#its why she comes back in season 3 and stays around

[ghostgirl-22]

Somehow the conversation coming up that art doesnt know what he likes or knowing his own body because he always did what he was supposed to and no girl has felt the need or want to touch him because "hes the man and shouldnt need all that" "guys take care of the girl not the other way around" iykwim so patrick decides to help him figure it all out

How much pressure he likes, how wet he likes it, if he like gentle or nipping, gripping or biting.. where his erogenous zones are... kissing the sensitive parts of his inner thighs, what roles he likes to take, how he likes to be spoken to...?

U can ignore this part but Maybe pat asks "You never even tried doing it yourself? Like taken your time and see where your hands go?"

art says how would i be able to figure it out when i dont know where to start or what to do. Pat understands there probably a repression aspect to it aswell aand so they discover art together with pat guiding him through this new world/exploration

Omg! Your ask is literally ten times better than what I wrote but I love you for letting me try it dear nonnie <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Basically this is just yearning and longing and porn with the thinnest of plots. So Artrick core.

——

It all comes out over holiday break. Art is staying with Patrick, it’s a few days after Christmas and Art’s parents are already busy with fundraisers and meetings. To them it doesn’t matter how Art gets back to Stanford, as long as he gets back so they could care less that Patrick keeps him for a few days.

They’re up too late. Patrick is lying on the floor with his laptop, looking up the scheduled matches for this season and who he’ll likely be playing. Art has taken over his bed, flipping channels on the television, going back and forth between American Pie on TBS and ESPN. Patrick is certain the sex conversation starts because they’re watching American Pie but what starts out as Art trying to get more information about Patrick’s sex life with Tashi leads to Art admitting he’s never really explored what he likes in bed.

“What do you even mean, explore?” Art asks, suddenly self conscious. He’s such a little perfectionist, checked off all the boxes, straight As, Ivy League college, division one tennis player, first girlfriend at the “right” age, lost it (many times) before high school finished. Patrick can tell it’s frustrating him to feel like he missed something. “Do you mean… touching myself?”

That’s really all it takes to divert Patrick’s attention. He shuts his laptop and sits up, gazing at Art. “Yeah jerking off is one part,” Patrick says, “But I meant what do you like?”

“I like having sex,” Art shrugs, “it’s simple. What else is there to explore?”

“Oh come on,” Patrick smirks. “It’s anything but simple. Do you even know your favorite position?”

Art rubs his arm, its so obvious he’s never even thought about it. “I don’t really… I mean um… I like… you know… the usual way.”

“Yeah that checks out,” Patrick says teasingly and Art’s gaze darkens.

”Why? How do you fuck Tashi?”

Patrick grins because he knew it was coming. “Nice try.”

Art huffs an irritated sigh. “Whatever man. Just because I’m not trying every position or whatever. I mean what difference does it make? She still…everybody still leaves happy.” Art picks up the remote and switches channels again like he’s done with the conversation but his skin is starting to flush.

He’s so easy. Patrick decides to push a little more. He shoves Art’s legs over and settles next to him on the full sized bed. Art just sits up, crossing his legs, he rests back on his palms.

Maybe it’s because Patrick helped him with his first sexual experience or maybe it’s because he has some kind of corruption kink but he loves whenever their relationship shifts back around to this show-me-how dynamic.

Art is so good at walking this line of self delusion that he’s this perfectly good straight boy… but when he needs something from Patrick. Usually experience. That’s when the lines start to blur. It’s a fucking mess but that’s exactly where Patrick lives.

“Look dude it’s not even about that.” Patrick continues. “It’s about… you remember when we were kids. You were so scared you’d suck at kissing so I—”

“Yeah I was a dumb kid,” Art interrupts quickly.

“Sure but you practiced…” Patrick points out. “And you’re a really good kisser now,” he says, smirking. Art looks away.

Patrick sighs. “I’m just saying if you play around… and learn what you really like. Sex can be really, really fucking good. Besides that’s half the fun of it anyway, right?”

Art chews his bottom lip and then he sighs. “It’s just… I mean I’m a guy… I thought I was supposed to look things up. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“What did you look up?”

“I don’t know, how to put on a condom? Only the first time. And like there was this article about unhooking different types of bra straps. Shut up,” he adds, shoving Patrick gently because he can’t help laughing at that.

“Okay how about this?” Patrick says, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. He leans back against the headboard, “Do you like it slow? Or do you prefer going fast?”

”Both,” Art says. “I like whatever she likes to do.”

“You don’t have a preference? What about when you’re touching yourself?”

Art plays with his tongue, rolls it back and forth in his mouth as he’s thinking. “Slower.” He says after a while. “Like… when I get the chance I like it…” He glances at Patrick and then looks determinedly back at the tv. “Slower.”

Patrick takes a breath and tries to slow himself down too but he can already feel his cock starting to fill up. “Okay what about touch? What makes you feel good? What gets you up?”

Art frowns. “I um… I don’t—- what about you? Where do you—” he sighs and then shakes his head. “Patrick, this is ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t, what’s ridiculous is you really don’t know what you like.”

Art is gripping the remote too tightly. “I know what I like,” he says.

“What?” Patrick gazes at him.

“Lots of stuff,” Art says.

“Like?”

Art rubs his thighs, Patrick looks down, following the anxious movement.

“I know something you like,” Patrick says after Art doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You want me to show you?”

Art starts playing with his tongue again, he takes a deep breath and nods and Patrick sits up so he’s close.

“You like it when someone kisses you here,” he brushes his knuckles along the junction between Art’s neck and collar bone and he shivers, pulling his shoulder up towards his ear. Patrick considers going in for the kiss but getting Art in a headspace is a delicate thing. It can lead everywhere and nowhere depending on how Patrick handles him.

And he knows Art… fuck… apparently he knows things about Art’s body that he’s not even aware of. This messy little “friendship” is gonna drive him crazy.

“Can I—“ Patrick lets his fingertips settle along the nape of Art’s neck where his curly hair is fine and baby soft. Art closes his eyes momentarily and takes a little breath.

”You like that too,” Patrick says.

“Yeah,” Art says softly.

Patrick licks his bottom lip to keep himself from licking at the flush on Art’s throat. “Do you like being on top? Or on the bottom?” Patrick asks, carefully.

Art opens his eyes and bites his lip again before taking a deep breath. “I think I prefer it when she… when she’s on top.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know… it’s hot. I mean…” he looks at Patrick. “I like looking at her tits when she….” He looks down shyly. Such a stupidly, pretty boy.

Patrick smirks. “So you're a boob guy.”

“So are you,” Art says, like he’s been caught doing something bad and doesn’t want to be the only one to get in trouble.

Patrick shrugs. “I love everything. I’m more of an ass man. But if you want to kill me show me a great pair of legs… I mean… fuck.”

Art rubs his thighs again. “I really like Tashi’s legs.”

“I bet you do,” Patrick smirks, leaning in. “What about you? You ever let her touch your chest?” He teases his fingers over Art’s t-shirt where his pecs are. Art gasps lightly as Patrick pinches just the right spot and the nipple starts to harden immediately. Patrick circles it lightly and Art shifts on the bed, pressing one hand into his lap and pushing Patrick away with the other. “Fuck no. That’s weird right?” Art asks, his voice a little pitchy.

God he fucking loves it. Patrick wants to push him down on the bed. But he sits on his hands to make himself behave. “What’s weird about it?” Patrick asks.

“I mean… I’m a guy. Why would she want to touch my… my nipples.” Art huffs a nervous little laugh.

“To make you feel good,” Patrick says softly.

Art licks his lips idly and lets out another breath.

“What about grip… do you like it soft?” Patrick asks.

Art nods. “Yeah.”

“This?” Patrick grips his wrist gently. “Or this?” He asks gripping a little tighter. “Or?” He grips tighter still, until Art squeezes his eyes shut.

“The… the middle… the second one.”

“Just right,” Patrick lets up on his grip. “What about here?” Patrick trails his fingertips…slowly… down Arts tummy.

“Stop,” Art breathes as Patrick’s fingers reach the elastic of his boxers.

Patrick shrugs, letting go of the elastic and smirking. He could do this all night. Touch and poke and prod and feel. He knows it’s turning Art on. He’s flushed so fucking beautifully, worrying his lips all red, squirming on the mattress.

“What about…” Patrick sits up on his knees and plays his fingers into Art's hair. Art looks up at him eagerly. Eyes fully dilated, lips parted, breathing shallow.

God.

Such a fucking pretty, pretty boy.

All Patrick wants now is whatever the fuck he can get away with. “Can I kiss you soft?” He asks as he presses his lips to Art’s mouth. Art nods and opens up, sliding his tongue into Patrick’s mouth right away, wanting it. Even though they’d only ever kissed a handful of times, ever since the first time their lips touched Patrick could tell that for Art kissing would be a Thing with a capital T. Patrick caresses the side of Art’s throat and feels it as he shivers. He listens to the way Art’s breathing. So aware of how Art’s body is moving. He’s opening up, he’s uncrossed his legs, knees pulled up, he’s grabbing at Patrick’s t-shirt trying to pull him closer as Patrick starts to deepen the kiss. Pressing his tongue more firmly into Art’s mouth. Art really likes that. He starts gasping, nibbling on Patrick’s lip before pushing his own tongue back in. When he starts moaning Patrick pulls back. His heart is railing against his ribcage and he’s losing himself. His hips are pressed in between Art’s legs feeling everything. Certain Art is feeling everything.

”Fuuckk,” Patrick breathes. He flops onto the bed resting his head on his pillow. If he were with Tashi right now he’d probably be halfway inside her already. Everything with her is impatient, horny and desperate. Everything with Art is pleading, anxious and pretending he doesn’t want it as badly as he fucking does.

Art is breathless, lips kiss swollen, he scoots back to get distance. “This is… so…”

“You like dirty talk?” Patrick interrupts.

Art smiles a bit and shrugs. “Kinda.”

“What’s kinda?” Patrick asks.

Art kicks his legs, lightly. “I like… I like when she tells me how she can’t wait for me to fuck her…”

Patrick sits up on his elbows. “Like I’m so wet for you baby, can’t wait to feel that big dick inside me?” Patrick says softly.

”Jesus Patrick,” Art says, covering his face.

“What?” Patrick says, smiling slightly at the reaction.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're wet,” Art whispers.

“So what do you want me to say?” Patrick says, he gets up again, abruptly crawling back into Art’s personal space. Art reacts at the sudden movement by opening his mouth… Patrick can see his little pink tongue, desperate for another kiss.

Art is gazing at him, pupils so large the rings of blue are barely visible. They’re so close, their lips are almost touching when Art licks his mouth. A horny little mess, if Patrick tried it now he thinks Art might let him fuck.

Patrick smiles and then leans against Art’s ear. “Can’t wait till you fill me up and fuck me good baby…” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. “I can fuck you good.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna go insane.

Art’s breathing starts to pick up again.

“Can you fill me up and stretch me… fuck me so hard I can feel you for days…” Patrick whispers.

“Mmhm,” Art hums eagerly, he starts lapping and sucking along Patrick’s throat, it’s so fucking yummy.

Patrick rubs his hand lightly along the inside of Arts thigh, trying to graze his knuckles along Arts cock. Art hitches another breath.

“That feel good?” Patrick asks gently.

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly.

“You like it when she goes down on you before you fuck her?” Patrick asks.

“Yes, mm, yes,” Art says eagerly, shifting on the bed so Patrick can get between his legs. It’s so slutty the way he opens up so quickly, knowing what Patrick wants to do. Patrick presses a kiss along the inside of his upper thigh.

“Mm,” Art whines, and Patrick’s sure he’s just found another sensitive spot. He kisses it again, this time sucking at the skin there and Art moans properly. Patrick grins and starts palming him through his shorts. His own cock feels so fucking heavy. He’s thought about fucking Art since the first time he watched him nut all over himself but right now he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get this.

“You gotta tell me how you want it to feel,” Patrick says looking up at him. “Can you talk me through it?”

“What if your… what if we get caught?” Art whispers.

“Everyone is asleep by now I promise,” Patrick says.

”Are you sure?”

“Fucking yes.” Patrick says impatiently, though if he’s honest he wouldn’t give a fuck at this point if they were all right outside his bedroom door. He can’t help himself, he tugs Art’s shorts down to see it.

He’s still barely got any hair there and he’s definitely still blonde everywhere. He’s so hard, his cock is so pretty and pink and full to the tip, pearls of cum dripping. Patrick laps it up and Art hisses.

“Talk to me,” Patrick whispers. “You like it wet?”

“Fuck,” Art breathes. “I mean yes. Yeah I want it wet. Oh god.”

Patrick fills his mouth.

“Oh— oh— fuck—-“ Art groans, he’s so loud. His hips stutter but Patrick holds him down, swirls his tongue around, doesn’t swallow anything, just drools all over it. Arts toeing the bed, trying to push up. “Mm fuck your tongue can you… can you do it faster…” Art moans. So Patrick moves his tongue faster.

He doesn’t ask, maybe because he’s too far gone but he teases his fingertips up along Art’s entrance and the sounds that Art makes in response, make Patrick shiver.

“Patrick,” Art gasps, his body is practically vibrating. Patrick presses his fingers in a little deeper and he moans like the boys do when Patrick’s on those websites in the middle of the night with the volume down low. But Art can’t be quiet… and Patrick doesn’t want him to stop.

“Patrick! Patrick I can’t—- I think I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum— holy shit—“ Art wasn’t even done saying Patrick’s name when Patrick’s mouth started filling up. And boy does it fucking fill up. Patrick’s swallowing, and swallowing and swallowing. He’s so greedy he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of it. Art is whining breathlessly when Patrick finally lets it drop from his mouth, still so shiny and red and wet, twitching helplessly. Patrick just stares at it, dizzy for a minute before he drops onto the bed next to Art and reaches between his legs and starts touching himself.

Art sighs and pulls his shorts up properly before rolling over. He puts his hand where Patrick’s is and starts helping. “What about you? Art asks softly. “What do you like?”

A/N: Sorry this took hundreds of years my love. I wanted to do better but unfortunately got lots to catch up on so it shall be good enough <3

[diamonddaze01]

May i request prompt 81 "you weren't supposed to hear that" with Mingyu? But something cute/fluffy? <3

seasoned with love

pairing: mingyu x reader | wc: 0.9k prompt: "you weren't supposed to hear that." au: chef!mingyu au | warnings: none a/n: set in the same universe as love: best served hot (shameless plug you should go read that too if u love chef mingoo)

The evening rush was slowly winding down, but the kitchen hummed with its usual rhythm. The faint crackle of oil, the hiss of fresh vegetables meeting the sizzling heat, and the soft clatter of plates filled the air. The smell—garlic, rosemary, and something richer that you couldn't quite place—wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Mingyu's kitchen had its own energy, its own language, a chaotic comfort that you had come to love.

You hadn’t planned on staying long—just wanted to surprise him, maybe share a quiet dinner together. You were no stranger to the hours he worked, so you knew he'd still be at the restaurant long after most had already called it a night. You lingered outside, listening to the sounds of the kitchen, the laughter and chatter of the staff mixing with the low thrum of pots and pans.

The door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, and you hesitated for just a moment before quietly stepping closer, drawn by the warmth and the sound of Mingyu’s familiar voice. You had every intention of just slipping in unnoticed—an unexpected visitor who’d make his night a little brighter.

As you approached, the voices inside grew clearer, and you halted when you heard Mingyu’s low voice.

“I don’t know how she does it, man,” Mingyu’s voice rumbled from inside, smooth and casual. But there was something softer underneath, something vulnerable in the way he spoke. “Like, no matter how tired I am or how crazy the day’s been… when she walks in, it’s like everything just... calms down. I don’t even need to say anything, she just knows. It’s kind of crazy.”

You paused, suddenly unsure whether to reveal yourself. But Mingyu’s voice was too soothing, too filled with affection to ignore. You couldn’t help but lean in closer, silently listening as he continued.

“I swear, she’s my grounding force, you know?” His tone shifted, a warmth lacing the words as though he was letting something private slip out without realizing it. “She makes everything feel... lighter. More worth it.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face, heart warming at his words. You didn’t notice the slight creak of the door beneath your hand, and before you knew it, you had stepped fully into the room, revealing yourself to Mingyu.

His words cut off abruptly, and his eyes snapped to you, wide with surprise. The sudden shift in his demeanor was so evident you could almost feel it in the air. The cool, collected chef you knew now stood frozen, caught between a moment of revelation and his usual confident self.

“Oh—” His voice jumped up an octave as he quickly straightened, one hand instinctively reaching up to adjust the towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes flickered between you and the kitchen counter, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” His attempt at nonchalance was laughable; his voice was suddenly louder, a little too sharp. You couldn’t miss the slight nervousness in the way he stood.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with a playful tilt of your head. “And why’s that?”

Mingyu swallowed, clearly flustered, but the sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed his embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to feign casualness, though his stance was all too stiff. “Uh, well... you know... it’s, uh, kinda embarrassing to talk about you like that... behind your back.”

You pushed yourself off the wall and took a step closer, a teasing grin forming on your lips. His warmth enveloped you as you moved, the familiar scent of his apron and the kitchen’s spices lingering in the air. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in just a little. “Mushy, huh? I think you’re just too scared to admit you’re soft.”

Mingyu blinked at you in mock disbelief, though the humor was evident in his eyes. “Soft?” He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “If anything, I’m just... real about how I feel.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. “Oh, so you feel like you need to ‘ground’ me now?” you teased, leaning against the counter next to him, nudging your shoulder against his lightly. “Making me your ‘everything’s worth it’?”

For a moment, Mingyu’s expression softened, and you caught the slightest shift in his eyes, a vulnerability there that he rarely let anyone see. But before you could say anything more, he closed the space between you, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. His lips found yours in a kiss—warm, slow, and full of everything unspoken. You melted into it, a rush of affection flooding you.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting on your cheek, he grinned, a faint blush coloring his face. “Yeah. But I’m not apologizing for it.” His voice was playful, but his eyes were sincere. Then, with a wink, he turned toward the stove, reaching for a pan. “Now, how about you stay for dinner? I’ll make you my specialty.”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned a little closer to him, feeling the heat of his body as he moved. “Is that how you win me over? With food?”

Mingyu grinned, shrugging nonchalantly as he started to prepare your meal. “Among other things,” he said, winking at you as he added a little more heat to the pan. “But mostly food.”

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[humblemediagenius]

nvm I'll write an essay now but in the tags because i like writing that way

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Enemies (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Y/N managed to avoid Rafe all this time but suddenly at a party they end up in the same room.

Word Count:1,533

Author’s note: I will be posting parts of this throughout the season. I’ve watched the first 3 episodes. Send in Requests

This entire time Y/N managed to avoid Rafe Cameron. Even at all the parties and fights, she had never spoken a word to him. Sarah had nothing good to say about her brother. Why would she? He tried to kill her and take everything from her.

Y/N never missed the way Sarah would glare at the back of his head anytime she saw him. The stories she had heard about Rafe from anyone else were just as bad. Not all Kooks were bad but it was enough to make Y/N stay by the pogues side.

But she knew that eventually she would come face to face with him and that there would be blood. Bad blood. Y/N stared at him as he walked into the room that she had planted herself in. Why was she at this party, anyway? She hated them but even though she was a pogue, she had kook cousins that would invite her to the parties and she would just drink the awful liquor and sit in her thoughts.

He noticed her right away and she had her scantily clad clothes to thank for that and the way she stared at him. He knew her but not by name. He recognized her to be a pogue and to hang out with Sarah, Kie and all the others.  What was she doing here? And why was she staring at him like that? He could see the fear in her eyes and hatred. A tiny smirk made its way onto his face.

The glare in her eyes didn’t go away as he sat in front of her. “I know you.” He stated and she took a sip of her drink. “Most likely.” She said and realized that those were the first words she had ever spoken to him. Most likely.  “You’re friends with my sister.” That made her smirk and she realized that he knew exactly who she was. “I know all about you, Rafe.” “I can tell by the fear in your eyes.” The ego that this man had amazed her. “Why are you here anyway?” “I have cousins that are kooks and I like to drink so.” He watched as she down the rest of her drink.

Some of it was left on her lips and he almost dared himself to lean forward and lick it off. Sarah would be pissed if she found out that her brother fucked her best friend. Sarah would expect that from Rafe, not from Y/N. She got up from her spot and went to leave. “What’s your name?” He asked her and she turned towards him. “You know me but don’t know my name?” She asked, no playfulness in her voice. “You were the one that managed to avoid me all these years.” He stated a fact and Y/N looked down and then back up at him. “There’s a reason for that, Rafe.” She said and walked out of the door and out of the party while he stared at her, wondering. 

Y/N didn’t tell Sarah about what had happened. But it didn’t leave her mind. Why the hell was Rafe Cameron wanting to know anything about her? Her cousins were throwing another party and there she stood pouring her second drink.

She looked around the party and noticed so many drunk kooks laughing or dancing. She only ever felt that way when she was with the pogues. With Sarah. Rafe watched her as she drank from the cup and yet again had liquor wet on her lips.

Topper was saying something to him but he wasn’t paying any attention as he stared at Y/N. Topper stopped talking and followed Rafe’s eyes and saw Y/N. Why was Rafe staring at Y/N? “Why are you staring at Y/N?” That question caught him by surprise. So that was her name. “Why is she here?” Rafe asked his friend, not taking his eyes off her. “Her cousins are kooks and they invite her. She never talks to them or anything. She just drinks.” She looked around and spotted Rafe, who’s eyes were already on her. 

She gave him a weird look and turned away from him. Rafe almost didn’t care about the others at the party and went up to her but waited until she was leaving to do so.  She had enough of the kook scene and went to leave not realizing Rafe was following her. “Y/N.” She heard as she was walking outside the party. She turned towards the voice and saw that it was Rafe. She fought to roll her eyes at the man. “So how’d you find that out?” She asked. “Topper.” He asked Topper what her name was? What was going on?

She turned away and kept walking. He followed her. “Do you need a ride?” He asked and her eyes widened at his question. She turned towards him waiting for the laugh and the walk away but it never came. He waited for her answer. “You wanna give me a ride?” She asked, this time amusement laced in her voice.  “You must really think I’m a monster.” She wanted to laugh at him.

He said that like he hasn’t done messed up things for her to think so. “You want the pogues and your sister to see that?” “I would drop you off close by, not right up to the house.”  She chuckled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think i’ll pass.” She said and turned and continued walking.  “Okay well I’m gonna follow you to make sure you make it back.” She turned towards him, fast. “Ok what’s with you? Why are you trying to be nice to me? What do you want?” She asked him. He didn’t know what to say.

