#my friends are having fun without me! love that for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alvfr · 2 days ago

Text

Karma - Part 1

paring: andrew pope cody/stripper!reader tags: 18+, starts in s1, erectile dysfunction, lap-dances, second-hand embarrassment, slow burn, implied age gap, no use of y/n. reader has fake names, a large family, and a past (that is catching up). no smut for this part. wc: 7.5k an: this is basically my coping mechanism when rewatching animal kingdom and wanting pope to have a friend/get a happy ending. idk, this concept has probably been done before, but I'm having fun with it so...

summary: Who says you can't meet the love of your life in a strip club dressing room after his brother paid another girl a thousand bucks to wish him a happy birthday? Okay, so he's a bit strange and he might be stalking you and his mother is terrifying and you're really just trying to make enough money for rent and tuition without getting into any kind of trouble, but on the bright side, at least he's not a cop.

Karma - Part 1 - [AO3 LINK]

“…I’m not doing it, the guy creeps me out…”

A strip club was no place for privacy, and the dressing room even less so with half a dozen girls in various stages of undress crammed in at any given time. Some doing a costume change, some taking a snack break, and others sipping, smoking or snorting whatever they could to get enough of a buzz to make it bearable to go back outside. It reeked of hairspray, perfume and weed, with a heavy layer of face powder floating in the air like a built-in grain filter. One girl sat by the sink, blatantly touching up her bikini line, while another tried to pop a pimple on yet another girl’s butt cheek. There were no secrets in a strip club dressing room and it was probably the worst place for private conversations.

Bless Jasmine’s heart, though, she was still trying. Speaking in hushed tones behind the heavy velvet curtain that separated the prep area from the bathrooms. There used to be a partition wall, but the manager never got around to replace it after some girls tore it down during a fight. At least that’s what Pepper told you when she gave you the tour of the backstage area a few weeks ago.

“…just call security and…”

“…bad business, his brother’s a regular and…”

You tried to focus on fixing your makeup — you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but not even the muffled tunes from the stage could drown out the intense whispers from Jasmine and Trixie. What was Jasmine even doing in here? A statuesque sultry redhead, she was one of the more popular girls in the club. And one of the lucky few who had their own private dressing rooms.

“…do me a favor and…”

“No way. No! I can’t, I got one of my regulars coming in…”

The curtain tore aside, and you tore your gaze back to the mirror, staring at your own reflection like your life depended on it. You had only been here a few weeks and did not have the time or energy to make enemies, especially not now. Trixie, with a jet-black wig and already in her six-inch-heels, strode back to her spot that was next to yours and shook her head while Jasmine was close on her heel.

Jasmine clutched her short silk dressing gown with a white-knuckled fist. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Either give him the time of his life, give the money back,” Trixie suggested as she leaned towards the mirror to put on more plum lipstick, and Jasmine looked sick at the thought, “or find some other girl to do your dirty work.”

Still staring fixedly at yourself in the mirror, you almost missed how both their gazes fell to you. You did, however, catch the way Jasmine kissed her teeth and cocked her head to the side.

“Hey, new girl. Wanna make five hundred bucks?”

----

And that was how you found yourself here, trying to get your breath under control just outside the door to Jasmine’s dressing room. This was insane. This was literally insane. This wasn’t you. You didn’t do this. You weren’t like this. Okay, sure, that was what you had told yourself when you first started dancing, but with dancing, you still had boundaries. They could look, but not touch, and security had your back, and it was a far cry from flashing your tits at some sweaty business men to literally have sex for money.

And yet, you had accepted Jasmine’s offer. She had made it sound so easy.

“The guy’s just back from Pakistan or whatever and he looked pent up like crazy, so he’s probably a two pump chump at most. Easiest and fastest money you’ll ever make. Just remember to make him wear a condom, and it’ll be fine.”

And when you expressed your concerns about not knowing what to do, Trixie had chimed in with advice:

“You know when you give a private dance and have to swat their hands away a few times before they get the message? Yeah, just do that, but don’t swat his hands. It’ll be easy.”

Speaking of hands, you rubbed your clammy palms on the limited real estate of your outfit and wished you had covered up somehow. That you had borrowed Jasmine’s dressing gown to make some kind of slow and sensual reveal instead of waltzing inside dressed as a literal stripper. It felt tasteless somehow, as if being paid money to fuck someone was not.

