#it’s high as fuck and I was supposed to be saving up this month

[thecooleraveragejamm]

fuck this stupid baka life

[seraphicsentences]

HEY! i knwo your on a break but just incase your bored could you write reader sending spicy texts2 streamer!ellie while shes on like a boss level, and then after ‘raging’ at reader for making her lose, she comes back as if the chat isnt questioning the sounds coming from the other room (silly girl forgot to mute)

hi. tumblr j deleted all my edits to this. i’m rage quitting and j posting this version i banged out in the span of 15 minutes 😀 anyways.

FUCK i’m sorry i know this took fucking forever and now i’m delivering mediocrity. loved this req either way this was smf to write. hope you enjoy sweet girl ;)

me when i disappear for a month and come back only to deliver pure dog shit. 🤪🤪

“-KID JUST GOT FUCKING DESTROYED, FUCKING BITCH.”

it was a late friday night, which meant ellie was streaming in her room, and you were supposed to be studying.

this week ellie was hosting a special in celebration of hitting 10k subscribers, and was grinding away to finally defeat Resident Evil’s final boss.

you could hear the chat dinging away with message after message, no doubt blasting ellie with compliments on her play, and the occasional comment thirsting over her hands or whatnot. it was nothing new— you’d seen the countless edits of her on your own social media page, and even had a folder of your own favorites saved away on a burner account.

“let me suck your fing- WHAT?! that is a crazy thing to say,” you could hear ellie’s shocked voice. “either way, chat, i’m married…”

“where’s my ring? UP YOUR ASS. c’mon, leave me be, guys,” ellie jokingly whined, bantering with her obsessive fanbase.

you held back a smile of your own, hand pressed to your mouth as she continued to scold the chat for their outrageously filthy messages. what a dork.

“alright alright, im muting the chat. love you guys but i gotta focus now! this is serious shit and i’m low on ammo now, hah-ha,” ellie spoke to the screen, words slightly muffled through the thin wall.

in the living room papers lay strewn across the floor, couch littered with eraser shavings and crumpled post-it notes, yourself splayed atop it all.

studying was a long-forgotten task you abandoned to instead sweep lazily through your camera roll, attempting to clear up some much needed storage.

you stopped abruptly at the thumbnail of an old video, in which depicted a downright sinful image of ellie’s bared neck for you as she arched back in pleasure.

you quite literally salivated at the veins that adorned her sweat-glistened skin, naked chest that was just covered by the play button in the center, goading you to click it.

quiet sounds of ellie’s desperate moans picked up, her head coming up look just above the camera and deliver the most pathetically fucked-out look.

“ple-ease can i cum, mommy?” she whined, voice breaking with every thrust of your fingers, wet squelching in the background a sign of her neediness.

“let me hear you, baby,” you heard yourself coo through the screen, the video becoming shaky as you picked up your pace— before suddenly ending on accident right as ellie let out a strangled whimper.

you met it with one of your own, frustrated with being left on an unfinished high, the throbbing at your core impossible to ignore.

your thighs shifted against one another, wetness pooling in your underwear as you replayed ellie’s final sound in your head over and over again.

your trance was broken by the sound of a frustrated groan coming from behind ellie’s door.

“fuck, i got it this time, i got it, swear,” she cursed as the game’s recognizable ‘revive’ audio cue played.

she could just do this again next week, right?

without a second longer of thinking, you quickly screen-shotted a clear frame from the video, shooting it ellie’s way and sending a quick text to follow.

~~

ellie choked on her own spit as she clicked the blur away. cough- “fuck-“ wheeze- “shit-“ hack- “sorry, guys, j choked on my own saliva.”

what the fuck? what games were you trying to play?

you groaned, hearing the firing of guns continue on alongside ellie’s commentary.

sliding your panties aside, you spread your legs to display the mess between them, snapping a quick picture.

you shot back another text.

“just one more hit, one more one more one m- i- fuck,” you hear ellie stutter. “oh fuck, yep… and i’m dead, ‘kay, sorry guys just give me like 5 i’ll be back. gotta take care of something.”

you heard the slam of her headphones hitting the table and a screech of her chair sliding back against the hardwood floors.

the door swung open, the look in ellie’s eyes making your heart race with anticipation.

“hey els, good game?” you asked innocently from your position on the couch, legs crossed with your arm resting over the back.

“good game? yeah, great game actually,” she replies sarcastically, sauntering her way over to you. “you didn’t happen to need something, did you?” she asks, hopping onto the couch and quirking an eyebrow up.

“me? no…” you trail off as she leans in to brush a kiss across your lips.

“no?” she tucks your hair aside, before leaning in to whisper, “you mind spreading those pretty legs for me then, baby? i just want a look.”

“els,” you whine, attempting to catch her mouth in a kiss.

she avoids it, dipping down instead to rasp words against your racing pulse, “show me.”

you uncross your legs slowly, a damp patch darkening the very center of your shorts.

ellie grabs the leg closest to her, swiveling your body in one swift move to face her direction, placing that leg over the back of the couch as she runs her other hand up your opposing leg.

“fuck, els, i need you,” you say breathlessly, hips bucking into the air.

“let’s get these off,” she replies with a squeeze, tugging at your waistband. “wanna tell me what’s got you texting me like a slut in the middle of my stream? was it the video? my video?”

she dips her thumb into your leaking hole, swiping your arousal up in a messy circle over your aching clit.

“ah- shit! yes, fuck, y’sounded s-so pretty in it, els,” you moaned, nerves overly sensitive from the wait. “please,” you cried out, unsure of what exactly you were begging for, but you needed more.

“so fuckin’ needy,” ellie laughs under her breath, relishing in the loud groan that escapes your lips when she replaces her hand with her mouth, tongue flicking rhythmically against your swollen clit to draw out more of those pretty sounds.

“oh-oh, god, right there, so good- mmph,” you rock your hips up, hand scrambling to tug ellie’s mouth even closer to you, if possible.

mmhm she moans into your pussy, the vibrations making you jerk up as your legs clamp tightly around her head. ellie’s hands dash up immediately to shove them apart, pressing them wide open with an iron grip as she practically growls, “you asked for this. so fucking take it.”

two of her fingers slide easily into you with the next pull on your clit, and you’re arching up in a manner almost identical to ellie’s in the video, whining nonsensically.

“you’re dripping, baby,” ellie tuts, “just couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

she continues to pump her fingers deep into you, curling them on every outstroke to slide against the spot that makes you see stars.

“c’mon, cum all over my fingers,” she teases, whispering sweet praises between kitten licks to your sensitive clit.

with your head thrown back, you couldn’t help but moan her name like a fucking prayer as your walls started to tighten, legs trembling under her grasp as she worked you through your high.

“that’s it, soak my fucking fingers.”

~

iluvgirls_moms: THAT WAS 1000% A MOAN

elliesleftarm33: guys what the fuck is happening 😀 ellie babes, i think you forgot to mute.

ewilliamsismy_wife: did anyone else j hear ellie’s name. are the voices getting to me?

elliewsjizzfr6996: how to be ellie’s gf no glue no borax? 🥲🥲

1toesuckersslurper: NAH ITS BEEN WELL OVER 10 MIN IM OUTTA HERE

yeahhh… looks like ellie owes her subscribers a real big 10k special next week. and an apology.

[attapullman]

That's Mine | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Bob likes Rooster. He does. So why does he suddenly hate him when his childhood best friend agrees to go out on a date with the pilot?

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: f!reader, 18+ ONLY as always, smut, protected pinv, oral (f receiving), praise!kink, fluff, dirty humour, alcohol mentions, sorry to all the Rooster girlies

Author's Note: This is my official jealous best friend!bob entry for my event International Bob Floyd Fucks Month. Thank you to everyone who has celebrated this silly little thing and continued the Bob Fucks agenda. I just love him so much. Save a Rooster, ride a Bob!

“What do you mean Rooster asked you out?” 

He’s hot on your heels through the house, following you out to where you’re watering the ferns on the deck. You can’t see his face, but the simmering annoyance is palpable. In your mind’s eye you can see the little vein that pops out only when he’s seriously irritated. An emotion he reserves only for you.

Who would have guessed that two strangers pairing up for a Mommy & Me class decades ago would evolve into the inseparable, eye-rolling, belly laughing attachment of you and your best friend. He keeps you focused, eyes on the prize and safely home by ten. You bring Robby out of his shell, actually wanting to jump in and join the crowd. Occasionally both giving each other a headache, but always ending with a punch on the shoulder while sharing a carton of Haagen Daas. 

You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. He’s being so annoying about this Rooster thing.

It’s been four months since you followed him out to San Diego. A quick summons to Top Gun that led to him out in the middle of the ocean while you whined to your roommate about what if he doesn’t come home this time? How could you possibly survive without him infodumping about WWI missiles and whether milk or dark chocolate made better cookies? 

And then you’d gotten the call,  B.O.B. flashing across the screen and the photo from that summer in high school where he let you paint a butterfly on his face. The mission was successful. He was safe. And he was staying in Fightertown permanently with this squadron. A few months later, when your roommate accidentally lit your stove on fire, he asked if you wanted to come down and stay for a few weeks. By the end of the month you had rented a small craftsman and his truck was a regular fixture outside.

Then a month ago, when he’d swung by after work, khaki uniform freshly pressed, and asked if you wanted to come to the local Navy bar to meet the names he spent so much time talking to you about. Fiddling with the edge of his glasses, nervous you wouldn’t like his new crew as well as the Lemoore squadron you’d spent years befriending. But if they were good enough for Bob, they were good enough for you.

Rooster was hot. All curly auburn hair and big brown eyes. You’d hit it off quickly, the two of you against Phoenix and Bob, sharing stories about your beloved bespectacled WSO and his sassy quip of the day. Phoenix still couldn’t believe that Bob had used a Superbad quote for the high school yearbook. You still remember the horrified look on his mom’s face.

But last night had been different. Phoenix and Bob had huddled a Budweiser cup of peanuts and discussed strategy most of the night, Fanboy rounding off the table once he heard “electronic warfare”. Your best friend’s dedication to work was commendable, but what were you supposed to do at a Navy bar when he was busy? Luckily the baby cow-eyed pilot had taken pity and bought you a round, taking you out to the back deck to appreciate the beach while Hangman rowdily dominated the pool table. 

Rooster had been sweet, asking about your childhood with Bob and what you thought of San Diego. Between the kind male attention and the slutty light wash jeans, you were only human for looking up at him through your lashes and flirting a little. And you felt light as air when Bob came outside ready to take you home, your number in Rooster’s phone and a date secured for Friday. 

“Seriously? You’re not going to answer me?” Why was annoying Robby so fun? So sweet and calm under the most pressured of situations, every once in a while he prickled. 

You finish with the deck plants and retreat back inside, making sure the windowsill babies are plenty hydrated in the late afternoon sun. “Why do you care? You like Rooster.”

It’s alarmingly loud in the silence as he thinks through that one.

Because Bob does like Rooster. He’s a little older, outgoing, the kind of guy he trusts on a life-or-death mission. In the last few months he would even venture to say they’d become more friends than coworkers, Natasha always bringing them together for a night out. So why did it bother him so much when you said you were going out with Rooster tomorrow night?

Instead of answering, he keeps his conflicted thoughts to himself and starts helping with the plants. There’s no point in an argument he’s not going to win, especially when he’s not sure what he’s even fighting for.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, metal frames glinting in the low afternoon light, gelled hair out of formation from training with his helmet on all day. Maybe you did overstep by agreeing to go out with one of his coworkers. “You want to get street tacos and make fun of C-list celebrities?” 

His eyes light up as he nods and overwaters your calathea.

Half a six pack of Mexican lager later and the two of you are sprawled across the living room furniture, Bob’s socked feet up on the coffee table and yours over the arm of the wingback he helped you haul home four years ago. Save the fuzzy tipsiness clouding your senses, you’re transported back to weekend nights in high school. Watching old John Hughes movies and laughing so hard soda shot up your nose. Life has been full of so many incredible opportunities, but evenings in front of the TV with Robby are your most cherished memories.

“Oh my god!” you squeal. “Could he be any more cringeworthy? Put a shirt on!” Your fingers cover your eyes, pretending to be offended by the young twentysomething currently stripping off on your trashy television show of choice. 

Bob laughs from his spot on the sofa, beer can dwarfed in that massive hand. “Oh please, you love when they’re half naked for no reason.” He feels that weird tug in his chest for the second time today, but chalks it up to the meat from his street tacos. 

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him that toothy smile you’ve perfected since elementary school. “Ya,” you slur a little. “But as my best friend you’re not allowed to judge.”

As if he could find fault in you.

Payback has been talking to him for the past twenty minutes. Bob hasn’t heard a word. Just continues staring at the front door of the Hard Deck like it will magically conjure you. 

You’re out with Rooster right now, at that restaurant with the breathtaking ocean view and spicy mozzarella sticks. And while you didn’t tell him, he knows you’re wearing the dress with the eyelet lace and your hair down for once. And you’re probably giving him that toothy grin while he talks about 80’s music and shows you photos of working on the Bronco. You’re likely planning your second date already.

He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. So why does he suddenly hate him?

Payback has completely given up on conversation when the door opens and in strides that floral print smug son of a bitch. Bob’s hand grips the table, grounding himself that it’s not a hallucination. Rooster’s hand is respectfully on your waist, leading you through the throng of Friday night patrons. And you look pretty as can be in that dress, your hair slightly covering your warm cheeks and bashful eyes as a strong man looks after you. 

The pilot grins at his squadron, tipping his chin in greeting, knowing he’s got the prettiest girl in the room on his arm. You give Bob a goofy lopsided grin, happy to see him after a lovely night out. Happy that Rooster offered to drop you by before taking you home so you could see your best friend. 

There’s nervous energy bubbling under your skin, eager to download about your dinner and drinks, and you wish you were back at home in the kitchen, mugs of hot chocolate in your hands while you and Robby gabbed about your latest romantic excursions like back in the day.

Things were so much simpler when you were seventeen.

Especially because back then he wasn’t weird when you had crushes, or met someone on Hinge. And he certainly didn’t give you that tight lipped frown that you want to smooth off his face. It’s you and him against the world, so why does it suddenly feel like it’s you against him?

“Hey Robby,” you start, giving him your gentlest smile. “You win darts?” He gives a half shrug, picking at his cup of peanuts. Cool, that’s how he’s gonna play it.

You sit next to Rooster at the piano, letting him play a few songs and rally the crowd. You’re a little bored of the repertoire you’ve heard on repeat since your first Hard Deck visit, but give him an encouraging smile nonetheless to be polite. 

You like Rooster. But even after a nice night, you know you don’t want to pursue this. Not at the sake of your friendship with Bob.

Everyone’s stomping their feet and slapping their hands to Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” when exhaustion hits you. The back of your hand against your mouth signaling that you’ve had enough for one day. The sweet chocolate eyes of your piano partner give you a caring look as he asks if you want him to drive you home. The hope for a goodnight kiss twinkles in his eye.

“No need, I can take her!” It’s instant adrenaline the way the WSO has launched across the room. You rush to thank Rooster for a nice night as he’s left behind on the piano bench. Bob hasn’t said a single word to you all night and yet he’s borderline dragging you out to his truck. The calloused edges of his fingers digging into your bare arm, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing against your hands when he helps you into the truck. They’re all familiar feelings, yet tonight feels different.

He’s completely silent on the drive, the radio playing some alternative rock music barely audible over the silence. He may be quiet with others, happy to take a back seat, but he’s never had an issue piping up with you. It’s punishment. Punishment for trying to have a good time with a guy who you’ve decided you don’t want. 

When he parks in front of your cozy craftsman - the house he toured with you, helped you with the paperwork, bought the bubbly to commemorate the occasion - you’re both at a standstill. Last night you’d been able to put your differences aside for trashy television and tacos. Tonight…you’re just hoping he’ll come inside.

“Who do I gotta bang around here to get you to come inside?” His chuckle is weak, eyes looking anywhere but you.

Because while you’re trying to figure out where you’ve gone wrong, Bob has been having an existential crisis since Bradley fuckin’ Bradshaw put his hand on your waist. A crisis that’s been gaining speed since you followed him out to Lemoore all those years ago and has arrived at a screeching halt, crawling out of his throat. And he’s too shy to tell his lifelong best friend what’s been bothering him for as long as he’s known.

You’re…it. 

It’s the way you laugh with your entire face. How you always have a comeback. Your endless love for others. The endearing way you order a pancake for the table at brunch. You’ve been the entire package this whole time. And someone seeing it before him is infuriating.

He follows you inside, watching the way the light radiates at the high points of your face. This is going to be harder than expected.

Robert Floyd has known for years that his best friend is amazing. Practically his whole life. Not a single doubt they’d make an incredible partner. The tiniest crush forming at just how good of a partner. Daydreaming about their current arrangement - the movie nights, the early morning beach walks, the Sunday afternoon bubble tea runs - with a dash of domestic bliss had his heart thudding in his chest.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was Wednesday night, when he came to collect you for the drive home. Sitting next to Rooster, a cup of peanuts loosely hanging from your hand as you looked up at the pilot with long lashed eyes and a seductive twitch of a smile. The way you’d bitten your lip when you said goodbye, turning back to Robby with that flirty glint still in your eye; instantly resetting to friendly excitement as you followed him to the parking lot.

He needed to make you look at him like that.

And now here, in your living room, while you hand him a glass of water and look at him with those impossibly pretty eyes - fuck. How does he explain?

You’re concerned, watching the turmoil on his face and convinced you’ve seriously crossed a line this time. You’ve always been the troublemaker of the dynamic, the bursting bubbly energy to his impossibly sweet silence. Won’t he please share what’s on his mind?

He’s not sure if it’s the burning need to release this tension from his body, or the way your face looks so upset at his indecision, but suddenly the dam bursts. All rational thought out the window as he finally speaks up.

“If I don’t fuck you right now I think I might die.”

It’s impossible to tell whose eyes are wider. His in embarrassment that came out and so whiny. Yours in total shock. Your brain has blue screened and all you can do is blink slowly back into focus, centering on the pink cheeks and bashful baby blue eyes in front of you.

Licking your lips, you sputter out, “W-what?”

You both know you heard him. It was impossible not to with the intense neediness dripping out of every syllable. His carnal need to know what you feel like, taste like. The way those thick, long fingers of his tensed on his knee.

A thousand emotions pass behind your eyes, reflected in his glasses. A handful of ways to handle this situation, but only one makes sense. 

“Come over here. We can’t have you dying, now can we?”

There is nothing graceful about the collision of bodies that happens. Navy-trained strength meeting enthusiastic energy. He’s across the room before you can finish your sentence, the slight pause of uncertainty met with your bound into his arms. Warm lips finding each other, hesitant yet sure. The hands on your hips are familiar in a different circumstance. 

The waves crashing down on Bob’s brain slow, and he’s instantly soothed as he enjoys the subtle tang to your taste. You’ve worn the same perfume for the last decade, yet this is the first time it’s driven him wild. Pulling back, he takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with the perfect scent. His fingers, fast as light when he works controls, are slow and controlled over the curve of your waist. 

“I hate that Rooster touched you. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours?’

He leans forward, gaze level, breaths intermingling. “You’re mine.”

Eyes wide, glossy lip between your teeth…Bob hasn’t seen anything sexier in his life. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers scratching along his scalp as you fight for dominance in your kisses. He’s gaining confidence the longer you moan into his mouth, a sinful sound he wasn’t prepared to hear. Years of listening to you talk about dates and crushes, and now he’s experiencing it first hand.

You’re caught up in the way he’s trailing his large hands up and down your torso, tentatively brushing against the curve of your ass. Waiting for him to call the shots for what happens next. Frustrated he hasn’t already spread you out on the stupidly expensive cotton duvet he convinced you to buy.

“Robby?” He hums, lips preoccupied with your neck. “Not to be ungrateful, but I thought you were going to fuck me?”

The deep scarlet that spreads across your best friend’s cheeks is one for the record books. Jackpot.