He wanted to tell her the truth that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and he wanted to be near her. “We are on two different sides, Rafe.” She states and begins walking again. Rafe got on his motorcycle and followed her. She sighed as he rode slowly to match her walking.

He watched as she looked down at the ground, refusing to look at him. She let out a sigh of relief as they got closer to her home and he drove away.  She tried to forget what happened but couldn’t as she tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep did not come easy for her as the enemy was on her mind. 

Y/N had to walk away from JJ as she found out that he bet on himself to win extra money but he lost and was mad at John B for also not winning. She thought it was crazy of him to use the last piece of gold they had on that.

Rafe saw her walk away from the group and followed her when it wouldn’t be evident that he was following her to the pogues. “He had no chance.” Rafe said and she turned towards him and raised her eyebrows. She ignored him and kept walking. They walked a long way before she finally spoke up.

“You come to rub your winning in my face?” “Topper won. Not me.” She chuckled, “What’s the difference?” “You really like walking.” He said, ignoring her question. She nodded, She really did. It was her way to escape from reality and all the bad things going on in her life. And how pissed off at JJ she was. “How’s that little store of yours going?” He asked. “Like you care.” “I asked, didn’t I?” She sighed, “Good. How’s being a rich asshole going for ya?” He laughed at her question. “Good.” He said and he saw a faint smile on her lips. “Did I just see you smile?” He asked, teasing her.

She looked over at him with a straight face. “Shouldn’t you get back to your friends?” He shrugged. “You don’t want to be seen with a pogue. It might ruin your reputation.” She said. “Seems like you being seen with me might ruin your reputation even more. And are you worried about my reputation?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. “No but I’m worried for mine.” Was that a joke? He smiled at her as she shook her head.

He walked with her until she stopped. They were at a restaurant now and her stomach was growling. “Alright Rafe. Bye.” She said and walked into the restaurant. “Hey, what if I’m hungry too?” She rolled her eyes at him. “This is pogue food. You wouldn’t like it.” She said and got a table for one. 

He stared at her as she sat at the table and opened the menu. Being angry at JJ really made her hungry. Rafe looked around the place and noticed that it wasn’t a classy place but definitely one for a pogue. He watched as a Y/N smiled at the waitress as she ordered. “Excuse me, Sir?” He turned towards the voice. “Would you like a table?” He looked back at Y/N who was drinking her drink and waiting for her food. “No.” He said and walked out of the restaurant. He would find a way to get her to break her walls down. It would just take time.  

[ha-rinrin]

The Metal Touch

summary: What begins as intrigue and banter with Jinx quickly turns into something deeper—a mix of fire and vulnerability as her metal touch becomes both comfort and thrill.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 6.5k

Authors note: I don't I really feel like I gave her finger justice but oh well, I tried. more fics are on the way guys I just cant stop writing with the new amazing content of season two 😭 also I didn't proof read 3 times, thats what I usually do, so if its bad thats why.

masterlist

The dimly lit workshop buzzed quietly with the sound of metal grinding against metal. Jinx tinkered with her mechanical finger, her expression an intense blend of fascination and frustration. Every so often, she muttered something under her breath, adjusting a bolt or tightening a screw, her usual bravado toned down by the meticulousness of her task.

“Almost got it,” she mumbled, her fingers moving with surprising finesse over the intricate mechanisms. Sparks flickered, and you instinctively reached out to brush them away from her, grinning when she looked up with a smirk.

“Afraid I’ll break, toots?” she teased, her eyes glinting with that familiar, playful gleam.

“Not afraid—just making sure my girlfriend stays in one piece,” you reply, nudging her shoulder. “Besides, not everyone has a cybernetic finger to work with.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Come on, where’s your faith?” she quipped, giving her finger one last twist and holding it up for a test. She flexed it, and to your relief, it worked without a hitch. “See? Perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, for now,” you teased, reaching out to take her hand in yours, feeling the cool metal of her finger against your skin. She didn’t pull away, her gaze softening as you laced your fingers together, careful of the mechanics but not the least bit shy.

She grinned, standing up from her chair and tugging you closer by the hand until your faces were inches apart. “Guess I should thank my pretty assistant, then,” she murmured, her voice low, as her free hand reached up to cup your face.

Your cheeks warmed under her touch, and before you could come up with a clever reply, she closed the gap, kissing you softly yet confidently, Her lips curled into a smile against yours. Your hands found their way to her waist, holding her close

“You make this stuff look easy, you know?” you whispered when you pulled back, catching your breath.

Jinx shrugged, as if it was nothing, but the way she held onto you said otherwise. "I don’t know, you make it easier.”

She kissed you again, and as the machines hummed around you, it felt like, for a moment, the whole world was just the two of you, tucked away in the quiet workshop, right where you belonged.

The workshop seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you in the dim light and soft whirring of machines. Jinx’s lips brushed yours again, but this time, there was a fierceness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of urgency you felt all the way down to your toes. Her hand, warm and steady, slid to the small of your back, drawing you in closer as the kiss deepened. It was full of all the unsaid words she rarely let show.

You felt her smirk against your lips, her metal finger tracing along your jawline as her other hand tugged you even closer, leaving no space between you. Your heart pounded, and every nerve seemed to come alive under her touch. She broke the kiss only long enough to catch her breath, her gaze dark and heated as she looked at you, her purple eyes blazing in the dim light.

“See? I’m not all that dangerous,” she murmured, her voice low and breathy as her lips found your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every kiss. Her mechanical finger traced up your side, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you couldn’t help but tilt your head, giving her more access as her lips and teeth made quick work of your senses.

You tightened your grip around her, pulling her impossibly closer, losing yourself in the warmth and intensity of her embrace. Her breath was warm against your skin as her hands roamed with an expertise that had you forgetting everything else, her laughter soft and thrilling as she felt your heart racing against hers.

Jinx’s kisses intensified, her lips pressing hungrily against your skin, making your pulse skyrocket. Her metal finger traced down your spine, the coolness a sharp contrast to her warmth, igniting shivers along your skin. Every graze of her mechanic middle finger was electrifying, a reminder of both her strength and the tenderness she only shared with you.

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her breathing heavy, her gaze intense. “You don’t mind a little metal, do you?” she teased, a wicked grin flashing across her lips as she lifted her metal finger to gently hold your chin, her thumb brushing over your lips.

You barely had a moment to shake your head before she kissed you again, deeper this time, her mechanical finger trailing up and down your side, their cool touch making you tremble.

 It was as if she knew exactly how much pressure to apply, a calculated intensity that left you breathless. Her hand moved from your chin to your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as her other hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, exploring with a confidence that made your knees weak.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” she murmured against your lips, her metal finger pressing into your skin, creating a contrast that drove you wild. She leaned in, her mouth brushing your ear as she whispered, “Bet no one else could make you feel like this.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, too caught up in the heat of her touch and the rhythm of her breathing. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she pressed you back against the workbench, her metal hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place as she kissed you again, her lips urgent and unapologetic.

“See?” she whispered, her voice a low growl. “Told you I wasn’t dangerous… unless you like it that way.”

Her words sent a thrill down your spine, and you gripped her tighter, pulling her close as your lips met hers again in a kiss that was as wild and intense, just as she was, both of you losing yourselves to the heady mix of passion and abandon in the quiet of the workshop, with only the flicker of lights and hum of machinery as witness to the fire between you.

The intensity between you built, filling the workshop with a charged silence that only quickened breaths and the hum of machinery could break. Jinx’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, her touch both familiar and thrilling, and she paused, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief.

“Mind if I make things a little… warmer?” she asked, her lips curving into that wicked smile she wore so well. Her hands, both warm flesh and cool metal, gripped the fabric and, without waiting for your answer, began lifting it. You raised your arms as a sign of permission, letting her pull it off in one smooth motion, and she tossed it aside, her gaze sweeping over you with an unmistakable glint of admiration.

She bit her lip as her fingers trailed over your bare skin, her metal fingertip cold but thrilling as it traced along your collarbone. “Didn’t think I’d get this lucky in the middle of a tune-up,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving you as her other hand went to her own shirt, tugging it over her head with practiced ease. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to hide your appreciation as her shirt joined yours in a messy pile on the floor.

Before you could catch your breath, she pressed against you, her bare skin warm and firm against yours, her lips finding yours again with a hunger that made your pulse race. Her metal finger found your waist, the sensation sharp and grounding, while her other hand cupped your face, guiding you deeper into the kiss, her mouth capturing yours with a fierceness that felt like it was made for you alone.

You slipped your arms along her sides, savoring her closeness as her breaths mingled with yours, her laughter soft and thrilling. Jinx’s lips moved to your neck, pressing heated kisses along your skin as her fingers traced patterns down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“Still sure you’re up for this?” she teased against your ear, her voice barely more than a whisper, filled with both daring and tenderness, her hands roaming, claiming every inch of skin as if she could never get enough.

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, pulling her in closer as the world outside faded to nothing but the heat between you. And in that moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together in the dim light, lost in each other’s touch and the thrill of being exactly where you wanted to be—right there, in her arms.

Jinx’s fingers explored every inch of your skin with a blend of precision and intensity that sent a shiver through you. Her metal hand rested at your waist, the coolness making each touch more vivid, a thrilling contrast against her warmth. Her other hand traced a line up your spine, pulling you closer until you could feel her heartbeat, fast and strong, mirroring your own.

She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you with my new upgrade.” Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft, heated kisses that made you melt under her touch. Her metal hand tightened on your waist, steadying you as your knees went weak, her gaze holding you captive as she grinned, clearly enjoying the effect she had on you.

You slipped your arms around her, fingers tracing the lines of her back, her muscles tensing under your touch. Her mouth returned to yours, this time fiercer, more urgent, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that one kiss. You matched her intensity, letting her press you back against the workbench, your bodies moving together in a perfect rhythm.

Jinx’s metal hand slid up to your side, the cold touch sending a thrill through you, grounding you in the moment even as her other hand moved with care and confidence exploring your breasts. She deepened the kiss, her lips hot against yours, her fingers now tangling in your hair as she held you close. Every touch, every brush of her skin with yours left you breathless and wanting more.

“Guess you’re not so afraid of a little metal after all,” she murmured with a grin, her eyes dark with something deeper, her voice thick with desire.

“Not when it’s you,” you replied, barely able to keep your voice steady, drawing her back to you as the two of you lost yourselves in the electric pull between you.

Jinx’s hands, both flesh and metal, continued their exploration, her fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. Her smile held a daring glint as her hands dipped to your hips, fingers hooking onto the waistband of your jeans. She met your gaze, a mischievous question in her eyes, and when you nodded, she didn’t hesitate.

Slowly, she slid your jeans down, her hands gliding over your thighs as she dropped the fabric to the floor, leaving you exposed to her smoldering gaze. The intensity in her eyes made your pulse race, your breath hitching as she took in every inch of you with a quiet reverence that sent a thrill through you. She stepped back only long enough to tug off her own pants, and when she pressed close again, the feel of her bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her as her hands settled on your waist, her metal fingers cool against the heat of your skin, grounding you in the moment. She grinned, her usual playful confidence softened by something deeper as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that left you breathless. Her hands roamed with practiced ease, each touch sending a shiver through you as her mouth moved from your lips to your neck, then lower, to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your skin.

The moment you pulled her even closer, the air between you thickened with anticipation. You could feel the heat of her body pressing against yours, the thrum of her heartbeat matching the pulse in your veins.

Her fingers skimmed your waist, sending sparks of sensation wherever they touched. She didn’t rush, taking her time, savoring every second as if she were memorizing the way you felt. Her breath was warm on your neck, sending a delicious tremor through your body.

“God, you’re perfect,” she murmured, voice low and rough, sending an ache through you as her lips found yours again, soft but charged. When you kissed her back, there was a hunger in it—a craving for something deeper. Her tongue met yours, slowly at first, tasting, exploring, before it deepened, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t get enough.

Jinx’s hands glided down your body, her fingertips tracing the curves of your hips before slipping lower to your thighs, igniting a thrill that left you breathless. She paused, her lips hovering as she looked at you, her eyes dark with need, but there was something else there too—something tender, something dangerous in the way she gazed at you.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” she whispered, her voice a heady mix of lust and something raw that made your heart race even faster.

You swallowed, your breath coming faster as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I think I’m starting to get it,” you replied, your voice trembling just slightly, betraying the heat building between you two.

Jinx chuckled, a soft, sultry sound that made you shiver. Her hands moved lower in her gaze that was soft, almost vulnerable, like she was savoring this moment as much as you were. The mix of tenderness and hunger in her eyes made your heart race even more than before, if that’s even possible. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You sure you're ready for this?"

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "More than ever." The words hung in the air between you, a promise you were both eager to fulfill.

Without another word, Jinx’s hands slid lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending a wave of heat through your body. She paused again, looking up at you, her gaze seeking permission. You met her eyes, steady and sure, and without hesitation, she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips pressing against yours with a desperation that spoke louder than words.

Her fingers, both warm and cool, massaged your bundle of nerves, her touch a perfect blend of confidence and care, even when she pushed them in you, allowing a loud moan to escape your mouth. As she explored you, your senses heightened, each soft caress sending ripples of pleasure through you. You gripped her waist, pulling her closer as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unfiltered connection.

Every movement, every touch, felt like a dance, a rhythm you both knew instinctively. Jinx’s lips trailed down your neck, her kisses slow and deliberate, each one sending a wave of heat straight to your core, your hips bucking and sweet nosies leaving your mouth. 

She smiled against your skin, a wicked grin that made your pulse spike with anticipation. "I love it when you lose control," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. "Makes me want to take it even further."

You gasped, your body instinctively arching toward hers, urging her on. Her name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, and that was all the encouragement she needed. her fingers exploring deeper, hitting all the right spots, the mix of warm and cold from her metallic finger inside you made your legs feel like jelly.

Her fingers pushed deeper, and a soft gasp escaped your lips. The combination of her warmth and the sensation of her touch sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making your pulse race. Jinx didn’t stop, her movements steady and confident as she sought to draw you even closer to the edge. Her lips parted from your neck, her breath warm and uneven against your skin as she whispered, “You feel incredible.”

The connection between you both electric. She took her time, making sure every moment was felt, every touch adding to the growing intensity between you. Her name escaped your lips once more, barely a breath, and it seemed to spur her on.

Jinx’s eyes met yours, a dark spark of something mischievous in them. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low, sending another shiver down your spine. Her fingers moved with purpose, hitting places you hadn’t even known you craved.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “Always,” you managed, your voice thick with need.

The world outside the bubble you shared faded completely, leaving only the two of you, entwined in each other’s presence, moving together in perfect synchrony.

Jinx paused for a moment, her breath ragged as she took in the intensity of the moment, her gaze never leaving yours. Without a word, she lifted you up, her hands gently helping you to sit on top of the workbench.

You felt the cold metal against your ass as she sat you on it, pushing your legs apart so you were perfectly positioned, one of her hands steady as she helped you get comfortable while the other one continues its thrusting, sending a shiver through your body.

Jinx bent a little so that her mouth was right besides your ear, her breath fanning over your skin as she leaned in, her lips brushing your earlobe. "This feels like the perfect spot," she whispered, her voice low and teasing as she pressed herself against you. Her tits meeting yours, the heat of her body undeniable as she took her place between your legs.

"Perfect," she repeated, her lips brushing against your ear as she nipped at the lobe, her fingers working at your hole, sending jolts of electricity through you. "I’ve got you exactly where I want you," she murmured, the palm of her hand massaging your clit.

You could barely catch your breath, every movement of hers driving you crazy with desire. You wanted more—wanted all of her. And Jinx was more than ready to give it to you.

Her lips twitched into a grin as she saw the look on your face, her fingers still dancing against you, pressing you deeper into the moment. “Can’t get enough, huh?” she teased, her voice a low murmur, full of playful arrogance. She shifted her weight slightly, the motion making your body heat up in ways you didn’t know were possible.

The air between you thickened with anticipation, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Jinx’s mechanical hand moved with a fluidity you couldn’t ignore. She paused, giving you a look that was equal parts teasing and uncertain, before slowly pressing her palm against your clit with her fingers still deep inside you.

Everything went still, a moment suspended in silence. Then you felt it—a faint hum, a vibration that seemed to travel from her finger, right into your core. It wasn't just a mechanical shift; it felt like the world’s pulse, steady, and in sync with the beat of your own racing heart.

She smirked, watching your reaction. “How’s that feel?” Her voice was low, filled with something dangerous and playful as her gaze flicked from your face to where her hand lingered.

the vibration echoed through your body, intensifying with each slight movement of her hand, a sensation so intense it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t hold back a soft gasp, your breath hitching as the sensation became more than just a touch—it felt almost electric, like it was pulling at every nerve in your body.

Jinx’s smirk deepened at your reaction, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Like it?” she asked, her voice dropping lower, almost a growl as she leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear once again.

You nodded, your body trembling as it arched toward her, a silent plea for more. The vibrations surged again, sending a wave of heat coursing through you, pooling in your lower stomach, igniting something wild inside you. Your fingers curled into the edge of the workbench, your knuckles white as you gripped it, trying to steady yourself.

“It’s... it’s amazing,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with the intensity of it. You met her gaze, eyes wide with desire, your lips parted, whimpers coming out of your throat as the hum of her hand against your skin grew more pronounced, each pulse pressing deeper into you.

Jinx’s grin deepened, her eyes glinting as she reveled in the effect her touch had on you. “I thought you'd like that,” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. She moved her palm slightly, adjusting her touch, allowing the vibrations to increase in speed, pushing you further into the moment.

The feeling was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t just physical—it was sensory, every inch of your skin acutely aware of the vibrations, the heat of her body pressed against yours. You were lost in it, every pulse, every movement of her mechanical finger drawing you closer to the edge, both mentally and physically.

Her lips were close now, just a whisper away from your neck as she whispered, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Please,I want the more- FUCK!” you couldn't even finish your sentence before her ministrations became more frantic, the vibration growing harder and faster.

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted as the vibrations became more intense, the hum of her mechanical hand resonating deep within you. It was as if she’d tuned into something inside you, something raw and primal that made it hard to think, let alone speak. Your breath hitched again as the sensation surged, sending a rush of heat coursing through you, you let out laud moans to escape your throat.

Jinx’s eyes never left yours, her smirk widening with satisfaction. She could feel your body respond, could see the way you shifted beneath her, wanting more, needing more.

"Is that what you wanted?" she whispered, her voice low, teasing, yet filled with that dangerous edge. "Tell me, what exactly do you need?" Her mechanical fingers tightened slightly, pressing deeper, as if testing your limits.

At first, you couldn’t speak—your chest heaving with every shaky moan, your body caught between pleasure and need. But eventually, you managed to get the words out, your voice trembling, raw with desire.

"More," you gasped, barely able to keep your voice steady. "Please, Jinx... more."

Her eyes flickered with something mischievous, a spark of delight that only made the tension in the room thicker. With a swift, fluid motion, she leaned in closer, whispered again, her breath hot on your skin.

“Desperate, huh? I like that,” she murmured, voice low and playful, words sending a shiver down your spine. She paused, letting the moment hang in the air, her hand still pressing against you, the vibrations now steady but undeniable.

She could tell you were on the edge, and she reveled in it, enjoying the control she had over the situation, over you. But, with a shift in her posture, she moved slightly away from you, breaking the connection just enough to allow you to catch your breath.

"Now," Jinx purred, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned back, giving you that signature, dangerous grin. "Tell me again. What do you want?"

You struggled to steady your breathing, her words lingering in the air, making your heart race even faster. The weight of her gaze felt like it was pulling you in, making your skin burn, every nerve alive with anticipation. She was waiting, holding you at the edge, giving you no choice but to beg for more.

"I... I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, shaky with the intensity of it all. "Please, Jinx, I can’t take it anymore. I need you... every part of you,” you breathed, the words barely leaving your lips, heavy with desire

Her eyes glinted, a predatory smile creeping onto her lips as she leaned in again, close enough that you could feel the heat of her breath against your face. “That’s what I like to hear,” she murmured, her voice low and silky, the words wrapped in the promise of something dangerous.

Her mechanical hand shifted again, pressing deeper, the hum intensifying as it surged through you, each pulse igniting every nerve in your body, like it was seeping into your very bones. The pressure of her hand against your skin felt almost unbearable, but you didn’t want her to stop. You needed more.

"You’re mine now, you’ve always been mine" Jinx whispered in your ear, her voice thick with both satisfaction and something darker, something that made your pulse quicken even further. She pulled back just slightly, enough to watch you, her eyes dark and full of mischief. “Tell me what you want me to do next,” she purred, her fingers still sending jolts of electricity through your body.

Your body was already aching, the need for her so overwhelming that it was all you could think about. Every part of you screamed for release, for connection. But Jinx wasn’t giving you any space to breathe, and you didn’t want it any other way.

“More,” you gasped again, your voice thick with need. “I need you... right now.”

A low, throaty laugh escaped her lips, and she leaned back in with a smile that made your heart race. "You’ll get what you need... but on my terms."

Jinx’s smirk widened, her eyes sparkling with something dangerously playful as she hovered above you. She could feel the way your body trembled beneath her touch, the way your breath quickened with each passing second. It was as if she had you exactly where she wanted—teetering on the edge, desperate for more.

“You’re so eager,” she murmured, her lips brushing lightly against yours before pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. Her thumb grazed over you clit, sending another rush of heat coursing through every nerve. “I like it.”

Her fingers shifted, the vibrations quickening, more insistent, yet her thumb stayed still. You gasped, your back arching involuntarily, as the heat inside you grew even more unbearable.

“Jinx, please,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of frustration and need. You couldn’t think of anything else anymore, the world reduced to the feeling of her hand, the pulse of her touch, and the hunger for more of her.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Patience, toots. You’ll get it... but first, I want to hear you beg for it.”

A shiver ran through you at the sound of her voice, dark and velvety, as though each word she spoke sent a spark straight to your core. You were trembling now, every muscle tight with anticipation.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice shaking, unable to form anything coherent beyond that desperate plea. You didn’t care anymore—this was all you wanted, and you’d do anything to make her give it to you.

Jinx’s breath hitched at your surrender, and she pulled back just enough to get a good look at you—face flushed, eyes wide with desire, lips parted in need. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” she purred, her voice dripping with both affection and something much darker. “But you still haven’t told me exactly what you want.”

There was a brief, agonizing moment of stillness as her hand paused, the hum dying down just slightly, making you ache for more.

