach flips pleasingly at the suggestion, and slide off the counter, buttoning up your collared shirt, and you bend down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing lying on the floor, “there’s no way you manage to get hard twice in forty-five minutes, old man–” Toto balks at your words–he’s really not old, or at least not that old, “–however, it’s enough time to finish washing the dishes you distracted me from doing.”

taglist: @saintslewi@cherry2stems@lorarri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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the-winter-spider · 3 months ago

Text

Say Don't Go | Part Two

Pairings: College!Hockey Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Drinking

A/N: I KNOW the poll said yall wanted the next part to Invisible first but i already had this edited! The next part of invisible will be posted in a couple hours 🫶🏻 i just need to edit it! We about to angsttyyy dick head bucky sooon, so enjoy the bliss of this filler chapter and sweet bucky NEXT chapter before hes a prick lol

------

Once in the quiet of your dorm, you pull out your phone and text Steve, letting him know you made it back safely. But as you sit on the edge of your bed, Bucky’s words echo in your mind, his touch lingering like a warm memory.

You open the door to your dorm as quietly as you can, hoping not to wake Wanda, your roommate and one of the few girls on campus who’s genuinely kind to you. But when you slip inside, you see her sitting at her desk, textbooks open and highlighter in hand, a soft smile spreading across her face as she spots you.

“I don’t know whether to say you’re home early or late,” she teases, glancing at the clock and then back at you. Then her eyes zero in on the jacket draped over your arm, and her eyebrows raise. “Is that his jacket?”

You shrug, trying to act casual. “He was just walking me home.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, setting down her highlighter with a grin. “Please. You two are playing one of the most drawn-out games of cat and mouse I’ve ever seen.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “For somebody who can body-check a grown man into a sideboard, I don’t know why he’s so nervous to go after you.”

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks and set the jacket on your desk, avoiding her gaze. “Maybe he’s just…embarrassed.”

Wanda lets out a little laugh and lightly slaps her arms in exasperation. “He is definitely not embarrassed. You’re one of the most beautiful girls on campus, you know.”

“Stop it, Wanda,” you mumble, trying to hide your smile as your cheeks heat up even more. “You’re making me blush.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Fine, fine. But I’m serious.” She stretches, rubbing her eyes. “Anyway, I have to get back to studying. If the light bothers you, just throw a pillow at me or something.”

“Don’t worry,” you reply, stifling a yawn as you settle into bed. “I can sleep through anything.”

Wanda grins, putting on her headphones and returning to her notes. You close your eyes, snuggling under the covers, and let out a sigh, replaying the events of the night in your mind. Bucky’s words, his touch, and the warmth of his jacket linger, making it hard to keep the giddy smile off your face.

Just as you’re drifting off, your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You reach for it, and your heart does a little flip when you see Bucky’s name on the screen. His text is simple, but it’s enough to make your night: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

With a smile, you type back: You’re a hopeless flirt, Barnes. Then you set your phone down with a soft sigh. Wrapped in his jacket’s comforting scent, you fall asleep, already looking forward to whatever tomorrow—and that party—might bring.

The next morning, your alarm jolts you awake at 10:00 a.m., and you groan, fumbling to turn it off. Blinking against the light, you see a handful of notifications: three texts from Steve, one from Wanda, and one from Bucky. Starting with Steve’s, you open it and grin at his messages:

S: Hey sleepyhead, how is it I’m the one up late and you’re still in bed?

S: We have brunch plans!!! Don’t stand up the captain of your undefeated hockey team ;)

S: Alright, Bee, I’ll be at Rosie’s at 11:00 a.m. sharp. If you’re late, you’re buying.

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, Bee. A nickname that only Steve called you because every time you would drink you would brag to the world, or anyone that would listen that you've gone your whole life without being stung by a bee and that was your superpower mainly it was because you would run for the hills if you even heard a buzz, nothing scared you more than the unknown pain of a bee sting. You texted back: Im up, Im up....and starving, can't wait to be ON TIME and order the whole menu, since its your turn to pay <3

Next, you open Wanda’s text:

Wanda: You snore a lot… and I think you may sleep-talk, too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul… especially Bucky ;)

You groan, shaking your head, not even sure what you might’ve said in your sleep, but with Bucky on your mind last night, you wouldn’t put it past yourself. Finally, you open Bucky’s text, and your heart skips a beat at his reply from last night: Hopeless for you

The words sink in, leaving a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest that you try to brush off as you get ready.

When you arrive at Rosie’s Café, Steve is already at a booth by the window, grinning as he watches you through the glass. He dramatically waves, like he’s greeting some long-lost friend, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you slide into the booth across from him.

“Five minutes late,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I was betting on ten.”

You stick your tongue out at him, snagging the coffee cup he’s already ordered for you. “Please, I’m practically early.”

Steve snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever you say, Bee.”

“So,” Steve says, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “I heard from a reliable source that Buck walked you home last night. Left Tiffany all high and dry.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “We were just walking home. Bucky was being… Bucky.”

“Right,” Steve says, drawing out the word with a smirk. “Because ‘just walking home’ means wearing his jacket, right?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “It’s not like that. Honestly, it’s just harmless flirting. Bucky and I—we’re friends, because of you i might add...that’s all.” you shrug

Steve’s expression softens, his teasing fading. “Bee, it’s never just ‘nothing’ with you. Look, I’m only saying this because I’m looking out for you. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee before adding, “Bucky’s a great guy. But he… he’s got a way of being uncertain. He doesn’t always know what he wants.”

His words settle heavily in your chest, and for a second, you feel your heart dip. But you push away any sign of that, meeting his gaze with a smile. “It’s fine, Stevie. I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

He sighs, nodding, though he doesn’t seem fully convinced. “I know you do. Just… remember, i've always got your back, alright? No matter what.”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. Thanks, Steve.” And as he smiles, you can’t help but feel a little more grounded, even as the thought of Bucky lingers in the back of your mind, stirring a mess of hope and caution.

Just as you’re about to respond, the server arrives with plates of food, sliding them onto the table with a cheerful “Enjoy!” You raise an eyebrow at Steve as he grins, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

“Of course you already ordered for me,” you say, picking up your fork. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

Steve shrugs, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. “I know you too well, Bee,” he says through a mouthful, barely managing not to laugh.

You lean back, giving him a playful side-eye. “Alright, so who’s this ‘reliable source’ that’s apparently got all the gossip on my night?”

Steve smirks, pausing just long enough for dramatic effect. “From the man himself.”

You blink, surprised. “Bucky told you he walked me home?”

“Yup,” he replies, scrolling through his phone before holding it up so you can see the text. “Got a message from him last night saying he made sure you got back safe and sound or whatever. Real gentleman, right?”

You glance at the screen, reading the short message from Bucky: Walked her home. All safe and sound.

You look back at Steve, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, that was nice of him. Good to know he’s updating the Captain on his whereabouts.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile in them. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not a little flattered. He doesn’t do this for just anyone.”

You laugh, stabbing a piece of pancake with your fork to cover up your blush. “He’s just looking out for me. Like you said, he’s a good guy.”

Steve just shakes his head knowingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Bee.”

You shift the conversation quickly, hoping to steer attention away from you and Bucky. “Anyway, how’s Natasha?”

Steve raises an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Since when?”

Steve’s cheeks turn a little red, but before he can respond, a couple of college guys pass by the table, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Hey, Rogers! Great game last night, man. You killed it!”

Steve flashes them a grin. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

As they walk off, he turns back to you, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. “Well…maybe this time feels different,” he admits, a bit shyly. “I really like her. I’m actually thinking of asking her out on a real date.”

You break into a smile. “Congratulations, Stevie. I’m happy for you. She seems like a great girl.”

He gives you a hopeful look. “So you approve?”

Laughing, you shake your head. “I don’t have to approve anyone you want to be with, Steve.”

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “You’re my best friend. Your opinion matters to me.”

You soften, feeling a pang of affection for him. “Of course I approve. She’s beautiful, confident, and she’s a genuinely nice person.”

Steve’s face lights up. “I think you two would actually be great friends. You and Natasha? I can totally see it.”

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at his happiness. “I think so too.”

