#i just think... it would be... really cool... (digging my hands into my knees)

[coweringnarcissus]

hey has anyone drawn fanart of the slip (nine inch nails) album cover with daniel yet. has this been done. has someone done this. can you direct me to the person who has done this (album cover attached below).

[nereidprinc3ss]

belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by. 

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety. 

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup  back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time. 

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice. 

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky. 

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language. 

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time. 

Instead, he thinks about dinner. 

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[moonsaver]

Brain rotting with the image of Veritas on his knees, pleading but also demanding..

----

"Dr.Ratio–"

"Veritas."

He insists, cutting you off. The small beat of silence is enough to deafen both of you, but you continue with a deep breath,

"..Veritas. Please. I can't ever consider this so please stop asking me–"

"I am begging, [Name]. Do you think any person of social standing would be on their knees right now?"

He looks at you with fervor in his eyes, brows tense from anxiety and poorly hidden desperation,

"[Name], just think."

Another beat of silence. He takes it as his initiative to continue,

"Think about what I am willing to offer. Imagine every detail of the life I am offering to you, [Name]. I am pleading to you."

The grip of his sturdy hands tightens over your knees, digging into the hollow where your bones end,

"Doct– Veritas, I.. can't. You know I can't accept such a condition.."

Your hands nervously but gently try to push his off, crescent marks forming from the digging of his nails into the thin skin of your knees, but he doesn't budge. His palms form warm sweat on the skin from the prolonged contact, not daring to move an inch. His chin ghosts the inside of your thighs, as he leans over more, looking up at you.

"[Name], we can go over this many, many times. You should have already come to know of my desperation. I will make compromises, so make up your mind. Time is a thin, linear membrane that continuously flows and awaits for none."

His eyebrows furrow even more, the nervous desperation being slowly replaced by irritation, and anger. Your back has started to ache from how tensed up you've been, your neck hurts from being held at an awkward angle, looking at Veritas. Just how long have you both been talking?

"I.. I don't know, Veritas.."

You've mentioned his first name this time, without any mishaps. Progress. Slow, but progress – he notes.

"I have made a multitude of compromises to our situation and agreement. Are you really not satisfied? What do you exactly desire?"

His tone is warning. He knows what you may say, and what you have been for the past several times. You know despite having him on his knees, he's the one deciding and placing every piece of the puzzle anyway. He won't extend any mercy to you.

"I.."

You bite your lip.

Freedom. You want to be out of his grip. Once and for all.

He knows.

He doesnt care.

"..Nothing. I just.. need some more time. Please."

Your voice comes out a bit softer than before. His grip relaxes on your knees, the skin finally decompressing a bit, given the extra space. The air sneaks in from small gaps, cooling down the skin coated with a thin layer of sweat.

"I trust.. you will make the right decision."

[mochiwrites]

couldn’t help writing a lil thing from @plumadot’s arts (linked here and here!)🥺👉👈 third life scarian possessed me so hard I broke out of my burn out for this reblogs would be really cool and awesome okaythankyou

——————————

“And how are preparations for Doom Day going, my good sir?” Scar’s voice is a light sound behind him, tone cheerful and inquisitive all at once.

Grian turns around from where he’s knee deep in sand, a small hole dug out in front of him. Scar comes to stand beside him, red eyes staring down at him. His gaze is soft, far too soft for a man who’s meant to be anything but.

With a soft noise, Grian pushes himself up to stand while dusting off his hands. He leaves his shovel in the ground by the hole. His wings flutter.

He hums, surveying the area. He gazes at the holes of sand, where the tnt will be set down, at the place where a bunker will be built. “Not bad, I’d say. I think this place’ll be ready by tomorrow or some time ‘round then.”

Scar whistles, moving to casually wrap an arm around the green life’s shoulders. “Amayzin’!” His lips lift in a smile. “Man, those Dogwarts guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“That’s if this trap even works, Scar,” Grian mutters, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. His traps have hardly worked all game, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t worried about this one failing too. “It has to,” he says, brows knitting together, “there’s too much riding on this one.”

His eyes trail over to Scar, who doesn’t seem to share his worries.

“Aw, c’mon G,” Scar starts as he pulls the other toward him. He tugs so that Grian’s facing him, their faces a few inches apart. Grian can feel how warm Scar is this close, can see the way his chest rises and falls. “I have total trust in you and your trapping skills. So relax a little, yeah?”

Grian frowns at him in turn. Speculation and trust aren’t good enough when up against his fail rate. He needs one hundred percent certainty. But he can’t just test this one. It’s a one time pull. “Scar—”

Careful fingers grab his chin, rough and calloused from the harsh conditions of the desert but still far too careful. Red names aren’t supposed to be careful or gentle, and yet here Scar is.

“I trust you,” Scar says again, and Grian doesn’t think this is how things are supposed to go. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought, and he’s sure it won’t be the last (provided they both survive this, that is). “You really do worry too much.”

“One of us has to while you’re off gallivanting around without a shirt on,” Grian grumbles while reaching for the edge of Scar’s cloak. He holds onto it, fingers digging into the fabric.

Scar lifts a playful brow at Grian’s comment, “Does that mean I look good while valligaggling?”

Grian snorts, the action laced with too much affection. “That’s not even a word, Scar,” he replies with a little laugh, one that makes Scar’s grin widen.

“It’s close enough,” the man hums in answer, their faces moving closer. His hand drops to Grian’s elbow, the other drawing him in closer by the waist. Red eyes flutter shut as his breath ghosts over Grian’s lips. “And it made you laugh.”

“Your priorities are seriously mixed up,” Grian’s voice is hardly above a whisper as watches as Scar draws in closer.

Their lips meet seconds later, chapped and warm. Grian stares at Scar’s face, the way the creases in his forehead smooth over and relax. He looks so content, a funny feeling to express when the powder keg is seconds from exploding.

It hardly takes any time at all for Scar to deepen the kiss, raising his hand from Grian’s elbow to hold the edge of his jaw. His thumb settles too close to Grian’s throat, yet not an ounce of fear runs through him. His eyes shut as he presses his lips back against Scar’s, a bit more pressure than the other applies. He catches Scar’s wrist in his hand, and his grip is a little tight at first (too tight for a green name). He has to remind himself to loosen his hand, but Scar never gives a reaction.

He simply angles Grian’s chin up slightly, hand shifting to cup his cheek. His fingers tangle in his hair, brushing against his ear.

It’s kind of a shame they’re blowing up the desert. He wouldn’t mind sharing more kisses with Scar out in the open chilly air like this.

Scar kisses him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He kisses him like he’s afraid of breaking him, and really it’s laughable how gentle he is with Grian. His eyes say he shouldn’t be.

(Ironic then, that Grian is wearing more red than him.)

It’s with a soft sigh that Scar pulls back, setting their foreheads against one another. So easily, so fluidly, he holds Grian’s face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing along his cheek. There’s a fond smile on his face, and Grian feels a little dazed by the sight.

“Gri,” Scar says quietly, a moment shared for only the two of them, “I need you to know, I—”

Some kind of alarm rings in Grian’s head, and he knows he cannot let Scar finish that sentence. Panic runs down his spine like electricity, zapping him. He sets his hands on Scar’s front, gently pushing back as he turns his head away.

“H-Haha, we’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?” he questions, some kind of desperate attempt to change the conversation. “We have a war to prepare for, remember?”

He doesn’t watch Scar’s face as he turns away, unable to face it. He turns his back to Scar, wings twitching behind him. Grian purposefully looks down at the sand before him, reminding himself of what he’s meant to be doing. “We, uh, have much to do still,” he says, trying to focus on anything but Scar. “I mean, unless you want me to lose my first life!”

Grian goes to say more, but two hands land on his shoulders, stopping him. He jumps just slightly, startled. Yet it doesn’t last long as he feels Scar’s warmth against his back. “…Scar,” he mumbles.

Arms wrap around him proper, holding him close. He feels Scar bury his face in his hair as the smell of lilacs and poppies flood his senses. “Just a little longer, okay?” the red name murmurs so softly.

Let me hold you for a little longer.

Stay with me for a little longer.

Pretend this’ll last for a little longer.

How selfish, Scar is. Grian looks down at the sand below, its mocking grains. He grabs hold of Scar, keeping him right where he is. “…I’m not going to die, Scar.”

“Promise me.” Scar’s arms tighten around him, giving away how much he needs Grian to stay alive. How much he treasures Grian, both his partnership and company.

Grian squeezes him. He supposes he’s a little selfish as well. “…I promise.”

Scar lets out a shaky breath, burying his face further into Grian’s hair.

They don’t move for a little while. A gentle red name and a green name clothed in far too much crimson. Together they stand, selfishly.

[shadowdaddies]

I Need You Most

Azriel x Reader angst → smut

for this request

warnings: smut below the cut, light bondage, shadow play, masturbation, p in v sex, oral f!receiving

You stormed into the bedroom, not bothering to hold the door open for Azriel who trailed closely behind. Practically ripping the shoes from your feet, you tossed them in the closet and reached around to loosen the ties on your dress.

Scarred hands gently covered yours. “Let me help,” your mate murmured, pulling the strings on the corset that you couldn’t reach. 

Before he could loosen the ties any further, you whipped around, face flushed red with anger. “Do not touch me right now,” you seethed, maneuvering around him back into the bedroom. Ignoring the awkward feeling of your half-done corset, you grabbed the book from your bedside table and moved to sit in one of the chairs by the hearth. 

Azriel slowly walked out of the closet, ever the cautious and assessing spymaster as he watched your movements with interest. Once you had taken your seat, he sat in the chair opposite you, hazel eyes burning into your skin as you struggled to focus on the pages in front of you.

“My love, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Az pressed gently, leaning forward with strong arms braced on his knees. 

Forcing yourself to bite back a bitter laugh at the question, you took a deep breath and set the book down. “You really don’t know why I might be upset, Azriel?” At his confused expression, you continued, “It seems as though you have a talent for noticing everything except me.”

Azriel’s eyes simmered with barely constrained anger at your digging comment. “If you would care to stop speaking in riddles and be straightforward with me, that would be much appreciated. I may be observant, but I am not daemati, love. I cannot read your mind.”

Shadows grew darker around Azriel, oscillating with the palpable irritation in the room. But instead of sticking to their master, they moved to join you. Cool whisps of darkness curled around you, giving cool caress to your heated skin as Azriel watched, guilt suddenly registering on his face. He knew that if his shadows were on your side, he was truly in the wrong.

“I’m sorry, angel. Please just tell me what is wrong so I can make it right.”

You relaxed slightly at his apology, tension thinning as you studied your mate’s worried expression. “You are away so often, Az, and I knew that would be the case when I accepted the mating bond. I love you for who you are, and I wouldn’t want to change that. But it’s hard for me when you leave me, and then hardly notice me when you are here.”

Azriel loosed a soft sigh, understanding exactly what you meant. It was a conversation you’d had before, that you sometimes felt second to his spymaster duties. He’d been working hard to show you that that wasn’t true, but coming home from this last mission was too exhausted to notice how much you needed him.

“You don’t understand how much I miss you. I think I need you more than you need me, and I feel pathetic for it, Az,” you admitted.

Azriel’s face fell, the Illyrian leaving his chair only to kneel in front of you, eyes pleading as warm hands rested on your knees. “I need you. Like air, I need you. I don’t know how I lived before you, and I’m sorry that I make you feel anything less than the beautiful, perfect mate that you are.”

You could feel Azriel’s love through the bond, pure adoration and longing sending electric sparks through you, at odds with his warm touch on your thighs, where you hadn’t felt him in so long. 

Suddenly, your face was flushed with a different kind of heat, and Az’s eyes darkened as the scent of your arousal grew. A knowing smirk stretched across his lips, the crooked smile showing off one dimple. 

“You beautiful, cruel female. You like when I’m on my knees for you?” he purred, voice rough as his hands slipped further between your thighs. 

You fought to keep your breaths even, eyes flicking to the chair where Azriel sat moments ago. “My love, I adore when you are on your knees, but I still don’t think you understand how badly I needed you today,” you teased, the sentence taking on a different meaning with your sultry tone that shot straight to Azriel’s cock.

Curling one finger beneath his chin, you lifted in gentle encouragement for him to stand before nodding towards his chair. “Sit, Azriel.”

As though the shadows could read your thoughts, they followed Azriel to the chair, twining around his wrists and ankles. Hazel eyes were blown so wide they appeared black, the scent of your mate’s arousal so strong it was dizzying. 

“I missed you,” you whispered, standing from your seat and dropping your corset in one smooth motion. The fabric was tossed to the side, your hands pulling at the sleeves of your chemise. “I missed your touch, your warmth,” you continued, the remainder of your clothing falling in a pool at your feet.

Azriel’s breathing grew rapid, chest heaving as his hardened cock strained against his pants. “I needed you, but you stayed just out of reach, teasing and taunting me,” you drawled as you relaxed back into your own chair, eyes on Azriel as you hiked one leg over the arm of the seat, baring your glistening pussy to him.

He audibly groaned at the sight, pulling helplessly against his shadows as they stayed secure to the furniture. “Please, my love. Let me take care of you,” he gritted out, eyes glassy with desire.

Humming nonchalantly, you allowed your hands to wander over your body, fingers skating delicate touches over your sensitive areas. “You may take care of me once I think you’ve learned what it feels like to need me, to be truly desperate for my touch,” you replied, flashing him a wild grin as you dipped a finger into your entrance.

Pulling out your finger, you held it up to show off your slick in the firelight, eyes fixed on his reaction when you slipped the digit into your mouth, moaning dramatically as you sucked it clean. Releasing your finger with a ‘pop,’ you slid the wet hand down your body, toying with your nipples before resting above your core.

“This is what I do when you are not here to pleasure me, Azriel,” you breathed, gathering wetness on your fingers as they found your clit, rubbing slow circles there. 

“I use my fingers,” you continued, thrusting two fingers inside of you with a moan, “and I pretend they’re yours. I pretend it’s you, hitting that perfect spot inside of me.” Curling your fingers towards that spot, you moaned Azriel’s name, bucking your hips as you shamelessly chased your high in front of him. 

You heard him grunting and groaning in his seat, his need for you only turning you on more, which he seemed to realize. “Good girl. Move your fingers a little faster, just like that. Can you rub your clit for me?” he breathed, in awe as you obeyed his commands, letting him guide you to your orgasm.

Your eyes flew open as you crashed into your high, body writhing against the sofa when you looked to Azriel, jaw dropping in ecstasy while he watched you with a white knuckle grip against the restraints. 