“I want you, Jinx,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I need you to make me feel... everything.”

Jinx’s eyes flashed with triumph, and she leaned down to kiss you deeply, her lips demanding, as if she was finally giving what you both needed. As she deepened the kiss, her thumb started to move slowly, moving your clitoris in circles, sending waves of electricity through your body once again.

The moment Jinx’s lips met yours, the world outside seemed to fade away. Everything was consumed by the intensity of her touch, the warmth of her body pressing against you. It was like a spark igniting a wildfire, every nerve in your body lighting up with the need for more.

Her lips were fierce and demanding, claiming you with a hunger that matched your own. The kiss was messy, full of urgency—her teeth grazing your lower lip as she pulled you closer, her body flush against yours.

But even as she deepened the kiss, she kept her hand where it was, the hum of the vibration slowly building, and her thumb brushing over your clit sending ripples of heat throughout your entire body. It was maddening how much you wanted her, how she had you wound so tight, barely holding it together.

Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps as she pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. She studied you with that dangerous, teasing grin, her lips swollen from the kiss, her chest rising and falling with every breath. 

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, the heat from her touch radiating through your body. But you needed more.

“Don’t tease me, Jinx,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “I want you... now.”

Her smirk only grew wider at your words, and she leaned in again, her lips brushing your lips as she whispered, “You’ve got me. Just remember, you asked for this.”

And with that, she moved her hand again, the vibrations increasing, sending an intense pulse through you that made your breath catch, her thumb moving faster and harder. You gasped, your hands finding purchase on her hips, gripping her desperately as your body arched towards her.

“You’re so responsive,” she murmured, her voice teasing as her lips traced down your neck, leaving a trail of heat. “I could make you beg for more, but I think you’re ready, aren’t you?”

Your fingers gripped her tightly, the vibrations becoming nearly unbearable, tightening the anticipation in your chest. Every nerve in your body was alive, begging for release. The desire in your eyes mirrored the hunger in hers as you nodded, breathless, unable to form anything else.

“I’m ready,” you whispered.

And just like that, Jinx moved again, every single movement intensified, pushing you toward the edge, both of you lost in the moment, in the desire that was palpable between you. 

Her rhythm quickened, every movement sending you spiraling closer until, with a shuddering breath, the pleasure crested, overwhelming you. A cry escaped as your body tightened, lost in wave after wave, pulse racing as Jinx’s touch lingered, grounding you even as the world blurred around.

Your body trembled, small aftershocks rippling through you as you struggled to catch your breath. Jinx’s hand remained steady, grounding you in the haze, her thumb tracing gentle circles that sent tiny jolts of lingering pleasure through you. She watched you, a satisfied grin on her lips, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to every subtle touch. Even as the intensity faded, your skin remained sensitive, every brush of her fingers drawing out little shivers, keeping you tethered to the sensation long after the peak had passed.

The world slowly came back into focus as Jinx pulled away slowly, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Her touch lingered, leaving a hum in your body, each breath feeling heavier. Her fingers stayed still, a faint, steady pulse mirroring the beat of your heart.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging thick and warm between you. Jinx’s breath was slow, almost unsteady, and you could feel the faint tremble in her fingertips as she picked them out, leaving you breathless and still wanting more. She slipped her fingers into her mouth, slowly drawing them out to trace light patterns across your skin. It was as if she was waiting for you to catch your breath, or perhaps for the moment to settle—either way, you could feel the weight of everything unspoken, the lingering heat of the connection you’d shared.

Her eyes softened, the usual mischief replaced with something quieter, more vulnerable. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, softer than before. It was a rare moment of care from someone who often lived in the chaos.

You nodded, the intensity of the moment still settling in your chest, and you took a slow, deep breath. The touch of her hand felt grounding, like an anchor that kept you from floating too far away. “Yeah, just... catching up,” you whispered, unable to fully explain the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.

Jinx gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind that only she could pull off—teasing, but also a little fond, a little more tender. She didn’t move away, her body still close to yours, her fingers lingering on your skin as if she wasn’t ready to break the connection entirely.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a brief moment, just enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin, the steady rise and fall of her chest against yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you like this,” she murmured, her lips grazing your ear. There was no arrogance in her tone, only a quiet truth.

You smiled softly, your fingers lightly brushing the edge of her jaw. “I think I could say the same.”

And for a while, there was nothing else but the quiet, the two of you wrapped up in each other’s presence. No rush, no urgency—just the softness of the aftermath. The kind of peace that only followed something that felt as real and raw as what you’d just shared.

The air between you both was thick with a new kind of tension, one that felt softer but still undeniably electric. Jinx’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, her touch light but knowing. She could sense the undercurrent of desire that still simmered beneath the calm. The intensity had faded, but that connection was still there, like an unspoken promise.

Her lips brushed against your ear again, this time with a lightness that made your skin tingle. "You sure you’re okay?" she asked, her voice low, almost playful, but there was something deeper in her gaze. “I mean... I’m pretty good at this.”

You could hear the teasing note in her voice, but there was something more to it—a quiet challenge in her words that made your heart race, just like it had when this whole thing started. She shifted slightly, her body pressing closer to yours again, her breath warm against your skin.

“I’m more than okay,” you whispered back, your lips curling into a smile as you met her gaze, knowing exactly where this was heading. “But... I think I’m ready for round two, if you are.”

Jinx’s eyes darkened slightly, that familiar glint returning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. Her lips parted in a grin, the mischievous spark reigniting, but it was softer now, more controlled. “Round two, huh?” she murmured, her fingers tracing a line down your arm before resting at your waist. “You’re sure you’re not just saying that because I know exactly what you want?”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your chest, your body reacting to her presence, her words, the closeness. “I want you,” you said, your voice low and steady, a hint of challenge in it now too.

Her grin widened, her eyes tracing your face with a predatory curiosity, as if studying every part of you. "Well then..." She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours, her hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you in as she deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate this time. The warmth of her body pressed against yours once more, the vibrations from her hand a steady hum beneath your skin, just enough to tease and tempt.

But this time, it wasn’t just about urgency. There was something more in her touch—a slow burn, a promise of more to come. She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her expression both confident and a little softer than usual. “You’ve got me. And if you think you’re ready for more... I’m more than happy to oblige.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as her hand rested lightly on your hip, her thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin there. The fire was reigniting, but now it was a steady, controlled burn that left you wanting more.

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” she whispered, her voice a hushed promise, as she pressed her lips to your neck, and you both dove right back into it—closer, deeper, with that undeniable chemistry still crackling between you

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of your breathing, slow and steady. Jinx’s fingers trailed over your skin, her touch almost reverent, as if savoring the moment. Her lips brushed the edge of your ear, soft but with an underlying tension that you could feel deep in your chest.

"Didn't think you'd be this responsive," she murmured, voice low, a touch of surprise in her tone.

You turned your head, meeting her gaze, your fingers lightly grazing her wrist, urging her to stay close. "I told you," you whispered, "I want more."

Her smile was small but knowing, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. She leaned down to kiss you again, not as frantic as before, but deeper, lingering. Her hand moved from your side, slowly threading into your hair, holding you gently as she deepened the kiss, as if testing the waters for what came next.

When she pulled back, just enough to look at you, the look in her eyes was different. There was no teasing now, just something raw, almost protective. "You’re not gonna get away so easily," she said softly, her voice carrying that same dangerous edge, but there was a tenderness to it now.

You felt the heat rise between you both again, and even though you both needed a breath, you could sense that the hunger wasn’t quite finished—it was only changing shape. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, her lips pressing against your forehead in a sweet, gentle kiss.

For a moment, it felt like everything had calmed, but it wasn’t over. The space between you still buzzed with energy, something unspoken lingering there.

"I’m not going anywhere," you said, your voice steady but thick with desire. "And I don’t think you are, either."

Jinx gave a soft laugh, but it was full of promise. "You know me too well," she replied, her smile now a slow, deliberate curve. “Get comfortable, toots... this isn’t over.”

[reiderwriter]

◇ Now That I Found You, Stay ◇

Chapter 11 of That's What You Get

Summary: A long, overdue conversation is finally had.

Warnings: smut, minors dni 18+, fingering, vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, pet names, creampie, breeding kink, marking etc. Spoilers for Season 7 of Criminal Minds, episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: And next week is the end of our journey! If anyone is interested, I can answer any questions you have about this series and its ending/ what I'm planning for after this, etc. in my inbox this weekend! I'm really thankful for everyone's support so far! 11 down, 1 to go!

As always, you can find my masterlist here, and my requests are currently open!! <3

You weren't expecting him to be so very prompt, but after hearing the panic in his voice on the phone call, you really shouldn't have expected any less. 

Taking in his appearance, you were almost sorry that you'd caused such an upset. His eyes were darker than usual, a look of no sleep crossing his features, but he still stood hypervigilant in the doorway. Almost as if he were scanning you for injuries or harm, he drank you in. 

"You're wearing it?" The words fell from his mouth before either of you could say hello. The second his eyes locked onto the ring on your hand, it was suddenly the only thing he could think of. 

You could see him biting back further questions as he waited for you to invite him in. 

"I'm wearing it. That's okay, isn't it?" You asked, glancing up into his panicked face as he tried to make sense of the situation. 

"Yeah, it's… it's okay, yeah. Why… why are you wearing it?" He asked hesitantly, blinking a lot as he waited for your answer. You pulled the door further open and waved him in with your arm. He stepped into the immediate space but didn't move in further, as if he were scared to go in too far for fear he'd be led straight back out again. 

"Listen, Y/N, I know I should've told you, and I'm so sorry, and-"

"I know." 

"No, you don't. You didn't remember anything when we woke up, and I was so scared that I'd forced you into it, that you were going to regret everything, and-"

"Spencer," you grabbed his attention, flattening your hand on his chest as you forced him to focus on your words. "I know." His rambling ceased as he tried to sus out your meaning, obviously coming up blank of the furrow in his brow was anything to go by. 

"Penelope was here. Thank you for that, by the way. Penelope was here, and she showed me this video she took." Your hand lazily stroked over his chest, settling into place over his heart, where you could feel the organ desperately thumping, trying to make its way to you. 

"I heard that being presented with photographic evidence of an event can spark memories of it. I guess that worked for me." You sighed and took a step towards him. 

"I know how much you love me because you told me." 

Since watching Spencer's Chapel confession, glimpses of the night had been falling into place, puzzling out the entire story. 

You remembered being in the casino with him. He'd taught you some special tricks for the card games, and you'd laughed in delight as you'd raked in the cash. You hadn't done as well as him, but you knew you never would. 

You remembered how you'd left hand in hand, him pulling you out of the casino, away from an angry security guard, who obviously had questions about his sudden luck. He'd pulled you into am alleyway, and you'd stood there, laughing, chests heaving as you grew closer, finally wrapping around each other in joy, your lips meeting as if it were something they always were meant to do. 

He had flushed beautifully as he'd pulled away, so concerned that he was taking advantage of you. He whispered his love to you into the small space between your skin, under the influence of alcohol or cupid or something that made him brave for that second.

You remembered the way he'd tried to take the words back, and you remembered just as vividly how you'd refused to let him, smile growing to the point where your cheeks had felt tired. 

He'd kept talking, though, and you remembered every word he said to you. 

"You know I have this recurring dream," he had started. "I used to have bad nightmares, but now it's a dream. I wake up in bed, and you're there. We eat together, we get ready together. We go to work together. We are together. Is it weird I have dreams about being married to you?" His eyes had flashed with panic for a second before you'd pulled him down for a kiss. 

"Okay." Your voice barely a whisper, your nose pressed against his.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you. It seems like a lovely dream." And you had, and it was. 

You focused on him in the present again, looking up into his eyes as you connected your other hand with his. 

"Spencer, it was a lovely dream." His eyes soften as he breathes a sigh of relief. 

You pull back for a second, leading him out of the doorway, before turning on him. Plucking the ring from your finger, you drop it into his palm, closing his hand around it. 

"Oh. I understand, I… I get it, if you don't want this-" 

"Spencer, what I want is a question." You sink to the floor, pulling him down with you until both of you are on your knees. 

"Now that we're both sober, I want the question. I distinctly remember you not exactly asking last time." It took him a few seconds to understand, and you squirmed as you waited for him to finally give you what you needed.

"Oh." You laughed at his dumb-struck expression, still acting obviously for him to ask you to marry him. 

"Oh, right, okay. I'm sorry, I thought I'd be better at this." He fumbled the ring in his hand for a second before offering it out to you, clutched awkwardly in both of his hands. 

"Y/N, will you marry me?" The anticipation bubbling up in you spilt over as you threw your arms around him, tackling him to the floor as you shouted yes as many times as your breathless lungs would allow you. 

The ring is forgotten underneath the two of you somewhere as his lips attach themselves to yours, stealing even more of your oxygen while giving you life. His hands pulled you in by your waist until you were a mess of limbs on the floor, wrapped around one another. 

He pushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear when you finally broke apart, drinking in as much air as you could. 

"Great, because I don't think I could go back to the nightmares." 

"And I don't think the title divorcée suits me very well, Spencer. This is mutually beneficial." He laughs as his lips draw yours in again, using his body weight to flip your positions, quickly but carefully lowering you to the ground, kissing every inch of your face as you curiously roll your hips up into his. 

When you try to come up for air again  he doesn't let you, pushing your shoulders down as he sucks love bites into your collarbone. 

"Spencer, how…How should we tell everyone? It's going to be a shock, right?" You tried to keep your voice steady  but even you couldn't control the reactions you were having to this man's touch.

"I have some ideas," You feel him smile into your skin as his head slopes lower and lower. The top of your dress was low enough that his head could graze the tops of your breasts without having to disturb much, and you weren't sure if you wanted an answer to your question or his undivided attention more. 

"Care to enlighten me?" You asked as he planted a final kiss to your chest before pulling up and off you slightly. 

Picking up your hand, he delicately brought the inside of your wrist to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. 

"You could walk into work with this on your hand," he said, pushing the ring back onto your finger. The cool metal and his warm touch sent shivers down your spine as you dedicatedly watched him make his way across your body. 

Back at your neck, he spoke again, softly. "I could mark you up, nice and good, until everyone knows what an obedient little wife you are." His tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive spot, and you moan as you squeal into the touch. He spends some time there, making companions for his earlier love bites. 

Letting his hands trace lower, he finally ghosts a finger across your clothed pussy. With just a few mere touches, you're putty in his hand, whimpering his name helplessly, your arms wrapped about his neck. 

"We could do it that way, too. Those motel room walls are always pretty thin. I'm sure one scream of my name and the entire team would know." Your hips buck up violently into his own  and you're surprised at your sudden lack of self-control. 

You moaned for him, waiting for him to give up his teasing and give you what you really wanted. 

His hands remained ghostly, though, and you almost cursed in frustration. Pulling your dress up, he was swift and agile, hands falling to your bare hips once he'd made sure you were displayed to him. You moaned as you tried to buck your hips up into his hands again, but he caught you before you could. 

Instead of meeting you where you wanted, be pushed your dress even higher, head moving lower to begin pressing kisses over your stomach and lower. 

"Or I could knock you up  and we can for you to introduce the baby with my last name. Really let everyone know just what a horn little slut you are for me." you contemplate grabbing a fistful of his fair, but his lips are back on yours in a flash, and you gasp as you feel him finally push your panties to the side and let his fingers dive inside of you. 

"Or I could give you a real wedding. Claim you right there in front of everyone. 

"I could take thee, to be my wedded wife," his hands slipped deeper into you still as you moaned underneath him. 

"To have and to hold," his other hand dropped to rub your clit as he kept his eyes locked with your own, mouth wide with arousal, trying desperately to prologue this pleasure and not come undone so instantly on his hands. 

"From this day forward, for better or worse," your mind goes blank, filling with his voice and only his voice. 

"For richer, for poorer," he pulls his fingers away for a second, and you moan in protest. 

"In sickness and in health," he sits you up in his lap, ridding you of your remaining clothing as he drinks in the view of your entire body. 

"To love and to cherish," he kisses you again, so soft and passionate that you are almost surprised when his dick slips into you from under you. 

"Till death do us part." He rises to his knees, holding you up in his arms as he begins thrusting into you, hard and fast. 

With his attention so wholly on you and your pleasure, you come undone in a matter of moments, Spencer still finding his rhythm as you stutter around him. 

"Good girl, you're doing so good for me, milking my cock like that." He doesn't slow down as you give yourself over to him, just stroking your hair as you readjust to all the touches you're receiving. You claw your hands into his back as you start getting over stimulated, trying desperately to retain hold of your sanity. 

He's pounding into you too desperately to sustain your position, quickly pressing your back into the floor once again, spreading you once more, and continuing his ministrations. 

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, desperately holding on for fear that letting go would mean losing him again. You feel your nails break the skin of his back as you scratch, claw, grip.

"How about we do all of that?" He grunts in your ear. "I'll give you whatever wedding you want  I'll give you the world. If you let me breed you like a nice little whore." You moan his name in response, your entire body growing rigid again as his words build another climax inside your stomach. 

"Let me mark you and show off who you belong to." You remember the feeling of his cum shooting into you, and suddenly you find it is everything you've ever wanted.

"Fuck, Spencer I'll do anything, please just don't stop." 

His mouth finds yours again as his hand finds its way to your clit again, and suddenly your hips are jerking up and down his cock as you cum. 

He isn't far behind you, not bothering to pause his movements at all as he spills his seed inside of you, pushing it in and letting it leak out of you, your collective fluids pooling under your ass as he gently calms his movements.

Holding himself like that on top of you, your breaths sync, and even as you're both gasping for air, looking into each others eyes is enough to spark more laughter. You're all tenderness and love, and and filled with him. 

He doesn't bother to pull out, simply making sure your legs are tight around his waist and your arms are tight around his neck as he hauls himself to his feet, warming his cock inside you as he hauls you to the bedroom. 

Finally pulling away, he lays you gently on the bed, taking notice of where the carpet has bitten into your back. He slips his cock out of you and retreats to the bathroom, no doubt seeking out cleaning materials. 

When he rejoins you on the bed, he rubs your cunt lazily until you're cleaned up, but you grab his hand and urge him to keep going, before pulling him back over you. 

The remainder of the night is restless as you make vows back and forth with every clash of your bodies, mouths hot with the need to prove your love for one another. 

You finally get to wake up in his arms the next morning. He hasn't left, and you certainly didn't kick him out. You watch him peacefully for as long as you can before he stirs, and the two of you have to ready yourself for a day's work.

"We should tell everyone as soon as possible, right?" You say as you both climb out of the shower. Sharing it saves time, he'd said, but it hadn't been quite as efficient as he'd made it out to be. 

Towelling off his hair, he replied. "Honestly, most of them already know." 

"Wait… the witnesses!" You gasp as you remember what it is that you still didn't quite remember. "I know Penelope is one of them. Who was the other?" You demanded, whirling around on him as you brushed your teeth. 

If you take everyone you'd talked to so far at face value, that left only three options. 

"We're going to work soon, right? Maybe you could figure it out. Profile your second witness, perhaps." You scowled at him and threw a towel half heartedly, resisting the urge to stomp childishly when his phone begins to ring. 

"Hotch," he answers, growing serious once more. "Yeah, we're awake, I…. Where? Okay, be there soon." He hangs up quickly and turns back to you. 

"Will's partner was just killed as they responded to a call about a bank robbery. They want us to consult apparently, it's still in prog-" His hurried words are cut off by the even more hurried shrill of your phone. 

"Hotch, yeah, I know, I'm… I'm with Spencer." 

Hotch's voice is silent on the other end of the line for a second before his familiar stern tone sounds into your ear. 

"We'll talk about that after we get everything settled for now, just get yourselves into the office." 

You, too, hang up, and, with your husband, you make your way to the crime scene. 

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

[genericpuff]

The excessively passive voice when talking about Minthe being intended to have BPD is hilarious. "It was thought to have her written with BPD"? So weird

Honestly, once you start noticing this passive voice in how Rachel writes and talks, it's kind of hard to unsee.

Like, for starters, the BPD example. It's very non-committal, almost as if to sound like she never actually wrote her with BPD, it was just an 'idea' that she could neither confirm or deny as canon. But then you read the episode with the slap and-

It's- it's literally called "Splitting". It's about as subtle as a brick to the face. This entire episode showcases Minthe having an actual literal episode of splitting and it's plain as day to anyone who can read the title card and put two and two together. So for the wording to be so passive around her characterization... it wasn't "thought" to have her written with BPD, she was written with BPD.

Another example that sticks out in my mind of Rachel's passive writing is far later in Season 3, when Demeter reunites with Persephone and naturally expects her to come back home with her.

This line still fucking bothers me to this day. Besides the fact that it's just really poorly written dialogue, Persephone describes her being in love with Hades as if it's just some coincidental thing that happened to her that she can't avoid and not a deliberate choice she's making. "It would seem" my ass, Persephone is a coward for not being upfront and just talking to her mother like an adult by saying, "Mother, I love you, and I understand why you want me to come home, but I'm in love with Hades and want to stay in the Underworld with him." Instead the way it's worded is almost designed to absolve Persephone of any and all agency in her own decisions and active participation in her relationship with Hades by instead making it out to be just some circumstance that she can't get herself out of.

Again, this isn't quite as egregious as the aforementioned BPD scene, but it's still irritating because Rachel writes like this a lot throughout LO. And it's not just the dialogue either, entire decisions throughout the comic are flip-flopped and kept vague by Rachel so she can give herself plausible deniability over the narrative. I could come up with some of my own examples, but I think she managed to speak for herself just fine in the end-of-series Q&A that left both critics and fans of the series massively confused and disappointed:

LO is full of half-committed plotlines because Rachel herself can't commit to her own decisions. So the decisions she does make are left vague enough that hardcore fans are willing enough to fill in the blanks themselves, but anyone who asks her genuinely what her plan was, she just gives the same wordy "IDK it's up to your interpretation!" response. It's like she thinks people are asking her as just another reader who can only speculate, but she's literally the author, so why is she acting like her guess is as good as theirs?

Well, because that's how she wrote LO. That's how she's always written comics, with vague half-finished thoughts and just enough for readers to do the mental gymnastics of making sense of it all just to give her the credit for "smart writing" that she never actually did because she stopped paying attention after the first sentence. And that method of being vague for the sake of audience interpretation is fine for illustrations or anything that isn't trying to be a concise narrative, but LO did try to be that and it really shows how hard it failed in doing so when its own creator can't even come up with something slightly plausible to explain all the questions people had in the end. "There is some backstory there" but proceeds to not actually expand on said backstory. "I like to imply things without outright telling people", so do I, but the difference is that Rachel is using that as a crutch to not answer the questions she setup for her readers and then didn't resolve after five years. There's not wanting to spoon feed people the plot, and then there's literally refusing to explain your decisions when writing said plot, almost because you don't know any more than they do.