As brunch winds down, Steve leans back, watching you with a small smile. “So… ready for the party tonight? I hear everyone’s going to be there, even Bucky’s going all out.”

You try to play it cool, shrugging. “Yeah, should be fun. I mean, it’s not every day the undefeated hockey team throws a party.”

Steve chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, Bucky might have mentioned a few times how he’s hoping to see you there.��

Your cheeks heat up, but you try to play it off with a casual smile. “Well, I’ll make sure to look my best then.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Don’t worry too much, Bee. Pretty sure you already do... Are you gonna wear that?" He gestures to Bucky varsity jacket folded beside you nicely

You sigh, glancing down at Bucky’s jacket folded neatly beside you. “Probably not. But I’ll bring it to give it back to him.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Give it back? Why? Looks good on you.”

You shake your head, laughing a little. “Come on, Stevie. I can’t just show up wearing something like this—that would make it seem like we’re… you know, together.” You can’t help but feel a pang of regret as you say it, but you push it down. “And we’re absolutely not together.”

Steve gives you a look, one of those perceptive, big-brother looks that only he can pull off. “You sure that’s all there is to it? Maybe he likes seeing you in it.”

You roll your eyes, shrugging to hide your own uncertainty. “I just want to give it back. It’s his jacket.”

Steve snorts, folding his arms. “Right. Well, if you change your mind, don’t overthink it. You never know—maybe he’d like seeing you show up wearing it.”

You give him a playful shove. “I think I’ll survive without making a grand entrance in his jacket, thanks.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Suit yourself, Bee. Just know I’ll be watching out for you, especially if Bucky tries anything you dont want him to tonight.”

You grin, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’d expect nothing less from the captain himself.”

Steve stands, throwing a few bills on the table for the check. “So, I’ll pick you up at eight, yeah?” he says casually, grabbing his jacket. “Just gotta swing by Natasha’s place off-campus first and pick her up—if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. I’ll be ready. And hey, don’t keep her waiting too long,” you tease, nudging him.

Steve’s cheeks flush, but he grins back. “Don’t worry. I’d never hear the end of it if I did.”

As you head for the door together, he pauses, giving you one last look, his expression softening. “You sure you’re all good for tonight? No nerves?”

You wave him off, rolling your eyes. “I’m fine, Stevie. It’s just a party. And I’ll have you and Nat there, so what’s there to worry about?”

He chuckles, pulling you into a quick hug. “Alright, alright. Just checking. See you at eight, Bee.”

You wave as he heads off, and you can’t help but feel the familiar flutters of excitement—and maybe a hint of nerves. Tonight’s party feels a little different, like there’s something more hanging in the air.

With a deep breath, you pick up Bucky’s jacket from the booth and walk out, wondering if you’ll actually find the nerve to wear it tonight after all. You tell yourself it’s just a jacket, but a part of you wonders if wearing it tonight would mean something more, even if it’s just between you and Bucky.

---

As you finish getting ready, you smooth down the little black dress that hugs you in all the right places, still debating the jacket. It’s hanging off the edge of your bed, and every time you look at it, your heart flutters. You know what wearing it could imply.

Just as you let out a sigh, your phone pings twice. The first message is from Steve: I’m five minutes away.

You quickly tap out a response, letting him know you’re ready. But then you notice the second message from Bucky. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen, heart pounding. When you finally open it, the message is short, but it’s enough to make you grin--

BB: You better be wearing my coat… see u soon, doll.

A smile tugs at your lips as you grab the jacket, pulling it on. Somehow, it feels like a shield, giving you a rush of confidence. Right on time, your phone lights up again with a message from Steve saying he’s outside.

You hurry downstairs, and Steve’s already out of the car, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. As you slide into the back seat, Natasha looks over her shoulder, letting out a low whistle.

“Wow, you look hot,” she says with a grin, nudging Steve. “Doesn’t she look hot?”

You laugh as Steve’s cheeks turn pink. “I… I mean, I can’t… I don’t… I can’t say that about her.”

Natasha rolls her eyes with a laugh, and Steve clears his throat, finally managing, “You look very pretty.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say with a smile, adjusting Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders.

He eyes it with a smirk. “So, I see you decided to wear the jacket, huh?”

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “Well, I’ve gotta give it back to him eventually. And it’s a little chilly, so… win-win.”

Steve gives you a knowing look through the rearview mirror. “Mhm. Sure.”

Natasha stifles a laugh, clearly amused as Steve starts the car, pulling away. You settle back into the seat, your heart racing a little faster with each passing minute as you all head toward the party.

The party is already in full swing when the three of you step inside, music thumping and lights casting a hazy glow over the packed room. Steve has his arm slung around Natasha’s waist, his face beaming as people shout greetings his way, clapping him on the back. The undefeated hockey team’s star has arrived, and he fits right in, like he was born for this spotlight.

You follow closely, but it doesn’t take long to feel a bit adrift, like you’re walking in his shadow. Steve keeps glancing back, making sure you’re close, but you hate that he feels the need to check on you. It’s supposed to be his night, his chance to relax and enjoy himself, not to worry about you.

You start to feel the weight of the jacket on your shoulders, like it’s putting a target on your back. Bucky’s name stitched across it draws eyes in every direction—curious, judgmental, some downright hostile. You catch a couple of girls whispering and shooting you cold, jealous stares. A pang of anxiety twists in your stomach as you force yourself to look away, hoping your face doesn’t betray the flush of self-consciousness rising in you.

Suddenly, it’s too much, and you reach forward, grabbing Steve’s arm. He turns, looking concerned, and you lean in, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink and hit the bathroom,” you say, offering a quick smile to reassure him.

Natasha, noticing the exchange, leans closer. “Want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sound confident. “No, you two go have fun. I’ll find you in a bit.”

Steve searches your face, worry lingering in his eyes. “You sure?”

“Of course,” you insist, giving him a playful nudge. “I’m a big girl, Stevie. Go, enjoy yourself!"

He nods, squeezing your shoulder before turning back to Natasha, who’s already pulling him further into the crowd. You watch them disappear, his arm still draped protectively around her, and as they blend into the sea of people, you feel a hollowness settle in your chest.

Alone now, you wrap Bucky’s jacket tighter around yourself, but it’s no longer a comforting weight; instead, it feels heavy, like armor you don’t feel quite strong enough to wear. The flashes of familiar faces and snippets of conversation around you only deepen your sense of isolation. You feel small, like a forgotten piece of someone else’s story, swallowed by the loud music, the swirling lights, and the press of bodies.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky banres #james barnes x you #james barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic

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sigma-alpha-writer-chad · 3 months ago

Text

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven

NOTE: This chapter is about twice as long as normal. Thank you!

[CHAPTER SIX]

"Jordan, wake up!" I hear Hannah yelling through the bedroom door, pounding on it hard enough to break it. In a panic, I roll out of bed, hitting the ground with a thud.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" I cry out, scrambling for the door. I pull it open quickly, fearing for a millisecond I'd ripped it off it's hinges. In front of me is Hannah with a shy grin on her face. Next to her is Beth, holding a large plate stacked with pancakes. My jaw drops. I'm speechless.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Hannah says meekly. She very much understands she nearly killed me with her wake up call.

"What the fuck?" I groan, rubbing my eyes. "Is this how you normally wake people up?"

"With pancakes?" Beth offers, holding out the plate to me. I scoff, shake my head, and sigh heavily.

"Everyone else is downstairs," Hannah says, taking a pancake directly off of Beth's plate and handing it to me. I take it and take a bite. It's a good pancake.

"Who made these?" I sigh, motioning for the girls to enter my room so I could get dressed. They close the door behind them.

"We did, and Josh supervised." I rubbed my temples from the hangover that began to creep it's way into my consciousness. I hadn't even noticed it with the adrenaline roaring through me. As I crouch down to my bag, Hannah and Beth both set themselves onto the bed.

"How was your night? You guys were laughing, like, the entire time. We heard you from upstairs!" Beth says. I shrug.

"It was good, from what I remember." I admit. Slowly, the memories had started trickling back into my head. The porch, the couch.

Joshua.