Breathless, you relaxed into the cushions, a lazy smile on your features. “That is how desperate, how needy I am for you,” you whispered. 

“But it’s never the same. I crave your touch, your love,” you confessed, bare body shining with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved to stand just out of Azriel’s reach. “It’s a delicious torture, this power you have over me - at least when you’re there for me when I need you. Does that make sense?”

Azriel swallowed thickly, hips rolling in any attempt at relief. “Yes, it does. I need you, too, love. To take care of you, to touch you, to love you.” He strained again against his unrelenting shadows, and you smirked at the tendrils of darkness and their loyalty to you. “Let me touch you, please,” his hoarse voice begged.

“Not quite yet, Az. Soon enough,” you promised, moving to straddle his lap, body pressed firm against his. “I want to take advantage of this moment,” you admitted, fingers threading through onyx locks to pull him in for a passionate kiss.

Starting soft and slow, the kiss quickly grew frantic into a clash of teeth and tongues, bodies desperately writhing against each other in search of friction. Your lips left his, trailing down his jaw - kissing, biting, licking the skin along his neck. Hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, new wetness pooling between your thighs at the sight of his toned chest.

“Fuck,” Azriel gritted out, cock twitching from the feeling of your slick soaking through his pants. You smirked, kissing down his chest until you arrived at the waistband of his pants, kissing along the lines of his muscles there.

“Up,” you murmured, Azriel obeying to lift his hips so you could slide his pants down, his leaking cock hitting his stomach as he groaned in relief. 

Straddling the Illyrian once more, your fingertips brushed teasing strokes along his cock as he cursed and pleaded incoherently. “I love you,” you whispered, rubbing his tip against your folds before sliding down his length, your moans swallowed by his lips on yours.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he muttered, hips thrusting up to meet you as you bounced on his dick. Rolling your hips forward and back, you felt him hit every inch of you with each thrust. 

The pleasure was too much, legs growing shaky as you grew weak above him. Shadows sensing the shift, they released their master, Azriel wasting no time before grabbing your hips and jackhammering up into you.

Limp, your head feel against his shoulder as you took everything he gave you, nails scratching his back and torso as you hit another orgasm. 

Azriel’s thrusts grew sloppier, his breathing hard in your ear when you felt him twitch inside of you, his warmth filling you up as he came. 

“I missed that,” you muttered, shifting to press a kiss to his shoulder where your head had been resting. 

“Oh, this night is far from over, love,” Azriel purred, hand sliding under your ass as he picked you up and walked to the bed. Tossing you onto the sheets, he quickly grabbed your thighs, warm hands running along the sensitive skin. “I wanted to worship you, and I will until you are begging me to stop,” he growled, shadows twining around your wrists to pull them taut over your head.

A shiver of delight coursed through you, squirming under your mate’s hold as you prepared yourself for a long night. 

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 4 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

Chapter Summary: An earthquake hits LA, and you hold on for dear life.

A/N: You know what would be cool? If you left a comment :) Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: mentions of trauma/injury

“Alright, speed-round: if you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?” Bobby asks as he cooks breakfast.

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, nursing your second cup of coffee. Everyone’s shift started two and a half hours ago, right at 5 am. There hasn’t been a call for the 118 yet, so Bobby’s taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Fighter pilot: Topgun. Call sign: shogun,” Chim answers as he digs into his omelet.

Hen laughs.

“What about you, Hen?” You smile.

“Editorial cartoonist, The New Yorker. I have a lot to say,” she says as she sits down.

You raise your eyebrows as the men share a look.

“You draw?” Bobby asks, surprised.

“No, it's a dream. It's not supposed to be attainable,” Hen argues. She looks at you. “What would you be?”

“You know, ever since I was a kid, I loved helicopters,” you remark. “During paramedic training, I learned about flight nursing and thought that was super cool. I guess I would be a flight nurse.”

You go back to drinking your coffee, but everyone stays silent. You look up to find them staring at you.

You chuckle in confusion. “What?”

“Girl, you could go do that now if you wanted to,” Hen says.

“I can’t just decide to be a nurse,” you argue.

“You could go be a flight paramedic if you wanted to,” Bobby says. “And since you’re an advanced paramedic, you can become a nurse in like, half the normal time.”

You frown. “Seriously?”

He nods. “There are a lot of paramedic-to-RN bridge programs out there. California prefers nurses with bachelor’s degrees, but you could get your associate’s degree and go from there. You might need some hospital experience to beef up your resume, but otherwise, you’d be a shoo-in.”

Chim looks at Bobby in disbelief. “Why would you tell her all of that?”

He laughs. “What?”

“You’re gonna make her leave!” Hen exclaims. She sets her head on your shoulder. “We don’t want her to leave—we love her.”

You smile and pat Hen’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving. I love what I do right now, and I love the people I do it with. That’s why it’s just a dream.”

It’s true: you love what you do… most of the time. When you don’t love it, you really fucking hate it. But that’s anywhere. You should just count your blessings, cut your losses, or whatever the expression is.

Buck joins you all, grabbing an apple from the bowl between you and Hen.

“Buckaroo, If you were not a member of the LAFD, what would you be doing?” Chim asks.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Buck frowns as he sits beside you. “I’m not getting fired, am I?”

Bobby gives him a look of contemplation that makes you snort.

Chim casually takes another bite. “That’s inevitable.”

“He’d be a golden retriever,” Hen chimes in.

“No, a bartender,” Chim says. “No, no, a bouncer at a bar.”

“A bouncer at a strip club,” you correct him.

Chim and Hen high-five each other, then you. You turn to your side. Buck has a small smile on his face, but you can tell something is eating at him.

“What’s going on, Pretty Boy?” you ask. When he meets your gaze, you offer (what you hope is) an encouraging smile.

“Traffic sucks in this town unless you're driving ten tons of engine with sirens,” Buck says. “It took me almost two hours to get from my place to the call center downtown, then back over here. I told Maddie she needs to start Ubering.”

You frown at the mention of ‘Maddie,’ a name you haven’t heard before. Does Buck have a girlfriend? And they’re already living together? Something about that doesn’t sit right with you. It feels like a piece of lead took residence in your stomach, and the space between your lungs and ribs got slightly smaller.

“Maddie?” You ask, trying to sound neutral.

“My sister,” Buck clarifies.

The lead in your stomach evaporates. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister. She’s living with you?”

“For now, until she finds a place of her own,” Buck nods.

You nod as well. “How are things going?”

“Well, she’s a Buckley, so she’s practically running the place,” Buck says.

Bobby offers him a plate, which he accepts. He stands up to go to the table, and on his way over, he pats your shoulder twice. When he’s out of sight, Hen cocks her head and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You ask her, deadpan.

“‘Maddie’?” she repeats, mocking how you said her name.

“It was a question.”

“You sounded like a jealous girlfriend,” Hen laughs.

“I’m not jealous, and I’m definitely not his girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t be,” Hen says in a sing-song voice as she stands.

“Yeah, you better run,” you threaten playfully as she approaches the table.

She flips you the bird, and you laugh loudly.

The first call of the shift is to a building affected by an earthquake. It sounds like the scene already has plenty of paramedics, so for the first time in a long time, you’re in firefighter gear and will be helping pull victims from the site. It’s not your favorite thing to do all the time—that’s what the rescue team is for. Every once in a while isn’t bad, though. It gets your blood pumping like paramedicine does; you only tend to use your muscles more than your brain. It’s also fun to sit in an engine instead of the rig for a change.

Eddie is next to you, and since getting on, he hasn’t looked up from his phone. His brow is furrowed, and his forehead is already shining with sweat.

You lean over, knowing you’ll still have to yell for him to hear you over the engine and sirens. “Everything okay?”

He looks at you, then back at his phone. “Yeah, no service. Texts won’t even get through.”

He’s pissed, and you have no clue why.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Who are you trying to get a hold of?”

Eddie stares at you momentarily, then looks around the engine at the other passengers.

“My son,” he eventually explains. “I’m trying to reach my son.”

“Woah, you got a kid?!” Buck exclaims.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, pulling up a picture on his phone. He shows you, then Buck. “He’s seven.”

“He looks like a sweet kid,” you say.

“Yeah, he’s super adorable,” Buck agrees. “I uh, I love kids.”

“I love this one,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s not in the picture.”

“He’s at school right now?” You ask, tilting your head.

Eddie nods.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you say, patting his knee reassuringly.

Eddie glances from your hand to your face. He nods slightly and gives you a closed-mouth smile. He wants to believe you, but his parental instincts tell him not to. You get it. No one but Chris can quell that anxiety.

You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window.

The damaged building is one of the craziest things you’ve seen in a long time. It’s on the corner, leaning out over the street below. All of the buildings around it look fine on the outside. It truly looks like something from an apocalyptic movie.

“You guys ever deal with anything like this before?” Eddie asks once you’re all standing on the sidewalk.

Bobby shakes his head, still staring up at the building. “Nope.”

A cop is escorting a couple down the sidewalk. They’re fighting her to go back.

“You have to let me back in there, my baby is in there!” The woman screams.

“Please, our daughter is still inside!” The man protests as an officer pushes him back. “She’s eight years old! Her name is Kat!”

Your stomach is in knots. This is why you don’t like working rescue. As a paramedic, you don’t know what you’re walking into. When you work search and rescue, you know what you’ll find; you just might not like it.

You follow your team as Bobby looks for the Incident Commander. You begin walking through a makeshift medical bay, and you can see that they’ve already implemented disaster protocol triage. Each patient is wearing a tag with their assigned triage color. Green means stable, yellow means a serious injury but not an emergency, red means an immediate threat to life, and black indicates death or injuries incompatible with life. You mostly see green and yellow, which is a good sign.

You overhear some of what Chief Williams, the Incident Commander, and Bobby are discussing. Essentially, the building is on a fault line, and the only thing keeping it upright is some steel, so one aftershock and the whole thing could come down.

Bobby faces you all. “Okay, listen up: Here's how you make it to the end of the day. You don't worry about the things that you can't do anything about. Focus on one task at a time. I can't order you guys to go inside that building, and I'm not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

“Where do you want us?” Is the first thing Eddie asks.

Bobby is pulled to help with triage, while Chim and Hen see a woman on the 11th floor needing rescue. This left you with Eddie and Buck by default, who are tasked with sweeping the ground floor in search of any survivors or rescue teams that may need additional assistance.

You find some bodies that you leave black tags on and spray paint an ‘x’ on a landmark near them. You aren’t entirely sure you believe in god, but just in case, you also send a prayer.

“How does it feel to be in on the action for once?” Buck asks with a grin. “Ya know, instead of standing outside waiting like you normally do.”

“So far? I’m not loving it,” you retort, ducking under a massive piece of concrete.

A firefighter from a different crew approaches you, a victim in tow.

“Need any help?” Eddie asks.

“All good,” The firefighter replies. “There’s a kid maybe 50 feet back, he needs EMTs. Bad.”

“Is it a little girl?” you ask, thinking of Kat. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you want the answer to be.

“No, an African American teenager,” he clarifies.

“Fire and Rescue, hello?!” Buck shouts.

“Right here!” A voice shouts back. “Thank god, man, he’s stuck!”

The three of you have to crawl across a beam to get to him. You’re the last one to make it across, and Buck hands you your bag once you do. You give him a single nod, which he returns.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” You ask with a smile as you approach the victim.

A man is holding one of his hands, and the other is cradling his head. He doesn’t appear to be his father, but you can tell they know each other somehow. You can see why: his injury is brutal. His left leg is trapped under a massive concrete support beam, one that normally goes from the ceiling to the floor.

“Jeff,” he answers shakily.

“You already try and move some debris, see if you can pull him free?” Eddie asks as he gets a set of vitals.

“The second we touched the beam, everything above started shifting,” the man responds.

Buck stares up. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. It looks like this debris is holding up this section of the ceiling. If we try to pull it out of the way, this whole area could cave in.”

“My friend Eddie and I are gonna stablize your neck, okay Jeff?” You say as you get the c-collar out of your pack.

Eddie holds C-spine as you slide the collar around Jeff’s neck.

“I-I can’t move it, coach,” Jeff says. “How bad is it?”

“Hey, bones heal, alright?” His coach replies.

“Sir, this firefighter is gonna lead you out of here,” Buck interrupts.

“No, screw that, I’m staying, alright? This kid is a son to me.”

“Okay, we need to focus all of our attention on Jeff right now. We can't be worried about your safety, too,” Buck insists. “Now go.”

A sense of pride swells in your heart. Buck is taking charge of the situation, similar to how Bobby would. Sometimes, you can hardly believe this is the same guy who got fired for not respecting the job.

Buck approaches you. “What’ve we got?”

“Crushed tibia and fibula,” you answer. “Looks like it missed any major arteries.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what do you think?”

Both Buck and Eddie begin talking. They frown and glance at each other, then at you.

Your cheeks burn a little. “Um, Buck is Pretty Boy.”

Buck gives a little shit-eating grin.

“Huh, sounds like there’s a story there,” Eddie notes.

The three of you are standing in a small circle, out of earshot from Jeff. You’re trying to decide what the next step is, and the boys have considered every option… except yours.

“What if we try chipping away at the debris, try to make headway,” Eddie suggests.

“Are you crazy? The entire goddamn building could come crashing down us,” you argue. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. There’s one option: we get a trauma surgeon in here, and Jeff loses his leg instead of his life.”

“Basketball is his life,” Buck says. His arms are folded across his chest, and he sways back and forth a little as he thinks.

“Yeah, Well, it isn’t just his life at stake,” you retort. “We’re here too, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to die so a kid can play with a ball. That’s also assuming, by the way, that his leg is even salvageable when all is said and done. And it might not be.”

“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Eddie shrugged. “We have to at least try, right?”

“Okay, I know you boys are super into the whole ‘badass, lifesaving, run-into-danger’ firefighter thing, but we have to be realistic. This isn’t just Jeff we’re talking about. Hell, this isn’t just about the four of us. It’s about everyone above us, too: Hen, Chim, and god knows how many other firefighters and survivors. Risking all of their lives for one person isn’t heroic—it’s stupid.”

“What about an airbag?” Buck says to Eddie. “We shore up this pocket we're in. get an air bag to lift up the beam that’s pinning him down.”

Eddie nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that could work.”

You tap your mouth like it’s a microphone. “Is this thing on?”

Buck sighs. “Look, we can’t just—”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jeff interrupts your conversation. “Shouldn’t I get a vote?”

You look at Jeff, then back at your coworkers. Without saying anything, you all move back over to Jeff, surrounding him in a formation similar to before.