“You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,” you muttered under your breath, trying to remember all the reasons you had agreed to this. You needed those five hundred bucks by tomorrow. It was the whole reason you had picked up an extra shift tonight, hoping you would get lucky and catch the eye of some high roller. The way the night was going though, you would be lucky to break even. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right? You just needed to get in there and get it over with and deal with the psychological fallout later. It was just sex. Everyone had sex. And lots of people had sex for money. Prostitution was the world’s oldest profession, wasn’t it? Besides, it was just this one time. You needed those five hundred dollars.

The other way to get it by tomorrow was risky — too risky.

Before you could psych yourself out anymore, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath to get into your stage persona, and turned the door handle.

Not sure what to expect — the poor guy could be sitting in there buck naked for all you knew — you opened the door carefully and slipped inside. The loud music from the stage faded to nothing but the bass track when you clicked the lock shut behind you. You had never actually seen any of the private dressing rooms before — it was roughly the size of a shoebox, with two armchairs and a small table crammed in with a vanity and some lockers. Rows and rows of shiny tassels hung over the large makeup mirror and momentarily distracted you before your eyes fell on him.

Him, who sat like a statue on the very edge of the seat of one of the worn-down armchairs. Him, who looked like a still-life painted by someone who had mastered the basics of anatomy, but not human behavior. Him, with short-cropped hair that looked glued to his scalp and a tight scowl on a slightly shiny face, his taut muscles stretching from his down-turned mouth all the way to his rigid collar-bones.

“Who are you?”

His voice caught you off guard. It had a strange lilt to it, like a grown man having minor flashbacks to puberty, teetering between raspy hard and soft every other syllable. You could not decide if he sounded angry or indifferent, and tried to give him a seducing smile to break the ice.

“I’m—”

“Where’s the other girl?”

He pulled on his words somewhat. You couldn’t say if he was blending the r’s or elongating the vowels or had a slight lisp, but it was not in a drunken slur, more as a last remnant of a speech impediment. His lip lifted in something between confusion and contempt and you swallowed, doing your best to avoid flinching at his harsh question. Shit, you knew he would ask that and had even expressed your concerns to Jasmine. She had just waved her hand dismissively and said he would not care which pussy he got as long as he got pussy.

Except he looked very much like he cared. He still sat in that fixed position, back straight, and his knees spread with a hand perched on each one. Not resting, not even remotely close to resting, and not moving anything else than his head and neck as he talked.

“She had to go,” you mumbled and licked your lips, tasting the dryness of your lipstick. “I’m—”

“Go where?”

Again, his question seemed almost juvenile in nature. Like a child that had yet to learn the social cues of communication. Demanding attention and answers at whim, and disregarding the dynamic nature of a dialogue. Or maybe actively disregarding it, treating it more like an interrogation than a conversation. Like a cop?

“I don’t know,” you mumbled again, but this time you hurried to continue before he could bark another question. “Something about a family emergency.”

The guy closed his mouth that had been halfway open in question and slunk back a fraction, skepticism written all over his face. His scowl did not clear at all, and you noticed the way he flexed his fists still settled on his knees. It was becoming obvious why Jasmine had backed out. You had expected some greasy drunkard who had just gotten his tax returns and wanted to splurge on something nice. Not this ticking time bomb whose body language screamed that this was the last place he wanted to be.

Yet, here he was, and he looked both old and capable enough to leave if he so desired. So you just had to assume that he still wanted to get his money’s worth and get on with it.

The brief silence helped ease you back into character and you dropped your voice to a lower octave. “I’m here to take care of you instead.”

The glare he sent you should have sent you running for the hills. Only his eyes moved, staring up at you from beneath his dark brows, and you did not feel naked as much as literally exposed. The very definition of the word. Uncovered, unconcealed, and unprotected. Sure, you wore a skimpy outfit that did not leave all that much to the imagination, but you could have worn a whole-ass duffle coat and it would not have made a lick of difference.

“How ‘bout some music?” you suggested, mostly because it gave you an excuse to turn away from him. To give yourself a small break from the intensity of his undivided attention. You sauntered over to the vanity to find the music box Jasmine had told you about and caught sight of your own reflection. There you were, in your tall heels and revealing costume. With the heavy makeup and clip-in extensions, you looked really frickin’ hot and, most importantly, you did not look like yourself. Because this wasn’t you, was it? This was your alter-ego that spent the nights showing her body off to strangers and she could do absolutely anything she wanted. Including this.