My face starts to redden immediately as I think about it. The smell of his clothes, laying in the snow, his head in my lap.

"Did you get wasted?" Hannah asks. I can hear her eating.

"Feels like I did," I admit with a small chuckle. "My head is starting to hurt."

"Smart of you to leave water and aspirin next to your bed," she replies. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I pull out a pair of jeans, a dark blue turtleneck sweater, and a pair of thick black socks.

"What?" I look up, and knowing, evil smiles start to creep onto their faces. They are more like their scheming brother than I thought. I stand up and change as Hannah reaches over to the pills and water.

"No note," Hannah sighs as she hands them to me.

"Why would there be a note?" I ask defensively. "I probably put them there and don't remember." I take the items from Hannah and down them.

"Or somebody else put them there."

"Ok guys," I start, putting my hands up. "I can tell you're scheming. I know your brother, you've got the same look he does when he's about to throw paper at my head." They snicker a little at this.

"Josh totally has a thing for you," Beth whispers. I raise my eyebrows. "And we think you guys would be super cute together."

"I don't think so, girls. To either of those things," I gulp, walking quickly for the door. Beth is quickly able to block me, standing in front of it. "He's made my life hell for most of my life. Isn't just getting along enough?"

"We saw you guys outside yesterday," Hannah beams. She appears as if she can barely contain her excitement and she pushes up her glasses. "Just rolling around in the snow... On top of each other."

"We were drunk!" I defend, nearly yelling. "Now can we please go downstairs?"

"Are you claustrophobic?"

"What??"

"Nevermind." Beth steps aside, and I hesitate. I take a deep sigh before slowly turning back around.

"What makes you think he feels that way about me?" I ask. Both girls look at each other with smug smiles on their faces, and I roll my eyes.

"Well, for one, the amount of attention he's given you over the years is incredible," Beth starts. "Maybe not the attention anybody would've liked-"

"Not that we're excusing it." Hannah chimes in.

"Right. Bullying is wrong and he's an asshole for what he's done to you over the years. But for the entirety of our lives that he's known you, he's perked up at the mention of you." I raise my eyebrows again and place my hands on my hips, waiting for them to continue.

"Every time Chris was over, somehow you were always brought up, even after you changed schools."

"I think you guys are bullshitting me," I laugh. There was no way.

"I can almost guarantee he knows things about you that you wouldn't think he does," Hannah says. They finally start making their way towards me and the door to exit to the kitchen. "You'll see." I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Whatever."

"Don't worry, Jordan, we'll take care of it." I don't like the sound of that at all. As soon as the door is open, Hannah and Beth rush past me. When I get to the kitchen, I see Josh, Chris, and Matt talking.

"Good morning," I greet. As soon as Josh sees me, a red dusts his cheeks. He averts his eyes, looking at the ground. A smile tugs at my lips for a moment. Does he remember?

"Good morning, cousin." Chris says in a sing-song voice. Matt smiles and nods in greeting. Everyone else was scattered around, Emily, Mike, and Jess on the couch, Josh, Chris, Matt, and I in the kitchen, and the twins go to the dining room table to sit with Sam and Ashley.

"Mornin'," Josh nods. Chris squints his eyes, looking between Josh and I.

"Forgive the attitude, Josh woke up mad hungover." Chris explains.

"You didn't?" Matt asks, grabbing a plate of half eaten pancakes that I can only assume is his and continuing to eat.

"Nah, never had a hangover in my life," he brags, pushing his un-styled hair back. It pokes upward as it would normally would, but the bedhead was severe, making him look more like Guy Fieri than my cousin. As I go to the massive plate of pancakes on the counter, Josh walks up next to me to get some, himself.

"How did you sleep?" He mumbled, his voice low. I hum as I consider my answer.

"I slept fine," I answer. I grabbed three pancakes, spreading butter across each one. I hesitate before what I say next. "Thank you for the pain killers and the water."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Josh says, a smile tugging at his lips. The same as the day before out on the balcony, he was standing shoulder to shoulder with me as we decorated our breakfast.

"Right, I forget you're pure evil." I chuckle.

"Just the worst." he responds. We look at each other, just standing and smiling like fools. Chris slaps his hand hard on Josh's shoulder, knocking the air out of his friend and snapping us out of it.

"You guys seemed to have sorted out your differences," Chris coo's, shoving himself between us and draping his arms over our shoulders. Josh looks frustrated, his common intense stare now aimed at his best friend. "I'm so proud of you guys." I laugh, and Josh's expression softens.

"Yes, Cochise, your roll as best friend is officially revoked and now given to Jordan," he teases. Chris gasps and releases us from his loose embrace, allowing us to actually eat our breakfast.

We eat in a comfortable silence. The ambience of the warm fire crackling in the living room and the gorgeous view of the snow falling slowly outside of the windows allows for a comfortable environment. This is the most comfort and acceptance in a group I've felt in a long time, if not for the first time.

"Alright party people," Beth starts, everyone else following behind her. "Group meeting in the kitchen."

"Oh, yay, my favorite." Emily says sarcastically. Everyone ignores her as Beth continues on.

"What do we want to do today?"

"We could go on a hike." Sam suggests. Jess looks at her in terror.

"In this weather?" she gasps.

"If you wear the right clothes it's really not that bad."

"For Ms. One-With-Nature, maybe."

"Do you still have those skis and snowboards up here, Josh?" Mike asks. Matt perks up.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't think anybody here is professional enough to navigate the trails here," Josh answers. "We could use the outdoor hot tub."

"And freeze to death as soon as I leave the water??" Ashley scoffs. "No thank you!"

The group continues to babble, throwing out ideas left and right of what we wanted to do today. As it was my first time at the lodge, I figure it would be better if I stayed out of this conversation - especially because I just don't know what there is, here. I listen in. Sam, Matt, and Mike are suggesting more strenuous and physical activities, Chris suggesting things like a snowball war, the others suggest more indoor activities. The twins and Josh say nothing other than confirming the possibility of the activity being a choice at all.

It appeared that "snowball war" was tied with "massive indoor blanket and pillow fort."

"C'mon, guys, it's winter! When was the last time we played in the snow?" Josh asks excitedly. He's waving his arms around as he speaks. I'm not sure I've ever seen him want something so bad.

"When was the last time you've made a pillow fort?" Ashley asks. As they continue their debate, I can't help but notice that Hannah and Mike were missing. I glance around, but they're nowhere to be seen. My eyes land on Emily. Her expression is that of fake interest in the conversation, trying to hide what I could tell she really felt. I never thought that I would see worry in her eyes. She makes eye contact with me, but instead of making a scene, she averts her eyes and turns around, heading towards the bathroom. For a split second I swear I saw tears in her eyes.

"Snowball fight wins the vote!" Chris cheers, he and Josh chest bump and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden interruption to my thoughts. "Everybody gets ready and we'll meet outside." As we disperse, I go in the direction that Emily had. I get to the bathroom, where I assumed she went, and gently knock.

"Go away!" Emily hisses. I can hear her sniffling.

"Snowball fight is the winner." I say softly. I'm pressed lightly against the door, wanting to hear anything she might say.

"Okay, great! Then go do that and leave me alone." There's a long beat of silence, the only sound being toilet paper ripping off the roll and what I assume is Emily blowing her nose. "I know you're still out there."

"Are you ok?" I ask. Silence again, and a sniffle.

"Yeah, I'm... Fine," she answers, her tone much softer now.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not with you." she scoffs. I sigh and let off the door. As I do, it opens. Emily, shorter than I am, looks up at me, her mascara streaming down her face and smudged badly.

"You look like shit." I state. She laughs and steps aside for me to step in, closing the door behind me.

"Are you gonna make fun of me?" Emily questions, leaving against the sink and crossing her arms.

"For what?" she looks at me like I'm stupid. "You haven't even told me what you're crying about yet. Not much to work with." She laughs again, softly. A smile tugs at my lips, a sort of pride swelling in my chest at making her smile, let alone laugh.

Twice.

"It's just..." Emily looks down, shaking her head like she can't believe herself. "Mike."

"What did he do?"