“Jeff, what do you want to to do?” You ask, gently taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand. “I may be able to live without my leg, but I don’t know if I can live knowing I could have saved it, but didn’t.”

You smile and nod. You look to Buck and Eddie. “Then we try the airbags.”

“Alright, Jeff, you ready?” Buck asks.

Buck is at Jeff’s shoulders, Eddie is at his hip, and you’re crouched at his feet. Buck and Eddie will move Jeff once the airbag deploys, and it’s your job to make sure he’s clear.

Jeff nods. “Yeah, but if things go wrong, leave me and save yourselves. This is my choice to try this.”

“Eh, I kind of like you, so now you’re stuck with me,” you joke. You get at least a chuckle out of everyone. “All four of us are getting out of here.”

“That’s right,” Eddie agrees, “with all 8 legs.”

Buck leans in a little closer to Jeff. “Now, Jeff, she gave you some morphine, but once we move you, it’s gonna hurt like hell. You ready?”

Jeff agrees, quietly at first but then loudly. “Yeah. Yeah, Yeah. Yeah, come on, we’re the champs.”

You smile and can almost taste how bittersweet the expression is. Buck and Eddie quickly catch on and begin agreeing.

“Yeah, we’re the champions!” Buck shouts.

“We got this! Yeah, we got this!” Eddie yells.

Eventually, the three of them just yell in similar octaves. They sound like a bunch of little boys excited to play a game. You have to blink a few times, holding back tears.

Buck counts down, then turns a nozzle to deploy the airbag. You can hear some cracking sounds but feel no slack on Jeff’s leg.

“Anything?!” Buck shouts.

“A little more!” Eddie shouts back.

Debris begins to fall on your shoulders, and you can feel the surface below you shaking.

“Come, come on, come on—”

Jeff’s leg is suddenly free enough, and you and Eddie pull him to the side.

In seconds, the three of you have him on the backboard, splinted, and ready for transport. Each of you is singing your praises to Jeff, encouraging him, and assuring him he did a good job. The boys get him onto the platform your team crawled in on. The boys are doing the heavy lifting, so you let them go first.

As you start to slide across the beam, you catch something in the corner of your eye. It’s a pink and purple sneaker, likely a child’s.

“Kat?” you shout, digging for your flashlight. “Kat?!”

After getting Jeff out, you confirm that Kat was wearing pink and purple shoes, which means she’s stuck somewhere in the building. The three of you return to the building with additional firefighters, all calling out Kat’s name.

An aftershock begins. Everything around you begins shaking, and you can feel the ground start to give. It makes your stomach do a few backflips. There’s a massive shift below you, and before you even realize it’s happening, you’re falling between two segments. For a moment, you hear Eddie and Buck call your name. Then, all you can hear is the world falling on top of you.

Eventually, everything becomes still. You reach for your radio, trying to get unpinned from whatever came crashing down on you. “Buck?! Eddie?!”

You can’t explain it, but you can feel you’re in a different spot. The air didn’t just get colder; it’s like the actual pressure of the atmosphere shifted.

You find there’s some slack above your legs, so you begin kicking. “Is anyone down here?!”

“Hey,” a gravely voice calls out.

You grunt a few times as you pry and pull yourself from the rubble. When you break free, you see a trapped firefighter a few feet away. His legs are completely obstructed, and he’s pressed flat on his back.

“Hey, 221, right?” you say, opening your medi bag. “We ran into some of your boys earlier. I’m 118.”

“Russ, 221,” he confirms.

“Russ, where’s your radio?” You ask as you look around. “Mine’s toast.”

“I don’t have one,” he rasps out, “all radios were issued out. It’s not my shift?”

You feel a pull on your heartstrings. “ Oh my god, you came in on your day off, Russ?”

“Eh, I had nothing better to do,” He jokes with a weak laugh.

You begin looking around and think of various ways to free Russ. You first try pushing the debris away, which proves unsuccessful. You then try pulling Russ out, and when that doesn’t work, you try using your fire axe as a jack.

“There’s gotta be an actual jack in one of these cars,” you say, swinging your head around as you try to locate the nearest vehicle.

“Don’t waste your strength or your time,” Russ protests.

“Enough of that, Russ,” you gently scold. “We’re both getting out of here, okay?”

“I’m not. Fractured pelvis, flail chest... Even I couldn't save me, and... you don't know me, but I'm good.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I’m better,” You argue, finding a nearby car door. You open it. “Hang in there.”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Russ coughs. You rush to his side, and it looks like he’s spitting up blood. “Help's not coming. Not in time, anyway. So, please, my kit. The morphine. Give me a bolus.” He coughs and moans a little. “Oh, make it three.”

“I'll give you one, just to keep you comfortable, but we're not giving up, okay?” You say as you begin rifling through your bag.

“Are you married?” Russ asks.

You shake your head. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Well, I was,” Russ explains. “She was always worrying that I wouldn't... make it back home to see her. Decided maybe it's better if I just stopped coming home altogether. I think maybe she was... onto something.”

You’re drawing up the last little bit of morphine when Russ goes quiet. You drop the syringe and shake his shoulders. “Russ?! Russ!”

You put your fingers to his neck, but you know you aren’t going to find a pulse. His eyes are already glazed over, his face totally relaxed.

You throw the syringe of morphine as hard as you can, curling up into a ball. “Dammit.”

You stay like that for a while, probably longer than you should. A few silent tears stream down your face. You eventually wipe away your tears, close Russ’s eyes, and continue forward.

You go for as long as you can, but the air gets so thin that it becomes hard to breathe. At some point, you stumble to your feet, leaning back against some rubble behind you. You take in a few deep breaths, and you exhale them as sobs.

Wiping at your eyes again, you reach for your phone. It’s something you never wanted to do, but it feels like the right decision. When you find your phone, you click into the voice memo app.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say, letting out a cough. “I’m sorry you have to hear them this way, but you deserve some last words from me, so here I go: working with you has been the greatest pleasure of my life.”

You record one for each of your co-workers, your family members.

“Chim, I always thought of you as a mentor…”

“Hen, your friendship has meant the absolute world to me…”

“Eddie, I haven’t known you for long, but I’m glad I got to meet you…”

“Pretty Boy,” you laugh, then cough again. “Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?”

A few tears fall from your face as you end the recording. You take a few deep breaths before marching onward.

Ch 5

[solxamber]

Hi sol!!! My first request!!! :333

Yayy I'm happy we're moots <33 be sure to always stay healthy, drink water and stuff and have a good day/night/afternoon/evening :)

Anywaysss here's my request! (This is Romantic btw 😝)

Deuce, Riddle, Ace, Epel with a reader (I say reader, just as a gender neutral term lol, also can the reader be in Pomefiore? :3) who is like a perfect role model for people— They're smart, kind and always understanding, mature. But what made them like the reader even more is that: even while they are all the aspects of a perfect model student; at the same time, they aren't like that sometimes.

They are understanding to people and responsible with their academics, but they also have a mischievous side— they can be a bit snarky and reckless in certain situations, they can effortlessly balance out their responsibility in school with their mischievousness (which sort of made them fall for the reader even more, bc they sound so cool and shi)

If the reader was with Ace, Epel. They'll show a more responsible and mature approach, they aren't entirely strict (unlike both of their housewardens) but will always tell them if they're doing something that would get them in trouble. But they do have slight instances where they are a bit out of character.. Like how the reader climbed a whole ass tree in their Pomefiore uniform to grab an item that was stuck on the tree (even if they could just grab it with magic) and gave it back

But on the other hand, If they were with Riddle, Deuce— I guess you could say that they can be responsible and mature, but with a more visible hint of mischief. They annoy Riddle for fun, teasing Deuce if he didn't know something that was pretty obvious already (they apologize, of course). Like how they annoyed Riddle so bad that they got collared, but came back with a strawberry tart that was decorated with red and white roses or how they slightly chuckle when Deuce is confused...

LIKE.. DO YOU GET MY VISION PELAKSEEEL ☹️☹️☹️😭😭😭 PLEASE GET IT... I KNOW MY ASK IS A BIT LING BUT THIS IS EATING MY BRAIN ☹️☹️

Deuce, Riddle, Ace, Epel with a Pomefiore! reader

omg hi 🫶🫶 I think I saw the vision but let me know if you wanted something different!

Deuce Spade

Deuce had always admired how perfect you seemed—a Pomefiore student, embodying grace, responsibility, and intelligence. It was hard not to look up to you. You were someone who aced all your tests, helped classmates without a second thought, and stayed out of trouble. Or so he thought.

It wasn’t until you found him trying to fix an overgrown potion plant that things started to shift. Deuce, sweating buckets, was yanking at the roots of the plant, clearly struggling. “I don’t get it! How did this thing grow so fast? It’s like a magic beanstalk on steroids!”

You watched him for a moment, amused. “Deuce, you’re pulling at the wrong part. You need to loosen the soil around the roots first. Want some help?”

Deuce looked up, grateful, only to realize you weren’t offering your help with magic. Instead, you were already on your hands and knees, digging into the soil. The sight of a Pomefiore student willingly getting dirt under their perfectly manicured nails had him wide-eyed. He was about to say something when you added, “Come on, get in here, or we’ll be stuck dealing with this all day.”

It wasn’t just your willingness to get dirty that caught him off guard. It was your mischievousness. When he finally asked you about it, you just smiled, saying, “Being perfect is boring, Deuce. Sometimes, you’ve got to do things the fun way. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

And just like that, you made him laugh, breaking through his seriousness. You’d joke with him when he messed up, but never in a mean way. “Wow, Deuce, did you really forget to add the salamander tail? That’s like the second step of the potion.” And when he’d look at you in frustration, you’d quickly add, “I’m just teasing. Here, let’s fix it.”

He even started looking forward to your teasing. It wasn’t mocking—it was gentle, almost affectionate, and when you laughed, he found himself laughing too. One day, after a particularly exhausting lecture, you came up to him with a sly grin. “So, Deuce, how does it feel to know the square root of 144? Life-changing, right?”

He groaned but couldn’t help smiling. “Shut up…”

But the real turning point was when you climbed a tree in your pristine Pomefiore uniform. You were helping Deuce and Ace find something stuck in a tree—some stupid ball or something—and instead of using magic, you hauled yourself up the trunk like it was nothing. Deuce gawked, his brain short-circuiting as he watched you hop from branch to branch.

“You know you could’ve just… used magic, right?” he asked when you finally hopped back down, tossing the ball to Ace.

You shrugged, “Where’s the fun in that?”

From that day on, Deuce couldn’t stop thinking about you. Sure, you were responsible, smart, and reliable—but you were also fun, mischievous, and surprisingly laid-back. It was a combination that made his heart race. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to impress you more or just keep watching as you effortlessly balanced it all with that mischievous smirk.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle was never the type to be easily impressed—especially by someone who didn’t follow the rules to the letter. But you? You were an exception. Not only were you the perfect role model, responsible and composed, but you somehow managed to bend the rules without ever really breaking them. It was infuriating.

The first time you caught his attention was when you strolled into the Heartslabyul rose garden, completely ignoring the chaos around you. Students were scurrying left and right, trying to meet the latest rule Riddle had imposed. But you? You sat down calmly with a book, unbothered by the hustle and bustle.

“What are you doing here?” Riddle asked, standing over you with his arms crossed. “Shouldn’t you be studying for the upcoming alchemy test?”

You looked up, your smile the picture of innocence. “I already finished studying. Plus, fresh air helps with brain function, doesn’t it?”

Riddle blinked, thrown off by your response. Technically, you weren’t breaking any rules. But something about your calm demeanor did break his sense of order.

The second time you caught his attention was during a dorm meeting when you lightly teased him about his obsession with rules. “Riddle, you ever consider relaxing? Maybe just once?”

He stared at you, utterly scandalized. “Relax? During an official dorm meeting?”

You just grinned. “Just saying. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

Later that day, you upped the ante when you “accidentally” bumped into him and knocked a basket of strawberries onto the ground. Of course, you smiled sweetly, apologizing as you bent to pick them up, but then you slipped in a strawberry tart, decorated with red and white roses.

Riddle stared at it, completely baffled. “Did you—Did you paint roses on a tart?”

“Only the best for the Queen,” you replied with a wink, referencing the infamous Alice in Wonderland scene.

Riddle turned beet red, not from anger but because—against his will—he found it funny. He hated it. You were making him laugh, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Then, came the day you pushed him too far. You were teasing him, playfully challenging one of his many rules, and before you knew it—bam. Collar. You were collared.

But instead of being embarrassed or angry, you sauntered off and returned ten minutes later, holding up a plate of beautifully decorated rose-themed sweets. “Am I forgiven yet?”

Riddle stared at the plate, his face a mix of emotions. “You… can’t just—fine. But only because you followed the correct procedure for apology.”

What really sealed the deal was when you noticed how exhausted Riddle was after a long day. You didn’t say anything, but the next time he sat down, there was a cup of tea waiting for him—perfectly brewed. You didn’t even mention it, just went about your day as if it was no big deal. But for Riddle, it was a very big deal. You weren’t just smart and responsible—you were kind, mischievous, and somehow always knew exactly what he needed. And that terrified and intrigued him all at once.

Ace Trappola

Ace was always drawn to people who could keep up with his chaotic energy, and from the outside, you seemed like the last person who would. You were responsible, always got top marks, and never seemed to get in trouble like he did. You were a Pomefiore student through and through, the perfect picture of elegance and order. Or at least, that’s what Ace thought—until you proved him wrong in the most unexpected ways.

One afternoon, Ace was busy concocting his latest scheme—rigging a classroom window so that it would slam shut the moment someone opened it. Classic prank, a little outdated, but effective. Deuce stood beside him, nervously watching while Ace fiddled with the mechanism.

Just when Ace was about to finish, you appeared out of nowhere, your usual calm expression fixed on your face. “A window prank, Ace? Really?” you teased, looking unimpressed. “You’ve got to come up with something more original.”

Ace, expecting you to lecture him, leaned back with a smug grin. “What’s wrong? You too perfect to appreciate a good prank?”

But instead of walking away or scolding him, you walked over, inspected the rigging, and—with a sly grin—yanked one of the cords so that it was perfectly calibrated to snap the window shut just as someone walked by. “There. Now it’ll make a better sound when it slams shut.”

Ace blinked. “Wait—you’re actually helping me?”

You shrugged, your grin widening. “Might as well. You were doing it wrong anyway.”

And that was the moment Ace realized you weren’t just some stuck-up, model student. You were fun, and a lot sneakier than you let on.

It didn’t stop there. One day, the two of you were walking across campus when Ace noticed something strange. A lone broom was sitting outside of the library, left behind after flying class. You glanced at it, then at Ace, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. “I bet I can stand on it.”