You needed this money.

With that fresh boost of courage, you hit ‘play’ on the device and the room filled with the slow sensual beat that was Jasmine in musical form, perfect for a lap dance. Which was no big deal, you thought, and started moving your hips to the rhythm. You’d done plenty of private dances. No big deal at all.

Just keep telling yourself that, you told yourself as you ran your hands over your curves and tried to imagine being on the stage. You hit the dimmer by the door as you made your way back to the guy, hoping the increased darkness would help both of you loosen up.

The guy did not appear to have moved a single muscle in your absence. He sat so rigid it looked physically painful and you unwittingly tried to keep your touch feather-light as you placed your finger-tips on his shoulder in case you hurt him somehow. In his defence, he did not flinch at your touch, but it was like he made a very conscious effort not to flinch. Only his head moved, twisting on his neck like a cobra to stare at your hand where it laid on the very edge of his shoulder, hardly the most conspicuous location given the theme of the night.

Holy shit, this guy was hot. Yeah, you’d obviously noticed the way his biceps and pecs filled out his shirt, but you were not prepared for the way his skin burned. You could feel it almost simmering underneath his nondescript black t-shirt as you did a walk-around. Trailing your fingertips from his shoulder and to his back, spreading your hands out over his traps like you were giving him a massage, but not daring to apply any pressure. The muscles flexed and bucked beneath your hand anyway, while the freckles on his bare arms danced in tune.

“Relax,” you murmured from behind him, running your palms over his rigid back, like a horse-whisperer trying to calm an irrate mustang. “I’m only here to make you feel good.”

No answer, not that you had expected one, and you went ahead with the dancing. There was an art to it, as you had learned when you started working. Especially the private dances. Giving an illusion of intimacy, flaunting and teasing, making the client think there was going to be more than just fun and fantasy. You knew other girls sometimes did stuff during the private dances, but you had always abided by the club rules and maintained the no-touch-policy from the stage. Some guys tried, obviously, but quickly subsided when it became clear it was either just a dance or nothing.

Except now it was supposed to be everything.

Remembering Trixie’s advice, you kept dancing like normal and made your way to stand between the guy’s spread knees. You writhed and twisted to the beat that filled the whole room and ran your hands over yourself in lieu of burning yourselftrying to touch him, however platonically. Normally, you would maintain eye contact as much as possible, reeling in your catch slowly, but this guy was too intense, and you let your eyes close instead. You dragged your fingers through your fake hair, down your throat and over the swell of your breasts. Not stopping there, but going further down, caressing your stomach and hips, dipping to your thighs before going back up.

You bit your lip, losing yourself in the music, feeling sexy as hell. Your heart beat along with the bass and your skin prickled with the energy rush you always got at this point. Muscle-memory took over and before you knew it, you were popping the clasps open on your top, one by one. You kept it in place with your hands, squeezing your breasts together teasingly, knowing that the reveal mattered more than the prize.

Of course, that was when you made the mistake of looking at his face. He still had not fucking moved at all! Seriously, he was still staring at you from beneath his brows like you had pissed in his beer instead of giving him a lap dance.

The intensity of his expression had you spin around again instead of taking off your top. At this rate, it would be the slowest five hundred bucks you would ever earn. And you still had to earn it, you reminded yourself as you absentmindedly wiggled your ass in front of him. What was this guy’s problem? Nerves? Too drunk to function? Not drunk enough?

You forced yourself to take a step back — it was easier when you didn’t have to look at his face — and pushed yourself into him. Still dancing, you bent your knees and spread your legs until your head was closer to his and gave him a sultry look over your shoulder. “Can I get you anything? A beer or…”

Something stronger? Jasmine definitely had something in here somewhere, and she could definitely spare some to help this poor guy get his money’s worth. Anything to help him relax.

“No.”

The word came out hard and decisive, travelling from his chest into yours, and it would take all the relaxants in the world to make you argue with him.

“Okay,” you said softly and licked your lips again. The silence and his rigidity ate away at your nerves and you found yourself talking while you ground your ass closer and closer to his crotch. Just waiting for him to put his hands on you so you could take things further. “So, what’s the occasion? You just get back from a tour?”