"He -" she cuts herself off and looks up at the ceiling, blinking tears away as if her makeup wasn't already ruined. "He keeps entertaining other girls, I don't know. I know you noticed he and Hannah are nowhere to be seen. They were out on the balcony earlier." I slowly set myself down next to her. She doesn't move, so I hesitantly reach up and place my hand on her back. I can feel her tense up before settling under my touch.

"I'm sorry, Emily." I offer, unsure of what to say.

"Hannah and I have been friends for so long, I thought she would have some kind of respect for me," Emily gulps. "After all I've done for her."

"I don't know what to say." she lets out an airy laugh at my statement. All I know how to do is to continue to rub circles onto her back through her thin sweater.

"Listening is enough, or... whatever," she sighs, leaning into me and laying her head on my shoulder. For a moment, I considered pinching myself. We sit there together in a comfortable silence aside from the last sniffles of heartbreak from Emily.

"We can fuck them up with snowballs," I offer quietly. I didn't want anyone to start looking for Emily - I was almost certain she was missed. "You can spit on them or put ice chunks inside." Emily rolls her eyes, but she's smiling as she pushes herself off of the bathroom counter.

"Encouraging me to split people's lips with ice is a cruelty I never expected to hear from you, Jordy." I narrow my eyes at the rather cringeworthy nickname. "It's a nice refresher."

"Do you want me to help you with cleaning up your makeup?" I ask, opening the cabinets in search of makeup wipes. "It's smudged to all hell."

"It's a smoky eye, genius," Emily retorts. I scoff at her as I find the wipes I knew Beth kept in here. "Ever see it before?"

"You're not rocking it, girlfriend." I state in a mildly mocking tone. She quirks her eyebrow at me and in her eyes is something different when she looks at me. It looks like approval - respect, even, but with Emily I knew it could never be that easy.

"Jordan." She commands as she sits on the lid of the toilet and waits for me to clean her up. I snap my head to her. She spoke with such authority, I wasn't sure what to do other than pay attention. As our eyes meet, Emily looks away with a sudden shyness and embarrassment.

"Emily?"

"Thank you."

----------

I stand at the door, looking outside at my acquaintances as they chatter. I was as dressed for the winter as I could be - which wasn't enough. I hesitated in leaving the warmth of the lodge despite knowing I would only have fun.

"Don't just stand there, let's go." Emily goads, pushing past me and pulling open the door, causing me to stumble. She's cleaned up and dressed fashionably, and I suppose she's back to her old self. I can't help but smile, though. I'm just glad she feels better. I sigh before following behind.

"There you are," Josh says as he spots me. His gaze completely passes over Emily, who is directly in his line of sight. Of course, she notices and turns around to smirk at me with an eyebrow raised. I can only shrug in response. "Now we can get started!" I bury my nose in my hoodie, Mr. Winter already biting at my face.

"What are the rules, good sir!?" Chris shouts in a terrible noble accent. He's already in the snow, using his feet to push up a pile for cover like he did when we were children. Say what you want about Chris, but when it came to snowball fights? He didn't play around.

"Why, thank you for asking, my good man!" Josh responds, his accent better but not by much. "No ice, in the snow! We don't want a single fatality on this battle field!" He paces forward as if he were a drill instructor, holding his hands behind his back and looking straight ahead. I can see Matt and Mike rush to follow Chris's lead in making their own shields. "Do try to avoid headshots!" Josh stops and turns around quickly before pacing ahead. "FINALLY!!"

"Get on with it, Josh," Sam scolds, folding her arms. I can tell she's eager to begin and her patience was running thin from being cooped up indoors.

"If you're hit above the belt, three times, you're OUT!!" He continues, ignoring Sam aside from a glance. He stops, finally standing still and facing towards those of as that hadn't already started our defenses. "Are we clear?!"

"Sir, yes sir!" I shout, saluting him. Nobody else does the same, and I feel embarrassed. Is nobody else funny or am I just that lame? Josh beams at me, and my concerns suddenly cease. My heart rate rises.

"5 MINUTES TO PREPARE!" He shouts. As the remaining group disperses, Josh hurries over to me, looking me up and down with a concerned look on his face. "Where's your coat?"

"It was stolen at the station," I mumble. "This hoodie is all I've got. It's plenty warm." He sighs and opens his mouth to say something.

"Jordan, Josh! Come here, come here, team up with me!" Chris whisper shouts. As Josh and I rush over to the now massive wall Chris had pushed up, I glance over across the other side of the yard. Matt, Jess, and Sam hurriedly make their pile. Jess is grinning from ear to ear as she tosses fluffy snow onto the top of their wall, contributing near nothing while Sam and Matt pack the snow in as tight as possible.

In another corner, Ashley, Mike, Emily and Beth do the same - minus Emily. She's crouched down with the others, but by the look on her face I can tell she's not enthused about putting her gloveless hands into the freezing snow. Finally, Hannah and Ashley practically bury themselves in the thick blanket of weather as if hiding themselves. I can't help but snicker at their fear as Mike shouts.

"WAR!!" He immediately throws a fat snowball at Matt's pile. Matt turns to look, and unluckily enough, gets hit directly in the center of his face.

"Fuck!! I thought we said no headshots!!" He goes down. Jess squeals in fear and excitement. Snowballs start flying everywhere. Josh, to my right, made snowballs and packed them as tightly and as spherical as he could, making a pyramid of ammo for Chris. I move in between Chris and Josh, hoping for both protection and a little bit of warmth.

"Load!" Chris shouts. I take a snowball from the pile of 'ammo' and place it into Chris's hands.

"Dude, where are your gloves?" I ask. He throws, and just before he can hide again he's hit in the shoulder.

"THAT'S ONE!!" Jess shouts excitedly. I peer over the snowfort to see her jumping up and down before Matt and Sam pull her down, just barely avoiding the wrath of Michael Munroe and Emily Davis.

"Shit, I can't believe Jess got a hit on me," Chris grumbles. I giggle as I hand him another snowball. He throws it again, and I hear Mike shout.

"You're sure you're not too cold?" Josh suddenly asks, holding a loose pile of snow in both of his hands. I look at him over my shoulder and I'm shocked to be met with what seemed like genuine concern.

"Yes, I'm sure," I assure. I'm lying, though. I wanted to ask him to let me use his coat again so badly, to bury myself in it's warmth and his smell. I shudder at the thought of being so affectionate towards him. He may soon be a friend, if the kindness continues on, but I didn't want to admit yet that I'd grown so fond of him and the things about him so quickly after I'd hated him so passionately. I turn back around and hand Chris another load before feeling Josh's arm press against mine, sitting shoulder to shoulder with me. He's so, so warm - and I think he knows this.

"THAT'S TWO!" I hear Jess cheer as Chris's glasses are knocked off of his face.

"Fuck!" Chris hisses, wiping the snow from his face. "Shit, that's so -" another hit to the back of the head interrupts him.

"YOU'RE OUT!!" Sam boasts. I peer over the diminishing cover to see who had retreated back into the lodge in defeat. Josh, Sam, Mike and I were the only ones left, Jess actively walking up the stairs as she'd just gotten 'out'. Ashley and Hannah had gotten bombarded almost immediately after the match had started, so I was unsurprised to see them on the porch, huddled together for warmth. Aside from that, I notice that Emily and Jess are whispering to each other, glancing at Hannah and Mike. I furrow my eyebrows before getting blasted in the shoulder.

"Holy shit!" I hiss. Mike threw hard.

"Hey, man, cool it!" Josh shouts as I lay behind the nearly completely destroyed wall of snow.

"Sorry!" Mike returned. I feel another one hit me. Josh kneels next to my dying form.

"Josh, I..." I start dramatically, grabbing at his shirt. "I can't go on..."

"No, c'mon Jordan, don't do this to me! We're gonna make it, okay? We can still win! There's two of us and one each of them!" I hear Sam groan in displeasure as Mike defeats her swiftly. "One of them!" Josh corrects himself. I laugh, and he ducks to barely avoid getting hit.

"I'll distract him, you go in for the kill," I whisper. Josh nods, and I let go of his shirt.

"Godspeed, pilgrim," he says. I roll over to my hands and knees, crawling - rather clumsily - out of the little cover I had.