Ace was taken aback. “You mean ride it?”

“No,” you smirked. “I mean stand on it.”

Before Ace could stop you, you were hopping onto the broom in your immaculate Pomefiore uniform, balancing on it like a circus performer. The broom wobbled as you grinned at Ace, one foot on the handle, your arms outstretched. “See? Easy.”

Ace gaped at you, half expecting you to fall off. “You know you’re going to break your neck, right? I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one!”

“I’m responsible,” you said, hopping off the broom with a graceful landing. “I just know how to have fun.”

Ace didn’t know what to make of you. You weren’t just cool—you were insane in the best possible way. Who else would try to balance on a broom like it was a tightrope, in broad daylight, in front of the library? And still look like they had everything under control?

From then on, Ace couldn’t help but admire how you could be both the perfect student and completely unpredictable. One moment you’d be helping him with his homework, making sure he didn’t fail his classes, and the next, you’d be standing on a broom or rigging a prank right alongside him. You made the impossible look easy, and Ace was falling hard.

There was one day that really sealed the deal for him. After a long lecture, Ace was goofing off with Deuce, trying to sneak a piece of fruit out of the cafeteria without getting caught. You, being the mature one, walked up and raised an eyebrow. “Stealing now, are we?”

Ace snorted. “Come on, it’s just a piece of fruit. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Without missing a beat, you took the apple out of his hand, then tossed it over your shoulder—straight into the trash. “The worst thing is you could get caught.”

Ace stared at you in disbelief, then burst out laughing. You were sharp, clever, and always a step ahead of him. And it wasn’t long before he realized that maybe, just maybe, you were the one pranking him the entire time—by being so ridiculously cool without even trying.

Epel Felmier

Epel admired you from the moment you stepped into Pomefiore. You were the perfect model student—always well-behaved, top of your class, and you embodied the elegance Vil demanded. But what made Epel really start paying attention was that you weren’t just some delicate, rule-following Pomefiore statue. You were responsible, sure, but there was a wild side to you that came out in the most unexpected ways.

Take that time during broom riding practice, for example. Epel had seen you fly gracefully like it was second nature, while he was busy trying to not look like a complete disaster on his broom. Then, out of nowhere, you decided to take things to a whole new level. The instructor wasn’t paying attention, so you zoomed ahead of everyone, grinning like a maniac.

Epel watched in awe as you performed a perfect loop-de-loop before swooping down so fast you nearly gave Vil a heart attack. And, of course, you landed as if nothing happened, straightening your uniform and looking as poised as ever.

“Y-You can do tricks like that?” Epel asked, mouth agape.

You shrugged, brushing off the dust from your shoes. “It’s just flying. Gotta make it fun somehow.”

Epel couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

That day, Epel realized you were someone who could balance responsibility with freedom. He had always struggled with the restrictions of Pomefiore’s rigid beauty standards, but you managed to be both elegant and daring. It was like watching someone walk a tightrope with ease, and he was more than a little impressed.

But the thing that really cemented his admiration for you happened after one particularly intense Pomefiore training session. Vil had them all practicing their etiquette, posture, and poise, and Epel was on the verge of snapping. He wasn’t built for all this fancy stuff—he just wanted to be himself, rough edges and all.

After the session ended, you found Epel sulking by the fountain, muttering curses under his breath about how “ridiculous” all this refinement was.

“Need a break from all the beauty drills?” you asked, sitting down beside him.

Epel sighed, frustrated. “I just don’t get it. Why do we have to be so… proper all the time? Ain’t no one back home cared about sittin’ all pretty.”

You nodded, understanding. “I get it. Sometimes all this elegance stuff can be stifling.”

Epel looked at you in surprise. “You? I thought you were like… the perfect student. You never seem bothered by it.”

You chuckled softly. “That’s ‘cause I’ve learned how to balance it out. You gotta know when to let loose. Speaking of which…”

Without another word, you stood up, pulled your shoes off, and started wading into the fountain like it was the most natural thing in the world. Epel stared at you in disbelief.

“What in tarnation are you doin’?” he asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Cooling off,” you replied with a mischievous grin. “C’mon, you’ll feel better.”

Epel hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and kicked off his shoes, joining you in the fountain. You both splashed around, laughing like kids, completely disregarding the stares from the other Pomefiore students passing by. It was the most fun he’d had in weeks, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” Epel laughed, wiping water from his face.

“Maybe,” you replied with a wink. “But sometimes, a little crazy is exactly what we need.”

From that day on, Epel saw you as more than just a perfect role model. You were someone who understood the pressure of perfection but also knew how to break free from it when necessary. And the fact that you didn’t mind getting a little reckless now and then? Well, that just made him like you even more.

Later, as the two of you dried off by the fountain, Epel found himself smiling—really smiling—for the first time in a while. You weren’t just cool; you were fearless, and that was something he admired more than anything.

Masterlist

[bellarkeselection]

Walter to the Rescue

Gif not mine it belongs to @alphinias

After a ride in the woods late at night you wind up getting lost and to the readers surprise Cole actually answers your call.

Tag list - @cognacdelights

Kicking my horse in the belly to go faster with the wind running through my hair that I left completely loose. This wasn’t the first time I had taken one of the Walter family's horses to clear my head from a day of high school. It all could be a lot especially when everyone in this town knows you have a close family relationship with the Walter kids. Because it only results in half the school thinking you're sleeping with some of them. “Woah boy. Easy now.”

My horse begins making some noise in protest hearing some thunder off in the distance. I knew that horses could get spooked easy but I wasn't too worried about it. Alex had taught me how to keep your cool on them. Looking around at the treeline the leaves have already begun changing colors making it really beautiful. “Ah!” I screamed suddenly when lighting hit the ground in front of me and that caused my horse to whine and throw me off its back.

“Ow! No wait…” I called out to my horse but he was already far off into the treeline. Running a hand through my hair I sighed seeing that the sky was getting darker meaning there was a storm coming. Digging inside my jacket pocket I drew out my phone dialing the house phone getting no answer. “Seriously a house full of that many people and nobody hears the phone!”

I guess I couldn't blame them for not answering. That house is always loud and crazy no matter what time of day. Plus now that Jackie from New York had moved in things got more complicated. Tapping my knees in thought I tried to decide who would answer my call. Alex was busy with Jackie, Parker was probably outside playing with Benny. Will was working tonight selling houses. Jordan, Nathan, Lee, Isaac and Danny didn't drive. So that left me in the hands of the most popular guy in town who was known for hooking up with multiple girls Cole. Lifting my head up to the sky I felt heavy rain coming down where I scrambled to my feet but collapsed when I felt a sharp pain in my left ankle. “Shit!...guess he's my only choice now.”

It wasn't that I hated the guy. I just hated the reputation he had made for himself. The rain came pouring down where I grunted, forcing myself to stand up. I hopped over to the treeline to get some coverage from the storm. The wind was picking up, shaking everything so I dialed his number. “Pick up, pick up.”

“What's going on, Y/n?” His voice came through the phone.

“Don't make fun of me but I'm lost.” I stated.

He chuckled at me. “How did little woodlen girl get lost?”

“Cole, I'm not in the mood for teasing right now.” I spat back.

The former star football player still was laughing on the other end. “I’m sorry I just can’t believe girl who hunts with her father managed to get lost on our property. I mean I never thought I’d see the day from someone like you.”

“Cole, I am currently stuck out in a storm and called you for help so can you take this seriously please!” I raised my voice pulling the hood of my jacket over my head shivering when the wind blew harshly against me.

Finally to my surprise he came to his senses responding back to me. “Alright I’ll come get you.” He hung up the call and I was forced to listen and watch the storm get worse for an hour or so.

Burying my face into my knees my body was shaking from the cold and the fact that my clothes were soaked head to toe. I heard a vehicle engine getting closer in my direction and it pulled to a stop showing me it was Cole’s truck he was usually working on in the barn. The drivers door flung opened and quickly shut where I saw someone running towards me with a jacket in their hands. “Cole?”

“One knight in shining armor, woodland girl.” He declared dropping down on a knee, draping the jacket over my shoulders.

I glared up into his green eyes seeing his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. “Can you please call me by my actual name for once?”

“Maybe someday. Come on let's get out of the cold before we both get frost bite.” He offered me his hands tugging me to stand.

“Argh!” I winced, dropping down on my other knee after my injured ankle.

Cole was quick on his reflectances sweeping me up bridal style into his muscular arms. “Looks like you needed a better horse riding teacher than Alex huh?”

“Let’s not talk about it right now.” I said feeling embarrassed enough as is. He helped me into the passenger seat and we drove home. He carried me upstairs and sat me down on the edge of his bed in his bedroom.

He searched around in the closet grabbing himself a change of clothes. Then he tossed me one of his blue tea shirts and some shorts. “Here I can help you if you need it.”

“Turn around first.” I instructed him, blushing since I haven't even kissed anyone before. He did as told giving me the chance to slip my wet shirt for his and shrugging off my jeans until I thought about getting the shorts on. I pulled them up as much as I could before getting his attention. “Cole, I can’t get them up without standing on my foot.”

He looks over his shoulder coming back to me moving his hands down to the left side telling me. “Lift your foot for me.” I lifted my foot and he shrugged it up then helping me sit back down on the bed so I could do the same to my right leg without his assistance.

“Thanks, Cole.” I whispered where he stands in front of me letting silence fill the room. I avoided his gaze, not sure of what to say until I shut my eyes to ask the question. “So did you have to skip a hookup with Erin to come rescue me?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Why would you care if I did. You have a crush on me or something, woodland girl?”

“Y/n, you know my name so use it.” I corrected him. “And even if I did, you don't have relationships. I wouldn't want to be another girl tricked by The Cole Effect.”

He raised a brow at my words. “Oh yeah. What makes you think you'd just be another girl I hook up with?”

“Like I said everyone at school knows you don't do real boyfriend girlfriend relationships. You do hook ups and my mother saw it before I did but I refuse to let my feelings for you lead me down that path since you can't possibly feel the same way about me as I do you.” I accidentally admitted without realizing it to him.

Cole stared blankly at me. “You don't think I feel the same?”

“If you did, you have a funny way of showing it.” Shrugging my shoulders I lowered my gaze down from his green orbs.

Cole simply replied then closed the gap between us. “Is this enough of an effort for ya.” He cupped my face in his hands, crashing his lips down onto mine.

I gasped in shock and awe that the famous Cole Walter was kissing me. He was kissing me, the girl that wasn’t popular like he was. The girl that was just a friend of the family but still no one special. “Cole…I’ve never….never done anything like this.” I mumbled tugging on his blonde locks deepening the kiss. He moaned gently pushing me down onto the mattress and he climbed over top of me never breaking the heated kiss until we needed air.

“I’m not doing this to just have a hook up with you, Y/n. I’m not good with commitment but I do actually care about you.” He breathed out holding himself up by his hands on either side of me, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes and his eyes were focused on me.

Raising one hand up I tangled my fingers into his hair asking the question that was eating away at me now. “So what does that make us now, Cole Walter?”

“We can take this slow and figure it out as we go along, Y/n Woodland Girl L/n.” He smiled leaning down kissing me gently this time. I giggled wrapping my arms around his neck bringing him closer to me enjoying the kisses we shared.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart (Deleted Scene)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: This is a deleted scene from my fic Tear You Apart that I really liked but had to rewrite for the published fic. You can read the full fic on my blog

Word Count: 638

Warning: Dark fic, mentions of drugging, masochism, noncon, masturbation (male)

Rating: X 18+

Minors DNI

You had Dabi wrong this whole time. His aloof, cool guy act was all a fucking facade for the psychopath that lay beneath the surface.

His crazed eyes and sick grin told you which one you were talking to right now

The entitlement he felt towards your body made your skin crawl and your stomach nauseous. The way he thought and talked to you made you want to deeply hurt him like no one else before.

You still could.

Your entire identity surrounded the fact that you caused people pain— such excruciating pain that more than just that one man has killed himself because of you.

If he thought your drugged out body was an honest representation of the strength of your quirk…

He had another thing coming.

It was as if your hands had a mind of their own as you placed them against his bare chest. 

But the reaction you got wasn’t the one you expected.

You’ve seen and heard expressions of agony your entire life and this was not that.

Another deep groan ripped from his throat, much like before. But unlike earlier, you hadn’t been able to see the expression held on his face, but now you could see how his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth fell open as he cursed.

You knew this was nothing but unbridled pleasure.

You pushed harder, fingernails digging into the seams of his body, drawing blood.

He quickly grabbed onto your wrists as some sort of anchor, the sensations making his knees weak. “Fuck— fuck— that’s different.” He laughed. You watched in horror as he continued to grunt and groan, pressing you hands harder into his chest. “Why— why is it different?”

”Because,” you started, planting your foot onto his abdomen, “I’m not drugged you sick fuck,” you kicked him hard, and his previous instability had him laying on the floor now.

You gaped as you listened to him laugh, and stroke down his chest until he reached his cock, squeezing himself through his boxers.

He started to pull his cock out—

“What the fuck—“

“Don’t give me that look,” he grunted, now fisting his cock and stroking it, “You’ve seen it before, you just don’t remember.” He taunted. “Now come here,” he stuck his free hand out to you, “Ride me crybaby.”

This—this was not how you thought tonight was going to go.

You tugged at your hair, the roots screaming in pain as you tried to figure out what to fucking do.

”I already told you. Put that thing anywhere near me and I’ll tell the world who you are,” you said shakily, back hitting the wall, “You demented creep.”

He laughed again. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh before tonight— you didn’t think he was capable.

You finally realized that while you thought you had Dabi figured out… you knew nothing about Todoroki Touya.

”I’ll let you call me Touya if you want~” he lilted, continuing to stroke himself.

You sunk to the floor, knees to your chest as you continued to pull on your hair. You just wanted him out— maybe you should call the others, you knew they’d help and get this madman off your bedroom floor-

“Don’t tell me you’re not even a little bit curious,” he gained more stability in his voice. You knew some of the pain was probably subsiding. “No other man can touch you— no other man would want to touch you.”

You peered at him from behind your knees.

”You’re insane.”

”What sane man would want you?”

His gaze held yours in the dim light, refusing to look away as he kept jerking himself off, each barbell of his piercings glinting in the moonlight.

”C’mon crybaby, I don’t wanna cum if it’s not in you.”

You buried your face into your knees, “You’re disgusting.”