The entirety of LO is rooted in Rachel's passiveness, from her inability to answer questions concisely to every little plot point that was established and dropped throughout the comic's run. Writing a story is a series of decisions, deciding what to keep, deciding what not to keep, deciding what has to be changed, etc. and Rachel just... doesn't seem like someone who's ever been capable of making those decisions, especially when she's writing an actual long form story to the end and doesn't have the luxury of dropping it whenever it feels convenient for her like she did several times with The Doctor Pepper Show. Once she was actually held to a standard, once she was actually signed into a contract that expected her to make those decisions, she failed to and it culminated in one of the messiest conclusions to a story I've seen since Game of Thrones.

LO is kind of like Schrodinger's Cat - a plot point can be or not be whatever it needs to be so that Rachel can be either praised for smart writing she never did or absolved of bad writing that she did do. It's equally parts interesting and vague enough that whatever her readers give her credit for writing, she can give them a thumbs-up and go "you're totally right, champ!" and proceed to take all the credit of being a "good writer" from the efforts of her own audience who had to jump through a million hoops to make sense of her own messy writing.

But when she's put on the spot by those very same readers to answer for her own decisions, she can't.

Because she never made them.

Because there was never anything "deeper" going on, that's just what her style of "distraction writing" made you believe. The plot never lets you stop to think about what you just read long enough before zipping away to the next thing and distracting you with a new twist or a new character or a new plot point, and before you know it, you've gone weeks without reading about the last thing that was established you probably haven't even realized that those questions never got answered. Sometimes Rachel remembers to get back to those things and resolves them within a handful of panels, other times she forgets them entirely and just leaves them to rot in the hopes that no one ever calls her out on it. And when they do... she can just pull the get-out-of-jail-free "Welp, it's up to your interpretation!" card and get that credit all over again for being deep and insightful, meanwhile those who are rightfully dissatisfied with that answer are blanket-accused of "getting mad at Rachel for not writing the story they wanted".

To close out this ask that, per tradition, turned into an essay, I'd like to recall the famous words of fictional detective Benoit Blanc: "Look into the clear center of this glass onion... Miles Bron is an idiot!"

[holylulusworld]

BFG (3)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, violence, flirting, fluff, mentions of animal cruelty / eating dogs (nothing happens!), slow burn continues

A/N: Please consider that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (2)

BFG masterlist

“The front door is fixed,” Reacher says as he walks into your kitchen to gulp down a huge glass of water. “I checked on the backdoor too and fixed it. I’ll take care of the fence when I’m back.”

“Reacher,” you sigh. “You don’t have to fix my house or the fence. I invited you to stay here for free. And after you handled KJ so well, I owe you.”

“He owed you respect,” he says and places the glass he used into the sink. “I don’t like men treating women like that. You deserve respect, and to be treated right.”

If you weren’t already head over heels for him, you’d have lost your heart to Reacher at that very moment. “You are very well-behaved. A gentleman.” You eye him up and down and bite your lower lip.

“My mom taught me to respect women and to use my strength only to do good,” he shrugs. “I only hurt people deserving to get hurt. He disrespected and harassed you.”

“Your mom was a wise woman,” you step toward Reacher to grab his hand. “She raised a righteous man. I wish I could meet her to thank your mom.”

“She’s—” his voice cracks. You already knew that she must’ve passed away from the way he talked about her, and the sadness in his eyes. “I think she would’ve liked you.”

“Hmm…moms always like me,” you grin. “Because of my charming personality and the pie, I make.”

“I bet they do,” he gives you a half smile. “Your pie is the best I ever ate.”

“Now you try to get more free food out of me.” You chuckle and turn around to prepare breakfast. “What about tonight? Will you be around for dinner?"

“I don’t know yet,” he says and looks out of the window. You still don’t know why he’s in town, or how he spends the time away from your diner and house. “I’ll try to make it in time.”

“If not,” you turn back around to run your hand over his arm, “I’ll make sure to have some leftovers for you. A big man like you got to eat.”

“Not again,” you yell at the owner of the restaurant across the street. He once again chased the poor stray away and even kicked the dog. “I will make sure they arrest you, asshat. The dog didn’t do anything wrong. He only walked past your restaurant to reach my diner!”

“Well then, put a leash around that beast’s neck and shut your mouth,” the man yells back. “If not, he’ll eat a bullet next time that piece of shit comes near my restaurant. You can sell its meat at your shitty diner after I’m done with that mangy mutt!”

You crouch down and call for the dog. He trots toward you and whines low in his throat. “I told you to stay away from that asshole. How about I take you home? I know you are used to freedom and not having an owner, but we can just pretend we are roommates.”

“Y/N, is something wrong?” Sally Ann comes running toward you. “What happened? Your roommate, or private bodyguard, or whatever that guy is to you stormed out of the front door. I think he’s about to kill someone.”

“What? I-“ You hear Reacher’s angry voice. This time, it’s directed toward the owner of the restaurant. “Fuck!” You ask Sally Ann to look out for the dog while you try to cross the street before Reacher kills that man.

“REACHER!” You call for him, but it’s too late. The restaurant owner refused to apologize to you and even tried to land the first punch. Reacher easily dodged his attack, stopped the man’s fist in midair, and twisted his arm. “Fuck!”

“One last time,” Reacher snarls at the man, still holding his arm in a tight grip. “You will apologize to the lady and leave the dog alone. If I hear or see that you threaten any animal or kid ever again, I’ll break more than your arm.”

As fast as he grabbed the man, Reacher released the restaurant owner and stepped away. He’d like to beat the man into a bloody pulp for what he said and did, but he doesn’t want you to see only the violent man he can become to protect people.

“Are you alright?” You don’t care that the restaurant owner cries and sniffles. Your hand reaches out for Reacher to check on him. “Did he hurt you?”

“He broke my fucking arm,” the man whines and hopes for any sign of compassion from you. “That monster!”

“Monster?” You cock your head. “Last time I checked you threatened children and an old dog. You wanted to shoot him and offered his meat to me. If anyone in town is a monster, it’s you. Not the man defending me and the dog.”

“I’ll call the cops!”

“Go ahead,” you snap at the man. “Everyone saw what you did and heard what you said. I don’t think a single person will help you!”

There is applause coming from the other side of the street. Your employees and guests cheer for you and Reacher. “We should head back. The dog needs food and you a slice of my pie.”

Reacher glares at the whining man one last time. The restaurant owner flinches and ducks his head.

“I shouldn’t have hurt him,” he says on your way toward the diner. “He was much smaller and weaker than me.”

“He’s an awful person, sweetie,” you grab his hand and squeeze it. “Believe me, you did the right thing. I saw him slap a kid two weeks ago. And he kicked a cat away from his door. He threatened Charlie too.”

“Charlie?” He furrows his brows.

“I gave him a name,” you smile. “Maybe he’ll stick around for a little longer if I give him a name.”

Crazy from Patsy Kline blares from the old radio at your kitchen when Reacher sneaks inside the room. He watches you slowly dance to the song. In lack of a partner, you just sway to the music and close your eyes.

“Hi, uh-“ he clears his throat. “I brought wine, dog food, and Clark bars.” 

“Perfect timing,” you clap your hands. “Come on, it’s Patsy. Dance with me Reacher.” You hold out your hands. “One dance.”

“I don’t dance. Ever.” He glances at the old radio. “That’s almost antic.”

You drop your hands and sigh. No dance for you then. “It belonged to my grandmother. I know it’s old and most of the time it doesn’t work but…” you shake your head and turn around. “I didn’t have the heart to throw it away.”

“It’s a dear memory,” you feel his hands on your hips, and his chest pressed against your back. “You don’t throw memories away.” Reacher starts to sway, and you follow his lead. “Where’s the dog?”

“At the living room. He prefers to lie in front of the couch instead of using the dog bed I bought,” you turn around and start to dance with Reacher. “For a man who never dances, you’re not bad at dancing.”

“I love to dance,” he moves one hand to your back and presses you closer to his body. “If I ask someone for a dance, it mostly includes a lot of punching.”

You chuckle. “You won’t punch me,” he hums and watches you rest your head against his chest. “I wanted to thank you for punching two guys for me within three days.”

Reacher dances with you for another song before he reluctantly lets go of you. He turns your attention toward the wine and dinner instead of the things going on in his head.

He cannot risk getting attached to you. If this case is over, and he finds the murderer of his brother, Reacher will leave town. The last thing he wants is for you to miss him, or even fall for him.

Even though, the thought of getting attached to you is nice…

BFG (4)

Tags in reblog.

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him. 

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused. 

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--'' 

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

                                        …

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

[jack-ackles]

i have waited long enough to say this but LORD DEBLING IS AN ASSHOLE.

i cant fucking take all these tweets and "opinions" saying penelope should've ended up with debling and that debling is better than colin

all those people can go and (i can't stress this enough) fuck themselves!!!!!

A man in his mid forties looking for a bride in a room full of eligible women in the age group 18-22

He was looking for a wife in the room full of girls who wished for a good match, loving and dashing husband.. but HE wasn't looking for "love" as he would always love nature more.

He wanted to marry asap so that he could leave for his tour, which also meant:

he wanted a wife who would basically be his housekeeper and look after his estate.

which probably also mean, since he doesn't have a family, he would leave for his tour but not before getting his supposed wife preggo so that he will have an heir to continue his legacy in case something happens to him. that's why he was looking for a wife urgently this year.

he was looking for someone LOYAL? but when did he ever give any hint that he would not cheat? he was the one to roam the world meet thousands of people.. no promise of being loyal himself but wanted to leave a wife behind him to take care of his properties AND be alone waiting for him?

The way he didn't need more than one hint that penelope was in love with someone else to cancel his proposal makes me sickkk, not a chance, no understanding, just a direct assumption that she WILL cheat behind his back.. its a proof he just wants a housekeeper and someone to make and look after his heir, NOT. A. WIFE!!!

Also, lets look at this from penelope's angle.

to all who think lord debling is in the race and there is a debling-penelope-colin love triangle are sadly mistaken and once again i blame media illiteracy of people.

the only reason pen even looked at debling's way was because she gave up hopes of LOVE and a happy fulfilling life. When she realized if she wants freedom from featheringtons for rest of her life she needs to get out there and marry someone from whatever options she can get,to fit in society. she gave up on waiting for colin to love her back, she gave up on colin (and thus, the first polin kiss). And the first, only and best option she got was lord debling.

And as for colin..

When he said "I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington", The intent behind his words was not to belittle Penelope but rather for his friends to know that the nature of their is relationship as friends only.

(ofcourse this is obvious because colin could never say bad things about penelope.. evrr!! but once again.. media illiteracy! or should i say colin haters)

saying colin is a rake who "slept around half of europe".. colin is 22 or 23 years old. trying to fit in society. trying to find a purpose, trying to find intimacy and not feel distant. he is young, he was single, young, didn't have realization of his romantic feelings for yet.

but people are acting like debling in his mid forties did not sleep around.. he literally travels all the time, colin is still half his age. And also, in the show nothing implied he would stay loyal while on tour after being married.

colin didnt realize pen was in love with him so as his friend, a man, he always kept his distance respected her boundaries as a woman. He interacted with pen very less at the balls and events because he is seen as an eligible suitor in the eyes of society and it wouldn't help pen get suitors. in season 3, he hears pen and wants to help her (selflessly as he did with others) to get a suitor - but started realizing his feelings.

but the day he realizes his feelings for pen he didn't play around like other MLs, went straight away to pen, managed to come on right time to stop debling's proposal, he didn't play around.. just confessed his feelings then and there!

i am 101% convinced that whoever keeps saying pen should've ended up with lrd debling really wants her to live a miserable, lonely life even after the show keeps telling us she wants a loving, fulfilling life after what she has to go through with featheringtons.

wanting penelope to end up with old ass debling who is distant detached over a young tall and handsome man who is also her bestfriend, who she also loved ever since she first saw him?.. its cruel. its simply HATE.

"colin couldn't match her intellect"

"colin will definitely end up cheating"

"who would want to marry a rake over a rich smart explorer who would be gone for years and you could live a life like jane austen"

"it felt like throwing the fat girl a bone"

stfu. gtfo. kys. fys.

[sweetcherrybmb]

FEAR FOR NOBODY//FA14\\ part two

pairing: fernando alonso x soldier/military!reader

description: When the Circuit of the Americas joined the list of races for the 2012 season, no one expected it to be such a monumental day for a certain Spaniard...

faceclaim: Olivia Cooke; various pinterest girls

2021 user y/username has gone public

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 5,467 others

y/username back in austin <3

y/bro/user aaaahhh, i can't wait for you guys to come to huston, i miss the three of you so muuch

y/username since when are you this whiny?? y/bro/user omg, you're sooo annoying

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fernandoalo_official

liked by kimimatiasraikonen, y/username and 978,451 others

fernandoalo_official feels good to be back

lewishamilton welcome back, mate!

sebastianvettel welcome back to the grid, nando!

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liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 15,467 others

y/username No.4 <3

y/bro/user congrats idiots, tell little theo i miss him!!

y/bff/username congrats!! can't wait to third wheel again!!

y/username gurl, you have your own husband y/bff/username yeaaah, but i preffer third-wheeling my parents (jk baby i love ya)

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2022

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 16,512 others

y/username the boys like it when they go vroom (but it seems theo preferred running around)

y/bro/user little man had more fun than you, it seems

user1 honestly, her life seems to be so much fun

user2 how fun can it be when you're a part of the military??? user1 well, i'm just going off of her insta

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y/username tbt -> our prep for the 2012 USA Grand Prix can't belive it's been 10 years

officer_friend1 girlie I remember the way you looked at that one driver, can't remember his name tho

officer_friend2 👀 officer_friend3 👀 y/bff/username 👀 y/username ya'll... nvm

y/bff/username still remember my moms excitement when she saw you, she almost cried

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2023

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liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 17,512 others

y/username green has always been my color 💚

y/bro/user rb is better

y/bff/username agreed y/username both of you are wrong, aston martin is the best

user3 uhmmm, why is this random lady popping up on my feed??

user4 omg same, but hey, she's an aston martin fan so she's welcome to stay on my feed user5 not only a fan, but it seems nando is liking her post

user6 that second pic is sooo cute

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y/username on break and he still drives like there is no speed limit, but he bought me coffee and cake so i forgive him for the heart attack <3

y/bff/username a BMW? disgraceful... tsk tsk

y/username its your car.... y/bff/username shhhhh...

user7 why is she on my feed and why is nando in the likes???

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2024

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liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 190,572 others

y/username i am apparently married to a war criminal???

fernandoalo_official te amo mi hermosa reina <3

y/username i love you too, criminal <3 fernandoalo_official please don't, love y/username ok, i won't <3

user8 MARRIED??!! YOU'RE HIS WIFE??!! i think i might pass out

user9 this was honestly so unexpected, tf is happening??

user10 is everybody just ignoring the FACT THAT THEY HAVE A KID TOGETHER???

user11 i was just about to say, but honestly, they're cute together, the three of them

astonmartinf1 thank you for providing new pictures of fernando, one of them WILL be our new contact photo, also welcome!

y/username you're very welcome, will provide more if needed astonmartinf1 i'll DM you a number for you to send them to us fernandoalo_official NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!

user12 not y/n and aston martin admin teaming up to embarrass nando LOL

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fernandoalo_official my piece of heaven, te amo hermosa <3

y/username i love you too <3

fernandoalo_official <3

user13 the DOG, ITS SO GOOFY I LOOOVE IT!!

user14 i like how all the pics of her are candids of her just drinking

user15 what can we say, a girl likes her drinks y/username i second that user15 OMG YOU ANSWERED??!!

user16 imma start calling her mother now

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[secondhand-snow]

a body of impulses

chapter 2: feeling like unraveling

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★ chapter 1 ★ | ★chapter 3★

wc: 9.0k+

warnings: super dysfunctional family, fluff first then angst, roman roy as his own warning, season 3 finale as its own warning, mentions of manipulation, drinking, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (for real this time), dick pics, mention of phone sex, making out, dry humping/grinding, biting, pussyjobs, cum play/eating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: Lukas is amazing. He's tender, he's deviant, he's everything for you. But you're still worried, your family has never seen a beautiful thing that they haven't wanted to break.

author's note: chapter 2 is here, thank you for all the love on chapter 1! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it ♡ be warned that this is heavy on the plot of episodes 3.08 and 3.09, so if you haven't watched the full show you may get a bit lost. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You have a tendency to get anxious when things are good for too long. A few weeks without a family fight, a month without a scandal, half a year without Kendall relapsing; nice things usually end in flames in your family. They make you superstitious, always looking around the corner for something to jump out and fuck everything up. So, when Lukas is good, you get scared. You expect some kind of backhand. A threat of blackmail, a tweet exposing your promiscuity, a package of anthrax at your door. 

It never comes.

He calls you every night, your timezone, not his. Listens to you talk about your day and doesn’t press when you can’t give him details on the company. He loves to send you pictures, just of him doing the most mundane things. Lukas on a Zoom meeting, Lukas working out, Lukas eating dinner. Together, you fall into something almost domestic. It’s still a secret. You don’t open his messages in public, stay far away from any conversations about him at work that could lead a blush to your face. But when has anything in your life been completely honest?

He’s been begging for a while now to fly you out to Sweden. You know it’s a risk you shouldn’t take at the moment, but you entertain him anyway. When you ask why he wants to see you so badly, he says he misses you. Then he says he wants to fuck you on his desk.

 That almost convinces you, and you’re about to start packing when a roadblock emerges. Your dad asks you to come with him and your siblings to Italy, for Caroline’s wedding. You hadn’t been planning on going, she wasn’t your mom and you didn’t have much of a relationship with her. In fact, you actually thought she secretly hated you, something to do with how quickly Logan married your mom after their divorce. Regardless, you didn’t want to go to the wedding. But when Logan Roy calls, you come. Always.

So the bags were repacked and you found yourself on a different private jet with your siblings, once again at the mercy of your family.

“She’s probably in sexual thrall to him. He’s driving her wild with his sugar dick.” Siobhan spoke matter of factly, completely oblivious to how absurd her words sounded. Still, it wasn’t the strangest conversation of hers you’d walked in on. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

 Roman was perched across the aisle from Tom and Shiv, sitting oddly in his seat, running his hand through his hair while he spoke. “All right, fine. Let him kill her for her emeralds and… screw us out of the fucking firm. See if I care.”

“Mommy issues?” You spoke up, setting your bag down on a free seat before moving to lean over the back of Shiv’s chair, kneeling on the seat behind it.

“Always. I didn’t know you were coming?” Rome turns to address you, eyebrows coming together in question.

“Dad drafted me. I think he just wants to terrorize Caroline with my presence.”

“I think you torment her enough by just existing. She doesn’t get to be the perfect mother of Logan Roy’s prodigal children.” Shiv pitched in, finally acknowledging your presence with a little smile.

“I don’t think I’m even invited to all the events. He’s just gonna have me working on the GoJo deal the whole time.”

“Oh! About the deal, I was talking to Karl and Frank-” Tom is addressing Roman more than you, but still gives you the courtesy of eye contact before your brother cuts him off. 

“Yeah, no, you’re not really a part of that. Either of you, actually.” Rome nods his head to the couple, a smirk on his face charged by his current power trip.

“Well, I am.” Shiv interjects, annoyed.

“Well, I can’t fire you yet Shiv, because I’m still a little bit scared of you. But, my thinking is, when I take over, I’m gonna put you in the office next to mine and you’re gonna be my sexy secretary.” You just shake your head at Roman’s comment while he turns to head back to his seat. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Siobhan is more irritated than really upset, going back to her phone as Roman leaves the conversation.

“I dunno. We’re working on it.” He taps the back on his legs in a rhythm before sitting down. “Ongoing process.”

You address Tom, seeing the confusion in his eyes that people tend to get when talking to your brother. “We’re just working on outlining terms. Honestly, Gerri would be better to ask for specifics. I don’t know how much Dad wants me to say.”

Tom just nods in thanks, which you return with a small smile before heading to your seat. You’re across the aisle from Roman, who’s already curled up and ready to nap on the flight. Taking out your phone, you see a new message from Lukas, covertly labeled in your phone with just an “L.” You turn the screen away from your company, making sure to not catch the reflection in the window as you open his text.

Stockholm is a 4 hour flight to Italy. 

Is it? I’ll be in the air for at least 10 hours.

10 hours without talking to you?

I think you can manage it.

I don’t know about Italy. I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m in the same country as you.

It’s a risk. 

Will there be a reward?

…I’ll text you when we land.

He sends a picture of himself doing a kissing face. You send a heart emoji in response, hiding your face with your hand to conceal your smile. 

It turns out that you were invited to a few events of Lady Caroline’s wedding. Not the ceremony, of course, but at least you were allowed to attend the receptions leading up to it. You weren’t going to be cooped up in a hotel room all weekend, signing documents and having Facetime sex with your not-boyfriend. In fact, you ended up at one of these events just a little after your arrival, a garden party full of snobby aristocrats and expensive champagne. It’s too hot out for your liking, you're already sweating in your semi-formal sundress and downing your second glass of cold bubbly. 

You end up with Shiv, partially blocked from the sun by the shadow of her hat, quietly snickering at her and Tom’s jokes about a clueless cousin Greg. It’s surprisingly calm for one of your family gatherings, no shouting or challenging or worse. The tranquility snaps like a twig with a ding on your phones.

“Uh- Matsson…” Shiv speaks first, the two of you pulling out your phones simultaneously, her angling her screen to share it with Tom. A message from Karolina leads you to Matsson’s twitter page, and his latest tweet. It’s a goofy gif of his face with a Snapchat filter on it, the text reading ‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.” You’re half excited, half alarmed. You don’t really know if you should believe it at first but, against your better judgment, you hope it’s true. Hope he’s just an hour or two from you, the closest he’s been in weeks.

 “What? Going to Macao? Feeling lucky?” Tom squints against the sun to see the Tweet before pulling out his own phone. “The fuck is that?”

“You get this thing from Karolina? It’s off the radar and now this? Is this- is it a move?” Gerri’s entrance is quick, followed closely behind by Roman. You open your mouth and close it again, not sure if your words will betray your duplicity.

“It, um, it could be…could be nothing, you know? Fucking social media fireworks!” Roman’s hand is threaded through his hair, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the light.

“‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.’” Gerri repeats the four words, she’s as flabbergasted as everyone in this little Waystar circle. Business has once again interfered with pleasure. “Is he trying to boost his price?”

“Is he just rocking the boat?” Shiv’s voice is unsure, wavering from her usual monotone state. “Or trying to blow up the deal? I mean, has he got good subscriber numbers coming in?”

“Maybe he’s just going to Macao and he’s feeling lucky.” Tom chimes in as Rome steps away from the group, phone pressed to his ear in a call you can’t fully hear.

“I mean, yeah… It’s not out of his archetype to post something like this.” You shrug, not sure what to contribute that hasn’t already been said. 

Roman finishes his call, turning back to you to speak. “I don’t know, it’s like, his thing. He’s a- a trickster.”

“Okay. Well, sounds cool. Is he gonna, like, steal our watches and fucking saw the deal in half?” Shiv’s getting upset, you know she likes control and she’s too far removed from this deal to do anything about Matsson’s stunts. 

“Maybe!”

“You’re supposed to be inside this Rome!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Mattson’s not stupid, he wouldn’t deliberty fuck this deal and announce it to the world on Twitter.” You’re trying to reason with your siblings, though it’s not really working. Roman mostly ignores you, Siobhan rolls her eyes. Atleast Gerri and Tom look somewhat appreciative for your input. 

“I am inside, Leave it.” 

You’re done with the dialogue, done with being the peacemaker and getting stepped over by your narcissistic siblings. You throw your hands up, phone held in one and the other in a flat palm to signify your retreat before you walk away from the cluster. You hear Greg say something behind you but don’t bother to answer him, instead moving to find a quiet place far away from your siblings.

You end up in a corner somewhere, mostly blocked by trees and bushes, a little cubby hole you hoped was private enough to not be listened in on. Your fingers nimbly click through the apps on your phone, pausing briefly before pressing the call button on Lukas’s contact. It rings once, twice. Then, an answer.

“When are you coming over? Should I send you a helicopter?”

“Macao?” Your voice is higher than normal, laced in shock and thrill.

“Closer than we’ve been in weeks.” The smile is apparent in his voice, he’s pleased with himself, you hate it. And love it.

“You’re fucking insane. I didn’t think you were serious!” 

“Yeah, I am. I’ll send my jet over.”

“Oh my God, I still cannot believe you. I can’t- my family is on high alert after your little rogue Tweet.” You laugh, not really mad at him, just eager and amazed.

“Oh come on, that was nothing.”

“It was a play to keep them on guard and you know it.”

“Well, partially. It’s for the numbers too. And for your attention.”

“It’s so hard to be away from you when you do shit like this…”

“Oh yeah? You miss me?” It’s a taunt, he knows the truth even if you deny it. So, you’re honest.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm… I miss you too. Keep thinking about what I’ll do when I see you again.”

“Lukas�� I’m in public…” You can’t help but glance around, be sure you’re alone when he starts talking like this. His plan is already so clear to you.

“So you don’t want me to tell you about all the ways I’ll fuck you?”

“... Don’t do this to me now.”

“It’ll be just us in this house. I’ll take you wherever I want to. You can scream as loud as you want, don’t have to be worried about someone hearing.” His voice drops, there’s a small rustling on the phone. His words shoot straight to your core, a sensation beginning to form there.

“I’m at a fucking wedding party and you’re getting me turned on. You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You pause a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before responding. 

“I’ll call you tonight. Please be careful.”

He chuckles.“I will.”

When you hang up, your text thread with Lukas is immediately graced with a photo of his dick, hard and gripped tightly in his fist. It makes you inhale sharply, curse under your breath at the growing need between your thighs. You text him back, simply writing “Fuck you.” before clicking your phone off. It takes you a few minutes of breathing exercises, but you’re able to calm your desire and soothe the blush in your cheeks before returning to the party.

Nobody asks where you went, nobody even really cared that you were gone. You can blame it on Connor’s show of making a proposal, or Matsson’s antics occupying everyone’s minds, but this is how it always is with you. The good child. The innocent daughter. Forever right where she needs to be, never in anyone’s way, constantly willing to help. You disappear when you aren’t wanted, you emerge only when you’re useful. The perfect loyalist, somehow being turned to a deserter.

Lukas leaves Monaco before you can sneak away to see him. You know it’s for the better, but it’s still a disappointment. You resign to finish the family trip and visit Sweden as soon as you get home to New York, going along with the planned events, a false smile plastered on your face. It’s during Caroline’s bachelorette in Cortona when your plans change. You were nursing a glass of wine, silencing your discontent at the rooftop bar when Gerri approached you.

She dragged you around to speak with Roman, revealing that your Dad had once again put you on babysitting duty. Logan wanted Rome to go talk to Mattson at his house in Switzerland, and wanted you to keep him in line. He couldn’t trust Roman to not fuck the deal, but he didn’t want you to speak to Mattson alone. So, you were recruited to accompany Rome. Speak just enough to stop him from saying something stupid, but not enough to draw attention. It was a game you were good at, one you had been practicing since youth. You were loyal to a fault, and Logan always used it to his advantage. 

Lukas is ecstatic when you tell him you’re coming. Less so when he learns Roman is accompanying you, but still thrilled. You ask him for discretion, first nicely and then sternly. You can’t afford to make your relationship, whatever it is, public. He knows this too, knows what your family would do if they found out, but can’t help teasing. It’s only a day after Logan’s request that you board a helicopter, headed to Lake Maggiore. Headed to Lukas.

Roman is oddly quiet on the flight, constantly on his phone or looking out the window, eyes blank. You know him well enough to see the anxiety clouding his mind, feel the nervous energy radiating off his body. You reach over to him and hold his hand. He looks annoyed. He doesn’t drop it. You squeeze his fingers gently, he returns the motion, lets you quietly comfort him until you land.

 Lake Maggiore is beautiful, surrounded by the Alps and lush vegetation, villas and lake homes dotting the shores of the water. You move straight from the helicopter to a boat, which immediately takes off at high speeds, skating over the surface of the lake. The wind fucks up your hair, blows up the skirt of your sundress, almost makes you loose your sunglasses. When you finally dock, you quickly pull out your phone, using it as a mirror to fix your smudged makeup and windswept hair before your host arrives. Roman gives you a weird look, silently judging you for putting effort into your appearance. As if he doesn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning styling his hair to look perfectly imperfect. 

When Lukas’s frame finally emerges from the hedges of his property, you have to bite your lower lip to hide your smile. He’s so himself, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, not bothering with real shoes, just a pair of casual slip-ons. It almost hurts to see him and not be able to immediately kiss him. Jesus, your inner monologue sounds like something from a cheesy rom-com. You feel so love-struck, it makes you crinkle your nose in embarrassment. 

The boat is tied up to the dock now, Roman perched on the side trying to make it onto solid land. The waves rock the vehicle back and forth, knocking him off balance and ruining his attempt at disembarking. 

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lukas has one hand in his pocket, the other reached out to Rome, close enough for him to grab. If he wanted to. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Piss off.” Roman swats his hand away, finally moving off the boat with a small jump. You move, taking his place on the edge of the boat. It’s a bit unsteady, but you manage getting on to the dock in just a few seconds. You shoot a smug smile at Roman before following the two of them up some steps, away from the water and onto Lukas’s yard.

“It’s nice to see you again, man.” Roman speaks first, breaking the silence that had fallen over you three.

“Yeah, yeah. Long time.” Lukas has his usual posture, slightly hunched and lanky, with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. 

“This is an amazing place!” Rome looks around, you continue to follow him and Lukas through the lawn, letting them lead you as you observe.

“Yeah...”

“No?”

“I don’t know, it kind of freaks me out, to be honest.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I got it, I wanted everything to be perfect.” You climb a few steps, the group arriving at an outdoor pool area, lined with shrubs and facing the lake. “Now I’m sleeping on a camping mat until I get a deep dive on the best mattress in the world. It’s great- it’s great. I’m just not feeling great. I mean… I’m fine… Well, but, not really.”

You frown at his words. You want to reach out, hold his hand, touch his back, do something to comfort him. But it would be too obvious, too impulsive. Instead you nod sympathetically, catching his gaze for a moment.

“Maybe let’s leave the little feeley-feelings out of it. Cause I’m gonna give you nothing. Nothing!” Roman’s half joking. He hates emotions, tries to diffuse bad ones with humor, even if it feels inappropriate.

“Roman.” Your tone is a warning, pushing your sunglasses back on your head to give him a glare before turning to Lukas. “I get it. You want the best, but you don’t realize how boring perfection is when you always have it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Success.. It doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s too easy. It’s fucking… anyone can do it. Analysis plus capital plus execution. But failure… that’s a secret.” Lukas is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world when he speaks. Sometimes he thinks you can see into his soul, you somehow know him better than anyone. He takes his sunglasses off, using the collar of his shirt to hold them. His blue eyes look directly into yours.“What are you worst at?”

“Well… I… am never telling you any of my weaknesses. Ever. Never, ever, ever.” Roman breaks into the conversation again, disrupts the eye contact between you two. “And I won’t let her tell you any either. Stuff a sock in her mouth, a ball gag or something.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know, I am smart.”

“Cause I ream people. Juice em like oranges. I get way too into people, and they disappoint me.” He looks at Roman when he says that, but you can’t help but take his words as a warning. Things moved fast between you and Lukas, you’ve barely known him for a few weeks and were already opening your heart to him. Letting him into your mind, letting him rearrange the furniture there like he owns it. “Hey, I’m thinking of doing like a- quarterly up and outs at the company.”

“Oh, yeah. Firing people is like, 85% of why I get up in the morning.” Roman shrugs when he talks, moving to take his sunglasses off and hold them in his hand. “But, uh.. I do want to ask you about that tweet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh the…” Lukas laughs, looks at you, back to Roman. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue to mimic the Snapchat filter on his tweet. “That one.”

“Yeah. Seriously, yes. You got like, big shit coming your way?” Rome uses his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“...Are you- are you asking me for material nonpublic information?” Lukas’s grin is lopsided, he’s testing the two of you, seeing how far you’re really going to go.

“Maybe. Were you trying to get your share price up by tweeting unverifiable information outside of normal disclosure channels?” You cut in, raising your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in a way a little too close to flirting. Roman smiles at that, watches you exercise your knowledge like a proud father.

Lukas’s voice is mocking, a fake sad cartoon tone coming over it. “No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He moves his hands to his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears. “So mean.”

“Do you want this deal? Are you into it… like, at all?” Roman asks next. You’ve moved a bit from your area at the pool, following Matsson as he slowly circles the water. 

“Yeah, I am. I’m just a little Swedish, you know? I’m.. into equality.” He moves nonchalantly, like this deal isn’t as serious as it is. “I like getting into bed with people, but I also like to share it equally.”

“More of a merge than a takeover.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t directed at Lukas. You turn to Roman as you say it, verbalizing what you both were thinking. Lukas just hums, doesn’t articulate a response. Even though you all know what it would be. 

“Okay. We’re just… heading to Milan to lock things down with our Dad and the bankers. And the tweet- it just didn’t feel great. If you’re hoping to blow this whole thing up, just tell me, okay?” Roman’s anxiety is back, you can see it in the tense way he’s started to move, in the higher tone of his voice.

“I just want to get myself the best. Of everything.” Lukas looks at you when he says it, darts his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Roman’s too lost in his own head to notice it, or notice the way your breath catches in your throat. 

“Yeah, I fucking get that. Definlety.” Roman moves to pull out his phone, cursing under his breath when he reads a notification. “I uh- have to take a call really quickly. I’ll be in the boat, it shouldn’t take too long. Okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll give her a tour.” Lukas shrugs, sounding indifferent. Rome nods at him, then you, and quickly takes off towards the dock, already lifting the phone up to his ear as he walks. 

You watch him leave, round the corner and leave your line of vision before turning to Lukas, face neutral save for a hint of a smile. He’s less composed than you, smiling broadly and staring into your eyes. He walks closer to you, wraps his arm around the small of your back.

“Wanna show me around?” You raise your eyebrows in question, slightly rocking back and forth on your feet. He sighs quietly, nods, and moves to extend an arm for you to hold. 

“There’s really not much to see. Your average rich person house.” You hold his arm, walking with him into the villa as he speaks. 

The interior is nice. Well, you’re sure it cost several million dollars to furnish, but that was the standard you were used to. It’s Italian inspired with a few modern elements. You take note of the high end appliances everywhere you go. A thousand dollar air purifier, a ten thousand dollar toilet, a hundred thousand dollar refrigerator. Lukas really did want the best for himself. The downstairs looks strangely perfect, like there wasn’t really anyone living there. Everything is clean and immaculate, no traces of human life. This trend continues into the upstairs, only stopping when he shows you the primary bedroom. His bedroom.

It’s simply decorated, a bed, desk, dresser. A large TV mounted on the wall across from his bed, nightstands, some artwork on the walls. There are a few large windows on the farthest side of the room, offering a view to the lake. Most things are black, or gray, with a few navy blue accents here and there. You had slipped off your shoes when walking around the house, now you let the fall to the floor from dangling on your finger. Stepping into the room, you walk until you round the bed, seeing a camping sleep matt rolled up and leaning on a wall. The sight brings a little smile to your face before you turn to Lukas’s desk, fingers grazing softly against the wood of it. 

He has a Macbook laying on it, a pair of over-ear headphones sitting next to it. There’s a cup with a few pencils and pens, a box of tissues. It’s not much, but it’s something. Above his desk sit a few wall mounted bookshelves, made of the same wood. The books on them are mostly motivational, shit that he definitely hasn’t read. One thing does catch your eye though, an older coding textbook written in Swedish. It looks worn, the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled. Your fingers move to trace along the row of books, following them until the shelf ends and you meet the wall behind it. 

“I like it. Very you.” You move your gaze back to Lukas, who’s been leaning in the doorway, watching you explore.

“Very me?”

“It’s exactly what I pictured.” You walk up to him as he steps inside, right at the foot of the bed, just a few inches apart. “Have you really been sleeping on a mat on the floor?”

“Yeah…” You wrap your hands around the back of his neck as his sentence trails off and he moves to grab your hips, closing the distance between you.

“Lukas, just sleep on the mattress. Your back is gonna get all fucked up.”

“Probably. I just- I don’t trust it. I want something I know is good, you know?”  His reasoning makes you roll your eyes.

“It’s better than a camping mat.”

“Hey- that’s the best camping mat money can buy.”

Your hand moves to cup his face, bringing him to you and planting a light kiss on his mouth. He tries to deepen it, follows your face when you pull away, looks like a sad puppy when you deny him.

“So you haven’t used the mattress at all…?” You smirk, quirking your eyebrows teasingly.

“Not yet…” Lukas grins, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips. “Why? Do you wanna help me break it in?”

You don’t answer, just smile, roll your eyes playfully, and move away from him. You turn so your back is facing the bed, and with all the drama you can muster, flop down onto the mattress. It cushions your fall nicely, though you do get left a bit breathless and giggly. Your knees dangle off the side of the bed, feet almost grazing the ground as you kick your legs. 

“It’s really not bad.” You don’t bother raising your head, just direct your words to him knowing he’ll hear. “Not the best, but definitely ‘trustworthy.’” Laughing when he sighs in response, you throw your arms up and stretch theatrically.

You feel a hand on your knee, spreading your thighs wider apart. He slots himself between your legs, moves his hand to your waist, and pulls you quickly to him. The bed is high enough that your hips meet each other roughly, a gasp escaping your mouth at the sudden pressure on your vulva. Lukas is already half hard, and making the most subtle movements to grind you perfectly against his cock. 

“Lukas… Roman is just outside…” You’re already a bit breathless, still allowing him to rub against you as you speak. He leans close to you, tall frame bending at the waist to brush his lips against your ear, still keeping his hips flush to your as he moves. 

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” He places a kiss to your jawline, starting a messy trail down your neck. Lukas pauses to nip the slope of your shoulder. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

He lifts his head, eyes staring straight into yours, and waits for your response. Your lips are already parted, breath coming quick and cheeks flushed with desire. The lust clouds your judgment, as it always seems to do with Lukas. Impulse takes over and, with a hand threaded into his hair, you pull his mouth to yours roughly.  

It’s rushed and powerful. All teeth and tongue, no time for being gentle, no time for romantics. You bite his lip, he groans into your open mouth. Your legs move around his hips, keeping his body close as he ruts against your clothed core. His movements started soft and teasing, but now he’s fully thrusting against you, rough and wanting. It feels hard and hot, has your eyes shutting and your mouth whimpering. You love being close to him like this, hearing his panting in your ear, his lips on your throat, his chest pressed to yours. But it’s not quite enough. 

“Fuck Lukas, I need more.” He pulls his head from his attack on your throat, looks at you with a grin on his face.

“You need more?” You nod, a little frantically with a small hum. “Look at you, asking for things. Tell me what you want.”

You’re a bit hesitant, cheeks still red from the vulgarity of your situation. Your mouth opens and then closes again, biting your lower lip as you try to find the right words. His hand comes to your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your eye contact with him. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“I just want to feel you- really feel you.” Honestly, you don’t know exactly what you want. You’re so needy, you can feel how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten and just need some kind of satisfaction. “You can fuck me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, not yet. I have plans for that, it’ll be special.” His words are a little shocking, but turn you on even more.

“Please Lukas. I need you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, laced with want. The motion of his hips has stopped and you feel yourself desperately grind yourself against him for some relief. His hands move to your hips to hold you in place, releasing the grip on your chin.

“I’m not taking your virginity in a quickie where I can’t even get you naked. And you need to be able to walk after this.” He moves and pushes your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. “Here you’ll like this.”

 Your panties are soaked. His gaze moves down and he notices, gives a small chuckle, runs a finger up your clothed slit. It makes you shudder and whine deeply in your throat as a response. Hooking a finger around both sides of your panties, he pulls the fabric off with one quick motion, dropping them to the floor when he’s finished. He moves from between your thighs briefly, causing you to instinctively shut your legs. Lukas pulls down his pants then, just enough to expose his cock, hard and leaking already.

He moves back, uses a hand to gently spread your legs as the other grips the base of his cock. He’s so close, his dick hovering just above your cunt. Your eyes go wide with anticipation, a light gasp escapes from your lips. Then, Lukas moves. His hips angle downwards and, using his hand to guide his cock, he gently rubs his length over your slit. The feeling is immediately intense. It’s wet and strong and burning, and when his tip touches your clit you swear your vision goes white. You really can’t help the moan that escapes you, it’s Lukas that caused it. 

“Shhh… I know, I know. But you don’t want someone to hear.” He leans over you, presses a light kiss to your mouth and grabs one of your hands. Moving your hand over your mouth, he helps you press your palm to your lips, muffling the noises coming from your lips. You nod in response, keeping your hand there when he moves his away, gripping back on to your hips to hold you in place. “Don’t want everyone to know how I’m corrupting you.”

Another moan leaves your mouth at that, luckily much quieter due to your palm. Your free hand flys down, grips over his on your hip. He keeps moving, parting your lips and spreading wetness across your pussy, hitting your clit perfectly with each thrust. A curse leaves his throat when your back begins to arch, the white hot feeling in your cunt growing fast. You can almost feel the restraint leaving his body, feel the roll of his hips getting heavier, harsher. A tear rolls down your cheek, your eyes wet with the sheer strength of this new pleasure you’re experiencing. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, so quiet for me.” Lukas’s accent is thicker now, his head tipping back in pleasure as he ruts against you with abandon, chasing his climax. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

That’s all it really takes for you to fall apart, cumming on his cock. Your orgasm hits in a wave, making your thighs shake and eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You’re incredibly glad for the hand on your mouth as it muffles the high moan that leaves your lips. You don’t see him with your eyes shut, but the groans you hear let you know that Lukas is not far behind you. A few mascara stained tears run from your eyes when you open them again, your gaze being met with Lukas’s head tilted toward the ceiling, his mouth open in pleasure. 

His cock moves from your cunt, positioning over your lower stomach. His hand moves, jerking himself roughly as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand moves from your mouth, and you sit up a bit as you reach for him, fingers coming to rest on his hip to keep him close to you. Another low curse falls from his mouth, and with a gravely groan he cums. White ropes shoot across your stomach, resting on your skin warmly. You whimper in sympathy, watching as he twitches and bucks against his hand recklessly. 

Lukas’s chest rises and falls quickly, breath coming fast and deep as his orgasm washes over him. When his eyes reopen, he’s quick to pull you up to meet his mouth with a burning kiss. The kiss isn’t long, but when you pull away he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut and breathing slowly returning to normal. You stay that way for a while, just close and quiet. A few moments pass, and when he moves to stand back up you take the time to dart your hand down and gather up some of the cum on your pelvis, licking it off your finger as you raise it to your mouth.

He quietly laughs, blissed out and smiley. “You love that, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I don’t know- ‘just makes me feel close to you.” He kisses you again, softly this time, almost proud.

“I’m making a monster. First you ask me to fuck you and now you’re swallowing my cum.” He moves to his dresser, retrieving a hand towel as you sit on the bed, careful to not let any of his spend drip onto the sheets. 

“Why didn’t you fuck me?” Your head tilts as you ask. He moves to kneel in front of you, gently wiping the cum from your skin as he answers.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it special for your first time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even let you be my first time, now that you’ve rejected me.” It’s playful and he knows it, grinning up at you as he moves to wipe the wetness from the inside of your thighs.

“It wasn’t a rejection, it was a postponing.” Lukas stands, quickly cleaning off before tucking himself away and turning to look for your panties. “And who else would it be? Are you cheating on me?”

“No, but I can’t cheat on you if weren’t not together.” He pauses at that, head cocking as he makes eye contact with you.

“We aren’t together?”

“You haven’t asked me!”

“I thought it was self-evident. You don’t need to ask if it’s already obvious.” Lukas stoops to grab your panties from the floor, moving to hand them to you. 

You accept the fabric in an outstretched hand, setting it on the bed next to you. “Well, I would like you to ask. Make it official.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, reaches out and grabs your hands to pull you to standing. Lukas holds your hands, smiles and looks into your eyes. “Will you date me?”

You think about teasing him, making him wait, but your excitement gets the best of you and you release your answer quickly. “Yes, I will date you, Lukas Matsson.”

Your kiss is domestic and cheesy, after you separate he pulls you back into his body, rests his chin on your head for a while while he holds you close. You end up leaving your panties with him, they're still too wet to wear comfortably. Lukas helps you fix your makeup and hair, and you check to make sure your lip gloss isn’t all over his mouth (it was). He fastens your shoes back on for you, kneeling in front of you so you don’t have to bend over with your still shaky legs. He holds your hand until you reach outside and you put some space between yourselves as you enter public once more.