"Not smart, are you Jordan?" Mike calls out, launching snow at me. I drop to the ground, barely dodging it. "Pure luck!"

"How much life you got left in you, Mike?" I shout back, getting back up and running, crouched, to the depleted cover Matt had built up. Unlike the others, who were now huddled together and speaking in whispers, Matt, Hannah, and Beth sat on the stairs and watched us, cheering. Matt looked stressed out, as well, as if his favorite team was close to losing.

"Hit me twice and you've bested me!" Mike calls. I manage to dodge another of his throws. As I bend down, I scoop up my own snowball and throw, barely bothering to aim. The weak snowball splits into multiple pieces, but the majority still hits him.

"THERE'S ONE!" Matt shouts. I nearly jump out of my boots. I've never seen Matt so energetic and passionate about anything before. "ONE MORE, ONE MORE, LET'S GO!" As Mike aims to throw at me again, he's hit in the chest by Joshua. Mike falls dramatically, sticking out his tongue and crossing his arms as he fell backwards to his death.

Instead of walking to Mike, Josh walks to me and helps me up. As I grin at him, he presses a snowball to my chest.

"You are dead, and victory is mine." He states, patting my shoulder. My jaw drops, and I can hear Matt and Mike laughing.

"You betrayed me, just like that?" I frown. Josh says nothing, opting instead to lean down by my ear so no one else could hear him.

"Let's get in the lodge and get you warm." He pats me on the shoulder again before walking past me and into the lodge. I huff, crossing my arms in annoyance. Some things never change. Once we're back inside, I glance at the clock. We'd been out there for a little over an hour and a half.

"Who wants hot chocolate?" Beth asks in a sing song voice. She motions towards the counter, where there was a line of steaming hot chocolates and a large, clear bowl of tiny marshmallows. I stay behind as the rest of the group crowds the counter. Josh stands with me.

"Have you spoken to my sisters this morning?" He asks, bumping his hip into mine.

"Some. Why?" I return the hit.

"I think they're scheming something." He hums. We continue hip-bumping back and forth.

"They are Washingtons, after all," I grin, dodging his last hit and going to the hot drinks. They smelled so, so good. I grab my cup and step back, my back bumping into Josh's chest. He grabs my hips gently to hold me steady as he puts his mouth next to my ear, just as he did moments before outside.

"I think they're trying to get us together," he surmises. "They're even looking at us right now." I glance up at the twins as Josh backs up a little. He was right. "Just watch out. We might get tied together, or something when we least expect it."

----------

The night is an odd one.

As soon as the sun began to set, drinks were reintroduced to the group. Unlike the night before, however, everyone was sipping rather than chugging. There's an odd tension in the air. Nearly everyone had been shooting suspicious glances at one another for the entire evening, Emily and Jess being the worst. They just kept whispering. Sam was the biggest give-away that something was afoot, her expression one of guilt and confusion. Whenever I'd tried to pry, though, I was turned away until eventually the majority had sauntered off to somewhere else.

Josh, Chris, the twins and I sat in the living room together, red solo cups with our names written on them scattered across the large coffee table. On the television, commercials no one paid attention to were running. At this moment, the man on screen was attempting to sell a non stick copper pan.

Hannah and Beth sat on either side of me. Beth wore black leggings, a thin grey sweater, and her fuzzy beanie to match, while Hannah was dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt.

"I never noticed your tattoo," I point out, poking the design on Hannah's right shoulder. "You like butterflies?" Her face grows red as she nods and smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. I narrow my eyes at her. What kind of a response was that? Chris and Josh bantered about some video game as Hannah and Beth began to attempt a confession from me.

"Do you like him too?"

"Do you think he's cute?"

"Would you kiss him if you got the chance?"

I grow more and more frustrated with each question, tired of repeating myself. With each 'no' and 'stop asking,' the anger continued to build inside my chest. Eventually, I stand up.

"Okay, guys, that's enough. I told you no and to leave it alone." Chris and Josh stop to look at me, the twins looking embarrassed themselves.

I don't think Josh was disgusting or anything. Unfortunately, in fact, I have continued to think the opposite as we to spend more time together. But the lack of boundaries that the twins seemed to respect had pushed me to my limits, despite their seemingly good intentions. A wave of embarrassment washes over me as they stare. Hannah and Beth are smiling, still, and the embarrassment is replaced again by anger.

"I'm going to go lay down, I think," I decide, taking a deep breath. I downed the rest of my drink quickly, setting it back down onto it's coaster rather harshly. Other than Josh, the others begin to protest. Instead of asking me to stay out, have more to drink, he stared up at me like a puppy. For some reason, that was what made me want to stay the most.

That look.

"Just a nap, just a nap," I promise as I walk towards the stairs, waving my hand over my shoulder dismissively. As fun as everything had been, my social battery and tolerance for other people had been shrinking exponentially. A part of me couldn't wait to go home.

I get to my room, flopping down onto the bed and groaning, kicking the bed. I love the twins, I really do, but the lack of boundaries and acceptance of the word 'no' was concerning and uncomfortable, to say the least. I start to drift off to sleep quickly.

Josh has been kind to me. Caring, even. I replay our interactions of the weekend over and over again in my head. He'd said it was because I was friends with his sisters and his best friend, but was that really the only reason? Kindness by association? My face grows hot when I remember the couch, his hand resting on my neck, the way he looked at me, leaning in to kiss me.

I thought he had a thing for Sam.

Just as I'm about to fade out into dreams, there's a gentle, barely audible knock on the door.

"Go away." I groan, burying my face into one of the soft feather pillows. I didn't want to see anybody right now.

"It's Josh."

"...come in."

I take my face out of the pillow to watch him. The door creaks open slowly, opening just enough for Josh to slip through. He closes it behind him as if sneaking in.

"Don't worry, I think we're in the clear. My parents are asleep," I joke. He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "What's with the smug face?"

"You told me to go away until you knew it was me," he says. I sit up and scoot to sit on the side of the bed, Josh coming to sit next to me. He sat close, our shoulders pressed together as usual. "I think you're starting to like me, J."

"Why did you come in here?" I ask, ignoring what he said. He chuckles.

"I wanted to check on you, is all," Josh answers. "I'm sorry about the girls, they're convinced we're meant for each other now that we're not... battling." I nod slowly as if in understanding, but all I can think about is how good he smells and how warm he is.

"It's just annoying, I guess," I shrug. "My boundaries mean a lot to me, I don't like when any of them are crossed." Josh says nothing. There's a sound at the door followed by girlish giggling, and Josh stands up quickly, his eyes wide.

"They didn't..." he says, marching to the door and grabbing the handle and shaking it wildly. "Goddamn it!"

"What? What is it?" I ask, growing worried.

"They locked us in."

"They what?" I nearly shriek, standing up with him. "What kind of door locks from the outside!?"

"It's a trick we used to do when we were kids," Josh explains as he continues to shake the handle. "There are these things that let you lock a door from the outside, it's kind of hard to explain." I scoff, pressing myself against the door.

"Hannah, Beth," I start. "Chris! Let us out! Please!?"

"In a bit!" one of the twins responds. I can't tell who is speaking through the door, their voices identical as their faces.

"I am not happy, you guys," I state. We hear them walk away hurriedly, and Josh sighs. I turn to him. "What do we do?"

"I guess we wait."

"...I don't like being trapped." I murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear me. I hold myself as if I'll fall apart. Josh looks at me with an expression I can't pinpoint. Fear? Regret? I don't have any issues with being in a small room or in any room at all - as long as I can leave at any time. I sit back onto the bed.

"Is that..." Josh starts. I look up at him. His expression is embarrassed and remorseful. "Is that because of me?"

"...yeah." I admit. Josh had locked me into lockers at least once a year when I was small enough to fit inside. I would scream and cry for at least 20 minutes each time until he let me out. The teachers at that school sucked. He says nothing, turning away.

He doesn't apologize.

"That... sucks." he mumbles. My chest hurts. Is he not sorry? His expression was remorseful but I wanted so badly for him to say it, to apologize for everything he'd put me through despite our eventual reconciliation. I say nothing, though. I hesitantly accept that an apology should never be expected from him.