-

Full Fic

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

[live-laugh-lenney]

A little bit of smut please🫣

Lingerie reaction for Arthur and George

i don't think i've done any kind of mature content for either of them yet so... jeez, i hope this is okay... i'm gonna write this for arthur, right now, and then maybe we can discuss george and his missus in lingerie...

arthur loves lingerie.

for someone that portrays himself as awkward and shy and almost completely innocent and practically virginal, he had a side to him that always sprung out whenever he was home alone with his girlfriend. a side that only came when he knew she had something special that she wanted to show him. a side that made him seem like a menace, almost like he was a horny teenage boy who had been left alone with his female celebrity crush, becoming touchy and needy.

she teases him.

she'll wear the lingerie beneath an article of his clothing that she had chosen to wear for the evening as they wound down from their busy days. whether it be his adidas jumper (which she loves and definitely stole from his wardrobe) or one of his baggy tees, it would be all she used as a cover up... stretching the neck so it showed her bra strap to tease him a touch when they were sat on the sofa and having it rolled up at the hem so her knickers were on show as she reached up high for the snacks on the top shelf in his kitchen... and she could hear his breath hitching in his throat when he realised just what she was upto.

"can you come and grab the biscuits from the top shelf?"

"you can get them," he hums from the sofa and he really didn't want to stand to his feet because the bulge in his pants had become even more prominent than he had hoped it would be, "i like the view from here."

"you're just a little pervert," she rolled her eyes and she's glad she has her back to him so he can't see the smirk that's sitting on her lips, "i just need some help from my very tall, very handsome man who just has the advantage."

"what do i get out of it?"

"a happy girlfriend," she retorts and he scoffs and rolls his eyes, his gaze barely leaving the plump cheeks of her bum and the floral lace that clung to her flesh, "please?"

she can hear him stand up, she can hear his feet padding across the open plan living room slash kitchen and she shudders at the feeling of his hands cupping her waist as she regained her normal height and stood back on flat feet rather than her tiptoes, teasingly brushing her behind against his crotch and feeling the result that she expected.

"you knew what you were doing," he whispers lowly, almost growling in her ear, and he traps her between the kitchen counter and his body and she makes no attempt at making a move away from him, "you're just a tease. a bloody tease."

"it worked though," she states, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her figure still, his hips slowly rocking back and forth and she could feel the friction of their clothes rubbing together, "what are you going to do?"

he turns her around and she takes a look at his face; his cheeks are pink, his eyes are darker, his jaw is tense and his lips are damp and wet from his tongue. hoisting her up on the kitchen counter and she needed no encouragement in undoing the knot of his bottoms and using her heels to push them to the floor, pooling at his ankles. his boxers stretching to accommodate the boner he was sporting. his fingers slide across the crotch of her knickers and she feels the chill in the air against her damp folds and he wastes no time in teasing at the bundle of nerves between her thighs... enough to make his cock twitch in his pants and she felt bad for keeping him restrained... her own fingers hooking into the elastic of his boxer shorts and pulling them down to his knees, freeing him and letting the cool air hit his exposed skin.

"where did you get this from?" he asks, lips brushing against hers as he leaned in for a kiss, his warm breath washing over her face and her own catches in her throat, his fingers collecting the moisture that was forming and coating his digits, "it's a shame you couldn't show me the whole thing."

"you were just too eager," she informs him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and her fingers digging into his hair, tugging at the tufts at the nape of his neck, "too eager. that was the plan."

"the plan on being fucked on the counter?" he questions and she can feel her cheeks flushing at the words rolling off of his tongue, "that was what you wanted, huh?"

"need to leave a memory in every room for you to remember," she grins and his lips greet hers with a hungry smooch that involved his tongue leaving his mouth and fighting against hers, her arms pulling him close and his hands gripping at her waist, pulling her closer and allowing the glistening tip of his cock to brush against her inner thigh and silently informing her just how needy he was, "it's all yours, baby."

and he doesn't need coaxing. he gave himself a couple of pumps with the fingers he used to spread her juices across the heat between her legs and lines himself up, gulping thickly and maintaining deep eye contact with her as he pushes his hips forward and fills her up with his entirety. her head rolling back and a deep, guttural groan rolling of her tongue from deep within her, matching the whimper that left his mouth as he pauses for a moment to let her adjust around his girth.

her sleeve-covered hands remain on his shoulders, her fingers still holding onto his hair with a tight grip in each fist, and she shudders and the goosebumps rise upon her skin as he attaches his lips to her neck and covers her skin with the softest kisses, his hips rocking back and forth and back and forth as he filled her with pleasure. her begs for him to go deeper filling the room, their heavy breathing and their heavy panting filling the gaps, her name escaping his mouth as she cries out from the thrill happening in that moment.

"let me know when," he insists, his hands trailing underneath the hem of the jumper on her body, his fingertips brushing over her bare skin, "let me know."

she nods and he drops his forehead to hers, eyes looking deeply into hers, and she can feel her toes beginning to curl. her thighs clench and she brings him closer by digging her heels into the base of his back, her hands cupping his cheeks and her mouth drop further and further open with each thrust he pushes into her, twitching between her walls and she swears, every single time, that he always knows the right spot and hits it every time.

"so good," she pants and she can feel the ache beginning to form in her belly, a burning sensation as she feels herself getting closer and closer to a release, "i'm so close, baby."

"so close," he repeats for himself and the sounds of his thrust start sounding sloppy and wet and he grunts out with a rasp in his throat and feels himself start to get weak at the knees, "c'mon, lovie. cum for me."

and it's all she needs to feel herself tense and clench down on his cock, their releases mixing together, and his rhythm becomes almost unrhythmic and each thrust is sporadic and almost like a burst of energy urges his hips forward. his head dropping to her shoulder, slowing his hips down, as she drops her cheek to the top of his head and squeezes her eyes shut.

"you're the best," he whispers into the cotton, sniffling before he lifts his head to look at her. his entire face glistening with sweat, his lips swollen from their kisses, his cheeks pink and his eyes no longer dark but full of lust and post-sex that always made him look heavenly, "the best."

he slowly pulls himself from within her and reaches down to pull his boxers back to his hips, followed by his bottoms, and she covers up by adjusting her knickers, knowing everything they were wearing was going to need to go in the next days wash. his arms wrap around her waist and her legs hook around his, her arms sitting on his shoulders, and he lifts her from the counter. koala-clinging to his front as he makes his way back to the sofa, making a mental reminder to give the kitchen counter a proper deep-clean before they went to bed... before anyone came back from their saturday night on the town... before george and arthur and chris had any inclination as to what had just happened.

"you'll wear that for me again, right?" he asks her and she yawns, nodding softly, "good."

"what did you think of it?"

"it's the sexiest one yet," he hums into her hair, pressing a kiss to her head before he closed his eyes, the feeling of her tucking the blanket around them making him feel cosy, "you can choose the movie. i'm too knackered to even think about those decisions right now."

"how about we just... go to bed?"

"i can't go again," he laughs softly and she scoffs and pushes his chest with her hands, "it's only half nine. we've got ages before the lads are back." xx

[kezdispenser]

Cuddling Isn’t in the Goddamn Manual

A Soldier Boy Christmas one shot

The snowstorm outside coated the city in a perfect winter wonderland. Streetlights cast a soft glow over the white-blanketed streets, and your apartment felt like a cozy little bubble insulated from the cold chaos beyond. The Christmas tree in the corner glimmered with fairy lights, and the smell of cinnamon cookies mixed with the faint aroma of the hot chocolate you’d just poured for yourself.

Ben—better known to the world as Soldier Boy—was slouched on your couch in full “tough guy” mode. His leather jacket was still zipped halfway up, his boots propped carelessly on the coffee table, and his beer dangling loosely in one hand. The perfect picture of a man who thought he was too cool for comfort.

“You know,” you said as you walked in and set your mug down on the side table, “you could at least take off your jacket and pretend to enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t even glance at you, eyes fixed on the TV where some black-and-white holiday classic was playing. “Jacket stays on. Gotta stay ready for action.”

You snorted, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “What action? The reindeer uprising?”

That earned you a side-eye and a faint smirk, but he didn’t dignify it with a response.

“Anyway,” you continued, nudging his knee with your foot, “I was thinking we could cuddle for a bit. You know, really lean into the festive spirit.”

Ben’s laugh was loud and derisive, the kind of laugh that made it clear he thought you’d lost your damn mind. “Cuddling? You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be kidding? It’s Christmas! It’s cold! I’m cute!”

“Yeah, well, cuddling’s not exactly my thing,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “Not manly. Never has been.”

“Oh, please,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re telling me the guy who once hugged a flamethrower like it was his long-lost lover can’t handle a little cuddle?”

“That was different,” he said defensively.

“Uh-huh. Sure it was.” You leaned back dramatically, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. “Fine. Guess I’ll just have to cuddle myself. Or, I don’t know, maybe the throw pillows. They’re softer than you, anyway.”

He scowled, his jaw tightening in that familiar way that meant you were getting under his skin. You knew him too well; you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the way his hand stilled on his beer bottle.

“You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, scooting a little closer to him. “Look, it’s Christmas Eve. Just one night, Ben. One tiny cuddle. No one’s gonna know, and I promise not to tell anyone you’re secretly a big teddy bear under all that macho posturing.”

He gave you a flat look. “I am not a teddy bear.”

“Sure you’re not,” you teased, poking his arm.

For a moment, you thought he was going to dig in his heels and keep up the act. But then he groaned, setting his beer down on the coffee table with a thud. “Fine. One night. But if you so much as think about telling anyone, I’m gone.”

Your grin was instantaneous and shameless. “Deal.”

Before he could change his mind, you crawled into his lap, making yourself comfortable as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He stiffened at first, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself, but you weren’t worried.

“Relax,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, though his hands slowly settled on your back.

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt him relax, his body softening against yours despite his grumbling. He was warm, solid, and oddly comforting in a way that didn’t match the image he projected to the world.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he said after a while, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

“Of course not,” you said, biting back a laugh. “Just a totally meaningless Christmas cuddle.”

“Damn right.”

The movie played on in the background, the faint sound of holiday music filtering in from the street below. You closed your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. His hand started tracing slow circles on your back, and you smiled to yourself.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your smile widening. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

And for that one night, Soldier Boy let himself be a little less soldier and a little more boy.

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

A/N: A little christmas miracle from soldier boy and from me to you guys.

[212-apricity]

siren songs and stolen kisses, midsummers

ssask masterlist main masterlist

author's note: something important to remember before you read this chapter!!!!!

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

jj's pov

The cell wasn’t as cold as it should’ve been, but that didn’t stop the chill in my bones. Jail had a way of doing that—wrapping its cold fingers around your ribs until they felt hollow. I leaned back against the wall, metal digging into my spine, and stared at the floor like it had the answers I needed. It didn’t. The concrete was blank, unforgiving, just like my luck.

The cell smelled like old piss and rust, but I was used to it. I had been here enough times to recognise the way the air hung heavy, like it was pressing you down. My fingers flexed and uncurled in my lap, the scrape of my knuckles stinging. They were raw from last night—Topper’s face had been the perfect punching bag, even if it hadn’t fixed anything.

I blew out a breath, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. Sheriff Peterkin’s voice echoed down the hall, her footsteps slow, measured, like she wasn’t in a hurry to deal with me. Why would she be? She probably thought she already knew the story: JJ Maybank gets in over his head again. Just another Maybank screwing up.

“JJ Maybank,” she said, her voice that same cool, steady tone. She came to a stop outside the bars, her arms crossed like she was tired of this, of me. “You want to tell me what really happened out there?”

I didn’t bother looking up right away. I let the question hang in the air, heavy and sharp, while I stayed slouched, doing my best to look bored. Finally, I leaned back, draping one arm over the bench. “I already told you,” I said with a shrug. “I sunk the boat.”

She sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb with me, JJ. Pope Heyward sunk that boat, and we both know it.” She tilted her head, studying me like she was trying to piece me together. “Why are you taking the fall?”

I felt my stomach twist, but I shoved it down, kept my face blank. “What fall?” I asked, flashing her a grin I didn’t feel. “It’s my testimony, Sheriff. Take it or leave it.”

Peterkin shook her head. “You’ve always been a good liar, JJ, but this time? You’re not fooling anyone.”

I clenched my jaw. “I’m not lying.”

She let out a frustrated breath, then stepped back, hands on her hips. “You’re not a hero, you know,” she said, her tone softer now, almost like she pitied me. “This isn’t going to save anyone. It’s just going to get you in deeper.”

I forced a laugh, leaning back like I didn’t care, even though her words sank into me like stones. “Saving people isn’t really my thing.”

Peterkin stared at me for a long moment, then finally pulled out her keys. “Fine,” she said, unlocking the cell. “You’re free to go. But I’m warning you, JJ—whatever you’re trying to prove? It’s not worth it.”

The cell door creaked open, and I pushed myself to my feet, brushing past her as I stepped into the hallway.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The sound of the heavy metal door slamming behind me echoed in the empty corridor. I didn’t expect anyone to be waiting, least of all her.

Y/n Cameron stood there, like some beacon of light in this dim, dingy police station. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her face a mixture of worry and anger. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and she wore one of those Kook dresses—simple, elegant, something expensive that she made look casual.

She shouldn’t be here.

She never belonged in my world. But damn if she didn’t fit perfectly in it, somehow.

“Hey,” I said, forcing a grin as I strolled toward her like I wasn’t just sitting in a jail cell. “Come here often?”

Her eyes softened when she saw me, but her mouth pressed into a tight line. “JJ, what the hell were you thinking?” she asked, her voice sharp but thick with worry.

“Me?” I raised an eyebrow, playing it off like it was nothing. “I was just enjoying the hospitality.”

She wasn’t amused. “God JJ you’re so fucking stupid,” she muttered, stepping forward until she was right in front of me. Her hand lifted, trembling slightly, and she brushed her thumb over the bruise forming on my cheek.

I flinched—barely—but she noticed. She always noticed.

“JJ…” her voice softened, breaking just a little. “What happened? What did you do?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I wanted to tell her everything. Not just about the stupid boat but about me. I wanted to spill all the messy, broken parts of me at her feet and let her fix them. But that wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve that weight.

“It’s nothing,” I said, reaching up to take her hand in mine, pressing it against my chest. “I couldn’t let Pope lose his scolarship. Im scared he’d go into cardiac arrest if he did.”

Instead of laughing like usual, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I held her close, the warmth of her body grounding me.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispered.

I kissed the top of her head, closing my eyes. “Yeah,” I lied. “I know.”

But the moment shattered when I felt it—the familiar grip of my father’s hand clamping down on my shoulder.

“Time to go, JJ,” Luke Maybank growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/n stiffened against me, her grip tightening. I turned, keeping my body between her and my father. “Go home,” I whispered to her, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “Please.”