He’s practically falling over himself, hands everywhere at once as he collects his thoughts. “You’re sure…you’re sure you want this?”

The seething jealousy that’s consumed him since Wednesday has dissipated, and the horny fog has lifted temporarily. All that’s left is ensuring you’re both on the same page. Once this happens, there’s no going back. As much as he’s looking forward to taking off that pretty dress, you need to be ready to make the same leap.

Swallowing a deep breath, drowning in those eager cerulean blues, you shift your thigh to press against the bulge in his jeans. A bulge all the girls in Lemoore talked about when they thought you weren’t listening. There’s a curiosity burning in you, a need to know if he’s just as sweet in bed as he is when he’s picking you up or helping with dinner. Things have always been platonic - they needed to be, you wouldn’t have survived a childhood crushing on the bespectacled sweetheart who grew up to be an incredible man.

You know the risks, but the rewards are greater. Life is too short to not experience fucking Robert Floyd.

A kiss to his lips. A wink. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You sound like children giggling on the playground as you run down the hall to your bedroom, trying not to trip on the hall runner as he presses you against the wall to pepper you in scorching kisses. Breathy laughs as you explore this new part to your dynamic. Overwhelming lust mixed with lifelong companionship.

Once you make it to the bedroom - that supima bedspread underneath you, his hips cradled against yours - the innocent giggles dissipate as you take in the man above you. No longer the pink-cheeked child, the gawky teenager, Robby is nothing but height and strength and…broad? When did he get so broad? Naturally so meek and unassuming, the pure size of him is unexpected. But pinning you to the bed with those veiny hands and strong thighs, a collision of attraction overwhelms you.

There’s nothing delicate about the way he grinds his hips into yours, whimpers leaving both your lips. Your panties are soaked, he’s stretching the front of his jeans. Desperation fills the space between you.

His lips wander from your jaw, your neck, the space behind your ear, all the way to your passion-swollen lips. His voice is unsure, but hopeful, as he whispers against them, “Can I go down on you?”

Your eyes bloom wide - not only because you’d like nothing more, but you’ve remembered something from years ago. Something at the time you’d tried to forget. A night out with the Lemoore crew at that shoddy bar, everyone drunk after being out at sea for weeks, and you sat near the back waiting for Bob to come back with drinks. A small group of female aviators sat at the next table over, having clocked the shy WSO on his way to the bar. One had giggled, her friends shooting her a questioning glance. You’ll never forget when she replied, “I’d heard the rumors and didn’t believe them, but can confirm that Bob Floyd eats pussy like a starving man. Best hour of my life.”

As soon as he sees your slightly too eager nod, he’s working his way down your body, appreciating the feel of your dress and soft skin. Breath held as he officially breaches out of friend territory and lifts the hem, treating himself to the satin he can’t wait to pull aside. 

Lip worried between your teeth, a whimper is punched out of you when a hot mouth secures itself around your mound, thick tongue exploring the crevices of your covered folds. A finger slips itself along your entrance, bringing to attention the soaked material.

“Someone’s excited.” The lust-driven chuckle against your thigh has you shivering. “You want me to eat your sweet little pussy?”

He’s never used that voice on you, husky and mocking. You’re shaking with desire, for him to stop teasing and give you what you want. An hour ago he was just your friend, and now you’ve never felt so needy for a man’s touch. So far gone you don’t even notice the desperate nod you give him.

He presses another wet kiss to your clothed clit before wrapping his long fingers in the fabric. Prompting you to lift up slightly so he can have unimpeded access to this feast. Skimming his nose along your thighs, hot air directly on your slick cunt. The whimpers escaping you doing nothing but prolonging the teasing.

Bob can feel how you tremble, the way your fingers are smoothing over the bedspread in an effort to self-soothe. He’s satisfied that he’s gotten you as frustrated and ill-content as he’s felt for years. Needing something, not knowing if you’ll like it, but knowing that if you don’t have it you’ll never feel satisfied.

His fingers spread you out. Head dips. The lightest touch of his tongue to damp arousal.

Holy fuck. He does eat pussy like a starving man. Pushing his face in closer and closer, his tongue reaching for every inch of the promised land. His fingers wrapped around your thighs, pulling you in. Hot, wet muscle opening you up as he drools. 

Eyes unfocused, you’re in a new dimension and yet he’s enjoying it more. 

That deliciously fuzzy feeling starts to tingle in your stomach, pressure building between your thighs as your best friend helps himself. Blunt nails raking up and down your legs to ground you in the experience. The sharp edge of his metal frames occasionally snagging on the skin. They alone make you want to cry to the heavens. But it’s the way he’s sloppily forcing his tongue into your cunt, lewd noises ringing around the room, that has you clamping your lips shut to not wake all of San Diego.

He senses that you’re holding back, not giving him everything he wants. You’ve been best friends since day one, he knows when you not being authentic.

That delicious tongue withdraws from your thighs and you can feel his stare on you. Waiting patiently for you to make eye contact. The pussy drunk, yet concerned look he gives you as he nudges you. “It’s okay, it’s me. I’m never going to judge you.”

Blue eyes meet yours. The same blue eyes that have consistently seen you safely out the other side of any bad situation the two of you have faced. That always comes home from deployment so matter how much you worry. The same ones that you know will guide and protect you on this journey as well. He’s your best friend. No one else can keep you this safe.

After your nod, he dips his slick lips back to your core, his smile upon your skin. Quickly losing himself in your flavor as he nudges you back open. His own hips rocking against the mattress as you allow your bitten lips to part, moans and whimpers and sharp intakes of breath filling the air. Losing yourself in his over-and-above technique to bring you to the edge.

His own muted moans vibrate against your core. Dexterous tongue and calloused middle finger (followed quickly by another) sliding in and out with ease. It’s too much and not enough, overwhelming your senses and making your brain whirr. Skin slick with sweat as that fuzzy feeling in your stomach returns and your feet tingle. Your eyes gazing unfocused down at Robby, hopelessly turned on at his dedication to making you feel good.

“C’mon, be good for me.”

His muffled words stretch the string and bring you home, thighs clamping around his damp face as a scream escapes your throat. Fingers twisting in the bedspread. Back arching. The view has him slack jawed and starry eyed, fingers still pumping in and out to prolong your orgasm. A slight tilt of his lips into a smile at how content you are when he finally catches your gaze through labored breaths.

Your brain slowly comes back to you, thoughts racing through sludge. Eyes fixed on cerulean as a smile stretches your lips. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

He laughs, a surprised, carefree sound as he uses your thighs to help himself up the bed. Gives you a little wink as he grins, “It can get kind of boring on deployment.”

“Recon and intelligence protection missions are boring?”

“Yeah, when you’re not there to annoy me.” His dimples are out in full force, laughter twinkling out of every pore on his perfect face. You slug him a little, your orgasm still working its way through your body. The urge to roll over and sleep just as strong as the urge to shove him in your cunt through his jeans. 

You’ve had a taste and you need more.

He’s already one step ahead of you, shrugging the soft flannel and faded tshirt from his body. Gently cranes you in his arms as he helps unzip and lift your dress above your head. The garbled choking sound and intake of breath when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra makes you proud. You’ve always thought Bob was attractive in an understated, sweet way. To know he’s attracted to you makes any doubt about this situation indefinitely fade.

Sitting in front of him, not a scrap of fabric on you, you feel good. He’s the best guy you know, the one you have always sung his praises because there’s literally no one better. The only difference between a friendship and a relationship is sex. That’s all that’s been missing.

It’s time to take the plunge.

You swallow his lips with yours, fingers twisting in his sun-lightened hair. His arms wrapping around you, holding you secure to him. Both of you gasping at the feeling of your bare torsos touching. It’s electric. It’s satisfying. It’s grounding.

Hands quick to unzip his jeans, laughing as he tries to help only for you to bat him away. “You got to undress me, I want to undress you.”

The groan he emits reverberates. You’re so sexy and it’s driving him crazy. There was his fleeting crush in high school, but this…this is beyond his wildest dreams. Allowing your soft fingers to dip below the waist of his boxers, shimmying the denim and cotton down his legs. Your lips struck open in awe at the heavy, hard, thick appendage resting against his thigh. 

“You tell me every secret you have, and yet you keep the python in your pants to yourself?” He laughs, a hand wrapping around the base as you flounder to mentally combine Robby, your meek best friend, with the red-tipped joyride protruding from his pelvis. 

He helps himself to a condom from the box in the nightstand - the one you jokingly said you’d never use when he watched you unpack. You’re almost worried it’s going to be too small, but he glides it on with ease before lowering you both onto the bed, biceps straining as he adjusts. Bob can feel your slick center against the bottom of his dick and it’s taking everything in him to not make himself at home.

As you prepare yourself for what’s about to be a hell of a stretch, he kisses the top of your breasts, skimming his nose against your soft skin. Even in this moment his main priority is making you comfortable and feel safe. “We can go slow, it’s okay.”

But where Bob is safe and secure, you’re adventurous, curious. You want to know what he feels like now. 

The wild fire of your eyes bores into his calm ocean blue. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A shift of hips and he’s slipping through, arousal and spit gently gliding the tip of him in. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling on the Navy-approved length at the nape of his neck. A sharp tug that prompts a yelp as he drives his hips forward, slipping inch after inch into you. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you struggle to adjust. Fuck, he’s so big.

He’s kissing your temple, whispering how good you’re being for him. I know it hurts, you’re doing so well, almost there, baby. His thumb sliding between your bodies to rub pointed circles on your clit. He’s barely started and you’re already leaving your body, watching yourself be stuffed to the brim.

The neatly trimmed hairs of his pelvis poke along your clit and you’re proud of yourself for taking all of him. Nudging Bob softly to move because you’re uncomfortably full. Back arching into his strong chest as he explores parts of you that you didn’t know existed. 

In no time at all he’s thrusting with all his power, leaving you a moaning mess. Fingers clutching to any sweaty skin you can find, nails leaving their mark. He’s red-faced and huffing above you, eyes switching between your blissed out expression and the way your breasts sway with his heavy thrusts. This is heaven. This is everything. Why did he wait to say anything?

Suddenly you’re pawing at his chest, pushing him to roll over. “C’mon Floyd, let me rock your world now.”

He’s pretty sure you could blow him a kiss and rock his world, but he’s definitely not complaining about the view. The silhouette of you against the San Diego moon - big beaming smile and tight nipples. Wishes he had a camera to forever commemorate the first of many times you ask to ride him. A picture book of your perfect face all the way down to you split over his dick with different backgrounds.

From this angle it’s tight, but you’re not a quitter. Rocking your hips to loosen up, hands finding purchase on his chest. His big smile is back, eyes completely dilated while he can’t decide where to look. You’re seeing stars and he’s seeing diamonds. 

Once rhythm comes to you, you’re bouncing, loving the way he fills you to the hilt each time. His encouraging smile behind golden rims. You’re with someone who knows the real you, who encourages you to be your best self. And with his strong, veiny hands wrapped around your waist, helping along your movements, you know he’s…it.

It’s hard to tell where your moans end and his start, both of you polluting the air with inhales and groans mixed with the occasional squelch of sex. Your skin is shimmering, thighs begging for reprieve. You can’t get enough of the way he perfectly fills you every time. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he brings you closer, slotting his mouth over yours in a filthy, sloppy kiss. Starting to meet your thrusts as you inch closer and closer to your orgasm. Having to calm himself before he ruins your rhythm. The idea of you cumming on his cock has him dizzy. You rake your fingers through his hair one last time, eyes unable to meet as your lashes flutter, and he knows. You’re here, he’s gotten you to the edge.

That big hand on your lower back soothes as you clench for the final time, pulsing. You’ve officially left Earth, watching yourself convulse on top of Robby while he rocks himself up into you. “Good girl…yeah, that’s right…feels so good, huh?” 

Forget the best sex of your life, this orgasm can never be topped.

You’re half-heartedly pressing kisses to his forehead as he begin the descent to his own orgasm. Feet flat to the mattresses as he cants his hips up, desperate to drive every inch into you. The fluttering of your cunt the most amazing thing he’s ever felt, catapulting him over the edge quicker than any partner he’s had before. Shoving his face into your neck, licking at your salty skin, he knows his release is inevitable.

“C’mon Robby, cum for me.”

All reason leaves him and he bites down, lips securing over the delicate slope of your neck. A while light flashes behind his eyes and he’s filling up the condom, squeezing out every ounce of release. He suckles the skin, soothing himself as his spent body blinks back to life. Smiles sheepishly when he meets your eyes, as you smile at him sweetly.

Words don’t exist as you hold each other under the covers, tracing skin and giggling when the other finds a ticklish spot. At some point he disposes of the condom, but you’re still not fully there. Everything is good and special and you want to live in this moment forever.

When Bob strolls into the Hard Deck Saturday night, one arm looped around your waist, everything was right in his world.

His colleagues and friends sat in the back near the pool table, sipping beers and winning a game against another squadron. The two of you stroll up, looking decidedly more friendly than they’ve ever seen. Especially when Bob won’t let go of your waist and you keep touching him. 

You can’t help it. You’ve gotten a taste and now you’re insatiable.

The group takes in their WSO, standing a little taller than usual with his uncontrollable grin. And then they take in you, beaming, all smiles, looking right at home by Bob’s side in your tight jeans and cute little top. A cute little top that perfectly shows off the dark purpling mark mottling on your collar - teeth marks still visible in the right light.

While Robby confirms your drink order, there is stunned silence from the other half of the pool table. Mouths agape, a gleam of pride in Jake’s eye. Phoenix picks herself up first, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden realization of last night’s events. Clocks that you went out with Rooster, yet went home with Floyd. 

“So, uh, what happened there?” She gestures to the obvious love bite. One that definitely wasn’t there when the group saw you last.

You bite your lip and look at your lifelong best friend. The guy who showed you his love last night…and then several more times this morning. His crinkled eyes drift from yours to the spot where he bit down as he came for you for the first time.

Turning to look at his squadron, he plays it cool and  shrugs, mumbling through his blush, “Can’t blame me for making sure no one else plays with my toys.”

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @hangmanapologist @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @maryelizabeth13 @mtnzen @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @yuckosworld

join the taglist

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: yandere, kidnapping

fem reader

Just had another thought about bully!Bakugou and quirkless childhood friend!darling...

You fall off the grid after high school only to reveal yourself several years later, right in the thick of his career.

He’s been recruited to go on an undercover mission to uncover a major drug scheme. He and a female operative are to play newlyweds, living together in a pretty suburban picket fence house where you'll be conducting surveillance on the neighboring family.

When you walk into the brief, you don’t give any sign of having recognized him. Nor him you, even though his chest and throat tightened to the point he had to stifle a cough.

When you sit down, you’re calm and collected while letting slip a smooth, breathless scoff – giving a slight smirk, saying calmly, “You jokers chose this landmine for a covert mission?”

“You two know each other?”

Your eyes slide off to look at Bakugou, eyeing him up and down where he sits – trying his best to hide it, but your trained eyes see it clear as day – rigid, short-breathed, a little sweaty. He’s shocked, he’s nervous, he’s even a little embarrassed.

You smile. And despite the history, all you offer in answer is a curt, “We used to.”

Bakugou feels like you have him by the balls. His jaw doesn’t unlock during the entirety of the meeting, reading the list of your responsibilities while they’re explained. How the entire neighborhood might be both bugged and surveyed by the target, so you’ll have to perform as a real married couple every waking hour – including eating together, sleeping together, kissing each other, fucking each other so as not to raise any suspicion.

You don’t budge or show any tells. You’ve been trained for this, and you’ve done this type of work plenty of times before already. Bakugou had read your file, so he knew – but shit, how weren’t you uncomfortable?

The mission lasts three long months and seventeen days. And when it’s done, you fall right off the grid again as though none of it had meant a thing.

And he knows that that’s how it’s supposed to be. He knows none of it is supposed to be real, but how can it not have been? It can't have all been a performance. He rejects that. He refuses it. He knows for certain you couldn’t have been acting all that time. You couldn’t because he hadn’t.

He’s breaking so many rules, tracking you down. And your disgust of his unprofessionalism is written all over your face when you open the door to find him having been the one to ring your doorbell. Still, you save saying anything but gesture for him to come inside.

“You weren’t easy to find-”

“This is gross misconduct, Bakugou. I can have you reported.” You cut him off. He’s not heard that voice come out of you. When you were his wife, you’d only speak sweetly – lovingly and dotingly, often with your arms slung around him, your hands in the short stubble at the back of his neck, smiling up at him so prettily.

You were scowling now.

“Are you?” He asks.

You stare at him for a moment, but then you give in with a sigh – trodding off to what he guesses is the kitchen without an answer to his question. But the silence is an answer in and of itself.

You dress differently than you did. No frilly little dress. But sweatpants and a tank – no jewelry, no makeup, hair undone.

You open the fridge and hand him a beer, then you crack one open yourself. “I have something stronger if you need it.” You say then, but he waves a no. So you lean against the counter and bring your can up to your lips. “Why are you here?”

He watches you drink for a moment. When you were his wife, you didn’t like beer, you only drank white wine, and it always made you tipsy after a couple of sips. You would never even finish a glass before becoming slow and dull-eyed. Suppose he’d never actually seen you drunk at all…

He doesn’t open his beer, feeling the cold dew drip over his knuckles. “Do you miss it?” He asks.

You look him in the eyes with slanted ones of your own. “I’m not humoring that question. If you’re having issues, you should file for a shrink. The bureau offers the best, they’ll suck out all the shit from your mind, and you’ll go back to normal within a week or two.”

“I don’t wanna go back to normal.”

You look annoyed, but then your face softens. “It’s like that the first time. It’ll pass.”

He doesn’t believe you. In your file, it said that you’d done this seven times before. Sometimes much longer than the months you’d spent together.

“It was a job, now it’s over. You need to shut the door on it and move on with your life.”

You say that, but looking around your space, it seems your job doesn’t allow much of life to take place. You have a couch and a TV, but otherwise, everything is barren. No pictures on the walls, no decorations. Where a dining table should stand, you have workout equipment instead, sprawled out over the entire floor. And if he saw your fridge correctly, you only have beer and TV dinners.

“You always on the job?” He asks.

You place your finished beer upside down in the sink, letting the last drops dry off while muttering out a retort, “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t hear it, though. Too busy looking at you, standing there against the sink – looking the way you did when you’d wash dishes after dinner. You’re not wearing a summer dress or an apron – but you stand the same way. Slightly bent over, hips pushed into the countertop, ass pushed out like a welcome. 

He sets his beer off on the counter and takes his spot behind you, sliding his bigger hands around your small waist, slotting himself against you with his crotch nudged nicely against your butt. It feels right.

You make a small sound, going a little rigid at the unsuspected attack – but weren’t brash enough to push him away. You were rational enough to accept you wouldn’t be able to if you tried. 

“You sure you don’t miss it?” He asks again in a murmur, brushing his lips up your artery – nuzzling against you – his heavy chest resting against your shoulder blades – and you could feel the equally heavy pounding of his heart.

“Listen, Bakugou… whatever you think you miss, it doesn’t exist.” You state flatly. “Dominic and Suzie aren’t real.”

Those had been your names. Dominic and Suzie, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. Your identities for three months. But now, no more.

“But they can be…” Bakugou whispered back, tugging you a little closer – then released a small breathless laugh. “We always used to say we’d get married one day, remember? When we were brats…”

A small smile creased a dimple on your cheek at the memory, but only for a small second before you remembered everything he’d put you through after. “We’re not brats anymore. And honestly-” You catch your tongue and never finish the thought. It’s so long ago it doesn’t matter.

You sigh, knowing you’re lying to yourself. 

You relax again and drop your head back to rest on his shoulder, overlapping his hands with yours. “In retrospect, we should have filed for replacement from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You pause a little bit, weighing whether you want to tell him or not. “I felt I had something to prove.” You confess. “You’ve always made me feel worthless, so when I was presented with the opportunity to rub it in your face, the child in me couldn’t resist.” 