Josh stays silent as he sits next to me again, though this time he's not touching me.

"They'll let us out, okay?" he says, attempting to comfort me. I don't respond, choosing instead to roll over and lay onto the bed, my back turned to him. It's petty, I know. But I was so, so uncomfortable. The inability to leave the room was crushing to me. "They'll let us out." I feel the bed shift as he moves, placing a hand on my shoulder. My instinct is to shake him off, but I would be lying if I said the physical contact didn't ground me somewhat.

We don't speak for a while, just sitting in the uncomfortable silence aside from my deep breaths in an effort to calm myself.

"Is there anything I can do?" Josh asks. His hand never leaves my shoulder. I slowly start to turn to him again.

"I don't think so," I answer. The silence continues as I very slowly make my way to sit next to him again. Eventually, I'm back in place. I barely lean against him, testing the waters. His touch was comforting and grounding, and it was what I really wanted - needed - right now. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't his arm over my shoulder pulling me into him.

Josh is warm, and much more solid than I expect. It wasn't as if he was a beef cake, but his shoulders were somewhat broad, he was lean, and it felt as if he were somewhat muscular.

I try not to think about him shirtless.

"I'm sorry for... kinda freaking out," I apologize. Josh hums in acknowledgement, rubbing my shoulder slowly and gently.

"I wouldn't consider such a calm reaction 'freaking out'," he responds. I wrap my arms around his waist in a lazy hug, and I hear his strong heartbeat quicken, my eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. Was he nervous?

"Your heart beat is fast."

"Is it?" I feel his breathing slow down as if to calm himself and his heart, but the breaths are much deeper. I let go of his waist and back up to look up at him through my eyelashes. His hand moves from my shoulder to my back, and he looks back at me with a look I can only describe as desperate.

"Yeah," I murmur. Josh's eyes move quickly around my face as if looking for something, lingering on my lips for too long. The tension is incredibly thick. "Do I make you nervous?"

"Yes."

He slowly places both of his warm calloused hands around my face, his thumb caressing my cheek bone. His mouth hangs open slightly and his breathing continues to deepen.

"I am..." he starts again. His eyes lock with mine now. "Terrified of you." My lips part as if on instinct as he slowly leans in and tilts his head slightly. Our noses touch and he pauses. He's shaking so badly. I can't help but let out an airy chuckle. My own heartbeat was so fast I was waiting to go into cardiac arrest.

"ALRIGHT, FELLAS, YOU'RE FREE TO GO!!" Beth shouts, nearly kicking down the door. Josh and I jump, and I fall off the bed and hit the ground hard.

"Shit!" I hiss, the pain rippling through my body.

"Are you okay?" Josh asks, standing to pick me up. I can hear Beth gasping loudly.

"Shit, we should've just left you guys in here," Hannah sighs. I glare at her for a split second before scrambling for the door, nearly shoving past them. "Jordan, wait!" she calls, but I ignore her. I grab Josh's winter coat, the one he lent me previously, and go outside. Instead of staying on the balcony, I trudge down the stairs and under, sitting in the corner.

For a split second I feel like I am overreacting. But I needed to be alone and out of that room. I hated being trapped, more than anything. Not being able to escape a room, not knowing when you can get out - it's torture.

I'm able to stay grounded with the warmth and smell of Josh's coat. I can't believe I almost kissed him just moments prior, and despite my raging anxiety, I smile. Then I frown. It only then occurs to me that I wanted him to kiss me. I want him to kiss me.

I want to kiss Josh.

I bury my head in my arms and laugh.

----------

Hey y'all, once again I'd like to thank you for your patience. This chapter is really long because it's supposed to be the last day and night before the plot of the game really kicks in, but it started getting too long. Thanks for reading, next chapter soon!

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Taglist: @sc4rrc@mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby@kalynnjonas @spinback-kiva @frankcastlesvest @barnxsromanxff @kapczan

#josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington x you #joshua washington #until dawn #until dawn x reader #x reader #fanfiction

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asapeveryday · 9 months ago

Text

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You��re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #rpf #rivals to lovers #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #f/f #series

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alwaysshallow · 1 year ago

Text

@bunnyreaper's secret santa thing; I had the pleasure to write for @cooliofango ❤️ I hope you're gonna have the best time reading this, love.

AO3 VERSION

Simon isn't there—that's the first thing you notice, when you wake up.

You think it's odd; he always sticks around, especially in the morning. Either he is reading something in bed, a book or an article, or tries to wake you up, softly, kissing your arm, if it was past nine in the morning.

Right now, even his side of the bed is cold, so he had to leave at least an hour ago, maybe more. You get up with a slight frown on your face, multiple questions in the back of your mind, what possibly could bring Simon out of bed. There's many thoughts, and they aren't really positive; usually if he had to leave, it was something military related. A missile missing, someone to rescue, intel to get or secure.

Being with Riley made you realize how fucked up the world is and how many times it needs to be saved. This time though, in theory, he has vacations that he asked for. Holidays with his girlfriend, he said, which caused you to grin like crazy one, since you loved this term. His girlfriend, his significant other with whom he decided to spend time with, even if he doesn't like holidays.

It's main reason why you aren't really doing anything festive this year; out of respect to him. Sure, you spend more time together, you plan to watch movies tonight, make some food, but nothing really related to Christmas. No lights, no tree, nothing what could possibly trigger his memory with the holidays and make the time worse than it already was.

But now, your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, and your plans are under a big question mark. You don't even know where he is, if he is here, in your shared house that you've decided to buy a few months ago.

"Baby?" you call out, looking around. There's a few boxes laying on the ground, door is wide-open; if you wouldn't know any better, you'd assume that somebody broke in. Knowing your boyfriend though, how he secured the house... hell, it takes only one wrong move and alarm goes off, as Simon said once, shortly after he installed it.

So, door wide-open, bringing in the cold, clear indicator that he actually is here somewhere. And, sooner than later, you'll see him.

You prefer sooner than later, though, so you go through the door, just to see your man with a tree—Christmas tree, to be precise—with shocked expression on his face. Then, he puts it down, just to sneak his arms around you, tight. Just like he loved to do, practically from the start of your relationship.

For a military man, he is very touch starved, and you try every time to give him the love he deserves.

"You didn't wake me," you murmur into his broad chest, at which he chuckles. You look up at him, seeing his brown eyes sparkling.

"Sorry, love. Had to take care of some things," he says, his hand caressing your back delicately. "But 'm here now. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"Oh, no, no," you laugh, shaking your head. "I want to know why there's a Christmas tree here. And those boxes? Seems like decorations to me, Mr. Riley."

He acts like you caught him red handed on something; Simon looks away and sighs, just to look at you a few seconds later with a semi-guilty look on his face. You have to hold back a laugh; he seems so stressed about something simple, it's adorable.

"I don't like Christmas," he starts, playing with your hair. "But I know you like 'em. Your eyes sparkle every time you see this shit, lights, trees, everythin' and—"

"—Simon, we don't have to—"

"—let me finish." He looks at you, a bit sternly, so you nod. You have to listen to him, especially if he asks you to. "And I just can't do this to you. Take it away from you. 'm a grown man, it's time to change some things. 'specially those hurtful ones."

You gnaw at your bottom lip, silent for a few seconds, as you try to collect your thoughts about this situation. It's hard not to cry right now, given how he overcomes his own weaknesses, just for you. Just for the both of you, so your future will be brighter.

"You are," you cup his cheeks into your hands, "the best man I've ever, ever met. I'm so lucky to have you, you know? A man that's willing to spend Christmas with me the traditional way, to

“You can't say this shit to me,” he warns, his voice almost a whisper. You raise your eyebrow, but you don't stop kissing his jaw, even when he sighs.

"Because that's so bad? Or because that's the truth and you'll blush any second?" you ask teasingly, at which he rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. To see his smile, to see how happy you can make him... you cherish every moment like that, knowing his history. Knowing how hard it was, how hard it still is because demons doesn't go easily.

Yet, you see the progress. His battle, to be more open, to allow himself to be more vulnerable at least around you.