Jasmine had said Pakistan, and while you assumed she meant Afghanistan, you did not want to be wrong in front of this guy. Maybe that was his deal? PTSD or something? The guy had soldier written all over him.

“No,” the guy repeated in the same flat tone that bordered on angry. Again, he did not flinch as you threw your arms up and back around his neck, but you felt the way he swallowed hard. “It’s my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday,” you practically purred, relieved at the semblance of a normal conversation. You twisted your hips side to side, feeling the harsh denim of his jeans dig into your lower buttocks, almost searching for a tell-tale hardness that would give you an entry point to finish this.

“And I just got out of prison.”

If this had been a movie, the music would have scratched and halted. It didn’t — it kept on playing as before — but you couldn’t help the way you froze on the spot, stuck in the awkward position. Your back pressed against his hard chest, your ass digging into his crotch, and your arms still looped around his neck.

“Oh,” you said, like a complete idiot, but could not will yourself to move. Every alarm bell was going off at the same time and you resisted the urge to downright bolt out of there. “What-what did you do?”

The silence dragged on way longer than it should have, and your legs shook with the effort of staying still.

“Robbed a bank.”

“Oh.” Your knees finally gave in to the strain and you plopped down in his lap, perching on him like he again perched on the chair. “Oh, that’s good.”

“That’s good?”

You did not see his incredulous look, but you sure as hell felt it.

“I mean, not good that you robbed a bank or went to prison for it,” you had no way of stopping the freight train of your blabbing, “but robbing a bank’s not that bad. It’s a pretty straightforward crime, when you think about it. Nothing to worry about.”

Somehow, your body began to move again. Completely on its own, though. Full on autopilot, just like your mouth was.

“There’s not a lot of analysis needed to why someone robs a bank. Don’t need a whole profile or anything. You rob a bank, it’s just about money.”

His voice rumbled close to your ear and in your chest. “Then what’s a non-straightforward crime?”

“You know, something a bit more complicated in terms of motive. Like, say,” you grimaced, wondering why you could not just shut up, “killing prostitutes or something.”

That earned you a low amused snort, and he sounded a bit more relaxed when he said, “Yeah, not really my thing.”

“Good to know.”

The hint of humanity he displayed flooded you with relief. So much that it made you dizzy and stupidly brave again. You turned around to face him, your barely restrained tits practically up his nose, and he instinctively leaned back to give you room. Which you used to throw your leg over his lap and your arms over his shoulders, straddling him with your knees on either side of him in the armchair.

The close proximity sent his warm breath over your face, but you were too close to get a good look at his expression. Which was fine by you and you gently swayed with the music, noting how his hands fell to the side, still not making any effort to touch you.

Conversation had loosened him up slightly last time, so you kept going. “How long were you inside?”

“Three years.” He did not shy away from eye contact, but his jaw rolled when you leaned in toward his face. “And nineteen days.”

No wonder he was so tense. Again, he did not flinch when you brushed your lips against his cheek, hoping against hope that you could make him warm up. You placed small, almost platonic pecks along his jaw, a glaring invitation for him to kiss you if he wanted — he just needed to turn his head a fraction — but of course nothing happened.

“Three years is a long time,” you murmured into the shell of his ear. It was a long time and you would have thought he would at least be a little bit hard by the way you were practically riding him over his clothes. “But I thought armed robberies gave you six. You out on parole?”

“Who said I was armed?”

His voice grated on your insides, the husky and deep texture pushing some hitherto unknown buttons. You pressed yourself even closer to him, drowning yourself in his heat to escape your own nerves. He smelled nice, you idly thought. Clean.

“Unarmed are two.”

“Why do you know that?”

You sensed more than saw his surprise and shrugged. “Half my cousins are either inside now or have been at some point.”

“Yeah? What for?”

“Stupid shit..” You kept riding his lap, hoping to elicit some kind of response, feeling stupider by the second. “Drug charges most of them. Petty theft. Couple of assaults.” Why the hell were you talking about your cousins’ prison sentences right now? You stopped moving mid-ride and used his neck as leverage to keep you aloft so you could look at him. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrow twitched as he shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Is this, uh, doing anything for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The dancing,” you clarified and waved your hand at the space between you, “and the, uh, dry humping. I can switch it up if you want; try something else? Or is it me that’s not doing it for you?”