Roman is just finishing his call when you get back to the boat, waving at you as he quickly hangs up. You give Lukas a handshake, Rome just shouts his goodbye from a distance, and you quickly speed off again across the lake as soon as you enter the boat. Once again separated, you swear you immediately feel heavier without Lukas’s presence.

Your brother thinks the deal is fucked, he makes that clear when you’re alone again. He half blames you, half blames himself. Either way, he’s scared shitless to tell your dad about Matsson’s merge idea. So it’s a major shock when you arrive in Milan and Logan is receptive to the proposal. He praises Roman openly for once, and even commends you on your role in negotiating the deal.

But good things don’t tend to stay good for long in your family. You know something’s wrong when Logan calls you and Shiv into his office abruptly, right before your meeting with the bankers is supposed to begin. It honestly doesn’t surprise you as much as some would think to learn Roman had been sexting Gerri. You try to defend him against Shiv’s attacks, but it doesn’t do much good, not when the evidence is sitting in front of you. At the very least, you make some kind of progress covering for Gerri, reminding your dad of her loyalty. 

Things are weird and fucked the next day. The night before Comfrey had texted you to let you know that Kendall was in the hospital. She wouldn’t say what happened, just that they were keeping him overnight and he was okay. You texted your siblings but everyone was skirting around the answer with you. They knew you cared about Kendall, maybe too much, and that telling you he had nearly drowned (possibly by his own doing) would set you off like a firework.

You wanted to go visit Kendall the next day, or be there when he arrived at the villa, or just do something to help him out. But he didn’t answer your calls and all the information you were given was extremely vague. You weren’t invited to Caroline’s wedding ceremony, so you planned on staying in bed and Facetiming with Lukas all day, waiting for a response from your brother. Your day starts off that way, sleeping in and chatting with your boyfriend into the late morning, but then Lukas tells you about Gojo’s market cap. You knew he was good, you knew he was doing all he could to get the market in Gojo’s favor, but you never expected it’s worth would surpass Waystar’s.

It’s no surprise that your dad ends up calling you, recruiting you to join him on a trip to Matsson’s. When he tells you he’s considering not inviting Roman, you manage to convince him to bring him too, citing his friendship with Matsson as a cause. So you head to Lake Maggiore, again, and arrive at Lukas Matsson’s villa, again. The excitement you feel when seeing him is shrouded in the anxiety of the sudden meeting. 

You feel like every glance between the two of you is obvious. The way he parts his lips, the way your eyes drift across his frame, it’s all unmistakable of two lovers. 

Lukas leads the three of you to an outdoor area on his grounds and when the conversation starts, his intent is clear. He didn’t tell you he wanted to buy Waystar, well he may have hinted at it, but it still feels like a bit of a betrayal. Like a shock. Even worse of a shock, Logan doesn’t immediately hate it, not in his usual way.

“Yeah. This is not happening.” The rage isn’t there behind Logan’s words. His gaze drifts to Roman, then back to Matsson. Lukas raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, I see that. Understood. But, you want to stick around? See if the old deal still has shape? Side snacks?” Logan smiles, he actually smiles, at Matsson’s offer. “You have that Israeli AI operation I might like. Maybe an asset swap sort of thing?”

“Why not.” The eye contact between Lukas and your dad is never ending. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. “Rome, you should head back. For your mom, and everything.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Roman looks to you, motions with his thumb in the general direction of the dock. “Do you wanna…?”

“I’m not going to the wedding. Not invited.” You offer a small smile, look to Logan for reassurance. 

“We’ll catch up with you later, Romulus.” 

Roman is dejected. An intruder, again. An outsider in the deal he’s worked so hard on, the deal he partially started. “Alright. Hate to miss the big nuptials! So… yeah. I’ll just go do that then…” He’s hesitant to go, pats you on the leg as he leaves, Dad on the shoulder.

They wait to start speaking again until well after he’s left, and when they do it’s straight to business. Your dad wants to sell. Lukas wants to buy. You’re the reluctant bridge between. Things move inside, to a formal dining room, and the real discussion begins. Numbers start to fly, calls get made, lawyers begin flying out. You end up doing more work than you meant to, arguing for both GoJo and Waystar. Trying desperately to keep all the men in your life happy. At the same time, you’re conflicted. You know your siblings will hate this deal, you know how badly they want to inherit the company, how hard they’ve worked for one of them to eventually be CEO.

But the thing is, you don’t hate the deal. You were never going to lead Waystar, never going to be more than the founder’s child. You’re the youngest Roy sibling, a woman, and from a different marriage than the others. There was no chance of you ever being number one, and you knew that from the day you were born. So why not sell the company? You don’t want to dedicate your entire life to this soul crushing work. At the same time, you care so much for your family, more than you do for yourself. This would wreck your siblings, they wanted Waystar more than they wanted life itself. Even if being family owned fucks you, it means the world to them.

 When you finally leave Lukas’s, it’s well past the wedding ceremony, and it’s clear Dad doesn’t intend on joining the afterparty. The operation moves to Logan’s villa. The cavalry marches in, dressed in designer suits and holding briefcases stuffed with Macbooks. There’s dozens of people you’ve never even met swarming around a huge table. It doesn’t even feel real, like you’re watching a dream, or a nightmare, play out in front of you. You retire to your dads private office, curl up on a leather upholstered couch and just think. You know you should tell your siblings. Siobhan and Roman have been blowing up your phone for hours, you haven’t had the heart to answer. Your dad would kill you if you reached out. Ostracize you like Roman, or disown you like Kendall. Your brain feels like a whirlpool, your thoughts flying around enough to give you a headache. You turn to the only person you can think of.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“...”

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s voice is genuinely worried, silence isn’t normal in the conversations between you two. You hear a rustling on the other line like he’s stood up.

“I don’t really know. I wish you were here.” 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I feel like a traitor.”

“Why?”

“My siblings… you know they will hate this deal.” You stress the word hate, voice a little bit breathless with anxiety. 

“I do.” His voice is quiet, almost whispering as he speaks to you.

“They would rather die than sell Waystar. But I-” You sigh, swallow thickly. “I almost agree with Dad. I think this is a good move for us. Not just because I’m fucking the guy who’s buying the company.”

“Well then, why do you agree?”

“If we don’t sell, we’re gonna get swallowed whole. All we have is the content, not the platform to back it up, not new technology to keep us relevant.”

“That’s all true.” Lukas’s voice gets a little louder, his sentences trailing off a bit as he prompts you to keep talking.

“But even if we had that, even if we were doing better, we were more stable…”

“You still would want to sell?” He already knows what’s on your mind. Of course he does.

“I think so… I mean, I will never be CEO. Not if we’re family owned, not if we’re owned by GoJo, never. And I don’t want to spend my life in this company, especially if I’m not running it.” Your head tips back against the wall you’re leaning on. You’re hiding away in a bathroom, your voice echoing a bit as it bounces off the marble walls. “This work… it fucking destroys people.” 

“It sounds like you already know what you think.”

“But Shiv and Roman and Kendall… They want the company so badly. They’ve been prepped to run it since they were kids. Even if they kill each other for CEO, at least one of them would get what they wanted.” You’re louder now, voice still stressed but frustration peaking through.

“You need to stop wasting your life making other people happy. You would do anything for your family, and they wouldn’t do shit for you.” Lukas’s tone isn’t angry or yelling, it’s stating a fact.

“That’s not true-”

“Is it? I see you go above and beyond for them every single day, and they never spare you a second glance.” Lukas’s voice is almost pleading when he speaks next. “Think about yourself, for once. Please.” 

“Thank you.” Your eyes are brimmed with tears, your fingers coming up to brush them away quickly. “I will.”

There’s a small pause before he talks again. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you about buying Waystar?” You laugh, breathlessly, at the simpleness of his question after all you’ve just talked about.

“No, I’m not mad. I was shocked…but I think it’s worn off. You’re just doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I think you’re really smart actually. If I was in your position I’d do the same thing.” You move from your stance against the wall to look in the mirror, checking to fix any smudged mascara.

“That’s what I thought. I asked myself what you would do.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not. I did think about how it would affect you though.”

“Thank you for that.” It’s half sarcastic, but you know he really does care for you. 

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you later today.”

“Okay. Come visit soon.” Lukas ends like he always does, asking for your presence. 

“I’ll try.”

It takes you a minute to compose yourself. Fix your hair, wipe off some of your fucked up concealer, blow your nose. You exit the bathroom, walk down the hall and down some stairs, finally arriving in front of the massive wooden doors leading to your dad’s office. Your brain is finally quieter now, thoughts forming clearer and headache fading quickly. You slip a small smile to the bodyguard, Colin, who opens the door for you to enter. 

Your three siblings are there, backs facing the door as they stare down Logan, who’s just moved to press a button on the phone resting against his desk. Their heads snap to you. The door shuts behind you. Siobhan opens her mouth, but you speak before she does.

“What’s going on? When did you get here?”

“What’s going on? You know what’s going on, Dad is selling and fucking our entire lives up.” Shiv faces you, her eyes are daggers and her body is a rocket about to explode. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“No, he’s not fucking your lives up. It’s not the end of the world, Shiv.” You approach them, eyes wide and pleading. 

“So you do know. You knew he was selling the company and you didn’t think ‘Hmm maybe I should tell my siblings this, you know, since they’ve spent their entire lives thinking they were going to run Waystar!’” Roman throws his hands up, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are watering.

“Do you think it would’ve made a difference?” Your voice drops, both in tone and volume. “Do you really think I have any sort of control? Any say in what happens?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Kendall won’t make eye contact with you. Logan is watching you intently before gazing at his other children’s faces.

“I have never, and will never, be number one. I will never have control over the company, I will never even have control over one branch of the company. I will never be CEO, I won’t even make it to CFO, because I will always be lower than you. And I will always be there for you to yell at and use and manipulate. You already fucking do!” You’re more angry than sad now, maybe it’s misdirected, but you’re too wound up to care. “For once in my life, I’m thinking about myself. And I will not let this shit, this work, destroy me like it has destroyed you.”

A few tears spill from your eyes, you don’t bother to wipe them up, just continue your eye contact with your siblings. You’re right and everyone knows it, from Gerri and Karl sitting on the couch to Logan in front of you. Shiv can’t hold your gaze anymore, she drops her eyes to the ground. Roman turns to your Dad, his eyes are wide and desperate.

“Please?” His voice is meek, barely a whisper.

“‘Please?’ You bust in here with guns, but now that you find they’ve turned to fucking sausages, you want to say ‘please?’” Logan moves from where he was half-sitting on the arm of a couch to stand in front of your siblings. “You should have trusted me.”

“Dad, why?” 

“Oh you need me to tell you why? Like your sister didn’t already? But your too fucking ashamed to admit she’s right.” He begins walking to the door, past your siblings, pausing at you to put a hand on your shoulder. “Because it works. I fucking win. Now go on, go on, fuck off you nosey fucking pedestrians.” 

The doors open, Logan is immediately tasked with papers to sign and business to attend to. Roman moves to Jerri, asks her something you don’t quite hear from the blood rushing in your ears, before moving back to the crowd of your siblings. Roman crumples to the floor, Kendall with his hands on his shoulders, Shiv next to them. You turn to see Tom entering, him offering you a weak smile as he passes.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Kendall.” Your voice is monotone. Ken looks up at you, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Tom starts speaking to Shiv, but you don’t hear what he says, already turning to walk out the doors, to head back to your hotel suite, to head away from your family. 

You stay on the phone with Lukas the rest of that night. You can’t sleep but you don’t want to be awake. He eases the pain. He says he’s proud of you. He cares more than anyone you’ve known. 

When you finally fall asleep in the early morning hours, you dream of space. You’re a cosmonaut, dancing on Saturn’s rings, playing baseball with meteors. The darkness is liminal, and pure, and calm. And the constellations are breathing around you, lighting your lawless orbit. You break the trail of a comet, its fire dotting the sky like a stitch on black cloth. Venus is a stray dog, following you wherever you lead it, spinning for attention and praise. Stars flicker like faces, you can’t recognize who they are anymore.

 When you touch the Earth, everything sings.

© secondhand-snow 2024

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Pairing(s): Billy Butcher x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Billy Butcher x Reader x Logan Howlett, slight!Billy Butcher x Becca Butcher

Warnings: this dynamic has just been on my mind, i have lsfav to finish but damn do i keep getting inspiration for billy butcher and logan<3, cheating, previous relationships mentioned, lets say this takes place in the beginning of the boys season 2?, brief deadpool cameo, jealousy, situationship, friends with benefits, crossover, the boys x marvel, soldier girl!au tidbit, yes i named it after a mean girls musical song

His grip tightens on the nape of your neck, Butcher takes another inhale and grimaces to himself.

He pulls away from you. Those dark eyes that usually shine with affection toward you were void of any life, a black chasm drilling into you. Hurt knits his brows together and set his lips into a deep grimace.

You knew his fingers were tightening as his hand shook but you couldn't feel the pressure.

"Who is he?"

Fuck

Why of all days did he decide to pay you attention? Lately he'd been in such a piss mood because Logan (aka your fuckbuddy) had been evading him for a while now. Also annoying how another supe known as Deadpool was helping Logan escape every time Butcher came relatively close.

You'd come up with excuses as to why you couldn't help out in capturing him.

Unconciously you sniff at your hair and internally curse Logan for constantly smothering his face in your hair. His signature scent of whiskey, cedar and dare you say even a hint of cigar smoke.

With a simple shrug, you dislodge his hand from your throat and take a step back in observation of his rigid frame. You think of all the times you 'd been jealous of Becca. You knew it was petty of you. She was his wife after all. It didn't matter that you'd known him the longest or that he'd quite possibly been the love of your life when you were in our early twenties.

"We never discussed being exclusive, Butcher." you quietly remind him. Butcher didn't like that reply, his feelings evident in the snarl that curls his upper lip. He couldn't get mad at you. You were right.

Haughtily he stomps around you, heading for the door.

You sigh after he loudly slams the door. Hughie pokes his head out from an adjoining room. "That didn't sound good. . ."

Refusing to give into Butcher's tantrum, you fold your arms in front of your chest. "Just let him blow off steam. Either way. . . It's not like I'm his partner or anything. We fuck on occasion. That's it."

"Not to mention your previous relationship with him?" Hughie brings up. "He might still have genuine feelings for you. Maybe for him, its not just fucking. You know Butcher. He's too proud for his own good so of course he's not going to mention it if you don't-"

"Jesus Christ Hughie, be someone else's goddamn therapist!" Snapping you immediately regret it when Hughie's mouth presses into a thin line. "I'm sorry, Hughie. . ."

Talking about your feelings wasn't normal for you either. Soldier Boy thought emotions were for pussies. Even if he'd had a soft spot for his daughter, it made him uncomfortable whenever you talked about your feelings. He wasn't equipped to deal with that.

"No, it's my bad. I should stay out of it."

You run a hand through your hair. "Fuck, Hughie. . .I really didn't want to think that this would hurt him. Or maybe I did. . . Shit, did I just ruin everything?"

Logan wasn't someone permanent, both of you knew that. Trouble followed both you and Logan. Intersecting your lives would conclude with utter chaos. You really liked him though. Damn you say you were fond of Logan and his reserved nature. You'd come to appreciate waking up to his face that still possessed a hint of a scowl in his brows. Weary lines etched into his features were engrained in your memory.

Hughie gives a pause before inquiring "Is it someone we know? If it is, we should give them a heads up."

A shake of your head, you plop down on a chair that is barely held together by duct tape. Your stuck in your thoughts of Logan. His long sideburns that you liked to play with when you lay in his arms. You'd even got to know Wade and had taken to calling Logan 'Peanut' too. He'd definitely become more than a simple booty call. Logan slowly entwined his life with your's.

"No. Butcher will never find out who he is. I'm certain of it. But to be on the safe side. . . I'll have to call it quits for now. I just- He's so focused on finding where Becca is that I didn't think it would bother him if I was with someone else."

There's another chair across from you that Hughie takes up. "He loves you a lot. He's never stopped. He told me that even when he was married to Becca, he loved you. Its hard when you love two people at once. You don't intend for it to happen, but circumstances will it into existence."

Internally you chuckle. Hughie really should have concerned therapy as a profession or some sort of degree in psychology. Yet you suppose he was in the same situation as both you and Butcher. He was falling in love with Annie/Starlight but would always love Robin.

Reaching for your phone, you're already pulling up your texts with Logan (you had him saved as '🥜').

[bobawitch]

Romcom Cuddles M.S

a/n: this has so many spoilers for the movie 27 dresses so please watch the movie before/while reading this </3

summary: its the same as the movie night fic for chris but with matt as was requested by @noirpxrker

cw: fluff and MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 27 DRESSES

w/c: 1200

“What did you say this was called again?” Matt spoke as the scene of a pink and white wedding began to play on the computer screen sitting in front of the two of you. You and your boyfriend had been planning a movie night since the tour had begun and you knew exactly what you wanted to watch. Matt had suggested a scary movie or a thriller, something halloweeny and although you loved how enthusiastic Matt was about the spooky season, you knew you wanted to watch a rom com. So you took about 3 hours to convince Matt to trust you on your movie choice. You were both finally back in LA and at the triplets apartment where you and Matt could finally enjoy your movie night. “It’s called 27 Dresses Matt, it’s a cute little romance movie.” Matt sighed, scrolling through his phone as you watched the main character explain her love for weddings and seeing them come together. It was always a touching story to you, the doomed bridesmaid finally finding love for herself. “Booo I don’t think dresses says October movie date.” You rolled your eyes and flicked Matt’s arm. “You already agreed to it. Just watch the girly movie because you love me so much.” Matt rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing an adoring kiss to your cheek. You smiled in a giddy glee before settling onto his chest. 

For a while Matt stayed quiet, watching the witty chaotic banter from the movie. You already knew the entire movie by heart, each witty little line, the big proclamation of love by the end of the movie, all the fun in betweens, the twists and turns, the fighting, all of it. Matt sat up suddenly as the girl began to undress in the back of a taxi. “Woah woah woah what kind of movie is this??” You brought your head up to look at your boyfriend. You quickly rolled your eyes and motioned back to the movie. There was 0 nudity and 0 sexual things happening on the screen, causing Matt to slowly calm down. “Ok ok, ignore my former question. But why is she changing into a bunch of dresses right now?” You shake your head. “It’s her job, she’s in different weddings. Now shhhhh please.” Matt sighed and kissed the top of your head. “Ok baby I’m sorry.” A few more minutes goes on and soon the sister comes into Jane’s life again. As soon as Matt sees the sister making her moves he pauses the movie. He turns to you with his mouth totally agape. “Is her sister going to marry the guy she loves!?” As you watch your boyfriend fall into total shock at the audacity within a movie he previously found very girly, you bursted into loud laughter. You slowly nodded before patting the portion of bed next to you. “It’ll be ok Matt, just watch the movie…” Matt begrudgingly laid back down, hugging you tightly as you grabbed some of the popcorn you prepared beforehand. The movie continued on, the plot slowly moving through each section. Then the bombshell dropped, sister marrying Jane’s boss who she just so happens to be in love with. Matt nearly threw the computer but you managed to calm him down to keep watching the movie. 

It stayed fairly quiet, at least mostly quiet. Matt managed to throw in some aggressive and irritated blips about how rude and selfish the sister was, how Chris and Nick would never ever pull anything like what the sister did. You tried to quiet him quickly so that he didn’t miss anything else in the movie such as the plot twist that wasn’t really a twist at all. Matt, thankfully, quieted his anger at the fictional characters when he saw the main character kiss the second guy. Y’know that romance trope where the girl meets her exact opposite except he’s actually just like her but he has to get through his own stuff, yeah that’s this movie’s trope as well. You hugged Matt’s arm tighter as the plot thickened, the first climax of the film finally coming. Matt shook his head and sighed, leaning to pause the movie. “Baby this movie is doing something to me. It’s too up and down, I need to know it’s gonna be ok.” You knew that your boyfriend was teasing you but there was a hint of genuine frustration at the movie. That he was genuinely annoyed at how the girl was going to get through everything and somehow find a happy ending. Because that’s the trick with rom coms, there’s always a happy ending. You sat up to meet your boyfriend, a smile printed against your lips. You gently cupped his cheek and pulled him into a kiss. “I wouldn’t show you a movie that you wouldn’t like Matt, just let the movie finish.” Matt pouted before pulling you closer and snuggling into the bed once more. He finally unpaused the movie and silence fell upon the room. 

Throughout the movie there were a few more exclamations from Matt, the most notable one being after the main character, Jane, exposed her sister for lying. Matt had to pause the movie so he could jump off the bed and do a small victory dance around the room. At the end of the dance he turned to you and pointed at you, “We should show this movie to Nick and Chris. I think Nick would like it, Chris might as well but I’m less sure.” He shrugged before you gave him a stern look. Earning an apology from the boy before he hopped back into bed to finish the movie. Finally getting past the most shocking ups and downs of the movie, Matt calmed and just watched the movie. There were a few moments where you managed to get some funny photos of him. He ended up being more invested in the movie than you were, which you found hilarious.