“You’re gonna make me even more addicted," he explains to you, kissing your face a few times. He bangs with his nose against your eyeglasses, but he doesn't really seem to mind. "And I’m already weak. It's like... you're something that I’m not immune to. Everyone will see that later, on that Christmas party.”

He doesn’t say he loves you. That would be crazy, he thinks; every time he told someone he loves them, they died. He doesn't want it to happen with you, not when he didn't think of an idea how to possibly save you, keep you safe and locked, close to his heart.

But he can’t deny that you have him wrapped around your finger and you always will. Task Force 141 knows about you, they even invited you two to the Christmas party later, but the l-word has to wait. You know that he loves you anyway; maybe he doesn't say it, but his actions shows you enough love. And, he has other words—be safe, you know I care about you.

It speaks louder than simple I love you but he knows he's gonna say it. He has to, even for your sake.

"That's good. I love you being addicted." You grin, hugging him even tighter. "Because I'm addicted to you as well. To my big, wonderful boyfriend. Now... about those Christmas decorations."

You wouldn't think that decorating your shared house with Simon would be so fun and chaotic in the same time. Your boyfriend does the lights—since his height abilities are just insane—and you are basically running around with snowmen, reindeers and other creatures that you somehow can associate with winter. Riley also gives you disapproval looks from time to time, telling you to dress yourself properly, as you're just on your pyjamas; it ends up in you being in his big, warm hoodie, since you don't listen.

It's like everything you dreamed for, in domestic matter.

The best is taking care of the tree, though. You two have different ideas—yours with doing it in two colors that compliment each other, red and gold for example, which would give the glamour vibe of the house. Or, Simon's idea which is complete chaos. He looks so happy with placing the ornaments, that you don't tell him about color theory, you don't suggest making it less colorful either.

You just put everything just like he is, with instinct, and when he asks about your opinion, you can't help but smile widely and praise him for being creative. His enjoyment gives you the time of your life, honestly.

"You do it like it's in your blood," you say, laughing happily when he gives your cheek a big, wet kiss. His arms locks around you automatically, his lips dropping a bit lower.

"'st because of you. My girl," he purrs. "Maybe we should take a break and eat somethin', eh? Something Christmas-y."

"Christmas-y?" you repeat, observing with a small smile stomach how he drags you over to the couch, towering over you. He has absolutely no problem with crashing you with his weight, which feels so good considering how warm he is. "What would you like?"

"Anything my woman wants, I'll eat. My civilian woman."

You can't help the sensation of your heart fluttering at this view; at Simon kissing your knuckles, at Simon being so affectionate. You are sure that you haven't seen him like this before, not this open with his feelings.

"Yours. That civilian woman, for a superordinary man," you say, quietly.

“My civilian woman.” Simon’s eyes shine as he repeats your words, a light smirk forming as he gazes down at you. You really are gorgeous, so beautiful as you're there in his arms. "'m not superordinary, but I guess I'll take it."

He reaches over to remote, turning off the light in the room. Now, all that’s illuminated is the moonlight and sparkling, multicolor Christmas lights, casting a pale ray of light in the darkness.

Before he loses himself in your eyes, he leans over and presses his mouth to yours. It’s a slow, quiet, yet passionate kiss—one that sparks a fire in both your souls.

"That sounds very dorky, if you think about it," you chuckle quietly, still keeping his gaze. His brown eyes are fixed on yours, glimmering so gently, you can't help but be lost in them. God, it's even better when he turned off the light. You don't see each other properly, but the dark figures are adding everything to your imagination, when you continue this slow kiss.

You can only hear your lips smacking against each other.

“You’re perfect to me,” he says, his voice husky as he gazes down at you. You make his heart flutter. You always do, but lately, those butterflies have turned into something else, as he told you a dew days ago. "The most perfect woman in the world. Even if it's cheesy, as you say."

"You're such a cheesy man, Riley," you whisper, as you smile at his sudden comment how you are perfect to him. Knowing that he's not the best with words, and still says something like this, was just the most important thing for you. "But I like that in you. Just as much as your soft spot for those romcoms we watch. Even if you call them sappy and cringe," you say, closing your eyes.

"They are sappy and cringe. But it's our type of sappy and cringe," he murmurs into your skin, burying his face in your neck. Right in this moment, he doesn't seem to care about anything else.

And you don't care about anything else either, when you have him right by your side. Safe and secure, far from deployment, far from all those dangerous things probably just waiting for him out there.

"I love you," he whispers.

And you know you have your gift.

#simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #x reader #cod fanfic #simon riley fluff

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rhiannonsknife · 3 months ago

Note

https://x.com/femmeflix/status/1852896350481825792?s=46&t=PsXAfTCJv59FchQIdn66aA

I’ve been obsessed with Jackie/your Jackie fics and thoughts lately.

This with Jackie in the wilderness though..? Maybe an AU where she never died and find excuses to keep you “warm at night” in winter? You’re in the farthest corner of the cabin when she starts grinding against you softly. The others are asleep but you still have to be quiet, silently sighing into the other’s mouth as you get each other off…

-🪩

thank you 🪩 anon!! i probably added way too much background lore, but i hope this is what you had in mind <3 nsfw below so: mdni!

i feel like, unlike shauna, jackie would not be so in denial about how touch starved she is. i think she’s well aware that she needs somebody’s comfort, yet ever since doomcoming, she and shauna have not spoken properly and she won’t even look in travis’ direction.

it wasn’t just the betrayal itself, you think, without ever saying it out loud, it was the audacity of it. now, every time jackie glanced at shauna, all she could see was the life she used to have, the life she had taken away piece by piece: her boyfriend, her best friend, her sense of control. nobody is ever calling it by name in spite of the elephant (shauna’s bump) in the room.

jackie hadn’t acknowledged the pregnancy out loud, yet the unspoken tension hangs in the air whenever they are forced to share space, impacting all of you.

the more time passes, the colder everyone gets.

except for tai and van, the rest of the team has sort of neglected the need for physical touch and closeness. without anyone around that you’d be comfortable enough with to ask for a simple hug, you try to do the same as everyone else. only at night, with the others fast asleep, you ever dare to wrap your arms around yourself, picturing it’s someone else holding you.

you won’t let it show to the others, though, not wanting to be the first to break under the current circumstances.

turns out you don’t have to wait too long for someone else to be in a similar position: jackie had been the one to lose it from the start. sure, you’d all been terrified, but out of all the girls, jackie had been the most stubborn when it came to her chores out here.

she’d always been the one least likely to adapt to any of this: to the wilderness, to the cold, to the isolation that gnawed at all of you. she wasn’t built for this life, and everyone knew it, including her. but jackie wasn’t one to let people see her break easily: the same jackie who once thrived on attention now barely spoke, her haughty attitude replaced by something more brittle.

it had only been a matter of time before this facade cracked.

you’d seen her unraveling slowly. the way she avoided shauna, the way she avoided everyone, really. how she snapped at taissa for trying to delegate chores or rolled her eyes at nat’s attempts to hunt. she’s so desperate to seem untouchable, but it is clear to you that jackie’s just lost. and hurt.

and then came the nightmares, too.

you start to wake at night to the sound of her gasping, a sharp cry muffled into the blanket she clutches around her. she must’ve shot up, her breaths coming fast and shallow, and for a moment, you think she might wake everyone else. but the others keep sleeping, too used to the sounds of restless nights to stir. that’s how it starts because you -unsure of what else to do- only reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. jackie flinches, not expecting anyone else to be up at this time. you two never talk about it afterwards but you feel the way she instantly melts into your touch.

that small gesture is what makes you realize how much you’ve missed being close to another person.

after this, it is like a switch has been flipped: jackie is fixated on always lingering in your presence, eager for any kind of touch she can get, whether it’s a brush of hands, her palm to your back, or sitting shoulder to shoulder. she even picks up certain chores just to be near you. whether it is a desperate attempt for proximity and closeness or a real crush that’ll keep on growing beyond this place where you’re stuck, it feels nice to be wanted like this.

one of these nights, with the cabin quiet and the air heavy with the sound of soft snores and the occasional crackle of the dying fire, jackie takes things one step further.

everyone else is huddled together for warmth, but in the farthest corner of the room, it’s just you. or at least it was, until jackie had slipped down beside you, her breath visible in the freezing air as she sits close -closer than she needs to.