His scowl seemed to have deepened during your questions, but there was a flicker of uncertainty somewhere on his face. “It’s not you. I can’t remember the last time I had an erection.”

“Oh.” You were not winning any awards for eloquence tonight and you gently lowered back down into his lap. Again, you tried to stay in character. “I can fix that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” you asked, absentmindedly noting how rigid his neck was under your hand. He was so blunt you had no ideahow to continue, except in the worst possible way. “Are you on medication or something?”

Wrong question, wrong question, wrooooong question.

“No.” His nostrils flared. “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Internally, you screamed at yourself. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with you? Yeah, sure, insinuate to the seemingly mentally unstable ex-con that he should be on medication, that’s gonna go down well.

“I’m sorry, we just recently did a class on this. Common side-effects of prescription and over-the-counter drugs. It was stuck in my head. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Class?” His face had an almost feline quality to it and he looked like a disgruntled alley cat when his lip lifted in confusion. “What class?”

“I am,” still in his lap, which was a really awkward way to conduct a conversation, “taking classes to get my nursing associate degree. And then I will take the NCLEX exam to become a registered nurse.”

You added the NCLEX part to give some weight to the fact that you were actually studying to be a nurse and you hadactually covered some of this in class.

“Which is why I’m here,” you continued, because the way he stared at you made your insides tighten weirdly, “trying to earn money for the tuition.”

“Tuition,” he repeated as if tasting the word.

“Yeah, like a school fee—”

“I know what it is. How much do you need?”

The guy really did ask questions like a kid. Or a cop. No nuance, no filler conversation, just blunt and straight to the point.

“Uh, well, with books and equipment,” you still sat in his lap, holding on to his neck, not sure how to proceed, “it’s roughly ten thousand dollars.”

The guy tilted his head in recognition before he looked at you again, this time more amused than angry. He sounded almost condescending when he said, “There are lot easier ways to earn ten grand. Faster too.”

Riskier too.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’d make a good bank robber.”

You expected a smile, but he just shrugged, as if to say ‘you never know’ and remained silent.

“You want me to,” you gestured at your awkward position, “keep going? Or should we try something else? I can turn the lights off all the way, if you want. Or on, maybe? Should I touch you or do you wanna touch me or I can get a wig or… I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before. Give me some pointers here, man.”

The hurried admission came without your intention, and you could not exactly blame him for not getting immediately turned on from your clumsy attempts at seduction.

He snorted again, and his lips twisted into something resembling a bitter smile. “Bet all the guys love hearing you say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you’ve never done this before.��

“I-I wouldn’t know,” you stuttered and practically felt how the power dynamic between you shifted. Before this, you had been in control, somewhat, living vicariously as your stripper persona. But somehow you had brought the real you into this. The girl who took night classes and dreamed of becoming a nurse. And you were still in the lap of a literal ex-con somewhere between ten and fifteen years your senior with obvious worldly experience, despite his awkward way of conversing. “I really haven’t done this before.”

“Then why are you doing it now?”

You could not wrap your head around the way he asked you stuff. It was not a hostile question, just genuine curiosity wrapped up in a gruff tone and incredulity.

“Well, Jasmine said she would give me five hundred bucks and I really need the money, so…”

Feeling idiotic, you made a move to get off him, but jolted at the sudden heat coming from him gripping your waist. The first time he had touched you since you came in here. It stopped your disembark, and you felt more like a deer caught in the headlights than ever before as he made a point to stare into your eyes.

“My brother paid her a thousand bucks. You’re getting ripped off.”

He held your stare for a second longer to drive in his point and then removed his hand. Stuck at processing that information, you remained in place.

“So not only am I a whore, I’m a cheap one too, is that what you’re trying to say? Sorry, that was a bad joke,” you hurried to add when his face twisted into a deeper scowl again. “In my defence, I really haven’t done this before, so I wouldn’t exactly know the ratio of pay between pimp and prostitute. Maybe fifty-fifty is fair.”

“Why? You’re doing all the work,” the guy pointed out slowly.

“I’m not really doing anything right now, am I?”

“You’re talking to me.”

“That’s usually on the house.”

The guy did a half-shrug, but said nothing.