As the movie began to close up, tying each lose end up you found Matt was silent, like too silent. You turned to the boy and noticed he was so focused on the movie that he’d moved away from cuddling you to sit hunched over the computer. You laughed to yourself before scooting up to him and leaning your head against his shoulder. Upon you doing that he jolted, the two main characters confessing their love for eachother as he looked at you. You stared into his blue eyes and he smiled, grabbing your hands and pulling you off the bed. Music played as the movie came to a close with a beautiful wedding and 27 dresses. Matt let the credit music play as he pulled you close to him, swaying you around the room. After a few minutes of the two of you gently swaying together to random music you pulled away, looking up at Matt. “What was that for?” Matt smiled, “I just wanted to twirl you around and make you feel beautiful.” With that he leaned down and kissed you, a soft mumble of words escaping against your lips. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒾 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 ౨ৎ

sero hanta x reader. 7.8k wc. ﾉ sfw ( w/ some suggestive bits ) ﾉ fluff accompanied by a teensy bit of angst ﾉ summer romance ﾉ college au ﾉ swearing ﾉ mentions of alcohol & food ﾉ denki appearance ﾉ multiple tenses used ﾉ repost!

a/n: i recommend listening to never not by lauv before or after reading :3 ++ i edited this and read it through once so i apologize for any mistakes u may find!

this party fucking sucks.

you can’t put your finger on why it’s such a drag—maybe you’d grown out of your partying phase, gotten enough of it the past two years of university. had the scene at the  kappa xi sigma house become bland? or maybe it has to do with the fact that the beer pong and blaring music that was meant to serve as a distraction is proving to be more annoying than a useful diversion. 

the answer that is staring you in the face, the one you know is the most obvious, is the last one you want to consider.

the excitement of returning to campus with your friends feels dull this year. the transition from summer break to the fall semester has left a foreign void in your life. the annual welcome party hosted by greek life seemed like the perfect way to fill that void—they’d been fun in the past, anyway. but now that you’re here, sitting on the fourth step of the staircase with a concoction of who knows what in your red solo cup, it’s obvious that your intentions are backfiring. because instead of providing you any consolation, the party is only reminding you of what you were trying to force yourself to forget—your time with him.

you met him in the summer at a party similar to the one you’re currently miserable at, but the frat house was traded in for a sandy beach and cozy bonfire. instead of staying in your big city apartment for the seasonal break, you decided to take a trip to the town you’d been born in. it had been far too long since you’d visited your hometown and of course, your aunt was more than happy to have you for a few months. your cousin, too—you’d barely finished unpacking in the guest room when she barged in, insisting that you accompany her to a gathering.

MAY

“people come here all the time but it’ll be especially packed tonight since everyone is done with their classes. and you’ll get to meet a bunch of my friends!” your arms are linked and she tugs you in closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

“sounds like fun.” you smile and squeeze her arm. you missed that while you were away—the transparency people offered here. it’s not like that back home. the same people who will smile and wave at you would wait until you were out of earshot before finding some reason to talk shit about you. it’s exhausting, not knowing what people truly think. but it’s different here. no one ever feels the need to hide behind a mask. even if someone hates your guts, at least you’ll be sure of it. and as odd as it might sound, it’s comforting in its own strange way.

“we’re here!”

you’d visited this beach more times than you could count in your childhood but the sight before you is one you’ve never witnessed before. as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the blue of the sky melts away into shades of pink and purple—both signs that the day is nearing its end—the beach comes to life. you’ve never seen the area after sunset, maybe because you hadn’t reached the double digits in age before you left, but after sundown, the atmosphere completely shifts. family fun during the day quickly turned to the escapades of students after dark. the set-up isn’t too formal—fairy lights are wrapped around any posts in the sand and bamboo torches fill the gaps that may have ended up too dark without them. there’s no stand for a bar—any drinks are kept cold in the coolers filled with ice. and to top it all off, a large fire sits in a dug-out hole of sand, the flames following the course of the soft breeze.

“wow,” you draw out the vowel, “you guys know how to throw a party.”

the town is small and the biggest school it harbors is a community college but you would be willing to bet money that most of the students who attend it are here tonight. even though summer still hasn’t technically started, there are plenty of people dressed in swimsuits and other summer apparel. you almost feel undressed in your tank top and shorts.

“be impressed later, we have rounds to make.” before you can gawk any longer, your cousin grabs your hand and leads you away. the two of you go from group to group so that you can introduce yourself to everyone. the task takes longer than you expect. it feels like the girl knows every face on the beach. you aren’t complaining though—her connections are sure to land you a few friends of your own. you aren’t sure how long it’s been since you started, but you’re relieved when, instead of hopping from one crowd to the next, you come to a standstill. you don’t think you can remember any more names even if you tried. though, your relief is short-lived.

“there’s one more person i want you to meet.” the girl’s eyes scan the beach in search of a particular someone as you sigh at the thought of having to give the same short “about me” spiel once more. “oh, there he is!”

just like she had all night, your cousin takes your hand and hers and guides you, seemingly to the figure sitting on the ground with their knees pulled up, one hand resting behind them in the sand, the other holding a brown bottle.

“sero! this is my cousin.” she gives him your name.

the man—sero—is quite a sight. a metal bar with a ball on each end sits on the arch of his right eyebrow, a small ring hugging his lip on the opposite side. the top half of his hair is pulled back into a loose bun that is having trouble keeping all the dark strands contained—a few pieces have escaped to frame his face. all three buttons on the chest of his white, long-sleeved shirt are undone, revealing a fair amount of tanned skin and just a sliver of something else. you can’t see exactly where it leads, but the ink on display due to his rolled up sleeves gives you an idea of what it is—a tattoo that stretches from his pec nearly down to his wrist. the dark lines warp and wind around his arm to paint a precise and beautiful image. vibrant pops of red on the petals of lotus flowers and scales of koi fish catch your eye as you inspect it. you will yourself to look away and back up to his face. if there wasn’t such a friendly smile gracing his lips, you would have found him intimidating.

“it’s nice to meet you.” you clear your throat and smile, sending him a polite wave.

“the pleasure is mine. wanna sit?” he holds your eye, jerking his head to the empty spot in the sand beside him.

“oh i should probably...” you were going to say stick with your cousin but when you turn your head to where she was standing, the girl was nowhere to be found. it doesn’t take long to find her, though, a familiar obnoxious laugh drifting through the air, the source of it several feet away. she’s a ways away now, but not so far that you can’t see her. you don’t see the harm in spending time with sero if she has found company elsewhere. “i guess i’ll take you up on that offer.”

crossing your ankles, you lower yourself into a sitting position beside sero, being sure to leave a reasonable space between you. you hug your knees to your chest. your head turns to face him, lips turning up into a slightly awkward smile. he was the first of many who didn’t follow up and ask the basic questions; what school you go to, where you’re visiting from, and whatnot. you have to admit, without the casual conversation starter, you’re at a loss for words.

“want something from the cooler?” maybe the silence was becoming too awkward for him and he decided to put you out of your misery, but you’re thankful for his words—even knowing you’ll have to find a new topic in a couple of seconds.

“if you have water, that’d be great.” sero seems nice enough but you don’t trust yourself to drink anything alcoholic in the presence of a stranger.

he nods, reaching over to open the cooler. he digs through the ice for a bit before pulling out a bottle of water. he holds the beverage out to you, fat drops of the melted ice dripping down onto the sand below. you stick your hand out to accept it.

“nice tattoo,” he comments upon seeing the mid-size piece on your extended forearm.

“oh this?” you turn your arm up so the ink on your skin is completely visible. the butterfly on your forearm was an impulsive decision that you made at the ripe age of eighteen. just looking at it brings back memories of the day you and your friends excitedly entered the tattoo shop. all of you had gotten some sort of symbol or pattern marked on you. they were something of a rite of passage into adulthood, or at least that’s what you told yourselves. you don’t hate it, but you don’t think much of it nowadays. “it’s nothing compared to yours.”

“it’s a little flashy, huh?” he chuckles as he twists his arm from side to side, examining the extravagant piece.

“no. well, maybe, but i like it.” your gaze finds its way back to his tattoo. it’s so much different than your own and you wonder what compelled him to get it. it must have been painful considering it takes up so much space, but even if his pain tolerance is high, you imagine the piece required multiple sessions in the chair. the dedication must mean the tattoo holds some sort of significance to him. “is there a story behind it?”

“nothing deep; i wanted it, so i got it.” the bottle in his hand meets his lips and he takes a swig of the beer.

“really?” his answer surprises you. while you can understand it—his reasoning is practically identical to yours—you weren’t expecting it. something made you think there would be a more grand explanation. “that’s all?”

he nods. “that’s all.”

sero is strange. not in a way that makes you uncomfortable or wary of him, but he’s certainly different. sure, you’ve only spent less than half an hour with him but from what you’ve gathered in that time, your conclusion is that he’s best compared to a puzzle. from his appearance to the way he speaks to the mysterious air that floats around him—you’re intrigued. you want to put the pieces together.

“my legs are getting cramped.” he stretches the limbs out with a dramatic groan before boosting himself up off the ground. his fingers brush the sand off from his khaki-colored palazzo pants. now that he’s standing at his full height, you can see how truly tall he is—over six feet for sure. despite his loose-fitting clothes, you can tell he is on the thinner side; his muscles more lean than bulky. he looks down at your sitting figure, holding a hand out, presumably for you to take it. “care to join me for a walk, butterfly?”

“butterfly?” you question with raised brows. there’s a glint of playfulness in his obsidian eyes.

he shrugs, a smile finding its way to his lips. “i thought it was fitting. so, are you going to leave me by my lonesome or hang out a little longer?”

you look at his outstretched hand. “well, can’t have you feeling lonely, now can we?”

you take his hand in yours and sero pulls you up to your feet. you struggle to find your footing in the sand, but sero doesn’t let go until you regain your balance. before the two of you set off, your companion helps you find your cousin so that you can inform her of where you are heading. the voices and music of the party become hushed the further you both makes your way down the shore.

the rush of waves laps at the sand of the beach as you walk beside them. the sound was soothing, a far cry from the atmosphere you’d just left behind. another wave rushes toward you and sero. you’re nervous that it will reach his sandal-clad feet but it stops just short of them. even if the water had hit him, you don’t think he would mind.

“so...” he breaks the comfortable silence, sticking his hands away in his pockets. you turn to face him upon hearing his voice, but he’s looking up to the sky. the sun was setting when you had arrived but it’s long gone now, the night sky illuminated by sparkling stars. “you’re only here until you go back to school?”

you nod even though he isn’t looking at you. “i wanted a change of scenery and my family used to live here, so this was the first place i thought of.”

he hums in understanding.

“how about you?” your mission of putting the puzzle that is sero together will remain unaccomplished if you don’t make an effort at getting to know him. “you probably go to UA if my cousin knows you from school.”

“yeah, i do. well, i guess i did. i’m transferring so this’ll be my last summer in town.” 

“i guess we’ll both be gone in a few months then.” you point out.

“all the more reason to make those months unforgettably exciting, right?”

he has a point; without assignments or essays or presentations to worry about, you’re free to have as much fun as you’d like. living carelessly and creating memories before going your separate ways is a lot like the coming-of-age movies you watched in high school. what sero is proposing sounds similar, but instead of making those memories with people you’d known your entire life, you’d be doing it with some guy you had just met. and, honestly, the thought is exhilarating. maybe the change of scenery you sought would come in the form of a person, not a place.

“what do you say?” he gently nudges your shoulder, looking down at you with eyes full of promise. “want to be my partner in crime for the summer?”

JUNE

it’s been a month since that night. of those thirty days, nearly all of them were spent with sero. you were able to get his phone number before you went home with your cousin and were pleasantly surprised to wake up to a text from him asking to hang out. that’s how it usually went—he either messaged you in the early hours of the morning or super late at night to take you to his favorite spots in town. you could recall a few of them from childhood but others were entirely new to you. one thing remained the same across all the places you visited together, that being with each stop you made, you grew closer and closer to sero.

today is no different—well, just a little. sero’s texts are usually accompanied by a location where you’d meet him. this time around, he asks for your address so that he can pick you up. you gave it to him without a second thought. when you get the text that he’s on his way, you grab your phone and keys and sit outside on one of the steps of the front porch to wait for him. despite expecting him, you’re caught off guard when he pulls into your aunt’s driveway.

“hey, butterfly.” he rarely ever calls you by your name, opting to use the nickname he had coined instead. you don’t mind it. “what’s with the face?”

“nothing, nothing. it’s just, when you said you were picking me up, i thought it would be in a car.” or a truck. maybe even a van. something with four doors; hell, even something with two doors would be on par with your expectations. the two-wheeled, one-seat scooter before you doesn’t even have doors. you aren’t even sure if you’ll be able to sit behind him on the cushioned leather.

“are you telling me you don’t like my vespa? you wound me.” sero dramatically holds a hand to his heart. you shake your head, your feet taking you to stand beside his unconventional mode of transport. upon further surveillance, the white scooter looks cute, charming. it even has a ledge where you could set a bag or basket in the back. still, in the month you’ve spent getting to know him, you never imagined that sero would own a ride that so drastically juxtaposed his image.

“no, no. it’s cool but... i guess i figured if you were driving something with two wheels, it’d be a motorcycle. or, you know, something edgier than a scooter.”

“it’s a vespa.” he corrects you, shoving his spare helmet in your direction. you snort as you take it, placing it on your head and clipping the strap under your chin. “and it’s plenty edgy.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night. so, where do i go on this situation?” you gesture. now that you’re closer, it looks even less likely that there’s enough space left on the seat for you to squeeze on.

“hop on the back.” sero reaches behind him to pat the brown leather.

you give him a doubtful look and he returns it with one of challenging amusement. you can tell when you were beat. with a sigh, you toss one leg over and shimmy forward until your chest is pressed firmly against sero’s back. if you lean back the slightest bit, you’re sure you’ll hit the ground. “i’m not going to fall off, am i?”

you can feel the laughter ripple through sero’s body as the vespa roars to life. he nudges the kickstand back, balancing the both of you on the scooter effortlessly. his head turns to look over his shoulder. the playfully mischievous look that seems to linger in his dark eyes is present—tenfold. “not if you hold on.”

your arms tightly wrap around his midsection as he reverses out of your driveway and speeds down the street. most of your hair is tucked away in the helmet settled on your head, but any of the strands that happened to escape are blown in the direction of the wind. the warm breeze tickles your face. each time sero curves into a turn, your heart feels as though it is floating up toward your throat. it’s nerve-wracking at first, but as you grow more confident that sero isn’t going to skid off the road, fear is traded in for enthusiasm whenever you see his lithe fingers reach for the turn signal. the ride ends up being much more pleasant than you imagined. so much so that you’re slightly disappointed when sero pulls into a parking lot and situates the vespa in an empty spot.

you follow his lead and remove your helmet, taking his hand when he offers it to help you off the scooter. you take the time sero spends making sure the vehicle won’t fall over to survey where he had taken you. he claimed that he was treating you to lunch and the sign spelling out “hamburgers” in bold letters cements his word.

the building is only large enough to house a kitchen—there’s no indoor seating, but a few picnic tables take up space on either side of the establishment. the lack of an indoor dining room doesn’t deter the townspeople from enjoying the food, though. a number of families and groups of friends lounge outside, conversing and laughing over their meals. the environment is friendly.

“mind if i order for us both?” sero bumps his shoulder against yours.

from the start, sero told you he’d never lead you astray. he made a habit of rubbing it in your face and saying “i told you so” during the times when your skepticism at his suggestions turned into you begrudgingly admitting defeat. as a result, you quickly learned to trust his judgement. you shake your head in response to his question, “go for it.”

“i’ll be back.”

you watch as sero makes his way toward the stand to place the order. he greets the employee with a smile and they return it. you’re too far away to hear their exchange but something tells you that it had shifted from food to something else, if the fact that sero was shoving his wallet back into his pocket is any evidence. his comfortability makes you wonder if he is familiar with the worker. if that’s the case, sero has ties with almost everyone in town. it’s possible that he is just charismatic enough to make it seem as though he knows everyone he chats with, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did. it made you think about how difficult it would be for him to move away.

“i’m back and bearing food.” sero approaches with a bright red tray carrying all the menu items he had ordered. “let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

you nod and fall into step beside him, walking past parked cars to find the seating area. he jerks his head toward an empty table, silently asking whether or not that one was okay. it is clean and unoccupied which checks the two boxes on the short list of what you consider a suitable table. you sit down on the bench and sero takes a seat beside you, setting the tray down on the table. you finally get a good look at its contents. two burgers, a large serving of french fries, and a paper cup filled to the brim with a strawberry milkshake, two red straws sticking out of the frozen beverage.

“a milkshake with two straws? and you continue to deny that you’re a romantic.” you waste no time popping a fry into your mouth. the whole “sero the romantic” thing started as a joke. he was gentlemanly whenever the two of you hung out, always offering to pay, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back, and never failing to open a door for you. you took every opportunity to point out his kind gestures, even going as far as calling him boyfriend material. he’d always laugh and brush it off, but his behavior never changed.

“because i’m not. this,” he gestures to the paper cup, “was a frugal choice.” 

you smile at his excuse.

“stop looking at me like that and taste your food.”

you laugh and raise your hands in mock surrender before unwrapping the burger from its parchment paper. sero had been raving about this restaurant that supposedly had the best burger in town. the one in your hold looks plainly average but you figure that this must be the place he was talking about—you can feel his stare burning into the side of your face, waiting for your reaction. you would’ve messed with him for a little longer if you weren’t so hungry. so, you turn to face him and take a bite. 

he raises his eyebrows in curiosity as you chew. you nod your head and give him a thumbs up so you wouldn’t speak with your mouth full.

“mm, i think it’s more than a head nod and thumbs up if it’s all over your face,” sero comments. while you’re sure that he was exaggerating, you can admit that the first bite usually is messy. your eyes scan the table for a napkin so that you can wipe off whatever is staining your face. luckily, a small pile of white rectangles sit on the tray. before you can grab one, sero softly presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, his tongue poking out to clean off the lingering sauce. your frown brings a smirk to his lips as he pulls away.

you can’t say exactly when that started—the kissing, not licking. maybe a couple weeks into the summer? it was nighttime, you remembered that much, and it was spontaneous. neither of you initiated the kiss, it just happened, almost as though there was a magnet between the both of you drawing you together. and it felt good. too good. sero knew as much, which was why the first words out of his mouth were ones explaining that it would be easier if the two of you didn’t label your relationship. it was strange to you—the concept of being intimate with someone and not calling them your partner, but you understood that it was better this way. you’d have to say goodbye eventually and dissolving ties would come as a less painful task if you didn’t think of sero as your boyfriend.

“i could have done that myself, you know.” you hold up your free hand to flick his forehead but he catches it before you are able. instead, he kisses the pulse located at your wrist, smiling against your skin.

“where’s the fun in that?” he asks through a laugh after you swatted him away.

“ugh,” you groan theatrically, “just eat.”

even though you’re here at sero’s suggestion, he has a more enjoyable time playing around than eating. he spends practically the rest of the outing trying to see if he can land small, torn up pieces of the food in your open mouth and dipping french fries into the strawberry-flavored shake despite you fighting him on it, claiming that the saltiness would throw off the taste. before the two of you clean up to leave, sero pulls out his phone to document the moment. it had become a sort of tradition—taking a photo every time you hung out. he said that this way, the both of you could look at the image and relive the day.

the picture taken to highlight the day is one of you and sero happily drinking your shared milkshake.

JULY

“why couldn’t we ride your stupid vespa here?”

ever since sero introduced you to his vespa last month, he started taking you everywhere on the moped you insulted as if to spite you. so when he came to pick you up tonight, you were surprised to see him on foot. you don’t mind it much, but it’s a little odd strolling down the sidewalk—arm in arm with sero—in your swimsuit after dark.

“first of all, fuck you—it’s not stupid.” he tries to shake you off of him but you only hold on tighter, grinning at his reaction. he never lets any of your sly comments about his vespa go unnoticed. god, he loves that dumb little scooter. “second of all, it might have drawn some unwanted attention.”

“now what is that supposed to mean? you’re not going to get me arrested, are you?” of course you don’t really think sero would take you to do anything illegal, but his wording warrants cause for concern.

he tries once more to escape your grasp, but this time around, you let him go. his now free arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. you stumble at the unexpected motion, but he makes sure to keep you on your feet. a pair of soft lips meet your forehead in an obnoxiously messy kiss. “have some faith in me, butterfly. i promise we won’t have any run-ins with the law.” 

“so you’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask.

“nope,” he pops the p, “wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

sero promised you a summer full of excitement and he has yet to disappoint. no matter how vague he is in regard to what adventure you’re taking next, you trust him.

so when he asks you to close your eyes, you do so without hesitation.

one of his hands covers the upper half of your face to ensure you won’t peek while the other guides you. his touch grounds you but your fingers restlessly tap at your thighs in anticipation. maybe it’s because you gave up one of your senses, but it feels like you’ve been walking blindly forever.

“i feel like people usually do the whole ‘close your eyes’ thing when they’re closer to their destination.”

“so impatient.” his hand moves from your back to tickle your side in a weak gesture of scolding you. you giggle and flinch, but there isn’t much you can do to get him to stop without your eyesight. his fingers don’t continue for long, though, as teasing tickles turn into a comforting squeeze. “we’re here, but keep your eyes shut.”

the warmth that had spread across your face is replaced by a brisk breeze when sero pulls his hand away. even with your eyes closed, the street lights make the darkness within your eyelids a tad bit brighter. you aren’t sure how far away he is, maybe a couple of feet, but you can hear sero fiddling with something—something metal that clacks against more metal. finally, a creaking sound. his sandals scrape against the sidewalk as he moves to stand beside you.

“you can open them in three, two, one.” as soon as his countdown comes to an end, your eyelids flutter open. beyond the gate that sero just made work of unlocking is a sparkling blue pool. the light breeze creates soft ripples throughout the water that is illuminated by circular lights. “ta-da.”

“wow, i didn’t know you had a pool.” a while ago—you can’t say when—you had told sero that you thought swimming in the sea under the stars was something you always wanted to do when you were a kid. you knew that it was pretty much impossible considering how dangerous it might be, so the thought only lived in your head as an unattainable fantasy. this is a little different but the premise is still there—swimming in the blue under the night sky. and you can’t believe that sero had remembered the little piece of information you shared with him.

“i don’t.” sero nonchalantly replies, pulling his crew neck over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs. the lack of sleeves reveals the tattoo you’d easily grown to love. he lets his hair loose from the hair tie that binds it, smoothing a hand over the dark strands  to tame any flyaways. you stare at him incredulously. didn’t he just tell you that you didn’t have to worry about getting into any trouble?

“whose house are we at then?” you question. your feet are anchored to the ground. as much as you want to live out this modified version of what you often imagined, you aren’t entirely comfortable with the thought of trespassing on someone’s property to do so.

“a friend’s. and don’t worry, no one’s home. his family is away on vacation.” it seems plausible enough. the silver key that sits on top of his jacket shines under the moonlight. that’s proof that he hadn’t picked the lock. so unless he stole the key, maybe you two really are in the clear.