You thought it would feel like a victory, a sweet revenge, but in the end, it just made you disappointed in yourself. How could you think playing house with a person you hate would do you any justice?

“It was stupid, and I regret it. I’m better than that.” You add resolutely. “Nevertheless, mission complete. It’s behind us now.”

Bakugou didn’t agree, still holding you the same way he’d done. 

 “You should let go of me.” You sigh again. “I’m not gonna act like Suzie for you, so-”

“I don’t want you to act like Suzie.” He interjected, nuzzling against your neck with a whisper. “I want you... the real you.”

You scoff. “Fuck- Katsuki, look around you. There’s nothing here to want.”

“Let’s make something then.” He argues, pressing a soft kiss below your ear. “It was always supposed to be us two. From the start.”

“What are you talking about?” You won't deny the contact feels good. Good enough to make your voice come out in a moan.

“I’m talking about me and you, anywhere we choose.” He continues with his kisses, and you close your eyes to the feeling but still scoff at the offer. 

“You’re talking about a dream. I’m not leaving my job to chase some fantasy with you.”

There's a silence, and Bakugou’s voice comes out more serious after. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

Your brows furrow, and you open your eyes again.

He still kisses your neck, now with his hands rubbing firm circles in your sides.  

“You were very hard to find…” He mutters. “I doubt anyone would notice if you went missing…”

“Katsuki-” You protest, still calm as you try and push yourself from the counter, but it’s an aimless effort. His touches only grow stronger to keep you in place.

“The bureau would think you’d decided to go private or retire. And given your record, I don’t think they’d spend too many resources trying to find you.”

“Katsuki, let go-” It’s scary, but you’ve been in scarier situations, so you’re able to keep your cool still – despite the chills that run up your spine from his speech. “You’re talking crazy-”

“Living like this is what’s crazy.” He answers.

His apartment looks the same. Nothing personal anywhere except a vain mantle lined with diplomas and trophies he’d received for civic duties when he’d laid his life on the line. Otherwise, it was as stale as a cheap hotel room – no art, no pictures, no carpets, not even a lamp. Just the necessities. Kitchen articles and a bed.

“I need you. And by the looks of things, you need me too.”

[lavendermin]

Your Jing Yuan breeding kink hcs saved me, thank you, thank you (I too, want to be pampered and taken care of by Xianzhou Luofu's kind, handsome and strong general without having to think about paying taxes or rent)

Jing yuan breeding kink brainworms going crazy chewing on my brain cables to make me short circuit. ANON IM GOING INSANE. Just thinking about him again made me black out as I wrote this whole thing. It was supposed to be a simple short answer but well… here we are…

—

Jing Yuan, your sweet and delightful husband who discovers his breeding kink (perhaps even a pregnancy kink, the night is young and we’re all insane here). It starts off innocently and then slowly trickles into a little obsession— sexually repressed old man who is centuries old discovers kinks! Wow!

cw | smut, minors dni, breeding kink, pregnancy, just jing yuan discovering his nasty side idk what to tell you

There are a few colleagues around who are in some stage of their pregnancy and soon headed into maternity leave. Being the general, of course he has extended his congratulations and well wishes to them before they’re off for a few months. The ladies in turn cannot help but prod if he has children of his own.

Surely, it should be well-known fact… maybe? He is quite the private man despite his high ranking position. No one aside from a very few select individuals even knew of you being his wife for the longest time. Never even knew the General was dating anyone.

So they can’t help but be curious, “General you must know what it’s like. Haven’t you children of your own by now with your spouse?”

He only smiles and chuckles fondly. The first seed of want, now firmly planted in his subconscious. Oh how the expecting mothers dote on him and say his children surely must look like the spitting image of him. All fluffy, silvery hair and kind eyes (Do they assume he’s the only one making them? What about your genes?). And he has to unfortunately let them down with amused, gentle smiles that, no, he has not had children.

Yet, some part of him whispers. A part that lays dormant for now.

The seed of desire takes root when he’s home with you and you’re fussing lightheartedly over Yanqing’s attire. Worrying over the young boy being out too late and skipping lunch. He wonders when it became so natural for you to fall into step as a mother-figure for his retainer. In little things, he notes. It’s not outright but it’s enough to make him pause and take it in. Chew it and over think it— let it linger in the back of his throat like the burn from a fine drink.

A mother… The thought is fleeting— a whisper unheard and carried with the breeze as Jing Yuan idles next to you in the gardens of his home.

Those next coming nights, for weeks on end, Jing Yuan is plagued with dreams of pressing himself deep within you. He fills your womb, whispering praise and prayer to your ear as he desperately begs you to bear his children. It’s something so carnal and raw and desperate he wakes up with a start, body drenched in a sheen of sweat and a throbbing erection. He’s panting lightly, having to go to the bathroom to sort out his little… problem in the middle of the night while you’re sound asleep, none the wiser to your husband’s evolving desires.

He doesn’t know what’s more torturous— closing his eyes and dreaming of breeding you until you’re both incoherent or looking at you while you sleep, daydreaming of your soft belly rounding out as the months ago by. Hips soft and just noticeably wider, breasts plump and full, and you’re glowing and–

Aeons, he’s hard again for the 3rd time that night.

The general, respected and composed and perfect, coming undone—untouched—at the thought of you having children with him. Part of him is a little distraught but, he thinks, he just loves his wife that much.

And he’s not wrong.

When he has you gasping and begging for release under him on the rare occasion he has time to love you how he wants, it devolves into fucking you into the mattress with a wild look in his eyes. Honeyed gaze watching you plead and fall apart under him as he now practically has you folded in half, his large hands sinking into the plush of your thighs as he presses them to your chest.

Usually he opts for pulling out and finishing on your tummy, but that night it’s like the aeons are working against him (or maybe with him? Lan the wing man, who knows). You’re begging and clawing at his back as he pounds into you approaching his climax— pleading and slurring your words of please please please Yuan inside– I want– I want it inside please please hurry h-harder please!

You’re playing with the thin strand of sanity he has left. Any semblance of decorum and gentle, vanilla husband is not worth it if it’s keeping your womb empty. But Jing Yuan will spoil his wife always and foremost. If it’s what his wife wants, he won’t hold back.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l nine

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound. 

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse. 

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend. 

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly.  “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August. 

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time. 

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children. 

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months. 

And you are fucking pregnant. 

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence. 

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing. 

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified. 

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them. 

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim. 

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy. 

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.” 

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him. 

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that? 

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you. 

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.” 

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?” 

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this? 

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. 

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

[thetravelingtyper]

Our Shattered Heart (Part 1) (GN! 'Heart' Reader x Taskforce 141)

After an injury and recovery, the men of the force find themselves acting a little differently towards you.

Inspired by the Smiths and Cage the Elephant.

Warnings: a building falls, use of song lyrics, protective 141

Part 2, Part 2.25, Part 2.50, Masterlist

SO I POPPED OFF at like 1 am with three shots of brandy lmao

The strings of a bass echoed into the open night. Electric steps, iron bridges, the river. Central town spinning away into the flurry of the night. You were running from phantoms, what had you done but cried into the night? Your phone long since turned off you were afraid to return to the safe house. Made up as a civilian you blend smoothly in, but the oppressive nature of their stares made your eyes water so you took your chance and bailed. 

Even in your distress, you admired London proper. You wipe your tears and stop your swift walk. You could hear music? There was a well-lit area a dozen or so yards, (Metric Sergaent) You frown as your Lieutenant’s voice echos in your head naturally. You grit your teeth. Nothing you did was right. In training he’d catch every little mistake, poking out your weaknesses without telling you how to better your stance.

What of Soap and Gaz? Your fellow Sargents and supposed friends. One moment they had your back then after your injury they joined Ghost. Soap would pull you aside and scold you for using your ‘bad leg’ or your hits were too low or high. Gaz just commented after you healed up against you even serving. It took three weeks for you to have enough.

You turn on your phone to check the time, and it rings with a skull icon, you answer it as you can pick up the music. 

“Fucking hell Sergeant where are you.”

“Doesn't matter Ghost, Fuck off”.

“Wait, Lo-”

You hang out and toss your phone into the river. You smirk, a sense of relief flooding your tense body. What had your valiant captain done about your concerns? Immediate relocation to a safe house for surveillance, with said team. Nothing of “I’ll talk with Simon” No you got the “You could be a liability so let us have three grown-ass men babysit you in the middle of the city.” You went to protest but he shushed you with a disappointed look that made you reel back. 

You weren't British, maybe you didn't meet his standards. He's the one who requested an outside operative all those months ago. You performed top of your class and threw your body and heart into the job working your way into being the face of the team. It was you whom they sent to comfort those who lost loved ones as collateral. Everything changed when you broke orders to save a child.

--

“Heart, Ghost, Soap Clear Out Now! That is a direct order!”

The building rumbled and air support had’nt arrived. You had about a minute until the whole place collapsed. 

“Affirmiative, Sergeants move out!” 

Ghost ushered you in front of him and Soap was already running through the dust to get out. But as you turned to run you caught movement.

“Ghost there is someone in there!” You try to trace the movement but Ghosts gloved hand yanked you back as he started towards the entrance. 

“No Heart-”

You gasped, there was a girl pinned under rumble! Your instincts take over and you shove out of his gasp with more strength then you ever though you could muster, Ghost stumbles and you book it back as he yells after you.

“GHOST, HEART OUT NOW THE BUILDING IS COMING DOWN!”

He had no choice but to leave you as you threw yourself over the girl. There was a loud rumble then black. 

You huff, odviously you had survived and the little girl you pulled out from the rubble survived as well. After the dust cleared the next day, you had lugged a beam off her and you and hobbled her out to seek medical attention. Once the mission had finished Price and the others had rushed back to find empty rubble, it was a joyous mother who led the foreigners back to their Heart. And there you were, in some small village a hero treated to the best they could. All you could offer despite the pain of your leg was a small smile towards to girl who clung to you like a baby. 

Soap had about given out before he rushed you with curses, poking and prodding like a mother hen. Gaz laughed, a wholehearted sound like melted caramel and quipped about surviving the sky falling. It was Price and Ghost who were not too keen, but you had a back up. The leaders of the village, who’s daughter and grandaughter you had saved, had what turned out to be excellent intel that you handed to Price with a smirk on your face. 

“Fucking Hell.” Was all you gotten from Ghost and his head in his hands with a deep sigh. 

--

What you didn't realize was how big of a deal it was to the Captain and Ghost. Once you got back to base and were put on a 3 month leave was when things soured. You were able to use connections in the village to work intel, something Laswell was grateful for, But Ghost  took this personally, giving you almost a disapproving sneer when he would see you out of bed. Price was silent. No yelling, no scolding just silent. Some storm brewed and once you fully healed and went back to training it seemed Ghost tainted Soap. The Scot became overbearing, making less hurtful comments. A Gaz, once level headed, turned into Price’s little shadow, you could tell from their glances they were communicating. 

After  three weeks of being stationed with them, fully healed mind you, you had enough of walking on egg shells, being the subject of Ghost’s anger and Gaz’s twists and turns. You didn’t snap until Soap had risen his voice after your pacing. 

“ENOUGH HEART.”

It caught Ghost and Gaz off guard in the small apartment as you turned wide-eyed. His eyes were stormy, set off by something you couldn’t identify.

“Johnny-”

“No LT. They need to learn their place”

Your hackles rose, you tried to calm the rage, how dare he?

“And whats that MacTavish? You four have been acting like I’ve been a virus since the day I came back! I worked my ass off to help you and this is how you asses repay me? Im not a fucking toddler you can drag around.”

Gaz went to speak but the glare you shoot him is venemous,

“No you don’t get say anything Kyle. You’ll  just go running back to Price and prolong this little ‘vacation’ Im sick of being treated like a child.”

“Sergeant” 

“Oh rich from you LT” You feel your nerves bristle as Ghost steps forward in challenge. Despite him towering over you, you bite back 

“You can take your Sergeant and Stuff it. You have acted like an asshole through these past 4 months and I’m sick of it! You three are grown ass men acting like children. Run back to Price and bully someone else I'm sick of this shit.”

And with that you grabbed your bag and stormed off, disappearing into streets of London the three men stunned at your outburst.

---

You enter the lit area to find a band and civilians listening to, was that the Smith’s? You relax to the familiar music. The main singer is a handsome man, dark eyes raking the crown with a calm smile before you lock eyes and he winks. Unexpecting, you blush and turn into the crowd. He begins to sing with a voice of silver and honey.

Take me out tonight

Where there's music and there's people

And they're young and alive

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one

Anymore

There is a little irony as you take a seat at the bar. Over the past two years, before your four odd months the taskforce had become home to you. You settled in quite fine, either bickering along side Soap, joining with Ghost or helping Price and Gaz with their reports. Seeing your personal skills Laswell insisted on you staying.

She smiles when you enter in under the arms of Gaz and Soap. 

“Hey kid, good to see you. 

You nod at here before Price enters, he passes you three a look before ushering the three of you out of the office.

“Come on you two, the parents gotta meet now.”

You giggle as Price rolls his eye as you turn you catch a knowing look from Laswell to Price and as you head out the door, but being dragged to lunch, you miss the fond look he shoots you. 

You order a bourbon neat, as you take a sip the chill of the night hits a little deeper and you frown behind your glass watching couples get up to dance. You remember that mission with a fond sigh, the bourbon reminding you of your tall and often mysterious Lieutenant.

Take me out tonight

Because I want to see people 

And I want to see life

Driving in your car

Oh, please don't drop me home

Because it's not my home, it's their home

And I'm welcome no more

You tilt your head down, that mission oh. Something in your chest ached.

You entered the room in a shuffle, the trails of your outfit not what you were used to, but a mission like this called for finery. You stumble but pale hand’s catch your arm and tucks it in under his. You turn to the perpetrator but find dark eyes quietly regarding yours and you jump.

“Ghost!”

“Call me Simon at this point Heart”

You manage a quiet yes sir. He watches you with softer eyes before there is laughing down the hallway. 

“He’s a lucky bastard is what he is, getting to take Heart all dolled up.”

Johnny’s voice has your eyes rolling. After a few months of your service the Scot had accepted you with open arms, and the flirting, my god the pick up lines. You sigh fondly into your drink.

“I mean you could just ask them-Lt! You’re early.”

Simon doesn’t offer more then a raised brow as he and Soap meet eyes and Soap turns away. 

“Kyle please can you help me with this,” You lift the tails of your outfit in a huff. 

The man chuckles and nods, it was his idea anyway. His dark eyes meet yours with soft smile that makes you swoon. He offer you a hand and you go to take it but find resistance. 

“Simon?”

“Hurry Love. We ship out in 10.” And with that he lets you go. Kyle’s hand is warm and rough and he twirls you to adjust the back of your outfit. Soap turns to Simon, 

“The mask?” 

And to your surprise, Simon looks to you and nods before slowly removing the balaclava. Soap and Gaz seemed unfazed but you were surprised. A year in you had yet to see more then his lips from a smoke or a drink, but the soft blond hair and scars found you staring at him. He watches you but when you meet his eyes you give him a soft encouraging smile. And his lips quirk up as Soap fusses with his mic and collar. Simon just grumbles at him and you laugh, a chiming sound that has all the men smiling. 

You peer back through the crowd, how long had it been since you’d been out? You tip back the the rest of your bourbon and set the glass down feeling the sting. Fuck it. You drop your back and relax into the seat, the singer’s eyes meeting your with a smile as he continues to sing. You sway in your seat to the music. 

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

You and Soap tumble together, hitting the ground before rolling. The impact steals the breath from your lungs as you grasp at him making sure he was alive.

“Never though i’d get ye like this Heart.”

You sigh, he was fine, despite just saving his ass. He rolls over so his weight isn’t on you more then it needed to be. You are sitting almost on his hips, he grins at you cockily with a raised brow.

“Stuff it Johnny, I just saved your ass.”

“Aye and I gotta thank you for it.”

And in a sudden sweep he pulled himself up and presses a soft kiss to the side of your lips.

“Thank you Love.”

Your face lifts a little at the memory and your heart skips a beat. Your eyes close an you bask in the warmth of the crowd. Following that moment the taskforce changed.

Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

And in the darkened underpass

I thought, "Oh God, my chance has come at last"

But then a strange fear gripped me 

And I just couldn't ask

You hop off the stool and head into the crowd, heart aching for comfort and the hands of others. 

First it was soap, falling into your shadow, after the kiss your heightened senses saw his eyes on you everywhere. With other soldiers? One of the members of 141 was there, or he was, hands across his chest, standing guard. 

You were training with members of KorTac. The largest fellow, König had taken a keen interest in you due to your language skills and you found a calming friend in the man. Masked like your Simon you felt more comfortable with him. So when he had you pinned you squirmed and broke free. 

“Good”

His voice is soft, pale eyes meeting yours as you roll up onto your feet. You run at him before he can get up, but he shoots up and grabs you with a little yelp escaping from your mouth as you are then thrown a few feet onto the soft mat. You roll onto your back, the breath knocked out of you and the ceiling spinning slightly. 

“That’s enough!” 

Garrick’s sharp voice surprises you as his form appears in your settling vision. He’s quick to kneel down and check you out.

“I’m fine Kyle, just a bit of the rough and tumble.”

His soft lips frown disapprovingly,

“I don’t like you wrestling with him.”

He helps you up and you see König’s form looking out for you. You give him a small wave.

“Sorry Schatz” The nickname pauses you as you stand, Kyle’s arm around you guarding. 

You blush a little and smile at the tall man before a gruff ‘Sergeant’ calls from the edge of the room. You find Ghost leaning against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at König before he calls you to him. You nod a little dumbfounded and before you can pull out of Kyle’s grasp the man presses a kiss to the side of your head. Then lets you stumble into the waiting grasp of the Lieutenant. 

You shake off the memory and your heart murmurs, but you ignore the hurt. For one night you were free from the confusion and rejection from your team. The crowd, seemingly sensing this welcomed you into their sway. A few single ladies sidled up you with wide smiles and pulled you into their group. You knew how to dance, you learned young, this skill pulled you into some interesting missions. As you sway with the ladies you recollect as the singer watches you. 

Take me out tonight

Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one, la-di-dum

Oh, I haven't got one

Oh, oh

Simon’s arms were steady around you, Price’s voice in your ear letting you know about the target. You had gone undercover as a couple to infiltrate a drug smugging ring. The leader was hosting a gala at a large mansion in the mountains. And seeing as Kyle and Johnny were on a mission that left you three on your own. You nod silently to Price. Simon pulls you closer and then spins you out on your heels. 

“Who knew you could dance?” 

You quip up at him, but he only nods, umber eyes taking in your form. You looked breathtaking and it stole the words from his lips.

FIrst Johnny then Kyle. You wondered as you looked up at Simon, handsome as ever in a dark black suit. 

“Are you ok Simon?”

He hums, the sound deep in his chest, then in a moment he pulls you flush against him.

“Target on the move lovebirds.”

Price’s voice sound in your ears in a chuckle. 

“RIght Captain.”

You sigh but Simon pauses in his movement, and you look up at him in confusion, you call his name but he just stares at you. 

“We need to move Lt.”

Nothing, but his hand raising from your side to your face as he leans down and kisses you. After a few seconds he pulls a way and finishes with a 

“Affirmative.”

Before leading your frozen self away. 

You lose yourself in the music for a moment, rotating partners in innocent sways, just treasuring being lost in the moment, But this song of course must end.

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

The voice is much closer and you soon find yourself face to face with the mysterious singer. He smiles as he sings and it reminds you of the final piece of the puzzle.

Price had fallen asleep at his desk, again. You sigh fondly and set a cup of warm lady earl grey aside. You move over to him as he mutters something in his sleep. You felt bad waking him but you knew you needed to before he slumped over.

“Captain”

Nothing, even as you call it 3 times. Finally desperate,

“Johnathan Price!”

He shoots awake, eyes darting around tensely before he finds you and softened immediately.