Her eyes searched mine, desperate and scared. “JJ—”

“I’ll be fine,” I lied again. “Just go.”

Luke’s fingers dug into my shoulder, yanking me back. I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. I gave her one last look, and then he dragged me out, his grip like a vice.

And I let him.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

y/n's pov

The sun was beginning to dip, casting that perfect golden hour glow across the Cameron estate. Everything outside looked flawless: the lawn perfectly trimmed, the white-and-gold decorations lining the patio like something out of a Southern Living magazine. But inside, it was chaos. Controlled, sure—typical Cameron perfectionist chaos—but chaos nonetheless.

Sarah was in the kitchen, trying to fix her pinned up hair, her face scrunched up in concentration. I stood by the window, watching the sun sink lower, my phone clutched in my hand, screen blank. No texts from JJ. No missed calls. Nothing.

“Y/n, can you help me with this?” Sarah’s voice broke through my thoughts. She held up a handful of hairpins, looking helpless. “I swear, if this falls out during Midsummers, I’m going to lose it.”

I crossed the room, shoving my phone into the pocket of my dress. “You’re being dramatic,” I said, grabbing the pins and starting to twist her hair into place.

“Dramatic?” she huffed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s Midsummers. I have to look perfect.”

I smirked. “Why? Planning to impress someone?”

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Please. Everyone on this island is boring. Except maybe John B, but that’s a whole other mess.” She paused, glancing at me in the mirror. “Speaking of messes… JJ?”

I sighed, focusing on twisting her hair just right. “I don’t know. He’s not answering my texts. I’m worried.”

She tilted her head slightly, letting me work. “He’ll be fine,” she said softly. “He always is. But you need to talk to him.”

“I tried,” I muttered. “Luke showed up before I could get anything out of him.”

Her face darkened at the mention of JJ’s dad. “That man’s a nightmare. JJ shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I know,” I said quietly, finishing the last pin. “Done.”

Sarah stood up, admiring the final result in the mirror. “You’re the best,” she said with a grin. She grabbed a necklace from her dresser and slipped it on. “Now, how do I break up with Topper tonight without causing a scene?”

I laughed, the heaviness in my chest easing slightly. “Wait until after Midsummers. You know how he gets.”

Sarah made a face, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’re right. I’ll be nice. But tomorrow, it’s over.”

Just as she said that, Rafe strode in, already dressed in his pale blue suit, a smug look plastered on his face. “What are you two plotting?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“Girl stuff,” Sarah said sweetly, batting her lashes. “Nothing for your tiny brain to worry about.”

He rolled his eyes, taking a swig of water. “Whatever. Try not to embarrass the family tonight.”

I couldn’t resist. “I think that’s your job, Rafe.”

His eyes narrowed, but Sarah burst out laughing, and he just shook his head, trying to failing to stifle a smile as he left the room.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The country club was packed, Kooks everywhere in their finest, gold glinting under the soft lights, champagne flutes raised in perfectly manicured hands. It was beautiful, I guess, but it felt fake and forced, all of it. I wandered through the crowd, half-smiling at familiar faces, but my mind was elsewhere.

JJ still hadn’t answered any of my texts. I tried not to let it show, but my heart raced every time I checked my phone. What if he wasn’t okay? What if Luke…

Stop.

I thought to myself, shaking the thoughts away. I couldn’t do this here, not now.

Kiara appeared at my side, looking as uncomfortable as I felt in her sleek dress. “This sucks,” she muttered, sipping from her drink. “We should be at the Chateau right now.”

I nodded, grateful for her presence. “Yeah. I’d rather be anywhere else.”

She shot me a sideways glance. “He still hasn’t called?”

“Nope,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though it felt like my stomach was tying itself into knots.

“Typical JJ,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “He’ll show up. He always does.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

As Kie went to get another drink from the bar, I spotted Pope waving at me, smiling brightly, from his dads cart.

I was about to raise my hand in greeting when I noticed someone standing beside me, clearing their throat. Someone who, despite the music and lights, made my stomach drop.

Gray Pierce.

Rafe’s childhood best friend.

I hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever. Grayson “Gray” Pierce was the type of guy who always made his presence known, even when he was just standing there, looking around with that calculated smirk on his face. He was dressed in designer clothes, standing tall and confident, like he owned the world. His dirty blonde hair was styled perfectly, and his sharp jawline looked like it could cut glass. He was still just as dangerous as I remembered—charming, but with an edge that could cut through steel.

I turned to him, my lips pressing into a tight line. "Gray," I said, my voice neutral. I wasn’t excited to see him—not in the slightest—but I wasn’t going to show him how much he made me uncomfortable.

He gave me that smirk—the one I used to fall for. "Y/n. Heard you got a new boyfriend now," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his eyes flicked over the crowd in front of us. "Does he know how to treat a lady, or is he just a wild dog like the rest of them?" His words felt like a slap in the face.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you know how to treat a lady?" I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Gray’s eyes hardened, "I heard he’s a Pogue*,*" he said, his tone mocking. "We don’t mix with their side, Y/n. Taints our blood."

I froze at his words, anger rising in my chest like a slow-burning fire. His words were heavy, loaded with disdain, and I hated that he still thought he could talk to me like that. He hadn’t changed at all.

I was about to respond, my mouth opening to say something sharp, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw JJ, his eyes bright but quickly flicking between Gray and me, sensing the tension in the air.

“Y/n, hey!” JJ greeted, practically bouncing with excitement, only to pause when his gaze flickered to Gray, his mood shifting ever so slightly.

Gray’s gaze lingered on JJ for a moment, his smile fading just slightly, before he turned to look at me. “He’s your boyfriend now?” Gray asked, his voice soft with the kind of malice that sent a chill down my spine.

I gave him a look, feeling my patience wearing thin as I grabbed JJ’s hand quickly, surprised to see him but trying to cover it up so Gray wouldn’t notice. “What’s it to you Gray? Fuck off, don’t you have some other girl to cheat on?” I said firmly, my words laced with finality. I wasn’t going to let him make this about me, about him, or about whatever weird power play he was trying to put on.

JJ’s eyes narrowed at Gray but he didn’t seem to care. He just smirked, as though he found my discomfort amusing.

“Alright. If you’re gonna be like that, I’ll just leave you two to it,” Gray said, his voice dripping with venom. He gave me one last look, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “Just remember, Y/n. Our kind doesn’t mix with scum. Don’t let him pull you down.”

Before I could respond, Gray turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd finding Rafe again, leaving me standing there with JJ. He had a confused look on his face, his brow furrowed as he looked at me.

“What was that about?” JJ asked, his voice tight, I turned around again and there he was.

JJ, grinning like he hadn’t just been in a fight with the world, looking a little worse for wear but still so, so JJ.

I let out a long breath, my hands clenched at my sides. “Nothing,” I said quickly, shaking my head.

JJ still looked unconvinced, but before he could press further, I shoved him back by his shoulder.

“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, “What the fuck was that for I didn’t do anything”

“Exactly JJ, you didn’t do anything,” I all but shouted back as he looked back at me, confused, “Seriously J would it have killed you to just text me back or something? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

JJ looked up at me sheepishly, “I’m sorry baby my phone died,” he pulled out his dead phone from his back pocket and put it in my hands to check, “I should’ve charged it or used John B’s but today’s just been such a shitshow I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry princess” he explained with a sad pout, obviously abusing his looks to get his way (yet again).

Unfortunately, it worked.

I practically launched myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. “Just let me know if you’re okay next time, alright?”

He staggered back, laughing. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and for a second, everything felt right. “Of course princess, I’m sorry. Alright, now that my part’s done, if that guy even looks at you again, I’ll—”

I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “JJ, please,” I said softly, not wanting the memory of Gray to spoil this. “It’s fine. He’s just bitter. Let’s just... have fun tonight, yeah?”

He seemed to relax at that, his expression softening. “Yeah, alright,” he said, his smile returning, though there was still a little wariness in his eyes as he glanced around, probably still keeping an eye out for Gray.

My eyes narrowed, closer to him now I noticed the fresh bruises on his face and the split lip. My heart sank. “JJ…what happened to you?” I asked softly, brushing my fingers over the bruise.

He caught my hand, squeezing it. “It’s nothing,” he said, smiling like it didn’t hurt. “Just my dad you know.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, the familiar voice of Rafe cut through the noise. “JJ Maybank,” he sneered, his group of Kooks fanning out behind him. “Didn’t think you’d have the balls to show up here.”

JJ tensed beside me, his grin tightening. “Well, you know me,” he said, stepping in front of me slightly. “Never could resist a good party.”

Rafe took a step closer, eyes gleaming with malice. “Let’s go, boys.”

“Gotta go baby,” JJ whispered, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

And then he was gone, weaving through the crowd again, Rafe and his “friends” in pursuit.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The atmosphere at Midsummers was overwhelming, suffocating, as I clutched my glass of champagne and half-heartedly tried to enjoy the party. I was laughing along with the Kooks’ endless chatter, but my mind was elsewhere. I could feel the unease in the pit of my stomach—the same uneasy feeling I’d been carrying ever since I left the police station. The sight of JJ’s bruised face was still burned into my mind, and the way he had brushed it off, like it was nothing. But I knew better.

“Y/n, you need to relax,” Kiara said, her voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. She’d appeared out of nowhere, like she always did when she sensed I needed someone to snap me out of it. She was holding a glass of sparkling water in her hand, but I could tell from the look in her eyes that she was more concerned about me than the party.

“Where are they?” I asked looking around quickly “I swear if Rafe’s pulled some shit like he did the other day…”

Kiara cut me off, her expression hardening as she stepped closer to me. “You know JJ, right? He’s not the kind of guy who just lets things slide. Whatever Rafe’s got planned, he’ll figure it out. He’s not the kind of guy to let himself stay down for long.”

I nodded, but it didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t shake it. I kept imagining JJ, alone, somewhere in the middle of all of this. And I couldn’t stand the idea of not being there for him.

Just then, the air shifted. There was an abrupt shift in the crowd, a ripple of murmurs, and I turned to see Rafe and his crew walking by, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it. And then, my gaze landed on him.

A familiar figure stepped into the lobby from the back hall.

JJ.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.

A guard flanked him on either side, his hands gripping JJ’s arms tightly. His expression was resigned, but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. He was hurt, no doubt, but there was something in his posture that suggested he wasn’t going down without a fight.

I started to rush toward him, but Kiara grabbed my arm again. “Y/n, wait. Let’s think this through.”

I barely heard her. I was already moving toward the exit where JJ was being led, my legs carrying me before my mind could catch up. I had to get to him. I had to know he was okay.

“JJ!” I shouted, and his eyes flicked toward me.

He looked like he’d been through hell, his shirt slightly torn, his bruises more obvious now. But there was that same crooked grin on his face as he lifted his chin, as though he were proud of something—anything.

“Princess,” he said, his voice low, like it was some private joke only he and I understood. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” his voice rose, “Leave it to the men and women in uniform!”

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at him, my heart slamming in my chest. “JJ, what the hell happened?”

He winked at me, the guard’s hold tightening just slightly as they moved past. “Don’t worry. This is nothing. I’ll be alright.” He flashed that grin of his again, this time more genuine, before he shouted again, “Rixons Cove, Y/n.”

I could barely process the words when I heard Kiara scream beside me. “Hey! Let him go! He’s our guest! I’m a part of this club!”

I turned to see Kiara running after them, shouting at the guards, but their grip on JJ remained unyielding. The scene was chaotic. It was like everything was falling apart, the tension and anger rising with every step the guards took, dragging him away from us.

Then, through the turmoil, JJ shouted, his voice clear and loud, cutting through the noise.

“Mandatory power at Rixons! Pope, you too! Rixons Cove, let’s roll. Alright, Kie, Y/n, come on, workers of the world unite, throw off the chains!”

Kiara and I didn’t need any more encouragement. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as we ran, the sound of the guards’ footsteps growing louder behind us.

And then, I felt it—the solid warmth of JJ’s arms around me as I leapt into them. The guards barely even slowed down as he lifted me up and held me close, a rush of laughter escaping him.

“Come on princess,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Running away with a pogue now? What a scandal.”

I felt his lips brush my cheek briefly, his breath warm against my skin. “Shut up J”, I laughed.

Before he could reply, we were running again, Kie and Pope right next to us. My heart was racing, but I felt something that hadn’t been there before. Something more—more than fear, more than confusion. I felt alive.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

We gathered around the firepit, the flames crackling and lighting our faces in the darkness. The scent of saltwater mixed with the damp earth as we sat together, huddled in the warmth of the fire. JJ’s arms were around me (as well as his jacket) as I sat in between his legs, him playing with my hair and me with his hands. Everyone was quiet for a moment, just breathing, just existing in the stillness.

“So,” John B began, breaking the silence. He sat down on the log beside me, his face lit by the firelight. “I’ve got something. Something big.” He looked at Sarah, who was sitting next to him, her arms crossed as she looked at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” Pope asked, leaning forward.

“I’ve been digging, and I found something,” John B said, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. He looked around at all of us before continuing. “There’s a way to get to the treasure. A real way. It’s a map, but it’s hidden.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “We just need Sarah to help us find it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?!” Kiara’s voice shot out like an arrow, sharp and disbelieving. “No offence, Y/n, but I’m not thrilled about Sarah being part of this. She’s always got some excuse, some reason why we can’t trust her. Why do we need her now?”

I frowned at Kiara’s words, feeling the tension rise. I knew that Kiara had issues with Sarah—she’d never really trusted her, not since the whole fiasco with the party years ago. But that didn’t mean Sarah didn’t have something valuable to offer.

“Come on, Kie,” John B said, trying to convince her. “She’s trying to help. And I don’t hear anyone else coming up with any ideas to get the map.”

Kiara scowled but didn’t say anything more. She crossed her arms tightly, though, clearly unwilling to let her guard down.

“So, what’s the plan then?” Pope asked, breaking the tension. “Do we go after the map now?”

“No,” John B said, shaking his head. “First, I need to meet with Sarah alone. We can’t let anyone else in on this part of the plan just yet.” He turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning anything shady.”

JJ shot John B a look, and then he smirked. “Right, because there’s nothing going on between you two,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I laughed, Pope joined in, a chuckle escaping him as he shot a look at John B. “John B, you’re literally a worse liar than me.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but grinned. “You promise me there’s nothing going on between you and Sarah, John B. You’ll ruin the whole plan if you mess it up.”

John B held up his hands defensively, his face reddening. “I swear, Kie, nothing’s going on. We’re just talking.”