she whispers, careful not to wake the others, “it’s freezing. you’re practically an icicle over here,“ she hesitates, her hands tugging at her blanket as if trying to decide what to say next. after another moment, she ventures, “i don’t know how you’re even handling it. i feel like my fingers might fall off any second”

her eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. permission, maybe, to come even closer than she already is. “you know,” she says lightly, almost offhand, “it’d probably be warmer if we shared. not that anyone would care… or even notice.”

she doesn’t press it further, leaving the idea hanging between you. sure, the two of you have shared your moments before, but you certainly hadn’t spent the night cuddling yet.

the silence stretches out, her gaze darting to yours again, waiting for any sign. and then you shift, just a little, leaning closer, not quite touching but enough to give her what she needs. the corner of her mouth twitches, and without a word, she slides her blanket open, wrapping it around the both of you as she settles closer.

jackie voice is barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your ear. “this is okay…right?”

you nod, softly, knowing she’ll see from where she’s curled up against you from behind. like this, the two of you lie in silence for a good while. you know jackie is awake still: you can feel the way she occasionally shifts, or how her breathing won’t still in a way that it would if she was asleep.

it’s strange, how natural this feels: being this close to someone, so comfortably tangled together after such a long time. a part of you had forgotten how it would feel. another part, the one that’s been falling in love with jackie taylor long before your plane crashed, longs to have her even closer and tries its very hardest not to allow your mind to wander…

jackie, on the other hand, hasn’t felt this close to any of the other girls either. without thinking, her hand moves of its own accord, around you to rest on your stomach. her fingers are cold, even through your layers of clothing. she brushes them lightly over your skin, the touch gentle. you audibly gulp, but let her.

after another moment, you are finally brave enough to shift. you lift yourself up and adjust until you’re facing her. jackie’s hand remains on the dip of your waist underneath the blanket.

your bodies are flush against each other, your breaths mingling in the sliver of air between you. jackie’s eyes widen a fraction as you turn, her hand instinctively tightening its grip on your waist. the shift in your position has brought you even closer together.

her hand slides further, fingertips tracing over the shape of your hip. “you’re still cold,” she murmurs, her voice low and hushed in the quiet cabin. her eyes rake over you, her gaze lingering over the curve of your lips.

“it is cold in here” you point out, shivering at the realization of her wandering eyes. jackie isn’t exactly subtle about it either. after all, there’s not much she’s ever wanted that she didn’t get.

her touch is moving from your hip down to the curve of your thigh. her fingers dance over the fabric of your pants underneath the blanket. she’s still fixated on your mouth, her breath hitching as she sees the way you shiver under her gaze.

jackie leans in a little closer when she feels the way your legs fall open under her hands, her lips nearly brushing against your ear as she whispers, “you know, i think i’ve got a few more ways i could help warm you up…” her hand moves again, sliding further up your thigh.

it’s pathetic, really. it’s a desperate attempt to cling to normality. to feel wanted in spite of everything. it’s a short moment in the terrors of the wilderness that she won’t speak about in the morning. but, fuck it, you’re willing to take it.

your breath hitches in your throat when jackie’s hand inches up your leg, a small noise slipping from your lips. immediately, jackie hushes you.

“sh” she says, eyes darting to where the others are fast asleep. “we have to be quiet” and with that, your last restraints are gone. it only confirms what jackie is up to right now -if it hadn’t been clear yet, it certainly is now. and while you know, rationally, that this is a bad idea, the need to feel someone’s touch is too strong for you to neglect it any longer: awkward attempts of trying to get off under the covers whilst everyone else sleeps are clearly not doing enough for you.

at least jackie seems to be on the same page.

you both shift and adjust against each other. it’s a little clumsy, and it takes a moment to find a good position, but it’s driven by the need for something you’ve both been craving, so you make it work. before you know it, jackie lingers above you in a way that has her center pressing against your own under the sheets.

she exhales a shuddered breath and your hands jump up to hold her hips. your eyes are wide as you stare up at her, partly in disbelief that this is happening, mostly because you can’t believe that jackie wants you like this.

jackie leans in, not kissing you yet, but with her arms bracing her weight on either side of your head, caging you in. her eyes are dark, her gaze flickering over your features in a way that makes your stomach flip.

beneath the covers, her legs shift, her body pushing further into yours, grinding against you for the first time, in a way that is deliberate and calculated. her breath stutters, her voice hoarse as she speaks, “you’ve gotta be-” she gasps, and bites her lip, resisting the moan that threatens to escape. “quiet”

oh, how you wish you could’ve met her under different circumstances. how you wish jackie could’ve wanted you like this all the way back home, so you could’ve heard the way she sounds when she’s moving on top of you.

when you finally come back to your senses, you decide to make the most of this opportunity. holding her hips a little tighter, you lift your own from the ground to meet her halfway.

jackie, who’s only ever known sex to be something merely mediocre, is surprised that grinding against you (fully clothed, and in a room full of sleeping people that prevent you from going all the way) is already better than anything she’s ever had.

she shivers as you take the initiative, matching her movements with a gasp that she barely manages to bite back. she arches into you, her body moving steadily now.

her hands slide up your sides, fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the warm skin of your stomach. she leans in, her breath a shaky, quiet: “god, yes…just like that…”

you can feel your own underwear, clinging to your arousal which is growing exponentially at this rate. there’s no way you’ll last long like this, not when you’re embarrassingly close to creaming your pants just from watching her. each of your movements is mirrored by one of hers, until you’ve found a good rhythm to grind against the other. at some point, jackie’s body goes slack and she drops forward. you instantly hold her to your chest as she keeps rutting against you, moaning the faintest little “ah, ah, ah” sounds into your ear.

the friction between you spikes, both of you desperate and greedy for more connection. your hips keep meeting in a slow, steady rhythm, both pushing and pulling each other into deeper contact.

her hands are still wandering over your body, exploring every inch of your skin she can reach through the clothing that’s supposed to keep you warm but is severely restricting right now.

she draws you closer, her mouth by your ear, her voice a low, husky whisper, “i want you…i want you so badly…” she whispers. whether jackie means it or not, it works on you.

“don’t stop” you tell her, rocking into her equally desperately. at this point you can only pray that no one will hear the creaking floor boards. the sheets are a tangled mess around the two of you, the covers having slipped down to her waist as the heat between you escalates.

“jackie” you whisper, hoping the urgency to your tone will get the message across. judging by the way she nods erratically, that seems to be the case.

“yeah” she says, bobbing her head still. “yeah, me too”

you, embarrassed as you are, cum first. it’s quiet, your lips parted in a silent scream as jackie’s constant rocking sends you stumbling over the edge you’ve been toeing since she began straddling you. she watches you fall apart beneath her, not once slowing down or stopping altogether, determined to make herself cum too.

her eyes flutter and she struggles to keep her breathing steady as her hold on you tightens. “don’t- don’t you dare stop-“ she hisses, your pleasure not yet ebbing by the time she follows. jackie is beautiful, obviously, but you’ve never seen something that could ever compare to her when she makes herself come against you: her head falls back and her eyes close tightly. she’s biting her lower lip so harshly she could be drawing blood for the sake of not being too loud.

finally, after her body has gone tense for a couple of seconds, jackie slumps against you. she’s panting right into your ear, unable to speak as her orgasm washes over her. you can feel her thighs trembling around yours as she recovers.

for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of the two of you as the silence hangs heavy in the air. the cabin is quiet, the rest of the team blissfully unaware of what just happened a few feet away.

“holy shit” you finally breathe, unsure of what else to do or say. thankfully, jackie doesn’t move away like a part of you had anticipated. she stays right there, on top of you, giving you the courage to hesitantly wrap your arms around her and hold her to your chest.

if you don't move, you'll fall asleep like this and the others will have plenty of questions in the morning. still, neither of you has got the strength to get up, to move away from the heat you're providing. your eyes grow heavy before you know it. it's the first night of good sleep in a long time.

#jackie taylor Ღ #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #🪩 anon #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x female reader #jackie taylor x fem!reader #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellow jackets x female reader #yellow jackets x you

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