“You can’t be doing that to a man love.”

“You were falling asleep again, how many times do I need to get on you about that Cap? “

The man regards you and chuckles before he sees the tea. You notice this and turn to grab and hand it to him. When you you turn back around the man is standing regarding you. The moment then feels intimate and you flush a little, stepping back.

“Sorry I’ll just leav-”

“No love it's fine, and please if it's just us call me John.” 

He reaches for the tea taking a sip while his ocean eyes watch you. There is something there and you can sense it. After nearly two years of serving under him you grew to know him pretty well, there was fondness in his gaze for all his soldiers. But this was something softer.

“John, I…”

He finishes the cup and sets it down, listening wholly to you and you find the attention has your heart stammering.

“The others have-”

“I know love.”

There it is again and you find yourself pausing as John leans forward, taking your hand in his, rubbing comforting circles into.

“What do I do?”

“Up to you love. I am here for you regardless. You need to get some sleep.”

With this he presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand and lets you go.

The next day your deployed to the small village and the following four months are hell. 

You shake off the feeling. After your injury they treated you like a child, like a burden to be kept locked away. You sigh, pausing, feeling alone in the middle of everybody again. 

Oh, there is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

The singer finishes with a frown. The crowd cheers then standard music plays and the moment is broken. The singer passes the mic to his member then turns to your pondering self. 

“Are you alright Love?”

His voice is soft and he stands a respectable distance away. One of the members of his band takes the mic and begins with Heaven knows I'm miserable now, continuing the Smiths theme. You almost want to laugh a smile lighting up your face at past (bad very bad) Karaoke attempts with Soap and Gaz. 

“There’s a smile.” He smile down at you and offers a hand, you take it introducing yourself. He raises a hand to the crowd and your new girl friends cheer you on as you allow the stranger to pull you into a dance. 

The next hour passes with another drink with your new friends and opening up about yourself. Nothing about missions nor sensitive information, but finding yourself in a strange position with the four men of the 141. A little looser you describe them all with a few giggles in response as you recount their crazy tactics. It was nice and you settled into the easy arm of the singer. His arm laid only on the back of your chair but under the watchful eyes of the girl group you got comfortable. At the end of the hour, approaching 3 in the morning the singer was called back on to stage. 

A new base line and you swooned as something a bit more American played. The singer nodded his acceptance to the bassist and began to sing. 

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On both sides, the vow was broken

Oh my my, I'm the one, tryin' to hide this damage done

One day, all our secrets will be spoken

He looked at you and gave a wink and the girls cheered as you threw back a beer. Fuck it. You allowed them to pull you into the ever thriving crowd. Your group drew into the heart of the crowd right up in front of the stage.

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

The singer surprised you and under a breath he hopped down from the stage to join the crowd. He approached you with a sway and a open offered hand. You looked into his eyes with a twinkle in yours. The girls cheering you on, you took his hand and swung into the music.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

Here you were free to experience life, a break from the bullets, free from the heated stares of the 141. Well, at least for a while. You would go back eventually, you bag had enough supplies for a few days. As you spun in the singers free arms flashes of green, blue and brown spun through your vision. You were a little under but still alert, but with the music you let it all go. 

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On holy ground, our vows were broken

We met up, we broke bread, I was blue, your dress was red

Ain't it strange? We both knew this day was comin'

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

He pulled you closer in then, even if for a fleeting moment you felt your heart skip a beat. His eyes were obsidian, reflecting the lights like stars and he sings until he’s breathless. You wondered for a moment what could happen. 

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

But as you dance the more of alert of the ladies elbows another, her head tilting subtly towards the entrance of the outdoor bar, where a familiar new set of men appeared. The girl went towards getting you but her friend stopped her as four sets of eyes found you then split up. She sent the girls a look.

Let’s see what happens.

Meanwhile you know the song is finishing and you find yourself taking the hand of the singer and he pulled you into a light embrace and spun you out as he finished breathlessly

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

He stops with a hum as the music continues for a few paces then goes out with the cheering of the crowd. You spin on the pads of your feet with a whooping feeling light in your chest, but you then bump into someone. But before you can apologize you are turned around in their arms and your breath hitches as Simon is staring down at you with dark eyes. It is then you sense another presence behind you and between you and the singer (whose hands are up in surrender) is Johnny.

The sounds of the band drown out with the depths of Simon’s eyes. There is too much there for you to comprehend. His sudden appearance breaks up the alcohol burning in your system and you stand up straighter. Emotions swirl underneath his balaclava, that alone a straight giveaway to his identity. There is anger yes, that much is evident, but you see the stinging presence of worry and something much deeper you dare not name. You turn your head away, the weight of the emotion pulling your heart back from the sky.

The singer shifted looking a little concerned, but Soap was a wide wall of muscle and kept himself close enough to brush your back from within Simon’s arms. The girls however outnumbered the men and give you a knowing look, you nod and they pull the singer away as he nods. You see Soap loosen immediately before turning and forcing your eyes into his.

Stormy blue oceans, the depth of which scare you as he nods to Simon towards the empty bar. You sigh and force yourself to loosen in Simon’s arms. He passes you to Soap and the men pull you gently to the bar where you are especially ashamed to see not only Kyle with your stuff, but a in the corner of the venue, out of noting eyes was John. Gaz with your bag, drew towards you and the four of you reached the awaiting Captain.  

Johnny stood at your right, Kyle moving to your left and Simon towering over you like a vengeful wraith, and Johnny still had not let you go. You move to pull your arm from his, but he gives you a stern look, something of a overprotective mastiff. 

“MacTavish”

“Captain-”

“Johnny.”

Simon’s deep voice rumbles from behind. Johnny hands trace down yours slowly before he takes your hand with a sigh, the tension finally releasing as his pinky takes yours in a final embrace before he finally lets go of you. He huffs and turns away in a slight pout that warms your heart and you find yourself taking his pinky back with yours. It’s a small show but the way his eyes light up behind the worry makes your heart melt. The other men trace the action, Kyle’s eyes meeting Price’s in silent communication. You all stand for a moment longer, not daring to speak, but when the wind causes you to shiver, alcohol in your system reddening your cheeks, its the weight of Simon against your back that surprises you, his arms, minding Soap’s hand, come under yours and wrap around you, his warmth melting into yours.

“‘Were worried Dove.” He leans down over you until his chin rests in top of your head and you can feel the rumble of his voice in your soul. It’s Kyle that speaks next.

“That was one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done Love.” The man frowns, but his eyes move back to the singer and the group of girls, then he eyes you again sharply.

“What if something had happened?”

Its hard to move with Simon's weight on you but you shot Kyle a withering look.

“Nothing happened, I happened to be having fun.”

“But he had his arms-”

“Kyle”

John’s voice finally speaks up and the man turns away to glower at the crowd, then he reaches a hand for your free one and meets your eyes. There you see a storm of concern, a deep fondness and a bit of protectiveness. 

“We need to talk Love, about the past months.” John takes command again, something deep in his soul calm again seeing his team together. But there was time in the morning to talk. He could see the exhaustion of the day creeping into as did the other men.

“In the morning, John” SImon’s voice rumbles feeling your form sway.

“Right Simon” he nods but before turning John steps forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. The action jolting your heart awake and leaving you flushed. 

“John?”

“It’s ok sweetheart, sleep, we’ll get you home.”

With that he turns as Kyle and Johnny reluctantly release your hands. This leaves you and Simon as the men wait.

“Si-?” You are suddenly lifted, strong arms finding your back and under your knees to lift you bridal style. You look up at him with wide eyes and he chuckles,

“I think I like the sound of that Love.”

And with a final turn to the crowd you manage a wave to the girls and the singer who shoots you a wink that causes a huff from simon before the man turns to follow the others.

Time to go home and as they walk, joking amongst each other with Simon’s soft voice luring you to sleep, You feel the loving eyes of the four men on you as you fall asleep. 

---- 

End Part One!

Taglist! @ghostlythots

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Marry Me

Summary: Once upon a time, you dreamed of marrying your girlfriend of two years but she broke up with you before you had the chance to ask her for her hand. Now with a wedding invitation in your hand, she's getting married but she's not marrying you.

Pairings: Past!Wanda Maximoff x reader, Yelena Belova x reader

Warnings: mention of cheating, angst with a happy ending, modern AU, no powers/Avengers, Starks aren't dead and decent parents lol

Word Count: 4.4k

‘Together with their families Wanda and Vision invite you to their wedding,’ the world around you seemed to become white noise. You didn’t hear your roommate talk about some guy that stood her up or the weatherman talking about the weather. Nothing else seemed to matter. “Are you listening to me?” No, you weren’t. That’s what you wanted to say but you stayed frozen, unable to speak. Sarah snatched the invitation out of your hand. You didn’t bother to stop her. “No fucking way this bitch invited you to her wedding,” Sarah had strong feelings about the ending of your relationship with Wanda. She had every right to be upset as she was the one to mend the broken pieces. “Are you going?”

“Fuck Sarah I don’t know,” you glanced at the time on the stove. “And I do not have time for this.” You were supposed to have a quick lunch at home and then return to the office for a meeting with important investors. Being blindsided by an invite to your ex-girlfriend’s wedding was something you didn’t have time for. “I have to go. Just leave it on the fridge,” you grabbed your backpack. Lunch was a protein bar and a banana.

“Hey, dumbass,” you stopped at the door, turning to face your roommate. “I love you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Love you too, dumbass.” You walked out of your apartment, not bothering with the elevator. It was a beautiful sunny day, a stark contrast to the emotions that were swirling inside of you. Once upon a time, you dreamed of marrying Wanda. You were together for 2 years and knew every detail of how she wanted the wedding to be. It would be out in the country, not too many people to save on money. Maybe on an apple orchard or magnolia trees surrounding the ceremony. You would have given her everything, no matter the cost, and you were looking at rings to buy. Then she broke up with you. It was rather sudden, out of the blue, and she never gave you a good enough explanation. She told you that she fell out of love with you. A month later, she and Vision started dating. Sarah figured she was cheating on you. You couldn’t stomach that possibility.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Tony said as the elevator’s door opened to his office. You rolled your eyes and sat down in the empty chair in front of his desk. You gave Pepper a small smile.

“I’m technically early,” you opened the protein bar. “I got distracted at home.” Tony sent a questioning look to his wife.

“Do you want-?”

“No,” you cut him off. “Let’s begin.” You got out your tablet and the meeting began without a second thought. You were the Chief Entrepreneur of Stark Industries. Your parents were close friends with the Starks and you and Tony grew up together. He was the brother you never had. So when Howard stepped down as Executive Chairman, Tony took over and promoted Pepper to CEO and you to Chief Entrepreneur. You were responsible for managing a portfolio of entrepreneurs. Your team was the future of Stark Industries, taking on risks and coming up with new products while Pepper ran the company. You didn’t envy her job and you loved working here. It was the best part of your day. However, it got uncomfortable and awkward when you had to deal with the CFO, who happened to be Vision and Tony’s brother.

They weren’t related by blood but you knew that made no difference, you were close with Natasha and Yelena. Howard and Maria adopted Vision when you and Tony were in high school. He was two years younger than you. You remembered the day when Vision and Wanda announced their relationship so clearly. Tony dragged you into his office and asked if you wanted him to fire Vision and kick his ass. You told him that it wasn’t necessary. You were professional and respectful with the man. It was rare that your paths crossed. You only had to be in the same room as him during company-wide meetings or meetings with investors. Of course, you had one today. The universe was testing you.

Once Tony concluded the meeting, you and Pepper left his office. It was rare that he came to these types of meetings as he trusted you and Pepper to make the right calls regarding the company. You both stopped to make a quick coffee. “Can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Are you helping Wanda with her wedding?”

“She’s asked me for some advice here and there,” she looked at you curiously. “Why?”

“Do you know why she invited me then?” In hindsight, you probably should have waited for the CEO to not be taking a sip of her coffee before dropping the news. She coughed, choking on the hot liquid. You bite your lip, trying to get your laughter under control, and rubbed her back to help her calm down. “Sorry.” You giggled. She waved you off and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“It’s fine,” she cleared her throat. “She invited you to her wedding.” You nodded as you continued on your way to the board room.

“I got the invitation today,” you said. “It was why I was late, kind of took me by surprise.” You took a sip of your coffee.

“Shit, I don’t blame you,” you giggled. You loved Pepper. She was a perfect fit for Tony. She was the only one that could reel in your brother’s energy. “Are you going to go?” You didn’t answer. “Tony is Vision’s best man and I know Wanda asked Natasha to be her maid of honor.” You weren’t surprised by that. Natasha was the reason Wanda was part of your workgroup and how you met her. The redhead held onto a lot of guilt because of what happened. You didn’t blame her.

“Not sure, Pep. We will see,” you saw Yelena and Natasha waiting for you and you quickened your pace. Natasha was the Chief of Staff and the first person you hired when you got promoted. She helped you manage executive goals and you trusted her to oversee projects you didn’t have time for. You worried when your relationship ended with Wanda your friendship would the redhead was going to be jeopardized. It wasn’t and a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. “Are you ready?” You asked Yelena when you got closer. The blonde was the reason you were having the meeting. She was a new hire but there was no limit to the ideas she had. Her latest project would partner Stark Industries with Wakandans International to develop a better prosthetic.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” her Russian accent took you by surprise when you first met her as Natasha introduced her as her sister. You laughed, shaking your head.

“Don’t be nervous,” she gave you a pointed look. “Come here,” you dragged her away from her sister and Pepper to a more private area. “You are going to kill it today. Do you know why?” She shook her head. “Because you have a passionate for this project on a level I’ve never seen before,” she began to smile. “And you have the support of everyone at this company, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled.

“Just go in there and speak with the same passion you had when you explained it to me and you’ll do great.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you having some much faith in me,” you put your hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

“No need to thank me,” you brought her back over to her sister with her hand still on her shoulder. You didn’t miss the questioning look the redhead sent you and you removed your hand quickly. “Shall we?” You opened the door for your group and everyone found their seats to wait for the others.

The meeting went…okay. You introduced everyone to Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye. You’ve spoken to the trip on the phone but it was nice to meet them in person. Yelena began to present her research and the importance of the partnership but Vision questioned every little thing to an annoying degree. You understood it was his job to understand how this would affect the company financially however it was starting to piss you off. Even Yelena knew he was getting on your nerves as you tirelessly defended everyone in your group. The glares he was sending your way weren’t helping. Was there trouble in paradise?

In the end, the deal was signed and work with the Wakandans could being. Plus, you didn’t murder your ex’s fiance so it was a win-win in your book.

*

You loved when a new deal was signed. It meant an influx of projects for your team to work on and more people to help. But the first day was meant with paperwork, scheduling, and delegating responsibilities. And meetings. So many meetings. You were tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a beer. You were putting on your headphones as you exited the elevator and headed for the door but a voice calling out your name caused you to stop. It was a voice you knew so well. “Wanda,” you said as your ex-girlfriend approached you. She looked good, wearing a long dress that touched the ground. Her hands were resting in front of her and she was playing with the rings that were on her fingers. A tale sign of her anxiety. ���What are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Waiting for Vision,” Right. Of course, she was. That was a stupid question. “He said you and Yelena closed on a big deal.”

“We did,” you said. “Yelena did a majority of the work. I just guided her in the right direction.” You saw a strange emotion flash across her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came so you couldn’t place it.

“Well congratulations,” you smiled as your thanks. An awkward beat of silence passed between you two. God, you didn’t know how to get out of this conversation. “Did you get your invitation?”

“Uh yes, I did,” Great. This is exactly where you didn’t want this conversation to go. “It was beautifully designed.” It wasn’t a total lie, you just had no memory of what it looked as you stared at the tagline - ‘Wanda and Vision invite you.’ Wanda and Vision. She wanted to get married but she wasn’t marrying you.

“Do you think-” your name being called out cut her off and you turned towards the sound. It was Yelena. You didn’t realize the blonde was still at the office and you never been more excited to see her.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I didn’t think you were going to wait for me.” She said as she got closer. “Oh hi, Wanda.” The blonde plastered a fake smile on her face.

“Hi Yelena,” the smile on Wanda’s face was strained. Yelena looked at you.

“Ready to go get drinks?” Drinks? Her green eyes said a lot more than her simple statement. She was giving you an out. You made a mental note to increase her yearly bonus.

“I am,” you smiled at your ex. “It was good seeing you, Wanda. I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” she said. “Congratulations, again. You both deserve to celebrate.” Yelena linked her arm with yours.

“Bye Wands,” the blonde dragged you to the door. When you both stepped outside and you were out of sight, Yelena dropped her arm. “Boy, you could feel the tension in the lobby.” You let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you for the save,” you said. “I owe you one.” She shrugged.

“Don’t mention it. I do it a lot for Kate and America when we go out. It’s second nature,” she started to smile. Oh, that smile was trouble. “Buuuut, if you want to make it up to me I know of a bar that is close by. We do have something to celebrate.”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand on your chin pretending to think. “I don’t think we have anything to celebrate,” you teased. “And I am pretty tired.” You faked a yawn.

“Suka (bitch),” you pushed on your shoulder. You gasped.

“That is assault,” you said. “I’m calling HR.” Yelena rolled her eyes.

“Are we going or not?”

“Lead the way, printsessa (princess),” you bowed. She laughed, throwing her head back at your pathetic attempt at Russian. You liked the sound of it.

*

“I still can’t believe you are going to this stupid wedding,” Sarah said through Face time. You sighed as you put your tie underneath the collar of your shirt. “And you didn’t even bring me.”

“I didn’t have a plus one,” that was 100% on purpose. The last thing Wanda would have wanted was for your best friend that wasn’t her number 1 fan to come to her wedding. “What else was I supposed to do? Tony closed the office because everyone was invited and you are visiting family.” You weren’t going to sit at home and be depressed. At least some of your friends were going to be there, but most importantly Yelena. “You put your jacket on. “How do I look?” You were in an all-gray suit with a white shirt. The only pop of color came from your tie.

“Hot,” Sarah said. “Damn if I were into chicks I’d grab you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks,” you sighed, looking down at the watch Howard gave you for your 18th birthday. “I better get going. I’ll text you after the ceremony.”

“Good luck!” You ended the call. You were going to need more than you, what you needed was at least 5 shots.

*

The ceremony was in an apple orchard. It appeared the happy couple rented out the inn and the orchard for a private wedding. You were handed confetti as you approached the rows of seats. There were small groups of people, all of them you knew, waiting for the ceremony to begin. You saw Pepper, who sent you a small wave. You waved back and sat in the back row at the end of the row. Thankfully, no one came up to you to talk because you weren’t in the talking mood. Instead, you played with the watch on your wrist. “Well,” you looked towards the voice and saw Howard Stark. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Mr. Stark,” you stood up, holding out your hand for him to shake. The man rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug.

“Please. I changed your diapers when you were a kid,” you felt your body heat up in embarrassment. “Drop the act, kid, it makes me feel old,” you smiled and sat down, leaving the end seat for him. “How are you? You don’t come by the house anymore.” That was true. You didn’t want to run into Wanda or Vision by chance.

“I’ve been busy,” you told him. “Your son is running me ragged.” It was the furthest thing from the truth but it pulled a laugh out of the older man.

“It was the best decision that boy has ever made promoting you and Pepper,” you smiled. “But how are you?” He asked again. “How is this?” He placed a gentle hand on your heart. You sighed, looking at the ceremony. This was going to be you, marrying Wanda but she picked someone else.

“Tired, Howard, if I’m being honest. I feel a little lost,” he nodded. You knew the man would never judge you. He’s seen you at your lowest point when you found out your parents were killed in a car accident. You were in a meeting with him and Tony when Maria came in to tell you. Losing them broke you but the Starks were there to catch you. It was why it hurt so much that it was Vision who started dating Wanda.