JJ leaned back on his elbows, grinning at the absurdity of it all. “Sure, sure. Just talking. The most innocent thing in the world.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

Kie, Pope, JJ and I were still joking, letting the laughter fill the gaps in the air in the Twinkie, when we heard it.

A scream.

A long, desperate cry for help.

Without thinking, we all bolted upright, adrenaline flooding our systems as we raced toward the sound. Kiara, Pope, and I led the charge, pushing past trees and underbrush, until we broke out onto the edge of a small clearing. There, in the middle of the chaos, was Sarah—frantic, her face pale with terror as she knelt beside John B, who was lying on the ground, unmoving.

“John B!” Sarah screamed, her voice breaking. “John B, wake up!”

I rushed forward, reaching her just as she tried to shake him awake. But something wasn’t right. There was a cut on his forehead, and blood was seeping into the dirt beneath him.

“What happened?” I gasped, my hand instinctively going to John B’s shoulder, trying to lift him.

“It’s Topper,” Sarah said, her voice trembling. “He pushed him off the building. I saw it.”

My stomach dropped. “What?!”

Kiara stepped forward, her hands shaking as she knelt beside John B. “We need to get him out of here,” she said urgently. “He’s not breathing right.”

I couldn’t think, couldn’t process what had just happened. It was like the world tilted beneath me, the ground slipping away.

“We need to go,” I said, my voice rising in panic. “We need help. Right now.”

And just like that, the group of us—runners, survivors, and dreamers—were faced with the reality of our situation. We weren’t just fighting for a treasure anymore. We were fighting for our lives.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

part five done!!

idk if its just me but i get SO TIRED in the winter like im literally falling asleep in all my classes (which is normal) BUT AT LUNCH???? burn it.

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch

[theitgirlnetwork]

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 2: Date 1 Pt. 1

Note: Thank you so much for the love you all have been showing this story so far! Thank you for reading, and for the kinds messages I have received thus far! I love interacting and seeing your thoughts and comments so keep 'em coming. I want to take this time to remind you that these characters will be flawed. Rafe is....Rafe, but we love him anyway. And Milan is...someone who is compatible with Rafe. They won't always be the depiction of a healthy relationship, but this is fiction and fun. This chapter isn't too bad, but those who have read the snippet know how it's gonna get. Once again, I have songs for this ship so if anyone is interested in them let me know, and feel free to share some with me if you catch a vibe. Finally, let me know if you have any questions or comments. Other than that, I hope you enjoy. This one is a lot shorter than chapter 1, but it is a 2 parter, so don't hate me. Love ya! <3333

“Wait.”

Rafe pauses, loosening his grip on Milan’s hair and pulling back slightly, irritated that she’d stopped him just as their lips brushed and she breathed the smoke he’d just poured into her mouth between them. “What? What’s up?”

“I don’t,” She sighs, her cool breath on his face, eyes still shut as if she’s forcing herself to pause this moment between them. “I don’t just hook up with guys, you know? Maybe we could…I dunno.”

Oh. Oh. Rafe understands. He’d…he’d forgotten himself for a moment. This isn’t some touron stumbling onto the couch next to him, throwing herself at him. She wasn’t one of those gold digging bitches that tries to fuck  him with faulty condoms in the bottom of her purse. She’s the kind of girl who has her own shit. She doesn’t need him for a come up. Or at least she doesn’t think she does. 

He arrogantly thinks to himself that Milan hasn’t met a man like Rafe Cameron. He’s spent most of his life preparing, becoming the type of man that can run his family, keep them safe and comfortable. The type of son fathers are proud to have and the type of man women want to give a baby. That’s the man who he’s made himself be. 

Rafe had been so focused, only allotting himself time for a little bit of fun once in a while, he’d forgotten that one day he might stumble across a girl that had the potential to be a woman. His woman. 

He nods slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he pulls back more, releasing her head completely and smoothing his hand back onto her knee. “Nah, I get it. We should get to know each other a little better. How ‘bout you spend the day with me tomorrow?”

Milan perches herself up at that, back straightening even more as her face lights up. “Really? You wanna spend the day with me?”

Rafe rests his head back on the top of the couch, sweeping his thumb on her bottom lip before biting his own and nodding. “Yeah, I wanna show you a good time. Get you a little more comfortable with me so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.”

Both sets.

“Okay, wait, I’m excited. You’re gonna be my first friend here.”

“Friend?” Rafe scoffs. “‘M’not gonna be your friend, Princess.”

“Well,” Milan shrugs, “Like, I don’t know what I could call you, you’re not my man-”

“Yet. Not your man yet.” He and the woman next to him share twin smiles and Rafe only becomes more invigorated by Milan’s eyeroll and shy grin. “Roll your eyes if you want to, I’m a determined guy.” 

“Determined?”

“Yeah, like I know what I like, I work for what I want, so-”

“So what?” Milan giggles, “You…you want me? I should get ready or something?”

“Yeah.” Rafe says flippantly, as if he wasn’t essentially making a threat of courtship to a girl he’d just met like 12 hours before. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d fully wanted from her yet. But the need to have her was nagging at him. Maybe it was lust. She was hot, forbidden fruit for him. He could hear the curses Ward would spit at him now if he fucked around and ruined things with this girl, made an enemy of her dad. Maybe it was how sweet she seems. He’s always liked shiny, new things. When he was a kid, he had to have stuff before his friends did. Toys. Shoes. Stocks. Maybe he’s graduated to feeling that way about women. 

Something about how he doesn’t want to look away. Something about the way she was smiling at him, how he’s talked to her the most, how in a room full of guys drooling over her, those big pretty eyes were locked on him. Rafe felt like he had to look into this weird feeling she’s been stirring in his chest since he’d seen her. 

It’s what’s best for Milan anyway. None of the rest of these limp dick motherfuckers should have her. They’re not real men. Not like Rafe.

Milan hums as she removes the golden under eye patches from under her eyes, massaging in the serum they leave atop of her skin. Grimacing at a gust of damp wind from outside she pads against the marble floor of her bathroom and pushes the double doors leading to the patio attached closed. “Stupid, island humidity.” She pouts as she combs through her bob again, praying for no puffiness today.

The sky fights to brighten in the early morning. It’s 5:00 a.m. and Rafe Cameron was going to be picking her up in 30 minutes. 

After the party last night Sarah had run over to her on the front lawn, hugging her tightly before declaring she was going home with John B. and offering for Milan to come with them. When she declines with a smile, the blonde fixes her brother with a glare, to which he’d returned with a middle finger, and stumbled off in her man’s arms. 

Rafe drove Milan back to her house and parked them out front, eyes carefully rotating between staring at Milan sitting pretty in his passenger seat, and watching for a sign of her father at the door. He let her toy with his fingers as she fluttered her lashes at him and he described what he does throughout the day, Or, rather, what they’d be doing today.

When he’d mentioned picking her up after the gym Milan had jumped at the opportunity to go with him. She loved going to the gym every morning before she’d moved and she was happy to keep it going. And it wouldn’t hurt to see Rafe work out. 

It was all she could think about. It’s not just his height. Even though he’s so…so tall. At least 6’2. Rafe is big. Muscle. Strength. Yesterday he’d basically hoisted her full weight into his truck with one arm. The preppy boy polo that he’d thrown on for their families hadn’t hidden anything and his tight crew neck that he wore to the party basically outlined everything for her. 

She quite literally wanted him to throw her around like a ragdoll. Or let her climb him like a tree. Whatever, Rafe is hot. 

He has an intense vibe, seemingly takes himself very seriously. But, Milan figures she could relax him. Loosen him up a little bit. 

They were gonna have so much fun. Smiling at her own reflection in the mirror, Milan spritzes vanilla Sol de Janeiro and all but fucking skips down the steps and to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Milan, you’re awake early. I just started prepping for breakfast, but I could make you a coffee while you wait.” The private chef that her parents had hired a couple years ago had made the move with them. They’d paid for her to come with them to Outer Banks and offered to increase her salary because…well…it wasn’t their nice home in Quebec that she was used to. 

“No, thank you, Miss Ally.” Milan reaches over, stealing a newly washed strawberry and biting into it. “And my parents aren’t awake, right?”

“Of course not. You know your mother won’t roll out of bed until she smells the food cooking and your dad won’t come until I’ve had to warm it up twice. Why? Are you alright, honey?”

The younger woman nods, tossing the green stem into the trash and reaching for two travel cups. “Can you keep a secret? I have, like, a date today.” 

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, with a guy. He’s really cute, and sweet. So,” Milan begins sifting matcha, smiling down at the cup and resting her cheek on her shoulder. “‘M’gonna hang out with him today.”

“Less than 48 hours and there’s a boy, huh? Atta girl.” Miss Ally passes Milan the vanilla protein powder. “You’ve been worried about the move, thinking it was a bad idea, and here you are making friends.”

“Mhm, hot ones. With blue eyes and dimples.”

“And where,” Ally nudges Milan out of the way as she pours the hot water into the travel mug, “am I supposed to tell your parents you are when you’re out with Mr. Blue Eyes and Dimples?” 

“Touring the island.” She chirps. 

“With who?”

“Just like…generally. They should be cool with it honestly, I just know they’re gonna make it weird, but like, he’s the son of Dad’s first friend here so he shouldn’t be mad. How come he gets a boyfriend and I don’t?”

“Oh, just say that to your parents, I’m sure they’ll go for it then.” Ally snorts, whisking the eggs as Milan seals the travel mugs, laughing to herself as the girl slides both of the pink cups to the end of the counter next to her gym bag.

When Rafe pulls up outside of the Cabot house, he texts Milan before hopping out of his truck and jogging up the cobblestone. He agreed not to ring the doorbell because her parents were awake but he’d be damned if he didn’t pick her up at the door. 

As he stands on at the doorstep he adjusts the hat he has rested on his head and rocks on his feet impatiently. He isn’t waiting long. The door swings open and he’s immediately hit with the sweet smell of vanilla and soon after is met with the walking wet dream carrying the scent. 

“Good morning!” Milan grins, tossing her arms around his neck, bouncing up into his arms. Rafe isn’t fucking stupid, he’s quick to catch her around the waist and squeeze, relishing in the feeling of her pressed against him. 

“Morning, princess.” he murmurs into her hair, squeezing her again for good measure before placing her back on her feet.  “You, uh, you always go to the gym in shit like that?”

“Shit like what? Stop.” she laughs as he snaps the elastic of her leggings. 

“You just look good. That’s all I’m sayin’.” He chews the gum in his mouth and nudges her chin with his knuckle, mumbling, “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah? Thank you.” she grins, looking away from him briefly. “I made…I made you something, like a gym drink or whatever.

“That’s cute sweetheart, what do you like me or somethin’?” Rafe snorts, choosing to ignore the fact that the travel mug she was pushing into his hands was bubble gum pink. He holds his hand out to her, not even looking back as he starts guiding her over to his truck. When he hears a little shuffle from her he looks back and glances down at her feet. “What the fuck, your shoes aren’t tied.”

“Okay, one of them untied when I was making you this delicious protein shake and I didn’t wanna make you wait-” 

“Christ.” Rafe grunts, unlocking his car and wrenching the door open, planting his hands on Milan’s waist and hoisting her into the seat easily. He tugs her foot onto his lap and begins tying the lace of her sneaker tightly. “Gonna break your fuckin’ neck.”

“I wasn’t gonna fall, Rafe-”

“You literally were letting me drag you down those steps.” When he’s done Rafe lifts her leg into the car, closing the door and walking around the driver’s side and climbing in. After he clicks his seatbelt on, he pauses and frowns when he sees Milan’s pout staring forward at the road. He puffs out a breath. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t said ‘thank you’. For your drink.” 

“Wh-are you serious?”

“Yes. You seriously haven’t said ‘thank you.’” 

“Uh…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he observes the girl. Arms crossed, dramatic frown on her pretty, glossed lips, knees pointed away from him. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she immediately warms up, clicking her own seatbelt on and taking a sip of her drink, moving back to the middle of her seat. As Rafe tries to sort through what quick, guerilla warfare he’d just experienced, he starts driving the car. 

So that’s her game. She’s cute and pretty and pouts like a fuckin’ brat when she doesn’t feel like she’s getting what she wants. Or someone is saying something she doesn’t wanna hear. All she’s showing me is that I’m exactly what she needs.

“M’just sayin’ like your shirt’s a little slutty. Like it’s tight, I can see your nipples and everything.”

“Don’t say shit like that, what the fuck?” 

“It’s like tight and stuff, like it’s a little bit of a hoochie shirt.” 

“Hoo-hoochie shirt. Fuckin’ brat.” Rafe shakes his head. In the time it’s taken to drive to the gym and for Rafe to put his card down to get Milan a temporary membership, she’d clearly been trying to test him. She was pushing boundaries to see what he would and wouldn’t accept. And he would try to be patient. But the jokes weren’t gonna be as funny when he was using her mouth for what he really wanted to use it for. Not now. He had to wait. To humor her. She was cute. He’d give her that. Maybe he needed to be cute back. “Don’t work out in the damn shirt anyway,” 

Milan’s eyes widen as she stares up at Rafe from where she’s stretching on the floor. She bites her lip and shifts her gaze to herself in the mirror as he easily tugs the tight shirt off of his chiseled muscles, tossing it into his gym bag next to her. 

Jesus. She bites her lip, berating herself inwardly as she glances at the tanned skin he was now baring for the world to see, six pack on display as he starts doing some standing stretches. “Here, sweetheart.” Rafe crouches next to her, pushing one of his airpods into her ear. “You, uh, didn’t have headphones, so you can just listen to my shit.”

“Can we make a spotify jam?”

“What?”

“So, I can add songs too, can we make a jam? And we’d be listening to the same thing, at the same time, you know?”

“I mean, yeah, sure why the fuck not? You’re not gonna add any corny shit are you? M’trustin’ you with my workout. Like that’s pretty fuckin’ special.”

“Oh my God, Rafe, I’m…I’m sure we have basically the same taste in music.”

Rafe and Milan are at war for essentially their whole warm up. They agree to separate for cardio and then meet back up for them both to try some of each other’s usual workouts. With the shared music blasting in their ears, they both still felt like they were hanging out for the 40 minutes that they are apart. Rafe spent half of his run on the treadmill listening to Beyoncé and Sabrina Carpenter’s discographies while Milan genuinely flinched on the stairmaster with Travis Scott and 50 Cent pounding against her ear drums. Both of them looking at each other with sick satisfaction when it was their turn to pick a song, making a game out of picking something they thought would irritate the other more. 