“hey, relax.” sero can sense your reluctance and moves to stand behind you. his hands reach around you to unzip the hoodie that served as a coverup. once he’s pulled it off your arms, he flings the article of fabric and it joins his in a pile on the pool chair. with your shoulders now exposed, he presses a light kiss to each of them before wrapping his arms around your waist. “i wouldn’t lie to you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he’s right, though. it isn’t like him to lie, not in a situation like this, anyway. you’ve spent enough time worrying and the walk here wasn’t a particularly short one. all things considered, you’re wasting valuable time. “let’s get—”

you aren’t able to finish your sentence before sero’s hold on you tightens and your feet are pulled up and out of your flip-flops. your eyes widen in shock at the sudden motion. there isn’t time to question his actions as sero begins walking you to the edge of the pool. he swings you back to gain momentum before hurling you forward. you’re already mid-air and above the water when a scream rips from your throat.

under the water, everything around you sounds muffled. the cold temperature is jarring enough to shake you from your state of surprise and urge you to swim up. when you emerge at the surface, the first thing you can hear is sero’s irksome laughter. your hands move to push the wet hair sticking to your forehead off of your face. the sight of sero recovering from his fit of chuckles has you narrowing your eyes. “hanta, you asshole!”

you don’t mean to scream—your plan was to keep your volume down in hopes of not disturbing any of the neighbors, but you can’t help it considering what the man had just done. and he has no remorse as he wipes a tear from his eye at your reaction to his antics. to make things worse, you can’t even get him back by splashing the chilly water at his dry figure because he’s jumping in to join you before you have the chance.

the water splatters with his weight, leaving the drops that had escaped to decorate the pool patio in dark little specks. you shield your face with an arm to keep yourself from becoming a victim of his cannonball. he surfaces not long after, shaking his hair out as if he’s a dog getting out of the bath. he meets your gaze with a bright smile.

“i can’t believe you.” you kick your feet to take you away, not wanting to be pulled in by his charm. the waves tickle your face as you float to the other end of the pool. now that you have been in it for a while, the water doesn’t feel as cold.

loud splashes and a new set of waves alert you of sero’s presence. he’s beside you in an instant, still wearing that very same smile. “you can’t?”

you aren’t mad—you don’t think it’s possible for you to truly be upset with him. and despite the little stunt he pulled catching you off guard, you have to admit that it was on-brand for him. all of your lingering annoyance with him disappears as he juts his lip out in a pout. you huff out a laugh at his childish expression.

upon seeing your relaxed countenance, he swathes you in his arms, pulling you close so that the tips of your noses are touching. the blue of the water accompanies your reflection in his dark irises. “i know a pool doesn’t really compare to the open expanse of the sea, but i hope you’re having fun.”

“this is more than enough for me. thank you.” your hands tangle in his wet strands of raven hair to draw him in impossibly closer. your lips brush against his softly in what can barely be considered a kiss. the unintentional teasing has more of an effect on sero than you expect, his lips chasing yours the moment you drag them away.

the cool metal of the jewelry that hangs from his lip presses against your skin as he deepens this kiss. your legs unconsciously wrap around his waist as you suck in a breath through your nose. his tongue swipes across your lower lip and you part the two without hesitation. though, you aren’t granted the opportunity to continue on much further without interruption.

“sero, what the fuck?” an unfamiliar voice rings out in the air causing you to hastily pull away. you search for the source of the noise, following sero’s gaze as he turns around to address the person calling for him. you tilt your head up to the second story of the house you’d barely paid any mind to and are met with a head of yellow hair that is strikingly bright in comparison to the darkness surrounding it. this must be the friend that sero was talking about.

“hey, kami.” he’s considerably calm for having just been caught in such a promiscuous position. does he not find this the slightest bit embarrassing? “i thought you were out of town until tomorrow.”

“yeah, well, obviously plans changed.” the guy’s—kami’s—eyes finally fall on you. the burning in your cheeks tempts you to hide behind sero, but there’s nothing malicious behind his stare. there is only fatigue and a little alarm swimming in his golden eyes. they dart back to sero. “i hate to cut whatever you’re doing short, but you need to get out of here. my parents are going to kill me if they find out you have a spare key.”

“we’ll be out of your hair, man.” sero sends him a two-finger salute. his friend shakes his head and closes his window, presumably to go back to bed.

sero rotates to face you.

“on vacation, huh?” you shoot him a questioning look.

“you heard him,” he shrugs with a smile, “plans changed.”

AUGUST

aside from the chirping of crickets and the gentle wind rustling the lush leaves, it’s silent. your head rests comfortably on sero’s shoulder, his arm folded around your waist. he’s brought you to a hill that overlooks what seems like the entire town. it would have been nice—his company and the view—if the silence wasn’t so suffocating.

even your first night together wasn’t this quiet.

you try to ignore the stillness by turning your focus to the scenery before you. somewhere down below is denki’s pool that you swam in last month, the burger place you’d eaten at the month before, and the beach where you met sero the month before that one. you can only pick out the beach now. just like that mid-may night, it’s lit up by string lights and contained flames, and the stretch of sand is occupied by the very same people you became acquainted with three months ago. there’s a party going on—some end of the summer get together that your cousin invited you to just out of courtesy. she knew you wanted to spend your last night here with sero.

“it’s really our last night together...” his voice cuts through the silence. you normally love hearing him talk; it usually brings a smile to your face. but just like the rest of this night, his voice has a different effect on you—one you can’t claim to be fond of.

“yeah.” your voice breaks. there it is—the reason, or part of the reason, you can’t will yourself to break the silence, will yourself to speak. you don’t know what to say and you figure any words you can string together into a coherent sentence will only end up cracking in your throat.

your cheeks are wet—you’re crying. the tears slip from their ducts, sliding down your cheeks and slipping past the corners of your mouth, leaving a taste as bitter as this moment on your tongue. an instinctive sniffle makes you wrinkle your nose. you don’t even realize that the sleeve of sero’s shirt is soaking up half of your tears.

“hey, no tears, butterfly.” you can feel the vibrations of his voice on the side of your face. he squeezes your side in hopes of comforting you. and it does, a little, but part of it hurts. not physically, but knowing that these few touches from him will be your last is painful. “didn’t we have fun?”

you think back to one of your first conversations with sero—the one when he asked you to join him in making the summer unforgettably exciting. you had no way of knowing just how much fun you’d have and how many memories you’d make along the way. at some point, sero had wedged his way into your heart and made a room for himself. all the memorable moments you had lived with him over the summer would reside in that room.

you nod weakly, as best you could in your current position. “yeah, we did.”

from the start, you knew that this was bound to end eventually, that this world you were living in would only last the summer. what you couldn’t have predicted was the bond you’d make with sero. you knew that the closer you got to him, the more difficult it would be for you to say goodbye in the end. still, even facing the hardship now, you wouldn’t change anything given the chance. 

"thank you.” his utterance is barely a whisper, as though the words were meant for you and you only—as if you’re in a bubble secluded from everyone and everything else.

“hm?” you snuggle into the crook of his neck, taking in the familiar fragrance of his cologne—just another thing you’ll miss. “for what?”

“being my partner in crime.” his head comes to rest on your own and your eyes drift shut at the contact. he breathes in a heavy sigh against your hairline. you can feel his lips curl up into a smile. “i can’t imagine giving the position to anyone else.”

a smile of your own makes its way to your lips. “same here.”

sero is much better at hiding the emotion in his voice, but if you were able to get a look at him, you’d be able to see his eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

—

it’s been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him. as happy as you are to be back in your element, you’d be lying if you said things had bounced back to the way they were before you met sero. something about life now feels off. it isn’t that you aren’t yourself, rather, that a newly discovered piece of you has gone missing. you’ve been driving yourself crazy trying to figure out how parting ways with someone after only four months of knowing them could leave you feeling so hollow.

all you are sure of is that you want to get out of here.

you throw back the pink liquid in your cup, the sting causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. no point in letting a perfectly good drink go to waste, right? you stand up and wipe the condensation that had transferred from the cup to your hand on the front of your pants. your feet carry you to the nearest trash can and you crumple the plastic, tossing it in the bin. you attempt to recall where your roommate said she had wandered off to—you can’t remember if she said beer pong or king’s cup. either way, you need to find her to see if she planns on staying much longer.

process of elimination; beer pong up first.

the scent of liquor and sweat invades your nostrils as you near the room where the long, black table is situated. it’s nauseating but you push on, determined to find the person you’re searching for. unfortunately, your roommate is nowhere to be found in the crowd of people packed within the four walls. you scan each room left on the first floor of the frat house and there is still no sign of them.

it isn’t like her to go somewhere without a word and she definitely wouldn’t leave without telling you. you have yet to pull out your phone but it’s becoming clear that you’ll require the aide. you just hope she has her phone somewhere on her person.

your eyes are glued to the screen in your hand, fingers tapping out a message while you make your way to the back door. you’re just about to hit send on the text when you collide with something hard. the impact draws an “oof” out of the barrier you had just run into. that much tells you that it isn’t a wall, but a person. you rush to apologize for your fault. 

“shit, sorry.” you rub your forehead at the site that had bumped into what must have been a chest. everything inside your skull feels jumbled.

“no worries—butterfly?”

your ears perk up at the nickname. only one person calls you that and as far as you know, he isn’t anywhere near here. but there is no mistaking that voice—it sounds exactly like him. your eyes drag up from the floor to face the figure. you must have put back that alcohol too fast or hit your head harder than you thought because you swear that sero is standing in front of you.

“don’t tell me you forgot about me already. or are you just drunk off your ass?”

you almost, almost, can’t believe it’s him, but everything about the guy from his daring piercings to his hypnotizing dark eyes to the stunning tattoo on his arm screams sero. it is him. it has to be.

“sero?”

“the one and only.”

you blink at his confirmation. all he can do is smile at your confusion.

“wh-what are you doing here?” you ask—not that you aren’t unhappy to see him—it was quite the opposite, but you’re still trying to wrap your head around him being here.

“this happens to be my new campus. thought i’d try to make some friends before classes started. but i can’t say i expected to see you here—what a pleasant surprise.”

he told you that he was planning on transferring schools but you figured there was no point in asking what or where that school might be. and what was the likelihood of him ending up on the very campus you called your own? apparently, the odds were greater than you thought. 

the awkwardness of your encounter is melting away into the comfortability you’d come to associate with sero due to the newfound information. you don’t know if it’ll be possible to jump back in where the two of you left off, but having him back in your life is more than you could ever ask for.

you nod, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the wide smile that threatens to stretch across your lips. “how’s that going for you?”

he shrugs. “eh, doesn’t matter. i just ran into an old one.”

“oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow in question.

“yeah.” he shoots you a knowing look. the sparkle in his eye serves as a signal that something playfully entertaining is brewing behind them. and, more than any time during the summer, you can’t wait to find out what he might be scheming. “hey, do you wanna get out of here?”

you don’t have to think about your answer. “i’d love that.”

thank u for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤︎

[redcoralpot]

Can you do Daryl finding out reader is trans? Early season 4, perhaps? :3

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x FTM Reader

Your wish is my command!!

Warnings: Gore, murder, violence, blood, cussing, mentions of transphobia and death, and addictions.

Word Count: 2.6K

You eagerly join in on the medical supply run, despite the group's awful luck. A confession from Bob has you feeling quite guilty about a personal matter...

-

It was dead.

You threw the car battery to the side, sick of the luck your supply group had. Daryl was on the other side of the room, shuffling through drawers in an attempt to obtain the right part. For an auto repair shop, it was horribly disorganized.

“Got anything?” you called over, impatient.

A grin took over your face as he tossed the find at you, catching it in a firm grip, “Nah.”

The car was not in terrible shape, not really. Some rust here and there, with paint scratched off from long road adventures before the outbreak. Your father had a similar car when you were just a child, and he was insistent that he passed on his knowledge, despite your mother’s constant objections. It was not fit for someone like you; that your hands should never be calloused from the tough ground nor covered in grease, she said. He always ended up laughing in her face.

So as he would have it, the two of you got in all sorts of trouble. Hijacking cars, picking locks, prying cabinets open with a pocket knife; all things he said would come in handy one day. Daryl seemed like he had the same type of upbringing, all rough and tumble, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him. That, or he was just really damn good with surviving.

Daryl’s footsteps creaked as he led the way out of the building, shining his flashlight on any possible threats around. Someone had to, as you weren’t keen to look after Bob found an old walker stuck under a desk, ending that misery. It was the only one left. One by one, you circled out of the building, with Bob’s silent trepidation behind you as you arrived back at the car. Daryl opened its hood again, and you both set to work.

His voice was muffled around his cigarette, “You never told us about the group you were with, before.”

You glanced up as Bob replied, “Which one?”

“You know,” he continued, when Daryl gave him a look, “when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking.”

“Why’s that?’

“I was done being a witness. It happened two times, two different groups.”

…

“I was the last one standing, like God intended for me to see it over and over; a curse,” he shook his head, pursing his lips, “but, when it’s just you out there with the quiet, I used to drink a bottle of just 'bout anything just so I could sleep at night.”

“The run to the big spot, I only did it for me.”

You froze, a jug of clear liquid still in your hands. Daryl took it from you, completely unfazed, and managed to get a swig out of it.

He licked his lips, “You gotta keep busy somehow.”

“No, I did it so I could get me a bottle, a bottle of anything. That’s what got Zack killed.”

“That’s bullshit,” Daryl peered at him, “why don’t you get in there and try the engine? Should be the red and green wires, it ain’t rocket science.”

Even as Bob walked away, you stayed silent. Your fingers burned as you rigged the working car battery back in, but never as much as your thoughts. The other man nudged you, urging you to take your hands off as the engine roared in front of you. He clapped his hands and brought them up to his mouth; a sharp whistle rang through the air. Bob’s alcohol troubles seemed to be forgotten by Daryl, since he gave you a rusty smile while you slammed down the hood.

“Nobody coulda’ known, and you ain’t gonna be standing alone. Not anymore,” he reassured Bob.

You huffed, swinging a few plastic bags of gas in the back seats, ducking to join them. Tyreese and Michonne got the rest and the three of you squeezed together with the luggage, closing the door. With that, you left the burdensome place behind.

The ride to the college was short, but Bob still parked a little ways out, and the group set off to walk the rest of the distance. You passed most of the buildings on campus; dull brick that plants jumped at the opportunity to outgrow after a year of inactivity.

“Looks like the building we want is up ahead,” Tyreese stated.

For the first time since Bob’s confession, you spoke, “Are we splitting up? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Is that safe?” Michonne questioned, and Daryl eyed you.

“I know I can cover myself, if I end up alone.”

The brunette scoffed, and you shifted a glare at him, “You know I can, too. You’ve seen me.”

“I think,” Bob uttered, “it’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’ll shoot if I run into any trouble. Meet me back at the car.”

Outside of the Learning Resource Center, you split from the group, sneaking close to the ground. You heard the rest shuffle in the opposite direction with a soft “C’mon, c’mon.”, and let out a shaky breath. Two pairs, then three pairs of footsteps faded away.

The lights of the wing flickered and let out fading sparks as you padded along, dust pillowing up from wherever you stepped. God, the outbreak sure did a number on this place. Shadows grew as abundantly as the plants, but never dulled the smears of blood along the walls, floor, and shattered glass. It cracked and snapped under you, somewhere behind you, and you hissed as you looked at the walls alongside you. There were several doorways leading to different rooms, most likely supply closets or classrooms. Carefully, you dipped yourself into the nearest doorway, a heavy feeling on your back. Your heart pumped wildly in your chest and your stomach had a sick pit of anxiety as you thumbed through the biggest drawers. There were plenty of jars, containers, and vials, but none of them had what you needed. You read all the labels once, twice, the text in messy handwriting or tiny fonts.

Testosterone, in its liquid form made for injections, should be a clear liquid. You knew that much from what your provider told you, and from your own studies. Any colored liquids, or any with particles floating inside, you discarded from your search immediately. You were taking too long, you started to think, or were you? You didn’t know if you were gone for ten or if you have been here for thirty.

Once again, you slid back into the trashed hallway, trying to make your way towards the next doorway. The only things you could hear were your quick breaths and a creak, most likely from the forgotten building. A set pattern was in your mind as you dove into the room, and the haze of adrenaline made it hard to think. Walkers, as the prison liked to call them, were not your biggest concern. Even before the outbreak, it was dangerous for you to step outside; to live your life. If you passed by the wrong person, your face would be on the hot topic of the community for the week after. Getting caught was not an option.

You blinked, trying to clear the thumping in your ears. The vial’s label looked like a foreign language, though you knew it wasn’t, so you peered closer at it. A gust of hot air hit your neck, and again. Hot air. This place was cold.

Your fingers scrambled for the knife at your side, it was there, wasn’t it? You slashed before you could think. Hair scratched your fingers; your knife dug into a warm crevice. The hot air turned into a raw, groaning noise. The hot air stopped. 

You pushed the body to the ground and your blade was released. The blood trickled hot down your wrist. Instead of the red you expected, it was a sludgy, filthy brown. It dripped in slow droplets on the floor beside your shoes. This was the first opportunity to look at the thing, and what a sight it was.

The knife had caved in a part of its skull, which itself was like a rotten, stomped on pumpkin. It oozed and dripped the same muck over the tile, muddying the disfigured face underneath. It made Osbourne’s stage trick look like simple child’s play to anyone who witnessed the act. Its eyes were still open; bulging out in that manic, hungry way only a madman got before the outbreak. You looked away from the mess, your breakfast seizing in your throat, and you busied yourself with getting more testosterone vials in your bag. The most important thing was that it was not human, not anymore.

Stuffing your full hand in your bag, you made a beeline for the doorway.

You should have learned your lesson.

A weight tumbled over you and knocked you to the floor, breathless. It screeched, rabid, like some sort of fucked up dog. If a dog hadn’t eaten for a month, that is. It stunk, too. It stunk so bad that you thought you might die from suffocation first.

It clawed at you, gnashing its yellow teeth. Your hands were pinned underneath the mass and you heard your knife land across the floor with a clang. This was going to be it. The end. It’s funny, isn’t it? Dying searching for your lifeline. You almost giggled at the irony.

The teeth were close to your neck, aiming to kill. To eat until you were nothing but an unrecognizable pile of flesh and bones. You had to do something, and soon. The only part of your body you could move were your legs, and you tensed them up. You were going to survive this, you were going to get back to that car. 

Three.

You struggled to prop your shoulder up, knocking the danger away from your neck. Its eyes were bloodshot and cloudy. As empty as a corpse.

Two.

The walker got more desperate to bite you, wiggling around harshly on top of you. You tried your best to keep your face far away from its own, but it successfully nipped the edge of your nose. This was going to hurt.

One.

Its final noise was a gurgling one, close to your ear. The weight flopped to your right side, stilling its frugal attempt to destroy you.

“You got yourself covered, huh,” a voice remarked.

You wheezed, “Christ.”

“What were you doin’?”

“Shit.”

Daryl stepped over you, pulling his arrow out of the corpse, “I’m serious.”

You finally got your legs under you, and the first thing you did was back a good distance away from him. There was no getting out of this, you both knew that Daryl would know if you lied to him. Yet, he was one of the last people in the prison you felt comfortable telling. Daryl was a classic redneck, with a bigot older brother and a taste for mysteriousness. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up like a wildfire. You would have much rather told Carol or even Michonne, if you had to choose. 

“You know what Bob said.”

“Yeah,” he stated, “but you ain’t an alcoholic. I know that much.”

“I’m not, but that wasn’t the point. I only came on this run for one thing, and it isn’t medicine. It’s testosterone.”

“Why do you need that? You’re strong enough without that steroid shit.”

“I don’t get as much as you do naturally.”

“So a medical condition?”

“Kind of.”

“Even if it was, that don’t explain why you had to sneak away from the group to get it. What’re you hiding?”

“I’m transgender, Daryl. I wasn’t born a boy like you,” you murmured.

There was a parade of footsteps down the hallway, and Tyreese burst through the door, the others close behind. He looked spooked, with sweat dripping down his disheveled face. Michonne and, speaking of the devil, Bob looked no better off.

He exclaimed, “Jesus, there you two are. We gotta go, now.”

“What, why?”

“Walkers. Tons of ‘em. Let’s go!”

You gladly took this chance, shoving past Daryl to dart out into the hallway with the others. Everyone else was rushing, but it was a minute before you also heard footsteps behind you. The infected corpses swarmed the building, even though it wasn’t like that before, and it made you wonder what the hell released them. Your group ran up the stairs with walkers not too far behind, and those trapped banged on whatever surface they could reach. 

“There was a ledge near the fire escape,” Michonne hissed, “we can go through there.”

No one responded unless a quick nod could be considered one, and you were off. Michonne went first, then Tyreese, you, and finally Daryl. Your legs were shaking, and you paid Bob a glance. He tensed up, seemingly trying to gauge the distance, before jumping. He was barely right, and landed a little too close to the edge, teetering off. His arms flailed and an army of bodies from below swarmed up to grab his heavy bag. You rushed to catch him, attempting to pull the man up, but he refused to let his backpack go. 

Finally, you ripped both the man and his bag away from the grasp of the walkers, panting, “What the fuck were you doing? What’s in that bag that could possibly be so important?”

“He’s right.” Daryl took the bag from Bob, zipping it open.

Bob rushed to stop him, but it was too late. Daryl dropped the backpack as quick as he picked it up, and he seized Bob by the collar.

“If I ever catch you puttin’ a bottle before a need, I’ll feed you to the walkers myself. You hear me?”

You froze as Daryl let the shorter man down, pushing him as he did so. Everyone else shot him a disappointed look or a glare, and Michonne waved her hand. You were all to keep moving; the run was over, and on an especially sour note.

The group arrived back to the prison safe and sound, the most daring of injuries being bruises, or small cuts. Tyreese and Michonne left to do their own activities, while Bob left to lick his wounds. This retired Daryl and yourself alone, to an awkward silence. With nothing else to do, you picked at a particularly nasty cut on your forearm. It was starting to look infected.

You cleared your throat, “Do you have anything left in your bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I use some?”

“Nah.” Daryl tossed you his bag.

Carefully, you peeked inside. There wasn’t much left, some disinfectant spray and vials of a clear liquid. No, that couldn’t be, could it?

Testosterone. At least three good vials of it.

You raised them up to your face, not believing your eyes, “Daryl, where the hell did you get these?”

“Grabbed them from that drawer you found the others in,” he refused to make eye contact, “after you left.”

“Why?”

“You might’ve needed more than you got.”

That… meant a lot to you. You had expected him to at the very least ignore you, or even worse, disgusted by you. What were the chances he would grab extras for you, just in case? Instead of yelling or hitting or kicking you out of his life, Daryl did that. If you were being honest, this was one of the weirdest coming out stories to date, but nothing can really beat zombies being included.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Nah. I’m a little confused, though.”

“On the topic?”

Daryl sighed, “Yeah. Wasn’t educated that much.”

“Well, if you want, I could help with that.”

Just for a second, he looked you in the eyes. In that moment, you didn’t see hate, anger, or anything negative. Only a sharp, beautiful glimpse of curiosity.

“Yeah.”

-