“I always told my boys to go after what they wanted, I never expected that advice to hurt someone I considered a daughter,” your breath hitched. You always so him as a father-like figured but hearing him call you his daughter brought tears to your eyes. You looked at the archway. You didn’t blame him. “But,” he grabbed onto your shoulder. “You will have your love story that will arrival that of your parents and I can’t wait to see it,” you fought the tears that threatened to fall. “You will always be a Stark, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Now I must be going but we will drink at the bar,” he stood up fixing his tie. “I believe I’m paying for it so drinks are on me.” You laughed, whipping away a tear.

“Thank you, Howard,” he gave you a salute and got ready for the ceremony. Folding your hands you sat back and watched as the seats began to fill. Soft music began to play and you were going to need a drink after this.

*

You took a glance at the seating chart. Table 3 with Natasha, Bucky, and Yelena. You were grateful she did that for you. Did you look like an alcoholic as you were the first one to the bar? Probably but you didn’t care. Besides you knew everyone at this wedding and it wasn’t like you were here to impress anyone. You ordered a strawberry mojito and waited for your drink as the rest of the guests filed in. “You know,” you turned to face Yelena as she walked over to you. She was wearing a light green full-length dress. It had a deep v-neck and a slit that went up to her thigh. Her blonde hair was braided. “I did not believe my sister when she said you’d RSVP but here you are.” She ordered herself a long island.

“Yelena,” you said. “You look gorgeous.” The compliment flowed so easily off your lips. You liked the blush that crept up on her cheeks.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she fixed the collar of your shirt. “How did you enjoy the ceremony?” She got her drink from the bartender.

“I’m glad to be drinking,” you said, holding out your arm. She took it and you walked her over to your table. The blonde laughed.

“Well, it’s an open bar. So let’s drink till our heart’s content.”

The reception was fun. The first dance was beautiful and speeches made by Tony and Pietro made you laugh. But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t paying attention. You found yourself watching Yelena. You weren’t sure when your feelings shifted for the blonde. Since the partnership with the Wakandans, you and she spent late nights at the office. Those nights were filled with laughter, stories, and dreams shared, and stressing over upcoming deadlines. For the first time since your breakup with Wanda, you felt free. Even Tony said something about your mode change.

Natasha sat down next to you with another drink. “I love that you’ve moved on from Wanda,” she handed you the drink. “But can you stop undressing my sister in front of me?” You jumped, startled by the accusation.

“Nat, shit, I’m sorry,” her laughter cut your nervous rambling off. “That’s not funny,” you whined, taking a sip of your drink. It was a lot stronger than your other ones. You wondered if she made it herself.

“I think it’s hilarious,” she leaned back in her chair. “So are you going to ask her out or just stare at her all night?” You groaned, rubbing your hands across your face.

“I don’t know,” your eyes immediately went back to the blonde. She was standing with Kate and Carol. The brunette must have said something funny because she laughed. God, she was beautiful. She must have felt eyes on her because she looked around until her green eyes found you. She waved and you waved back.

“Look, I’m going to intervene because I love you both. She likes you so make a move,” you looked at the redhead, trying to find any sense that she was messing with you. But you found none.

“Are you sure okay with this?” You questioned. “Because if you aren’t I will ignore my feelings for her,” Natasha put her hand on your shoulder.

“She will treat you better than Wanda,” she squeezed. “And if she does anything to hurt you. I won’t hesitate to kill her.” You covered your mouth as you laughed to now draw attention to you. “Go be happy.” You stood up, grabbing your drink.

“Thank you,” you began to walk over to the blonde. You were nervous. If she was going to allow you to date her, it would be different than dating Wanda. You worked with her, you were technically her superior. If it ended as badly, it could affect the work dynamic. But you couldn’t think like that. You had to take it one step at a time.

“Hi,” Wanda stepped in front of you. She changed out of her wedding dress and into a shorter one. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you all night.”

“Must be hard being the woman of the hour,” you took a sip of your drink and locked eyes with Yelena over Wanda’s shoulder. You gave her a reassuring smile. Wanda chuckled, sipping on her drink. It wasn’t her normal cocktail, which was strange unless being with Vision changed her that much.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” You didn’t but you nodded. She led you to a balcony, and your surprise there was no one out there. She leaned her back against the metal railing. Her hands were on her stomach, playing with the wedding ring. It hit you. The drink wasn’t alcoholic, her hands on her stomach. You took a sip of your drink.

“Your pregnant,” you said. She almost dropped her glass.

“How did-” she cut herself off with a laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” You moved to stand next to her. “It was impossible to keep things from you.” ‘I guess you found a way,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue.

“How long?”

“2 months,” That was why they got together so quickly. That was why the engagement came out of nowhere. She cheated on you. Your stomach dropped. “Y/n-” she went to touch your arm but you jerked away from her.

“Don’t,” you hissed. “Don’t try to justify your cheating on me.” Oh, Sarah was going to have a field day with this. You took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Are you happy?” It took a moment for her to reply.

“I am,” you nodded.

“Then go be happy with Vision and I’ll be happy with someone else. Have a nice life.” You turned to leave.

“With Yelena,” you didn’t like how she said her name. A hint of dislike and jealousy. When you faced her she was already looking at you. That same look was in her eyes that night in the lobby. She was jealous and possessive. Oh, it was comical.

“Don’t say her name like that,” you said, closing the gap between you and your ex. “Do you want to know the difference between me and you? You moved on while we were still together and didn’t have the guts to call it off because you slept with someone else. You have no right to be jealous over something you have no claim to. See around Wanda,” You waved over your shoulder as you walked back into the party. Drowning the rest of your drink, you saw that Yelena was still talking to Kate but America joined them. You through your cup away and walked over to the trio. You placed your hand on Yelena’s back as you approached them. The blonde looked at you, smiling. “Mind if I burrow her?” Kate and America smirked at each other.

“She’s all yours,” you thank them and moved your hand into hers, leading her out of the party. She squeezed your hand every few seconds, singling she was still with you. Finally, you stepped outside.

“I was going to give you 5 more minutes with her before I went and saved you,” you smiled, bringing her closer to you. She set her drink on the table. God, she was gorgeous. The lights danced in her green eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked the urge was becoming too strong to ignore.

“Please,” she whispered. You connected your lips with hers without a moment’s hesitation. Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer to her. You felt her smile against your lips. Soon you pulled away but you kept her close, feeling her breath against your lips and her heartbeat racing. “I’m sorry about Wanda.” The mention of your ex snapped you out of your haze.

“Did you know?” She looked away, glancing at the reception through the window. But you gently placed a finger underneath her chin to look at you.

“I did but I’m not even sure if Natasha and Tony know and I thought she told you,” she was working herself into a panic attack. You brushed your nose against hers and captured her lips in a quick kiss. She calmed down. “I caught them at the office. It was late like so fucking late,” you chuckled. “I wasn’t sure what the hell I stumbled on. I think you were with Tony on a business trip to Japan,” you remembered that trip. You didn’t want to go as you and Wanda were planning on going to visit her family. “I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or her being so close, you weren’t sure why she was apologizing. But that brain power was for the future, sober you to figure out.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” that much you knew. You didn’t blame her. “We’re okay.” She let out a sigh. “Do you want to get out of here?” A playful smirk formed on her lips.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask.”

*

Wanda stood in her kitchen, listening to her twins playing with their toys with the TV on with the latest episode of Bluey, as she flipped through the mail. A majority of it was junk mail; magazines she didn’t remember signing up for or ads trying to get her to buy something. Her fingers stopped on an envelope addressed to her and Vision written in beautiful writing. She ripped it open and stared at the invitation, ‘You are invited to the wedding of Yelena and Y/n, with a reception to follow.’

_

Part 2

[reallyromealone]

I think this is it.

Aight, thank you. Here's my request: So Pro-hero Bakugou has a husband (reader) and a son who didn't inherit his quirk. Instead, he got m readers' "weak" healing quirk. The kid hates/dislikes reader for getting his "useless" quirk instead. Meek reader doesn't want tell Bakugou that the son has a crappy teen ego, but Bakugou comes home early to see son berating reader. And Bakugo just scolds the son and explains why the the healing quirk is useful and how reader is amazing. Its a bit angsty, but can we have some fluff comfort at the end pls? Thank you again. :)

I got this

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

One thing no one in U.A expected was for Bakugo to get with Recovery girls grandson, the Omegas quirk being "healing aura" the ability to create a healing must up to 12 feet.

The two teens didn't get along initially, Bakugo crass and rude and (name) very much no nonsense and stubborn, the two constantly butted heads during their stay at U.A.

It was a surprise towards the end of their high school career for the two to move in together with an upcoming engagement "when did they even start dating?" Some would ask only to realize those arguments and comments were actually the two flirting.

(Name) ended up much like his grandmother and travelling agency to agency and helping out post villain attacks and doing what he could, gaining adoration and fans through how much he helped.

They almost forgot he was an Omega till he went on maternity leave.

(Sons name) was very much like Katsuki, a spitfire who had many little options and though Katsuki calmed down considerably there was no denying they were practically clones.

And because of this, it devastated (sons name) when he didn't get his sires "heroic" quirk but instead got (name)s quirk, the boy over time developing a resentment to his Dam.

Due to (name) only being called for emergencies, he ended up taking his late grandmother's place at U.As Medical wing.

And because of these hours, he was often left to care for his son alone while Katsuki did hero work, and because of this missed his son developing into a mythic asshole.

(Name) was exhausted after work, needing to use his quirk a lot today along with quirkless medical practice as many students didn't need his quirk but a simple bandage and such.

The house was a mess, whenever (sons name) came home he always made a mess, deeming it "Omega work" as the teen scrolled his phone "arent you supposed to be studying for the written exam?"

"Why should I? Dad got me in on recommendation, thank god since all you gave me was a shitty quirk" the teen snapped and (name) looked absolutely heartbroken at this as the teen continued "thank god dad's been teaching me martial arts since it's so useless-- seriously why did I have to get stuck with something as useless as your quirk, I'm amazed dad settled for someone as useless as you"

"The fuck you say?" The two turned to see Katsuki Bakugo walk in, out of uniform after finishing work at his agency "d-dad..." (sons name) looked sick and (name) on the verge of tears "your dad's "useless quirk" literally saved countless lives and your dad hauled ass saving countless People from villains" his voice cold as he dropped his duffle bag "why's the house a mess? You not fucking helping your Dam? I know he just got home so I know this ain't his mess" he laughed without any humor "disrespectful little shit, get up and clean this mess, after we train and get ready because it's gonna be hell" Katsuki promised coldly and the teen got up not wanting to piss off his dad more as the pro led (name) to their room.

"How long?" He said pulling the exhausted Omega into his lap, only soft for his mate "honestly since he found out his quirk, it's just been coming out the past few months..." Katsuki was shocked at this, how did he miss this?! "Why didn't you say anything?"

"... You were busy... You were working so hard on building your agency and I wanted to lift some weight off your shoulders" he wanted to cry as his husband held him close "stop being stupid" his voice loving despite the harsh words "I'll whip I'm straight, rely on me idiot"

(Name) was left to relax in the bedroom as Bakugo handled his son, calling a few hero friends to help especially the teens uncle Izuku and uncle Aizawa-- the teen spending his break at his uncle Aizawas and subsequently with uncle Shinsou who was visiting.

By the written exam he was kicked into shape and Bakugo made sure his mate was reminded over and over again how loved he was.

[delphi-shield]

push and pull // leon s. kennedy & jill valentine

Leon x Reader x Jill Smut wc: 2,860 mdni - 18+ read on ao3

the plumber at my house reading this over my shoulder: 😲 this has been in my drafts for like two months, i finally ripped the bandaid off and touched it up. i cant believe people want the jill/leon ship name to be jilleon when 'breakfast sandwich' is right there. ohh nooo i had to cut the scene where they high-five after you cum...... guess i'll have to write more jill and leon......what a tragedy.....

summary: Jill said she'd be home two hours ago. She's stood you up for dinner again. You're so upset, Leon's got to fuck you about it to make you feel better.

content: fem!reader, all porn no plot, piv (reader receiving), some praise from leon & some degradation from jill, spit, crying, hair-pulling, masturbation, blowjob, dom!jill, use of strap-on, established poly relationship, sorry yeah there's more religious imagery, stealing the jill & leon dynamic from this post, fucking your relationship problems away does not work and you should not attempt. very loosely proofread.

Jill's late.

She promised. You cooked, you cleaned, and she promised she would be here. Bought a special candle and everything, three wick, fresh linen scent. Not your kind of thing, but you know she likes those clean, bright smells.

The first half hour, you’d clung to the idea that her physical therapy appointment was just running late. Forty-five minutes in, three unanswered texts, your hope diminishes. An hour, and Leon’s helping you put the food up and clean the dishes.

Leon’s not exactly happy with Jill. This isn’t the first time she’s done this to you. He hates to see you pout. Even more than that, he hates to see the way you’re trying not to cry in front of him. He does everything he can think of to make you feel better. Watch one of your godawful shows with you, play with your hair for you, give you a nice bath if you wanted - none of his offers made much of a difference. He knows better than to take it personally. He’s not Jill. He can’t fix what she broke.

He can fuck you about it, though. That always seems to take your mind off things, at least for a little while. 

He let you use him however you like, dealer’s choice. You wanted him in the dining room chair, wanted to ride him slow, grind down on that fat cock till you unwound and your pretty tears weren’t because your girlfriend stood you up, and that’s what you’d get. Not his first choice, but he’s not the one who looks so pretty with those big, wet eyes.

The only downside is that you can't hear Jill's key turning in the door when Leon's got his cock stuffed so deep in your pussy you can feel him in your ribs, when you’re too busy rocking yourself to a gradual, slow-built end. You'd missed your ringtone too - and Leon's for that matter. You weren't intentionally being petty, but intentions never did soothe Jill's moods.

"Nice," she drawls, dropping her bag with a thud. "Real nice."

Your head falls back just enough to get a look at her, pouting in the doorway. Maybe it's supposed to be intimidating. Really, she just looks like a dejected cat, all puffed up for attention. The hand splayed on Leon’s chest flops back uselessly, reaching for her.

“Jill -”

Leon’s hips jut up, reminding you he's here, reminding you who's inside you. Whatever you were going to say melts away into a whine so pathetic even you want to roll your eyes.

"Got started without you," Leon says, callous on your behalf. His hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. It doesn’t take much prompting for you to curl back into his chest, walls fluttering around his cock, gripping him like your life depends on it. "Saved you some dinner. It’s in the fridge."

How can he be so casual? Feels like you’ve got lava running through your blood. His hands settle on your hips again, push-pulling you back and forth to get you to grind again. You oblige, faster than before, mouthing open kisses against his neck. They ought to canonize him for his patience, crown him Patron Saint of Not Plowing You Into The Carpet.

Jill doesn't say a word. She marches off to the bedroom, leaving her boots behind as she goes. Her cardigan gets flung over the couch - poor thing. It didn't do anything wrong.

She’ll come out when she’s ready, you tell yourself. Ignoring the ingrained need to manage Jill’s emotions for her is hard, but not quite as hard as Leon’s dick. Makes it a little easier to forget. You press your moans into Leon’s skin, let him have them for safekeeping.

Her footsteps pound back into the room. You don't know what she's done that's so funny, but Leon shakes with a laugh. You move to look, and his palm pressing against your cheek stops you. Something clatters onto the dining room table, a heavy thunk and buckles. He presses a light kiss to the crown of your head, strokes your hair.

"Go ahead and finish up, baby. Doin' so good. All yours."

It's all the permission you really need. It doesn’t take long - you’re good for him, after all. So good, you don't even need his help. You just need him to hold you up when that slow heat finally expands, spreads like fire through your limbs and leaves you making a mess of his lap, baptizing his cock with your release and moaning hymns for him.

You slump against him, eyes heavy and limbs loose. Your head nestles against his chest, his heart hammering like crazy. Poor guy. So patient. So sweet. You want to offer to take care of that for him - he's still inside you, sitting so still and so good, the stretch all you need. It feels like a bomb went off in your skull, though, scattered all your thoughts around the apartment. You need a moment before you can be considerate, before you can formulate any kind of offer. You reach up, pat his cheek gently to tell him how good he made you feel, lazily kiss at the hollow of his throat.

Jill's got plenty of words, though. She's not the one who just fell apart.

"You so needy you can't wait forty-five minutes?"

"Closer to an hour," Leon counters, and for the first time you hear the strain in his voice. "More like two, actually."

Jill’s irritation boils over. "Shut up. Why don't you go jerk off in the corner?"

After all, he's supposed to be on her side. He's the one who knows what this life is like, the one who knows what their work entails and the stress of it all.

He's also the one who texts when he's running late. He's the one still on active deployment, the one who hadn't been dodging home like the plague. He got over himself a year ago, figured ways to deal with his emotions that didn’t include running as fast as he could, drinking until they drowned, or working himself to the bone.

Jill’s still working on that part. Again - saint-like patience.

“Maybe I will,” he says, casual as he can. He jostles you in his arms. He’d say it’s to keep you awake, but it’s mostly to keep his dick hard. You pulse around him, groan into his t-shirt and drool a little dark patch onto his shirt.

You’re all soft and pliable when her hands slide up your sides, fingers curling in the spaces between your ribs. You lean back to her, longing for the softness of her tits under your head, and you glide back through the air unsupported, like you’ve faded through the ghost of her. Your head lolls back, pretty, pathetic pout on your swollen lips.

“Gonna be good?” She asks, staring down her nose at you, eyes half lidded. You nod your head. Her eyes narrow. “Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shifting you off of Leon's lap is a group effort, one that Leon doesn't particularly care to be too enthusiastic about. His poor dick is lonely, and fucking his fist is a poor substitute for the sticky warmth of your cunt. Jill cradles you in here arms - the first hint of tenderness you've had from her all night - and settles you on the floor in front of the couch. She kicks your legs into position, sways back to appraise your form, and gives you a long-suffering sigh that's a far cry from approval.

"Whatever," she mutters under her breath. "It'll do. Don't move."

She shuffles off to the side. You hear the rustle of fabric. You turn your head to look, and -

"I said don't fuckin' move."

Your head snaps to the front again, hands fisted against the tops of your thighs. No arguing with that tone. Your back is ramrod straight. There's movement to your right, and Leon finally comes into view, settling against the far side of the couch. He's at least kind enough to give you a show, stroking his cock for you in long, slow strokes, massaging his palm over that shiny red tip and sliding his own fluid down to squeeze at the base. Makes your mouth water just looking at him.

Not that you have to wait long for a treat. Jill finishes her prep work, drags herself back over to the couch and drops down in front of you, strap-on making you go crosseyed.

“Go on,” she sighs, waving her hand lazily. Like she’s doing you a favor.

And she is. It’s a privilege to suck her strap.

You rock onto your knees and take too much of her at once, gag yourself right off the bat in your eagerness. They both groan, Jill in exasperation, Leon because holy fuck, if he hears you make that noise again he's going to blow his load immediately. His hand shucks his t-shirt up. He's not trying to stain this shirt with cum. Not his cum, anyway.

"Your mouth is so perfect for this," Jill says, leaning forward and fisting a hand in your hair, "and you're still so bad at it. Do I have to show you how to do everything?"

You nod uselessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jill rolls her eyes, smothers the hint of a smile that threatens to twist her lips up. She guides your head back to the head of her silicone cock and sets an easy pace for you. Lets you take it nice and slow, get accustomed to the weight of her cock on your tongue as if you haven't done this a hundred times - as if she knows you went too hard right off the bat just to get her to guide you like this.

"There you go," she drones, the praise feeling like anything but. You bob your head freely, her hand in your hair just a suggestion now. "Finally figured it out. Not as dumb you look."

You push further, tucking your thumb tight in your fist and gagging only a little when the head of her cock prods at the back of your throat. Leon's hips buck into his fist, quick and rhythmless, swearing under his breath. His leg kicks out, nudges Jill's calf and you swear she's going to snap at him.

Your eyes cut from Jill to Leon, a tear rolling down your cheek, and that’s the final push that has him cumming all over his stomach, head tipped back into the arm of the couch, pretty moans so loud, so perfect that it makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy.