Rafe had finally had enough and started skipping Milan’s picks when the High School Musical Soundtrack started playing, eventually coming to pluck her off of her machine to start doing weights as Troy began singing about wanting his own dream. 

By now they’d both finished their protein shakes and felt like they had a lot of energy. Well, at least they both did. Until Rafe started making Milan do his workouts.

She was both turned on and enraged as he demonstrates different forms of weightlifting, chuckling at her deeply as she struggles to do another set. “Mmkay, okay, that’s enough, I’m done with that.”

“Nah, you didn’t even finish that one, c’mon let’s go.”

“Rafe, no” she whines getting off of the bench. Milan immediately gasps as Rafe fists the fabric at the front of her leggings, lifting her off of her feet and physically placing her back onto the equipment. 

Slapping her thigh, he offers her a no-nonsense look that lets her know that she isn’t getting up until she completes this workout to his satisfaction. “Baby, let’s go, stop fuckin’ around.”

Shit. Yes sir. “I want…breakfast food after this. Like, waffles, and butter and stuff.”

“'Let me come to the gym with you, Rafe. I wanna where my cute little outfit and not workout.'”

“Asshole.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Wait…until we start doing my pilates workout. All those muscles will mean…nothing.”

“Yeah, you like ‘em?” He smirks, grabbing the weight to ease it down against her before helping her off. “That your excuse? Can’t focus?”

“Stop…being mean, worst date ever.” She whines, leaning her head against his chest. 

Rafe pats Milan’s ass twice before nudging her into the direction of the next machine. "Best fuckin' date of your life, brat."

“Are you gonna keep staring at my butt or are you gonna try again?” Milan calls over to Rafe. 

“My body is not built for that girly shit. You keep goin’ though.” He says. Milan rolls her eyes and continues on the machine, pausing when she sees the reflection of a camera flash in the mirror. “Damn, flash was on.”

“Rafe!”

“You look good, baby. I thought you’d like me to be all sentimental and shit, capture our first date.”

“Oh my God. You’re like, not even working out at this point.”

He shrugs, tilting his head to get a better view of her. “You’re the one who got an attitude when that girl asked me to spot her and made us change floors.

“She saw you with me.” Milan hisses through her teeth, pausing her movements. “She was trying to be funny.” 

“Think so?” Rafe scoffs, squirting water into his mouth from the bottle he’d kept in his bag. 

“Yeah, but if you liked the attention you could go back down.”

Rafe wets his bottom lip at that. Being at the gym with Milan has been fun. Turns out, he likes talking to her, which is more than what he could say for the majority of the population. She’s sexy, and doesn’t mind him being handsy. She seemed to all but expect him to pat her ass in encouragement after she finishes anything. She likes for him to teach her, guide her movements, place her on and off of machines. She likes to whine and have him sort her out. And she’s possessive. Jealous. Normally the concept of having someone police him sounds emasculating and unacceptable to Rafe. But watching her pretty little face turn into a scowl as she watched girls check him out or come up to him like they always did in the gym? It turned him on bad. 

She matched his crazy. It didn’t matter that it was their first date, the same way Rafe’s lip curled in disgust as he caught the fuckheads wandering the gym eyeing her before he stepped in their line of vision, Milan would physically place herself in front of his view, guiding his eyes to her and away from any girl delusional enough to think they were as bad as her.

But her mouth when she’s frustrated. That was something Rafe was gonna have to work on. Lucky for the both of them, a stern warning seemed to be enough for now. Rafe stalks over to where she’s sitting, stepping on the machine behind her and wrapping his hand loosely around her neck, pushing the back of her head to rest on the front of his stomach. Milan looks up at him through her lashes, as he pushes his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her mouth and squirting a little water in from his water bottle. He fixes her with a disapproving look. “Chill out. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“I followed you up here, right?”

“Yeah.” she says softly, leaning into his hand.

“Alright then. Let’s not worry about the wrong things.”

After 3 hours at the gym the two of them hit the showers, separately despite both of their hesitation to separate again. They walk out of the building in different clothes and Rafe’s arm strewn over Milan’s shoulder, holding her hand where it came up to meet his own. He has to hide his smirk when he catches her making eye contact with the girl who’d asked Rafe to spot her as they walked out, a bright smile on her face. 

He was starting to like this pretty little thing more and more. Rafe lifts her back into the car, this time buckling her seatbelt for her before getting into the driver’s side. He finds that Milan can talk…a lot. She has jumped from topic to topic in the 15 minute drive more than Rafe thinks he can in 2 hours. He’s surprised to find he doesn’t find her annoying. Rafe finds his cheeks dimpling as he listens to her yap about her favorite tv shows, a movie she wants him to watch, her plans for her next nails set and thinking about getting highlights in her hair.

All the while she rubs his bicep, leaning into him as he holds her thigh in his large hand. He offers her small mumbles of acknowledgement to let her know he’s still listening. ‘Hm.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Sound’s good, baby.’ 

“You’re not listening to me.” she sighs, looking out the window as they pull into the restaurant. “M’talkin’ too much.”

“Nah, I like that shit. I’d let you know if I’d had enough.” Rafe places his hand on the back of her headrest as he backs into the spot. “But, uh, my head’s always movin’ right? I’m thinkin’ while I listen.”

Milan watches as he shifts gears and places his truck in the middle of two spots, declaring under his breath he doesn’t want anyone ‘fuckin’ up his truck’ to justify taking up two spots. “So…okay. What’re you, like, thinking about? While you’re listening to me.”

“Uh, honestly?” He asks. Intense blue eyes rest on soft brown ones. Milan just nods, turning more toward him. “How fuckin’ hot you are. Pretty fuckin’ distracting.”

“Oh.” She says.

“Yeah. Oh. Does that throw you off or something, like, oh is a weird response-”

“No, I was just saying oh, like-”

“Okay, because, I’m being pretty fuckin’ clear and you’re-”

Milan unclips her seatbelt quickly. Before Rafe can blink her soft lips are pressed against his and before he can kiss her back she’s back in her seat, pulling down the mirror and fumbling in her purse for her lipgloss. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you until our first date was over. I can’t believe I did that. Oh my God.” Rafe chuckles lowly as she fumbles in her purse, dropping it and spilling its contents all over her lap and the floor of the car. “Oh my God.”

“Did you, uh,” He pauses, trying not to openly bark out a laugh at her, scratching his head. “Did you only bring lip gloss and perfume? Like, no wallet. At all.”

“Okay…” Milan starts slowly, “I understand that looks bad, and like, people believe in that 50-50 stuff now, and so I shouldn’t-”

“Baby, the fuck do I look like? I wouldn’t be taking you out if I couldn’t afford to, I’m not a fuckin’ pogue.”

“A what?”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about that fuckin’ peck, that wasn’t a real kiss.” It shocks her how easy it is for Rafe to scoot his chair back and pull her into his lap. “This is the shit you should worry about.”

Rafe Cameron pulls Milan Cabot into the nastiest kiss that either of them had ever fantasized about, let alone experienced. He holds her jaw, working his own open as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and humming against her. He separates their mouths briefly to kiss down her neck only to drag back up to her lips, chuckling darkly when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, gripping her thigh with his free hand as he drools into her open mouth. 

When he pulls away for the final time he rests his head back on the headrest, pushing his thumb into her mouth and releasing a breath as he watches her obediently suck on it. 

By the time they step out of the car to head into the nice breakfast restaurant he’d brought her to, Rafe had willed his…friend to go down, and they had undone the damage he’d done to Milan’s makeup and hair. As he guided her in by the waist, tugging down the hem of her pretty little dress to cover the ass he’d just been gripping he felt a feeling of superiority. The woman next to him was relying on him and him alone to lead her around. All the loser fuckers they passed on the way to their table could stare all they wanted. They could take a mental picture and store it away in their sick little spank banks for later until they came to the realization they’d never get a girl like Milan and finally blew their fucking brains out. But she was here with Rafe. And that’s how he expected it to be from here on out.

He’d decided. She was gonna be his.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Tickletober Day 23: Sweet

Fandom: Marvel (Avengers)

Pairing: Sam, Bucky, Peter 1 (platonic)

Summary: Sam shows Bucky how all the cool kids are trick or treating by knocking on Peter's bedroom door in the tower. When the teen doesn't have any candy to give, the older two Avengers look for a different kind of sweetness to get.

(Yep, had to include one of these three ❤️ :))

"Sam, what are we doing?"

"You'll see in a minute," Falcon replied as he lead him over to a door in the Avengers Tower.

"Believe it or not, I know how to trick or treat. I was around when it was popular."

"Yeah, but the kids have upgraded what they do since you were around. Now I'm going to show you the right way to do this."

Bucky watched as Sam knocked on the door in front of them. At first, no one answered so Sam had to knock twice more before it finally opened to reveal a familiar face.

Peter pulled back one side of his headphones. "What do you two want?"

Sam held up a bucket. "Trick or Treat."

The teen deadpanned.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. "Seem things haven't changed as much as you say they have Sam."

"Ah, but you see, kids aren't as gullible as back then. Now you really have to work to get candy."

Peter pulled his headphones down around his neck. "Did you really knock on my door so I would give you candy?"

Sam patted Bucky's shoulder. "Just showing him the ropes of how's it done."

"I don't need you to show me how to Trick or Treat," Bucky shot back.

"Wait, isn't this the exact opposite of what they warn you about in school?" Peter pointed out.

"They teach you in school not take candy from strangers Pete."

"And now there's two strangers knocking on my door asking for me to give them candy."

"Look, all you gotta do is put something in the bucket and we'll go," Sam responded.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have anything to put in the bucket."

Sam pulled his bucket back. "Rude."

Bucky's face lit up as he grabbed his friend's shoulder. "Hey Sam."

"What?"

"If he won't give us candy, maybe he can give us another type of sweetness to make up for it."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed together while Sam matched Bucky's grin. "I get what you're laying down."

When both of them turned to Peter, the teen got the feeling he was screwed. "Oh no."

Peter tried to shut the door but Bucky managed to throw his arm up in the way. The teen then tried to run to his closet but he was quickly caught and thrown on the bed.

Bucky and Sam rushed to pin him down.

Peter squirmed. "No! Let mehe goho!"

"What's the matter kid?" Bucky wiggled his fingers into the bottom of the teen's socked foot. "You seem nervous."

Peter desperately tried to pull his foot away while still trying to fight with Sam's hands.

"I know, right?" Sam managed to slip past the teen's arms and dig into his ribs. "It's like he's worried something's going to happen."

"Naaah! Knock ihit ohoff!"

"Not until we get the sweetness we need from Trick or Treating."

Bucky spidered his hand up to squeeze Peter's knee. "So where are you hiding it?"

"AH! NOWHERE!"

"I think I know where it is." Sam dug into the kid's stomach. "Down here."

Peter bent in half. He desperately tried to pull his knees up to protect his stomach but Bucky kept pulling them back down. "No! Nohohoho!"

"You're right Sam." Bucky dug into the kid's thighs. "Looks like we found his hiding spots."

Peter was in stitches. He scrambled to roll over onto his other side but the older two pulled him back onto his back.

"Looks like you're desperate to hide something from us," Sam teased.

The teen shook his head. "Ihim nohot!"

Bucky rolled up his shirt. "Let's see what he's so anxious to hide."

"No!" Peter again tried to pull his knees up to protect himself but Bucky pinned them back down while Sam grabbed onto his arms. "Noho wahait!"

A moment later, Bucky's head rushed down to start nibbling along the teen's exposed stomach.

Peter's eyes screwed shut as he cackled and twitched at the feeling of the super soldier's teeth and facial hair attacking his bare stomach. He twisted his feet up into the air to try to counteract the feeling.

Sam gave Bucky a nudge. "Alright, my turn before we kill him."

"Nohot yohou tohoOOO! NAAH!"

Bucky chuckled. "Sheesh kid, could you be any louder."

Peter thought he was going to explode from the feeling of Sam's facial hair and teeth brushing against his stomach. It somehow felt even worse than Bucky's.

Finally, after several more minutes, Sam pulled his head away from the kid.

Peter sagged into the bed. "Jeherks."

Sam nudged him. "Drama king."

The teen kicked at them both.

"Hey! Keep that up and I'm going for those toes next."

Peter immediately pulled his feet up. "Don't yohou dahare!"

"Wehelp." Bucky stood. "Ihi thihink we got the sweetness we were looking for."

Sam ruffled the teen's hair before leaving the room with Bucky. "I think we did."

The teen glared at the two retreating figures before throwing a pillow at the closing door.

[dancingdonatello]

Hiya! I love your fics, almost inspired to start my own I just donno how and im not that amazing at writing. ☆☆♡☆☆

I was wondering if you could write 2018 donnie and how he would react to the reader falling asleep in his lab, perhaps even under his desk after a long day. I feel like it would be really cute. In my head I image donnie has some sort of feelings for the reader but (as donnie does) does not know how to express it.

Sorry if this is such a long ask! You don't have to do it. Just wanna give my shot. Love your writings!

❤️ write!!!!!! you should so write!!! i am always open to helping or giving ideas or anything!!!

rottmnt donatello x gn reader

Donnie didn’t think there’s anything better than ‘body doubling.’

When you came over to work and hang out, he felt like his efficiency increased tenfold.

But for some reason, you only worked on the floor. Apparently the desk space he always offers you wasn’t enough. Only the floor had enough room for your seemingly endless supply of papers.

Today, you had chosen to sit under his desk. He had been nervous to take up too much of your space and had wheeled his chair back a little bit to give you room. But eventually he had to reach for something farther away on his desk and scooted back in.

Then you had rested your side against his leg, your head against his knee, and he couldn’t move away.

Thank god you were on the floor. He covered his face with his hands and exhaled harshly, ignoring how hot his face felt.

He took a few minutes to cool down before he began typing away on his keyboard again, trying very, very hard to focus on the screen of his computer and not your weight against his knee.

He had to fight down every muscle that wanted to twitch, too hyper aware of your presence against him.

What were you thinking right now? Was his leg really that comfy? He should’ve taken his knee pad off, it might be digging into your skull. Were you tired or something?

You’d been quiet for a while now, he finally realized.

He kept his leg stationary as he gently leaned his upper body back to catch a glimpse of you below the desk.

You were definitely asleep.

He rubbed his face, staring at you for an unnecessary amount of time before he took his hoodie off and attempted to drape it over you without waking you up.

It was difficult, especially with how you were positioned, and it slipped off you several times before he settled for it just laying across your lap. Fine. At least your legs would be warm.

He knew he wasn’t very upfront with you. But at least you thought of him well enough to hang out with him and even fall asleep with him. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

He hoped this happened again.