You don’t have time to savor the way that he looks, paint him in your mind and hang it up on the walls around your skull like a pin-up. Jill lifts you off her cock, stuffing her hands under your armpits like you’re a stray kitten. You would be, for her, if she asked. Let her slip a pretty collar around your neck, hope you’re lucky enough that it’s got a bell.

She doesn’t wait for Leon to recover, just manhandles the pair of you so your back is pressed to his chest, his cum smearing against your skin. Leon’s got that loose limbed laziness that comes with a release that built-up.

“Hold her,” Jill growls. “Stop fucking around.”

Leon's hands curled around the back of your thighs, spreading you wide for Jill. A warm chuckle rumbles through his chest and pours into you. His head ducks down, mouth by your ear.

“She's mad ‘cause I had you first.”

You turn your head, stifle your giggles in his shoulder. The silicone head of Jill's cock slides through your sopping folds, nudging at your clit. Her hips rock agonizingly slow. It’s tough to tell whether she’s teasing you or herself at this point, but your sensitive body twitches and jerks with every pass of her spit-slick cock.

“Gonna make a mess?” Her hand grips your jaw tight, pulling your face from Leon's shoulder. It’s less a question and more a demand. You nod as best you can in her grip, remember too late to try and bumble out words. She taps your cheek twice, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make those pretty eyes water again.

Jill doesn’t wait for you to say it. She enters you in a quick, jerky thrust, no hint of warning, your breath stuttering and back tensing. She rabbits her dick into you, your moans falling as staccato as her pace. Her head bows to spit a fat glob of spit onto your clit. Her fingers rub you frantically, a pace so at odds with the slow push and grind of her hips that it makes you burn. You try to squirm back, the way your blood starts to singe a little too quick for your liking, but there's nowhere to go when you're pressed so tight against Leon's broad chest.

His hand slithers up and over the point of your hip, pressing down firmly just below your navel. Betrayal. You thought he was on your side. Your whining sharpens into a moan that has to have rattled the windows. Jill huffs a laugh, low and cruel. She pulls back just far enough to leave you wanting - and when you claw at her shoulders to drag her back home she's already moving, hard and slow, the light dancing in front of your eyes, her hips driving the breath out of your lungs, your chest caving in. It feels like you've imploded, blood on fire, singeing your bones and leaving the ash to remember it by.

She’s not done. You promised her a mess. Your voice is splintered, her hips still driving into you. You don’t feel yourself gushing around her until it’s already happening. You sniffle, your moans choppy and your tears falling quick, humiliation warming the embers in your stomach. Her pace slows and finally stills, finally lets you find yourself in the pile of ashes.

"Already?" Jill mocks, hands rubbing your quivering thighs soft and sweet despite the way she sneers.

You want to scoff, but you haven’t got the breath. Already, she says, like she hadn’t just ripped that orgasm out of you fast enough that you’ve got cartoon tweety-birds spinning around your head.

“My turn,” Leon pipes up.

“Fuck off. You’re not even hard. I'm just getting started.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you made her cum.”

God, they’re like lions fighting over a piece of meat. You push yourself up on shaky arms, give Jill your best gazelle-trying-not-to-get-eaten pout.

“M’tired,” you slur, your brains thoroughly fucked out. You form a T with your hands, calling for a time-out. “Need a break.”

Jill looks like she wants to bite anyway. But you were good, used your good girl hand signal and everything. She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and loosens the straps around her hips.

“C’mere, pumpkin.” Leon gathers you into his arms easily. “Gonna get you all cleaned up. Tuck your ass in.”

You ache when he moves you, in places you weren’t quite sure could ache. It’ll be worse later. Always is. They always have to fuck you at some weird angle. Can’t ever let your muscles get used to it, like you’re some kind of glorified exercise equipment. At least they wipe you down after they use you. Very polite of them.

Leon hands you your water bottle and settles in behind you, slotting up against your back. He’s got the both of you cleaned off even though he seems just as tired as you, bless him. Say a prayer to the patron saint of the bedroom.

Jill found dinner, apparently. You hear the microwave beeping distantly and share an amused look with Leon. Sure enough, she’s got a bowl of food in her hand when she settles at the end of the bed, legs crossed.

The silence lays somewhere in-between battlefields, landmines hidden all around your bedroom. Everything you want to ask is too loaded, too heavy. You’re not even sure you have the energy to stay up for a serious conversation, much less an argument. Jill looks so soft right now, the bags under her eyes seeming lighter in the warm lamplight of your bedroom. You don’t want to see her eyes sharpen. You don’t want to hear her teeth click together when she bites back her words. You search for some other topic, something that will make the tension evident in her shoulders melt away.

"We should do one of those clone-a-willy kits," you murmur, eyes shut, head tipped into the pillow. You open your eyes just enough to gauge her reaction. Warmth blooms in your chest when you see her eyes crinkle and her smile lines deepen.

"Why?" Jill laughs.

"You don't wanna fuck me with Leon’s dick?"

It’s the first time you’ve heard Jill laugh like that in a while. Pride spreads in your tired little grin. Leon's cock gives a tired twitch against your thigh. He groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade.

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

[skelliko]

Baji Keisuke |°- he broke up with you, but it was a mistake -- small, tiny bits of angst.

he didn't know what he was doing at all, he thought he understood but turns out he didn't. he thought he could go on with his day without having that giddy, warm feeling whenever you're mentioned or when Baji gets a vibration from his phone and without even looking to see who it's from he just knows it's you which causes a smile to creep up.

now, whenever he gets a text notification he jumps right into it thinking its you wanting him back but no, it's not you. it's some spam message or a text from one of his buds sending him homework answers that he forgot about. day instantly ruined.

he knows he's the one that ended it but why didn't you chase after him? it's a shit way to think and it doesn't make any sense at all because then what's the point in breaking up if he secretly wanted you to convince him to stay?

he regrets his decision, but also doesn't have the courage to face you again with this humiliation that only Baji, himself, has gained and caused. he didn't see the tears fall over your cheeks but he saw how you brought your hand up to your face when your back was turned. he knows you mourn in silence but looking back in that moment, he wished you to of slapped him for making that stupid statement and told him to take you back.

is that selfish of him? yes. because the only reason he broke up with you is because he was confused on what the feeling of love is supposed to feel like. in the beginning it seemed like a regular teenage romance, but as months went by he started to feel stronger emotions for you and that scared the hell out of him.

Keisuke being scared of love. he's not afraid of 50 men charging at him for a fight and it's him alone, he's not afraid of 100 either. he's not afraid of a knife battle, he's not afraid to speak up what's on his mind nor lead a large group within a gang, he's also not afraid to die for his friends. but he's afraid of love.

what is he supposed to say to get you back? 'hey I change my mind, can we get back together and cuddle? I miss your warmth' fuck no, you deserve an explanation and he's been pondering over it so much to the point where hes started to question if his heart can even beat anymore due to the distance between you both.

but is saving himself from humiliation better than losing you? no of course not. if it means to tell you how scared he was of a sappy emotion and you laugh at him then so be it if it means that he gets to see your smile, and if you don't laugh then he sure hopes you understand and don't stay consistent on being apart. cause this loneliness is becoming unbearable.

he ended up mentioning the situation to draken, why him out of everyone? cause draken has more experience with the feeling of love than anyone else. aside from takemichi but there's no way that hed be of help for Baji. and chifuyu gets all his relationship advice from his shows and books which all showcase high standards. and pah-chin is still in the middle of discovering his own feels for a certain someone.

"what the fuck Baji" are the first words that came out of Draken's mouth. it wasn't disappointed nor anger but rather a small push to get Baji actually thinking things over and becomes aware of not only his own emotions but yours as well. If Baji truly loved you then he wouldn't have waited this long, if he did then he wouldn't have even considered splitting up in the first place even if he was afraid. he could have talked his feelings out with you first but noooo he chose to go the hard way.

what the fuck indeed. he ended up being too focused on the humiliation on his side rather than the hurt on your side. now he feels like a complete douche.

sooner or later Keisuke finally managed to collect his mental strength In contacting you, he may have physical strength but his mentality is constantly going from one place to another, though with a bit of encouragement from draken he finally got over the fear. he was relieved that you hadn't blocked his number otherwise he would have to go up to you in person first and if so then he would have pondered longer.

it was a simple message but half the time simple and straightforward is enough to get the message across "hey, can we meet up? i want to explain a few things" "please" he double texted making sure that you get his notification, also wishing behind the screen that you reply soon.

he was starting to worry that you didn't want to talk things out and you were purposely ignoring him. he paced around his room, tried to listen to music to relax but then songs that you both would listen to came up and that just made him feel a lot worse, so he scraped that and started to tidy up his room. the nervous anticipation for your message kept increasing and decreasing with every little activity that he'd do to distract himself from you, it'd either make him calm for a few moments or make him remember.

but once you finally replied he couldn't have been more relaxed once you agreed, it was like a bubble popping. sure it took a few hours but baji convinced himself that you were just busy or maybe you were thinking though certain scenarios, which is what he'd do if roles were reversed. thought him thinking about it now makes him realise that he'd probably be pissed off if he was you, and the both of you were together for a reason meaning he was gonna have to face you while you're irritated.

he brought this all on himself, but he can handle you in that state, or in any state to be precise. he just wants to finally see you again and hopefully make things right.

a large mix of anxiety and excitement filled him up knowing that you both were gonna see each other face to face and talk without any more lies, he said he lost interest in you but that was far from the truth considering that he's actually gained more, and baji is almost dying to apologise to you and hopefully make things right. who knew he'd go this mad over someone.

even his mom realised the difference in Baji when you came into his life, and to now when you're out of it. she knows what happened and what Baji did since he ended up telling her after he told draken but that was mainly cause he asked about you, though that mainly just caused more confirmation of how much of a big mistake he did and sure enough after his mother's words it clicked that he needs you back more than anything. even his mom misses having you around and that's when you know it's serious.

when the time and day came he chose to walk to the meet up spot so that he can collect himself carefully and prepare his words. however on his way there he realised that he can't come empty handed with no tools to fix your heart. it'd almost make it seem like his job would be done half-assed if he went to fix something but only brought one tool. and his only tool in this scenario would be words that could be either taken lightly or with weight.

he wanted to bring you something, anything to physically show how sincere he is but he couldn't turn back to go to a flower shop and be late, that could just cause you to overthink that he doesn't actually care, plus baji wanted to be a little early to prove to you that he really does mean in wanting to explain everything.

so instead he quickly crossed the road to the opposite pathway and reached over someone's fenced, front garden that had some rose bushes and carefully snapped off the prettiest one he could find, one that he could be sure that you'd be obsessed over by how perfect the petals are. for the rest of the walk his finger tips had small, bleeding punctures from snapping off the thorns to make it safe for you to hold... that's if you accept it.

one is an odd number of roses but it's cutely appreciated either way holding one flower in your hand, two is an odd-even number of roses to have and holding just two flowers next to each other in one hand feels off, three and four are an okay amount to have but baji already spent a few dedicated minutes in trying to eye out the perfect rose. the people that own that bush should really try and take care of the roses more.

and there you are, walking right towards him, he could tell that you seem a little stiff and he doesn't blame you considering how you both last seen each other. though despite the whole reason for being here it feels almost nostalgic, because this spot is the place where you both first met where you apologised for mistaking him as someone else and here he is apologising to you in the same place for mistaking his feelings.

 ♡----

[royalsunshinehotel]

How Can I? (The Kid x Reader, 18+)

Author's Note: Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Guilty As Sin?" from an inbox request. Thank you to my intrepid editor, and dearest friend @youlooklike-clarabow. You're the best ❤️‍🔥😭🤠🍊

The forest had welcomed him back, just like he’d hoped. Four months after Kid had taken his revenge, it had welcomed him home, as if it missed him, and it had taken him back, and taken in the hijras, as if all of you had always been there. Beating Rana to death had brought Kid back to life. He hoped that you and Sita felt the same. 

Sita had been focused on farming the land, showing off her green thumb after years away from any kind of dirt, and Alpha, it felt, had retired. She had a rocking chair and would look over the makeshift village, from dawn until dusk, every single day. 

And then there was you. Your hand was the one Sita reached for when she ran out to the back alley of Kings. Covered in blood, but together through it all. He had saved your life, rescued the two of you from the Queenie’s black stiletto heels standing on your necks, forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do. He should leave you alone, he shouldn’t want you the way that he does. 

When was the last time he’d had such a luxury? He laid on his sleeping mat, bored bored bored, deep in his bones. 

He hadn’t realized exactly how mentally caged he had been, but now he was free. What was left to do? 

He’d learned about how you longed to throw yourself to the ocean rocks for the chance at freedom, and how grateful you were for him coming to break all of the locks with a chaotic flair. 

He wanted you to be his- from the first moment he laid eyes on you. It was a difficult thing to admit. He’d have wonderful - shockingly vivid dreams about a world where your attachment was written everywhere on you, walking into a room and people know your his. The same for him of course, he’d want everyone to know he’s yours. 

But why on earth would you agree to it? You’d been a bird in a horrible, dank little cage, why would you toss yourself to the likes of him, after all you’d been subjected to? 

Such thoughts could live in dreams, he supposed. 

Across the camp, you're in the branches of a banyan tree, sitting snugly, safely in its branches. You kick your feet, and bob a little, hoping to shake some fruit loose, but alas, the figs aren't ripe yet. Maybe some more sun the next week would do it. What a treat that would be! 

You enjoy seeing the whole camp from up high. Deep in the heart of the woods, you’re all here, together. 

It was remarkable, you think, how you had all been able to come together and make a home. It would be a true village with more time, but the fact that everyone from the temple, plus those left standing after King’s, all had their own shelter, and were working together for food and water…it was remarkable. 

You flash in your mind, on Kid, watching him a little too closely as he weaved some smaller branches to make a door. 

His arms were lovely, even to a strange woman in a fig tree. A flash of heat hits your face, as you imagine those arms around you. In dreams you’d been having, you take a fistful of dense, curly hair, and pull. Would he like it? Would he tell you to fuck off? 

You kick yourself, and then you kick yourself for kicking yourself. Just a passing thought of his arms, and you were practically panting in the early summer heat. 

Sitting up in your tree, you thought of all the men you allowed to touch you, how you faked smiles and orgasms like it was nothing. And then he’d just come bowling into your life with the spark of a firework, letting you know it didn’t have to be like that anymore. 

Even if you did put your hands on him, touch him in the ways you wished to, would you know how? Would you know how to feel for him? 

In your mind, you’d already felt all of him, to your heart's content and beyond…

Sita had said no one would send you to jail for your thoughts, but it certainly felt that way. You hadn’t even touched him - where did all this guilt come from? Did you really need to keep your longing for Kid locked in a vault? 

Queenie had locked passport, your money, everything you were, into a vault -  he was far too kind to be put in there. 

Still, you did intend to be loyal to him, even if it was entirely one sided.  You spoke to him only when necessary, and would continue to do so until this burning itch underneath your skin - ur desire, faded. It had to, right? 

“Kanna, come here please!” called Alpha, voice clear and smooth, summoning you down from your perch, and you oblige her, moving slowly. 

You trot over, feet feeling heavy on the grass, “Yes, Alpha?” 

She takes your hand, and you link your fingers, admiring the manicure Sita had given her earlier that week. 

“You fantasize. I can see it from down here.” 

“I’m not sure what you're saying.” 

“Your fantasies are no longer fatal, and neither are Kid’s. He’s free of the past, still, he does not sleep. You should perhaps see if he is alright?”

As if on cue, a groan floats through the air, towards the two of you. 

“And do what?” 

“Make sure that his past stays gone?” She suggests, not verbalizing what she’d observed these past months. 

Your brow furrows. Kid would have to settle for a cup of water, and a bite of tangerine before settling back to sleep. That’s what your mother always gave you for your nightmares, why wouldn’t it work here? 

You make the quick journey, waving goodnight to Alpha, but stalling at the door of Kid’s hut. 

Another low groan. 

If it had been daylight, you would have had it in yourself to admit to the fluttering in your belly, but you wouldn’t. The desire would subside, for now you have to see if he’s well. The light of the moon makes your path clear. 

You take a breath, before opening the door. 

It’s night. It’s dark - the moon only gets you so far. 

And yet, you still find him, in the corner, on his sleeping mat, flat on his back. A low, almost imperceptible whine reaches your ears, and you furrow your brow. That didn’t seem like a nightmare, was he sick? 

You crouch down next to his sleeping body, and place a cool hand on his forehead, just to feel him. 

It wasn’t in Kid’s nature to feel casual annoyance, but if he could have, he would have been. In the midst of a wonderful dream, inspired by a bead of sweat he saw glistening in the hollow of your clavicle that morning, he was now dreaming about you - again, same as every night. 

In his dreams, you fall apart under his palms, scratching desperately at his back, and you beg for more. In his dreams, you're a desperate, sweet little thing, not much different from him. Another self-indulgence, thinking of a world where you want him as badly as he wants you. 

He jerks awake - where have you gone? He feels movement right beside him, and reflexively grabs it, a tight grip on your wrist.

“Jaanu, come back to bed.” His eyes are wide, still asleep in his mind. You crouched beside him, stunned at his words.

Alpha had said he was having a nightmare. He was neither sick, nor having a nightmare…

He was dreaming! About the two of you! 

Heat rushes to your face, like a paintbrush in water. 

“Back to…” You pause, “Yes, I’ll come back to bed.” Kid grunts at you, not giving your wrist back.  

He’s still in his own head, he doesn’t realize that you’re truly here. 

You allow him to pull you in, sighing as he tucks you into his side. 

God, he felt better than you imagined. 

You hold on to him, as his breathing slows, and you run your hands over a warm, flat stomach, tracing hearts there, for hours and hours. 

You wake slowly, for the first time in years. A light brushing of warmth against your cheek. You crinkle your nose, slowly blinking, and remembering where exactly you were. 

Your head is resting on his arm, his hand on your waist, in real life. 

He’s looking over at you, brown eyes round, his mouth just inches away from yours. Over the past few months, his beard had gotten unruly, you slowly place a hand under his chin, to pet the new growth. 

“Are you really here?” He rasps, voice soft with sleep, you let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Yes, I didn’t want to wake you, Alpha was worried, and you grabbed my wrist so I just…stayed.” You explained, trying not to seem flustered. 

“You're here, not just in my dreams.” He practically whispered, bringing up a palm to your cheek, same as you had for him. It had taken a couple of weeks to hear from Alpha about why Kid’s hands were the way they were. Kid had learned to live with the fact that his roots had been burned away, but as his hand touched your face, it certainly didn’t feel like that. 

You think about his lovely hands. Regardless of any fire, any destruction they may have wrought, any scar tissue that grew there had only served to free you and the women at King’s. You like his hands. 

“I want to kiss you. Can I?” Your voice shook, but you said those words anyway. You should be proud of yourself. 

Kid nods his head, letting you inch forward, brushing your noses together. Something in his stomach flips, and you brush your mouth against his. Soft, almost delicate, the same way a leaf meets the ground in the fall. 

Oh - you think. 

You kissed him, like you had been longing, dreaming of doing, and nothing horrible happened! The stars were still in the sky, the rivers were still running, the trees still stood tall, protecting your village…

“I want you. Do you feel the same?” You ask him again, not sure where this confidence had come from. Maybe it was the fact that you were here, and so close to what you had wanted…

“I only sleep because it’s where I might find you.” Something goes plink in your heart, and you decide enough is enough. 

“Well wake up,” you tease, “I’m right here.” 

Something flashes across Kid’s face, and he pulls you back in. It’s hard not to fold completely as he rolls you carefully on to your back, he just feels too good. Even with the low light coming into the hut, it felt as if Kid had been drizzled in gold. 

“I want more,” you command between kisses, his beard tickling your face. 

“We have to be quiet,” he responds, clearly getting distracted. You had to get him out of his own head. It was ridiculous, someone with a past as checkered as his. He wanted to be with you always, be something you could crush under the heel of your boot if it pleased you. He only wants to please you. And now that he is getting the chance, he does exactly that. 

He works his way down, ignoring the sticky summer heat, until he settles comfortably between your legs. 

How lovely! How comfortable it was to lie here with you. Your body under his felt so surreal, soft and comfortable. Your hands on his shoulders. 

When he has the time, he decides that he’s going to put each one of your fingers in his mouth, just for the sake of feeling every part of you. 

How strange, how new it was! The desire to feel all of someone; to lay here on top of you and hope gravity might keep him here as long as possible. 

He says nothing and hums into your soft thighs, stray hand wandering to push your cotton shift up slowly, higher and higher. You love him for that -  that he’s giving you so much time to stop him, to call it all off, but you don’t. 

Kid runs a rough palm over your heat, and begins to shake at the contact. 

“May I?” He asks, polite as ever. 

You reply, a simple “Yes.” 

Gently, slowly, Kid nudges your legs apart, smiling, before taking an experimental taste. 

It was embarrassing how you jerked into him, like an electric shock. 

Something darkened across his face, that set your hair on end in the best way, and he dove in headfirst. 

He flicks his tongue on your clit, chuckling against you as you twitch under the attention, “Do you like that?” He asks, and you nod, losing your thoughts. 

Your heart leaps to your throat as the rough pad of his thumb meets your clit, rubbing a heart shape. 

“Answer me!” He urges, growly, and it makes you want to smack him. 

“Yes!” You squeak, a little too loudly, sitting up on your elbows. Kid stifles a laugh behind his hand as he rests a palm on your stomach to soothe you. He didn’t know you as one to squeak! You pout, just because you can, and he grins at you, leaning up for a kiss to your pouty mouth. 

“Poor birdy,” he coos, “we should go deeper into the woods, where we can be as loud as we like.” 

The thought makes your hair stand on end, being truly alone, together. The tantalizing thought fades as he ducks his face back down, into you. As he works, spreading the warmth of his mouth over you, it was hard to remember why you ‘had to be quiet’. How would that be possible? Flicking his tongue, you twitch again, relishing the attention he was giving so freely.

“Would you like more?” He hums, vibrations tearing right through you. 

“Y-yesyesyes, more please.” His rough palms roam over you at a leisurely pace, his mouth back to your clit. You should be quiet, you try so hard to be quiet, but Kid’s sucking and slurping unnerves you. You can’t control yourself for long. 

You want to beg him to grab you harder, like you might float away if he doesn’t, but you just can’t find words beyond, “Want you…” 

“Do you promise?” Kid murmured into your leg, tugging the soft flesh there lightly with his teeth, “I don’t want to pressure you.” Please please please, he thinks. 

“I promise,” you pant, pussy still fluttering, “Wanted you since I first saw you…” Your voice dies off, as he comes up to kiss you on the mouth, like he missed you. 

“I was covered in blood.” 

“A few more days and you could be again.” You freeze at your own words. Queenie always kept the girls on lockdown when it was that time. Kid was different. 

“Don’t tempt me, jaanu. I should keep you in my arms until then.” It’s a threat. It’s a promise. It’s everything you’ve been dreaming about for months…

But the idea of Kid with your monthly blood on his face was something else entirely…

Your thoughts are cut off again, but Kid takes your hand, resting it above your stomach. Your fingers intertwine, naturally. 

“Can I get you ready for me?” 

“Do it.” Your voice is firm, and certain, and he absolutely adores you for it. 

The look on your face through the rising light makes his hair stand on end. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Kid traces your needy hole with his fingers. How could you have known that he’d be so gentle with you? What exactly had you been making yourself feel bad about? 

You bite down a moan as he works one finger in, slowly, letting you feel every ridge, relishing as you try to squirm closer to his hand. 

No. 

You’ll take what he gives when he gives it, he thinks but then he revises, You will get everything he had, but not quite yet. 

He pauses, letting you get used to his digit, only starting to move when you pant. You're too stiff, he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want it to be like before, he wants it to be better. 

It’s hard not to melt, so you allow yourself the pleasure. 

Who was he really? Did it even matter? 

“Alright, Jannu?” He asks, and you take a grip on his shoulder, nodding ‘yes.’ 

And then, he starts to move. 

It had been years since someone’s hands had worked you so thoroughly, and you simply had to enjoy it. He simply had to pull you closer, with his two fingers, other hand palming your breasts, to your thrill, in a less gentle manner than the rest of you. 

He was simply petting you, playing with you, of course you had to purr. You couldn’t imagine anything else. Everything in your life has led you here, with him, to be underneath him. 

Faster and faster and faster, and then. Nothing. 

“Shh. Just hold on for me.” 

Kid takes his hand from you, and you whip your head up, face ravenous. 

All he offers you is a “Sorry, not yet.” You should slap him, but the emptiness he’d left turned into an ache. How could he do this? Even for a moment? 

You whine, and Kid thinks he might die if he doesn’t fuck you how you deserve. 

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll make it better, hm?” Your lover shifts above you, and you feel his cock nudging at your folds. The giddiness of it all goes straight to your head. 

“Need you!” You are keen, rolling your hips into him, hoping to catch something, anything to grant relief. But the only thing that could help is him. 

“Slowly, not too much now.” He cautions, but you can't. You simply can’t. Months of dreaming, waiting, lusting, handling the overwhelming guilt you didn’t ask for? No more waiting.

You pant, and he greedily breathes in your air, inching into you, measured and careful. 

No. No more. 

You take a cruel grip on his ass, and pull him down into you, losing yourself for either a moment or an hour. 

He pants, sounding desperate to keep himself together. Maybe that wasn’t the wisest move, maybe he’d been going sooooo slooow for his sake as much as yours…

Kid is seated completely inside you, running his rough palm over the bulge he was making in your lower tummy. How quickly a life can change, he thinks, he was asleep, and now he’s here, above you, feeling exactly how deep he can fit inside you. 

Your vision had gone white at the edges, he just felt too correct. Perhaps you should keep him hostage here, always. Kid lets out a low whine, pathetic and beautiful, and you feel your skin buzz so loud, you're certain he could hear it. 

He has to move. Or you might die. 

But carefully, he rolls into you, making you dig into him. He catches your wanton moan in his mouth, trying to soothe you in spite of his actions. Your words are gone…

“Good girl, do you like that?” He asks, as if you could respond, “Do you want more?” 

You nod your head, drunkenly, and he snaps down again. You grip him even tighter, and he puts his mouth back on yours. 

It’s just too desperate, does he know how badly you need him?  

“Harder! Harder please.” You beg, eyes round and unfocused on anything other than the harsh pleasure he was giving you. 

“More more more!”

Kid goes after your breasts, teasing with his hot mouth, bringing you closer with each shallow breath he takes. 

You stifle a wail in his shoulder, fighting desperately. As soon as you bare down around him, it’s over. You don’t want to be over…

Kid seems to know this, watching you intently, same as always. You fight off your orgasm, defiant and determined, fluttering tightly around him, the least he could do is do the same. 

But it’s simply too much, you knew you were going to scream. You couldn’t, it was too early, everyone would know. 

You run a hand up the side of his face, catching his beard, feeling hair stuck to his forehead from the humidity. His eyes blank, absolutely lost in the throes of you, your squelching and whines burned into his bones forever. 

He holds you as you scrabble at his back, eyes rolling, not losing his pace for a moment, only gasping into your ear as you finally clench down, fluttering around him, only coming back to reality when your teeth meet his chest and bite down, muffling the sound. 

Your teeth meeting his flesh, makes him lose his composure. He moans beautifully in your ear, your teeth still in his chest, reflexively gripping you harder as he spills deep inside. You kick your legs up higher around his torso, so you could keep him trapped against you. 

Kid pants into your mouth, murmuring all the sweet things he’d been keeping to himself. He’s free now, you both are. 

But still, neither of you move, holding on to each other, and it must be heaven. 

Someone has to move first. He should start some tea for you. He should start to show you how he was ready for the rest of his life now, with you. 

But it’s not to be, the second Kid pulls out, you kick his rear with the heel of your ankle. All of your shared mess seeps out of your worn out body. Not yet. He’s too far away. It couldn’t be over yet…That’s not allowed, you decide. 

“No. Put it back.” You command. 

Kid has the nerve to bat his eyes at you, and obliges, face flashing with something you couldn’t place. 

He holds you tight, and the two of you let the quiet soak in from the window. With you here, it wasn’t a hut, but a proper house. 

His heart is about to beat out of his chest, the sheer weight of your eyes on his, it feels like an honor to be here with you. 

The evidence of your rendezvous was hot and sticky between your legs. Kid was surprised that there seemed to be so much, and he didn’t mind one bit. Maybe he could take you down to the river to clean up, and care for you properly. Maybe the two of you wouldn’t be missed. 

You close your eyes, and something flips in the Kid's chest. 

“What is it you want?” He asks, forehead pressed against yours, “Ask for the moon and I’ll pull it down for you.” You squirm under the intensity of his stare, he was simply too beautiful and overwhelming. 

“I choose you and me.” 

“You can have it.” He gives you a peck, smiling into you, but quickly furrowing into concern. .

“Wait Jannu, it’s alright, what’s happened?” You stifle a small sob at the overwhelming softness of his tone. 

The fist around your heart clenches, as you feel a wet trail down your face, to your jaw. 

When was the last time you were allowed to cry? 

You huff a little, to yourself, and bring him in for another sweet kiss, languid and comfortable. He brings the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, clearing the tears away.  You take a fistful of his hair, and bring him in close, limbs intertwined, safe together. 

“I’m happy. I’m so very happy.” And you cry a little more, because it’s true. 

[chelseeebe]

promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

-

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

-

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

-

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

-

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 1: Rimming

Paring: Kakashi Hatake x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Rimming DUH, anal fingering, teasing, slight begging, little bottom twinky fuck me daddy feminine male reader, no actual sex, enemies to lovers? I think that's it

Word Count: 1,307

Fuck him. Fuck his pretty silver hair that I just want to run my hands through while he eats my ass, his muscular form that must have been crafted by the sage of six paths himself, his beautiful attention catching eye, his mysterious mask, his (what I hope is) insanely large dick. Just fuck the whole thing (I wish).

Of course, the only person you could be thinking of is the one and only Kakashi Hatake, copy ninja of the leaf, and the hottest mother fucker to ever exist. Oh god did you have an obsession with him. Having wet dream after wet dream about him, screaming his name while masturbating, and it doesn't help that you catch him staring at you all the time almost as much as he catches you staring at him.

This whole obsession started a month ago when you saw him reading one of his goddamn sex books in the middle of the street. You walked over to him and asked why he was reading erotica in a VERY public place, and he just looked at you "Because it's hot." he stated matter-of-factly. The nerve of some people, from then on you two would see each other walking around, say hi, go your respective ways. It's been that way ever since; stolen glances and fuck me eyes since.

Until now. You were done with man after man not fulfilling you like you think he may be able to, maybe, it's a complete guess but he just gives off the vibe. Anyway, you saw him reading his demented sex shit again when you decided to make your fantasies a reality once and for all. You walk behind the bench he was sitting on and read the words on the page and HOLY SHIT IT'S GAY RIMMING. You mentally scream into the pillow like a 15-year-old girl who just found out her crush is available, which is kind of like what's going on.

"Uhm, can I help you?" Kakashi questions in his horny inducing voice, with a little annoyance sprinkled in through all the underwear wetting.

"Oh sorry, am I disturbing a public jack off sesh." You coldly state with a smirk on your face, hand doing a little masturbation gesture.

"Do you mind." he says rhetorically, the twinge of annoyance from earlier much more noticeable now.

"If you didn't want someone to talk to you then why are you reading 'that' on a public bench in the middle of the street again?" you sassily question.

"Because I wanted to read outside, privately." He answers, you look at him like he's the dumbest man in the whole world.

"Then why, in the absolute fuck, are you reading in the street you attention whore." you rhetorically ask, the previous sass now developed into genuine frustration as you walk around the bench to be right in front of him.

"That's cute coming from you." he chuckles.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

"Don't act dumb, you have been trying to get into my pants for weeks now." he exclaims, you start to blush, ensuring that what he said is true.

"Don't act so high and mighty with me. I've seen you look at me too bitch." you state. He stands up, his large frame completely dwarfing you, his eyes almost angry. You do a cartoonish and audible gulp, the fear enhancing the horniness.

It's quiet for a while until he leans down,

"And what of it" he whispers in your ear and grabs you ass tightly, not caring if anyone sees. You let out a soft yelp at the sudden sign of attraction. You're completely stunned, not knowing what to do. He realizes this and before you can think any more, he holds you close and grabs your ass tighter and whispers,

"My place." It wasn't even a question or a request, it was a demand. One that even given the choice you wouldn't say no to.

Before you know it you're already on your way to Kakashi's place. He's giving you a piggyback ride to save time, and because he wants that juicy cake as quickly as possible, his mind is going crazy with your legs wrapping around him.

Finally, you make it to his place and immediately you both rush into his room. Right when you both enter you get off his back and onto the bed. Your legs spread as he takes off both your pants and underwear and tosses them both to the side.

"Now, turn around and bend over." already making demands and he hasn't even bought you dinner yet, not that you care because without a single moment of hesitation you are already on your hands and knees.

Without warning he immediately put his long skilled digit into your readily awaiting hole. He moves slowly as he starts to open you up. All the while you let out quiet moans.

"Your little moans are so cute." he said. Suddenly you feel a second finger enter you. He stays at the same excruciatingly slow pace. While he's pumping his fingers, he starts to feel the rest of your ass, rubbing it sensually and squeezing at the sensitive skin.

He puts in the third finger and his speed starts to pick up. Now your moans start to get louder as his three fingers stay at a steady and quick speed. He pumps them in and out over and over with precise repetition.

his fingers start to curl inside you, twisting and turning inside you perfectly. It's at this point that you are officially a moaning mess. The all too familiar feeling churns into your stomach. His fingers start turning and hitting your sweet spot consistently.

Then the feeling of relief washes over you as his fingers twist and hit your spot for the final time. You let out a loud moan and crash into the bed, cumming without even him putting his dick in you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just feeling inside you as he picked you up and brought you to your hands and knees again.

"Not yet sweetheart." he says as he starts to rub and massage your ass cheeks, caressing them to his desire. He gives you a quick and sharp spank, you cry out in pleasure from the surprise as he watches you ass jiggle in awe.

He puts his mask down and licks your ass, putting small and harmless love bites from time to time. Each lick and bite getting closer and closer to your hole. You start begging him to just devour you already. "Please, god I've fantasized about this please." you cry out, wanting, no, craving for his tongue.

"Well since you asked so nicely." he calmly states, though you can tell the excitement in his voice, aware that he wants this too. He licks lines on your cheek until FINALLY taking small licks on your entrance. Your spine chills in anticipation and pleasure and your breathing becomes shaky.

He licks languid circles on your entrance slowly. His hands are still caressing the rest of your ass. Your legs are shaking due to the stimulation and your cock is as hard as can be. He stops his simple licking and finally puts his tongue in your ass.

It starts off slowly but develops quickly into a fast pace, his tongue going in and out of you. You are now officially a moaning mess as his tongue is assaulting your hole. He continues this and then starts to put his fingers back in your hole while his mouth is still doing its job.

The familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build up again as his talented hands and mouth works on your asshole. Your moans crescendo until finally you climax for the second time of the night.

And you're not done yet.

THE END

[richardsgraysons]

lazy sundays

prompt — your fiancé, dick grayson, is the love of your life. was. you think he’s dead, but in reality, he’s out there as a spyral agent. meanwhile, you start appreciating the little things more.

tags — reader got out of an ED, mental health issues. angst and comfort, dick grayson x fem!reader. sfw

jason todd was the one who was attracted to you first. he saw you at a wayne gala and thought you were the love of his life. he asked you out, and you immediately said yes, intimidated by the fact that a wayne was the one who noticed you.

dick didn’t even notice you, which you didn’t mind too much. jason was all that you needed. he was kind and funny but he had this really annoying behavior where he would scream at you in fights. like, scream. one night, things got heated and he left into the night, leaving you behind to go outside, no doubt to clear his mind.

you decided to take care of yourself and make it up to him, so, you had finished his laundry. when putting his clothes away, you noticed a very red helmet with another suit with keys in them. you would’ve thought that it was a cute cosplay prop if the keys didn’t open up a drawer with all sorts of guns in the bottom drawer.

you would’ve freaked out if the radio next to his guns didn’t just go static with —“fuck—nightwing here—wounded on fifth—.” and your blood went cold. jason todd? knew who nightwing was?

you didn’t even think about it, think if it was a trap. you took the radio and drove where nightwing said he was injured. nobody responded and you were praying that he was alive.

and that was when dick grayson, really, really saw you. saw your perseverance, your stubborn nature and how you always looked to the brighter sides of things even when he was stabbed in several places with a split rib and a gash to his head.

you were not a doctor, god no, you were in the beginning of your master’s degree, but with strength that rivaled a mother whose child was underneath a car, you managed to pick him up and put him in your car.

“so jason told you who I am? the little shit. he was supposed to talk to bruce before he revealed our identities. that’s what I get for having a love struck brother, huh?”

you stopped halfway and then looked at him in shock, your mouth open in a slight ‘o’. and he realized that you didn’t know, that your boyfriend of seven months was hiding things from you.

“just take me to bruce’s. say you know, and say I need help.” you let out a groan at it and press on the gas.

jason wasn’t to be found for the next few days. dick was though.

when he recovered and appeared at your doorstep with flowers and a sheepish smile, a cast and a boyish smile that felt like infidelity, your face flushed and you took them happily.

“thanks for saving me,” he said, and leaned against the doorway. unlike jason, his mannerisms and way of acting came easy, smoother, a better flow. and you fell so bad just thinking that. “may I come in?”

and against your better judgment, you stepped side. “mi casa es tu casa.”

his eyes twinkled at that. “tu casa es muy hermosa,” he said. “como el tuyo.”

“you know spanish?”

“I know mandarin, spanish, french, romansh, german, portuguese, hindi, japanese, and arabic. well, learning. dami’s teaching me that one.”

your jaw drops. “I just know english, my mother tongue, and high school spanish.”

“still better than 90% of america.”

that was how it started—he met you every so often, taking coffee out, mini golfing, kayaking, while jason grew ever so distant in the corner. you couldn’t blame jason for it, either. it wasn’t like you were making much of an effort to revive the relationship.

but everything changed that one night when jason asked you to go to a wayne gala with him. out of all his siblings, he had chosen the short straw this time. you said no—you didn’t want to go to another one of them and get hounded by paparazzi at this point.

and jason was fine with that. it wasn’t like he particularly liked going to galas anyways, so he understood your denial. until an hour later when on instagram in one of the more popular news sites, a viral photo of you and dick hugging in the rain together and staring at each other after getting a hole in one in a really hard mini golfing course started circling around.

“what the fuck is wrong with you? are you fucking him? don’t even answer that, I can tell. and even if you aren’t, I know you want to.”

“no, jason, what the fuck is wrong with you? I haven’t done anything with dick, nor do I want to. we’re friends.”

“you don’t underhand, y/n. I’m gonna be the guy that the papers make fun of once you leave me for him. so I’ll do what you don’t have the guts to. we’re done.”

your world didn’t shatter because of that, surprisingly. he moved out of your apartment. you watched gilmore girls reruns. you ate a lot of food. some cried tears, but nothing much. until one day, dick appeared at your door out of the blue.

"dick?" you raised an eyebrow, looking at him with an unsure look in your eye. "what are you doing here?" you were wearing your sweats with a dumbed down look in your eye that clearly stated you didn't know what the hell was happening.

"i'm in love with you. i'm sorry—but i can't stop thinking about you. your laugh is infectious and when you smile it's like a cloudy sky just turns back to sunshine—"

you stepped forward and kissed him. you thought the tabloids were full of shit, but you knew that they were right about this one thing.

after two years of dating, he had done a vigilante trip to india to track down some passages. while he was there, he went and bought a shiny ring. you'd marry him with paper rings. he planned a view of a skyline and it went perfectly, thank god.

but he died. he died and now you're sitting here in the apartment, staring at a photo of the two of you. you miss everything about him. the way he'd subtly add more food to your plate when you were having your ED. when he held you throughout the night after a panic attack even though he had patrol that day. when. he defended you from the paparazzi, when he screamed at jason right back when jason found out that you and dick were dating.

don't tell me you're staring at that damned photo. - tim

you look at your phone and sigh before closing down your phone. tim wouldn't understand. he wouldn't get it. how could he? it wasn't like he lost the love of his life. he was a robin. he knew loss. you didn't. he also lost his brother, you remind yourself, and that just makes it all worse.

you grab the photo and curl up in a ball in fetal position. you miss lazy sunday afternoons when you've eaten too much and that food is resting in your stomach. your head would be in your fiancé's lap and his hands would be in your hair and the minute he would move his hands from your hair or your back, you'd wake up, your body discomforted by the lack of touch. that's my superpower, you'd joke.

no, he'd respond. your superpower is being the most amazing and talented woman i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. i would do anything for you. your beauty rivals the stars in the night sky. i love you like how the moon loves the earth.

at the single thought of it, you curl up and sob, the tears racking down as you clench the photos to your heart. five months and thirteen days and you are not a single second away from properly healing. you'll never love again. you know that for a fact.

it's ten in the night when you wake up, and the couch is stained with tears. haley is right beside you, looking sad and sullen. she misses her best friend too, but she always hates it when her other best friend is crying.

"i haven't fed you? fuck," you swear before standing up. everything hurts. your heart feels too heavy. there's cuts on your wrists. you stare at them, the red from the blood dried up.

he also stares at them too. he vows that he's coming back no matter what.

[analbedo]

📔 that boy’s a liar ft asshole virgin killer jock bf childe

ngl im having Bad Childe Thoughts™️ sorry he’s such nonconner bait like skskfkkdks. also this was not supposed to be this long sadly i just got too silly wit it >_> also it’s been so long since i wrote i had to keep looking words up to make sure i used them right asksjdjsk i was staring at my phone for like 10 minutes bc there’s no way sinisterly is a word 🤨 anyway.

i could easily imagine him being, like, an asshole jock, probably plays some rich boy sport like lacrosse 😭 and every time the school year starts he’s always looking for another cute freshman to fuck. he had a thing for virgins, and no one was more virginal than a fresh out of high school girl, eager to find her first boyfriend, completely oblivious to the nature of men. (well, really, men like him.)

𐐪 warning: this fic contains dark content, please read my dark content disclaimer before continuing. minors dni.

🦢cw: virginity kink, dubcon/sexual coercion, noncon/rape (both implied and explicit, the word rape is also used), misogyny (i’m sorry women🥺), emotional manipulation, unhealthy relationships, unconsensual nude sharing, degradation, unconsensual creampie-ing (is there a better word for this?), hair pulling, mouth spitting, contraception mention⁉️

° 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 nsfw below the cut! 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 °

and that’s what led ajax to you, the bright eyed, overly naive barely legal cheerleader. most cheerleaders were too slutty for his tastes, but he could tell from the innocent way you swung your hips and nervousness around guys that you’d probably never had a boyfriend, let alone sex.

bagging you was too easy, he almost felt bad for you. he’d barely finished inviting you to one of his games when you’d excitedly accepted. afterward, him convincing you to go to a frat party later that night was child’s play (no pun intended). from there on, you were putty in his hands. ajax had no real intentions of dating you, you were a bit too innocent for his tastes. but, when you offhandedly mentioned you were saving yourself for “the one” (seriously?), he realized he had no other choice.

nothing really changed after you made it official, you still went to his games and parties with him, and sent him nudes that he was definitely sending to his friends’ groupchat. ajax, the notorious virgin killer, and his new victim. the general consensus was that you were the hottest one he found, which was an accomplishment, but his friends teased him for how long it was taking for him to smash— “you’re losing your touch there, casanova” kaeya texted him after he updated the chat on his latest date with you.

ajax rolled his eyes, but it was true. you were really not trying to give it up, even if you were blackout drunk, slurring your words at parties, even when he lit candles and set out rose petals for your one month anniversary, even when he said he’d never tell anyone. nothing was working, and he was starting to get annoyed. nutting on you face, tits, and ass wasn’t cutting it; if anything he was starting to get more and more sexually frustrated. he wouldn’t force you, he wasn’t that type of guy, but damn it if he wasn’t running out of ways to try to convince you to let him actually put his dick inside you; he’d even settle for just head at this point.

ajax reached his breaking point one night after a game. his team won the championship finals for their division, or something, which meant they had a solid chance at playing to win the state title. surely, he deserved something for that. so, when you invited him over to celebrate after, he was expecting more than you just surprising him with a homemade dinner after his shower.

“that’s it?” ajax asked, looking in disbelief at the table, his voice gradually growing louder and meaner as he spoke. “you fucking cook for me all the time, why the fuck would you think this is a surprise?”

you felt your heart sink a little bit; you’d put way more effort into it than your usual dishes, and you thought he’d might like a nice, fulfilling dinner after working so hard. ajax had little outbursts like this all the time, but he assured you that’s just how relationships are, and who would give up a tall, handsome, perfectly sculpted redhead athlete just because he’s a little temperamental.

you remained quiet; usually, this is where he’d apologize and say he had a bad day, or was tired. but, his tirade kept going.

“we’ve been together three fucking months and you’re still acting like the same boring virgin bitch as when we started dating. i thought for once you’d stop fucking neglecting me and finally fucking put out.” ajax reached up to run a hand through his damp auburn hair, his towel slipping down ever so slightly as he did so. you felt your face grow warm in embarrassment and desire. you wanted to wait, but him borderline flashing you sent butterflies down your stomach to between your legs.

“i’m sorry,” you said meekly, genuinely meaning it. you tried explaining how scared you were to do it for the first time; stds, pregnancy, or having your cherry popped, which you imagined would be more painful than it sounds. ajax always gave you the same responses, that he was clean, he’d pull out, he’d be gentle. you had no reason to deny him, really, you saw a future with him; and, if he’d dated you this long without having sex, you imagined he’d want to be with you forever once you said yes.

but still, something in your body was telling you to stop, leave, run. as many butterflies as he gave you, there were still cold claws of dread and fear dragging in your chest at the thought of sleeping with him. “i’m just not ready yet, baby. i’m sorry.” you replied, unable to meet his eye.

that was probably a good thing, because the look of disgust he casted would’ve been enough to make you break down in tears. “not… ready?” ajax asked in an angry low timbre. “you’re a fucking adult, for christ’s sake, what the fuck do you mean you’re not ready? it’s fucking sex, not a marriage proposal.” he huffed incredulously, running both hands through his hair now while throwing his head back. he turned away from you, finally allowing you to lift your gaze from the floor. staring at his back, you realized just how muscular your boyfriend was— and tall too.

if he really wanted it, he could easily take it. you wouldn’t stand a chance.

the thought alone made your throat swell and eyes prick. you never thought he could be that kind of guy; and if he is, wouldn’t it be better to just let him do what he wants? maybe he’d go easy on you if you said yes now.

“everyone else on the team is probably getting ass at that after party, and i’m fucking stuck here playing house with a childish ass bitch,” ajax groaned. his words felt like punches straight to the gut; you instinctively held your abdomen in response. he turned around to you, his face now free of anger, but full of… something. you didn’t know what, but it was sending shivers down your spine. “you know, this is the longest i’ve ever gone without having sex,” he said in a neutral tone, slowly walking around the table to approach you. you winced as he lifted your chin up, bringing his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“look at me,” ajax said softly, but sinisterly. you forced your tear filled eyes to meet his, but not without trembling in fear. “you’re neglecting me, you know. isn’t it a little unfair to deprive me of intimacy, when i’ve been doing everything i can to make you comfortable? why are you so scared of me, hm? why don’t you trust me?” you merely blinked in response; if you talked you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back sobbing. “i don’t neglect you, do i? is there anything you want that i don’t for do?” you pondered the question; though he was rarely ever nice or this soft spoken, he had a point— physically, he’d given you all the cuddles and forehead kisses you could want.

still, that wasn’t the same thing as having sex? or, was it? who’s to say he finds cuddling as intimate as lovemaking? maybe sex was to him what cuddling was to you— maybe you were neglecting him. you shook your head softly in reply.

“good girl, you’re right. i’ve done everything i can to prove you can trust me, does that not matter to you? will i never be good enough for you?” ajax’s voice sounded sincere, but the cold, perverse look in his eyes still made you doubt. “i’ve been so patient, baby. i could’ve taken it any time i wanted, but i waited for you. you gonna keep me waiting forever?”

something about his logic wasn’t quite adding up to you— but, it didn’t matter. your brain was too clogged with fear to compute anything. plus, he confirmed what you tried so hard to not acknowledge all along: if he wanted you, he could have you, whether you wanted it or not. your heart thudded in your chest.

you felt guilty for depriving your boyfriend for so long, but that was overshadowed by your fear of what he’d do to you if you kept kept saying no. “ok,” you whispered meekly, so soft you were surprised he even heard it.

or, maybe he didn’t. it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

ajax smiled, though this time his grin of approval filled you with cold terror instead of giddy excitement. “i knew you’d do the right thing.”

***

“shouldn’t we use condoms?” you asked. you were sitting on your bed, wrapping your naked body with your fuzzy pink blanket. maybe you were as childish as he said. the more you thought about it, the less you wanted to do it, but, it was too late mow.

“they’re too small for me, but, don’t worry, i’m clean. can’t let an std fuck up my lacrosse career, you know?” ajax said casually, walking towards the bed.

“no, not for that. i meant for- i mean, like, i’m not on, like, birth control or anything—” you stammered.

“oh that’s fine, i was gonna pull out anyway. can’t let a baby fuck up my career, either,” he replied, chuckling at his own joke before giving you a light peck. “plus, you’re too hot to knock up right now, it’d ruin your body. i’d save that for after you’ve already hit the wall. anyway,” he said sliding back on the bed and leaning against the wall. “come here princess, i’ll show you what to do.”

you turned around and crawled toward him, sitting back on your heels. his comment about your body momentarily snapped you out of your fearful haze; were you really about to give it up to such an asshole?

ajax twirled his finger, motioning you. “face that way, towards the door. and get on your hands and knees”

“like this?”

“perfect. now—” instead of giving instructions, ajax put his hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down roughly. “you’re gonna stay like that.”

it was kind of humiliating being in such a lewd pose; you’d always imagined your first time would be passionate missionary sex, not getting your back blown out. ajax shuffled behind you on the bed; he was taking his boxers off.

“okay, you ready? i’m gonna be honest, it’s pretty big, and it’s gonna hurt a lot before it starts to feel good, alright?” ajax said as he positioned himself behind you, his hands on your hips as he slowly dragged the tip of his dick against your vulva. “just keep taking it, though,” he said, lowering his voice for the rest of his sentence: “i didn’t wait all this time just to get blue balled.”

ajax lined himself up with your hole, and you sucked in a breath as you felt the slight pressure of his tip on the outer rim. you winced, scrunching your face as you prepared for him to actually go in.

sadly, nothing could’ve prepared you for that type of pain.

“fuck— ajax stop, no, it hurts— it hurts too much—” you cried out, practically screaming.

“tch. stop being so dramatic, i’m not even halfway in,” ajax paused his speech as he pushed into you further, eliciting a yelp. the searing pain was almost enough to render you unconscious, and, god, how you wish it actually did. “it’ll hurt less once you’re used to it. relax, for fucks sake. the more you panic the more it hurts.”

you wished you could heed his advice— but, then again, what does he know? he’d only ever inflicted the pain, never received it. there’s no way he could comprehend how horrific it felt being split open, your body resisting every inch but still being made to take it. the pain came from between your legs and in your head, too, the few fleeting thoughts you had besides how much it hurt questioning how he could put you through this, if he really loved you, he knew you weren’t ready.

you abandoned speech altogether, merely sobbing as ajax continued to push his thick cock inside you.

ajax paused again. “crying’s only hot if i can see it. shut the fuck up, you’re killing the mood.” when you didn’t stop sobbing, he grabbed you by the ponytail, jerking your towards him so he could mutter in your ear; the shock was enough to shut you up, at least momentarily. “i swear i get soft ‘cause you keep whining like a bitch, you’re gonna suck it til it’s hard again, and i’ll make sure it hurts a whole lot fucking worse.” he let go of your hair, your body flopping limply back onto your bed.

you took a deep breath, biting down on your arm to silence yourself, and prepared for the worst.

ajax was angry now, and, being the cause of his agitation, he happily took it out you. you bit down so hard you could’ve sworn you drew blood as he continued to shove his cock inside you; his thrusts were rough, it felt as he was tearing you open. just as your brain grew delirious with pain, you felt one final shove before the warmth of his body was against your ass.

“there, that wasn’t so bad, was it, baby? i don’t even think you’re bleeding,” ajax cooed. you were so beat down you couldn’t even speak, but he didn’t really need a reply; he didn’t care how bad it was for you, because it was perfect for him. “but i know you’re still a virgin, or, were a virgin, ‘cause you’re so fucking tight.” he moaned as he held your hips and pushed into further, somehow managing to get even deeper. this caused a new type of discomfort; less of the searing torture of him going in, but a nonetheless dull, aching pain in your lower abdomen.

“fuck, you feel so good, pussy’s gripping me so tight like it’s made for me. think i just hit your cervix, too.” ajax’s hands traveled from your hips to your ass, massaging the soft flesh on either side. “you’re so fucking hot, i could probably cum just from this.”

panic became the new sensation that took you over. “but you said you’d pull out,” you cried, trying a last ditch attempt to crawl away from him.

ajax easily held you against him again, and sighed in annoyance. “i said i could, not that i would, stupid slut. you’re the last girl alive i’d knock up; who’d wanna spend 18 years with your annoying ass?”

tears returned to your eyes; is this really how he viewed you? was this entire relationship just a ruse to get in your pants?

well, it didn’t matter, at this point. he was already there, and wasn’t leaving until he finished. you had no choice but to take it.

ajax clicked his tongue before gently sliding out of you, barely an inch. he showed no mercy thrusting back into you, though, making that dull ache resonate again. he slowly pulled out again, leaving only the tip inside.

“damn, you’re pretty wet for a bitch that says she doesn’t want it,” he sneered. ajax slammed his dick back inside you; strangely, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time, minus him hitting your cervix. “but virgins are all the same,”ajax continued, picking up the pace at which he rutted into you. “you pretend you don’t want it to ‘cause of your purity bullshit, but the second i’ve got you bent over you start creamin’ on me like a porn star, can’t help yourself.”

the pain of him sliding into you was gone at this point; you could only feel the drag of his cock against your walls, rubbing against a spot that made ecstasy shoot through you. even the ache from him going too deep started to feel pleasurable. you couldn’t help but moan as waves of euphoria washed over you.

“yeah, you like that, baby?” ajax purred, before sending a sharp smack to your ass. he chuckled hearing you moan at that, too. “damn, you’re a masochist, too? didn’t think a pure little princess would be such a whore in bed.” he slapped your ass again, before reaching around to grab your neck and pull you towards him and titling your head back so he could look into your face. “bet you’re sorry for making me wait, huh? fucking tease,” he snapped, before spitting into your mouth. “swallow it.”

you did as you were told, disgusted by the feeling of the warm, foamy liquid landing in your mouth and sliding down your esophagus. he let you go, and you fell again back onto the bed. ajax placed a large hand on your back, pushing you down into the right position.

“keep your back fucking arched,” ajax scolded. with one hand pressing you into the sheets, and one firmly grasping the softness of your hip, he rutted into you, harder, and faster, each thrust sending shots of pleasure and pain throughout your whole body.

“ah- ajax- slow- fuck- slow down, ‘ts too much- too fast-i can’t—” you moaned, drooling onto the sheets. it felt so wrong, letting him do this to you, with all the awful things he’s said and done— but, you couldn’t help how good it felt taking his dick, every movement adding to the euphoric build up that made your body limo and head dizzy.

the intensity of pain and pleasure increased as he leaned over to hiss in your ear: “you’re gonna take what i fucking give you., slut.” ajax pried open your jaw, and shoved two long fingers into your mouth. “i’m tired of listening to you moaning, i wanna hear you gag for me, princess.” you choked around him, his digits pressing the back of your throat. “yeah, just like that, baby.”

the feeling of his fingers being pushed down your throat as he panted in your ear, while still not letting up on his rapid thrusts was all too stimulating; you felt your body tremble as you came, tranquillizing euphoria spreading your body like electricity. you could vaguely feel your pussy flutter around ajax’s dick, involuntarily clenching around him.

“fuck, you just got so much tighter— ah, wetter, too,” ajax moaned in your ear, burying his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. “fuck, baby, i’m so close, feels so fucking good—” he cut himself off with his own panting, desperately chasing his own release.

it took you a moment to register his words in your post orgasm haze, but you quickly snapped to attention once you did. you jerked your head to the side so his fingers were no longer massaging the back of your tongue.

“wait- ajax, you said you’d pull out—”

“god, i know, i will, now shut the fuck up before you ruin it,” he groaned. his hands moved to yours, pinning your wrists down while as rhythm grew sloppy.

“ajax, please- you said you wouldn’t, cum inside me— please— please don’t don’t—“ you plead desperately.

“shut up, bitch,” ajax spat. “i know what im fucking doing,”. “i’m not gonna nut inside you— fuck— just need a little more—ah”

“please don’t,” you whispered softly; you were almost certain ajax wouldn’t risk cumming inside you— his reasoning was sound, but there again was that feeling of chilling dread as he kept messily rutting into you.

“fuck, ‘ts so good, so fucking wet— ah” ajax panted, indifferent to your reminders. his speed slowed, now more pronounced pounding. “fuck, fuck, i’m sorry baby, it just feels too fucking good, i can’t— ahh”

you screamed for him to stop, but it was too late; you could feel after his final thrust a warmth inside you, spreading deeper into your core as he wrapped his arms around you. “ajax, stop it— get off— let me go!” you screeched, desperately trying to break free from his grasp.

“sorry, princess, ‘ts too late now. shit, there’s so fucking much, too,” ajax sighed, pushing into you even harder. “fuck.”

nothing could describe the disgust you felt, trapped under your boyfriend’s sweaty, toned body as he forced you to take every last drop of his cum, shamelessly draining his balls inside your limp body. you knew you had to worry about pregnancy or an sti, but those were far from your mind.

the only thing you could think about is how bad you wanted to die.

ajax finally released you, getting off the bed and searching for his clothes. once free, you immediately crawled into a fetal position, tears pooling from your eyes as his cum drooled down your thighs.

epilogue

“sorry about that, by the way,” ajax said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t basically ruin your life. “it’s been so long since i last had sex, i guess i forgot how to pull out in time, so it’s kind of on you for making me wait.”

you said nothing; as humiliated as you were, you couldn’t risk more embarrassment by actually responding to him.

“hey, so, there’s still an after party going on, so i think i’m gonna check that out. you don’t have to worry about coming though— shit, sorry— attending, i know you probably have some shit you wanna work through right now. soooo,” you heard his footsteps head toward your bedroom door. he paused, as if he was waiting for a response, but eventually you heard him leave your room, head out the front door, and drive off. you laid on your bed, curled up in shame, for what felt like an eternity, until the loud text alert from your phone jolted you out of your catatonic state. it was a text— from ajax, surprisingly.

hey. left you a apology gift on your table. hope it helps.

you threw on a bathrobe and shuffled miserably back to your dining room. the elaborate feast you made was embarrassing to look at; all that effort just to get borderline raped by your boyfriend for his special night. you saw the gift he must have been referring to: a wad of bills, that, when you counted them it amounted to $65. you read the messy scrawl on the accompanying note:

enough for a plan b ♡