“Sooooo, your brother paid for this, huh? Makes sense. Can I ask,” you spoke slowly, trying to find the right words, “if this was a birthday gift you actually wanted or one that was… forced upon you, so to speak?” No reply, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Am I forcing myself upon you, is what I’m trying to ask? Do you want me to…” You gestured again to where you sat, not really sure which direction you wanted to indicate, and he still said nothing. “Yeah, you know what, I’m just gonna—”

Making up your mind, you pushed off his lap and stood up, which of course caused your already loosened top to finally fall off. At this point, you had practically tried to screwdrive yourself into his crotch, so having your tits out in the open didn’t really bother you that much except for the way he reacted.

If possible, he froze, somehow solidifying even more from his already unmoving position. Nothing moved except his eyes that dragged down towards your exposed chest and you could feel the way your nipples tightened at the newfound attention. Unwavering attention, to be honest, and a rush of excitement spread to your core. Maybe there was still room to salvage this? Make it a good experience for him? The music still rolled in the background of your darkened room and you tried to get your breathing under control again where you stood between his spread knees.

“You know, you can touch me if you want,” you said softly, but refrained from touching him this time. His eyes flickered up to your face for a second, before focusing further south. “I’m yours tonight.”

You practically held your breath, waiting for a reply. Or a reaction. Anything, really, that would help you navigate this situation. And part of you cheered when he raised his hand. Slowly, tentatively, but still deliberately reaching up to run his fingers down the side of your breast. You had to fight to remain still, especially with the scorching heat emitted from his fingertips, but at least this was known territory.

The guy caressed the soft flesh of your breast, grazed his fingertips along your straining nipple and—

And then dropped his hand down and proceeded to glare holes somewhere that was neither your face nor chest. Did he look redder than before? Embarrassed? Embarrassed men usually turned angry, but this guy’d been angry from the get-goso you had no idea what to do here.

“Okay,” you said, as if telling him it was okay. “Not the reaction my tits usually get, but okay.” You ignored the way your skin buzzed from the brief contact and picked up your top to pull it back on. Taking your time with the buttons, you tried to keep your voice light. “We don’t have to do anything, you know? I’ll get you your money back.”

“Keep it.” At least he did not sound angrier than before and his eyes eventually found your face again. “For your tuition.”

It was a truce of some sorts, but it definitely marked the end of anything even remotely sexual.

“This is for rent, actually.”

You kept your tone conversational, almost desperate to not make a big deal of this, to make him feel okay about it, to make this weird tension between you disappear. You walked normally — as normally as you could in these heels — over to the vanity to turn down the music. You also picked up a couple of beers from the small fridge by the door and handed him one that he gave a moment’s consideration before opening.

“My roommate split yesterday, leaving me alone with the rent that is due tomorrow. Or, really, it was due today, but I jumped out of the window so the landlord couldn’t corner me in the hall and harass me about it.”

The guy took a sip of beer, clutching the bottle like a robotic claw. “Shitty roommate.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you muttered darkly and plopped down on the other armchair. “Before she left, she decided to wreck the place and steal anything remotely valuable. Cleared out my whole stash too, everything I’d already saved up.”

The guy tilted his head and gave you another glare. “Then you should’ve hidden it better.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the lack of sympathy for your situation. Then again, he did not exactly seem to be the coddling type. “Yeah, that’s on me, I guess. What can I say, I’m an optimist. I like to believe most people are decent human beings.”

He considered this. “They’re not.”

“They can be,” you countered and leaned back in the chair, adopting an unladylike position while he kept his back and legs perpendicular to the floor. Now that the tension was gone, you ventured to study him further. The freckles, the lines to his face, the sharp angle of his jaw and the solid muscle under his t-shirt. Probably not much taller than you — and definitely not taller than you in these heels — but he struck you as the kind of guy who didn’t need size to be intimidating.

“Got your hair cut in prison?” you found yourself asking before you could think it through. Anything to keep the conversation flowing instead of the awkward silence. “My cousins all rocked the same ‘do when they got out.”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging the word out, and then rubbed a hand over the goofy buzz-cut. “It’s shitty, I know. I’m growing it out.”

His voice still fluctuated between hard and soft, almost reminding you of chain smokers who had to force their words out through strained vocal chords. Maybe he was forcing the words out. It would fit with how tense he was otherwise.

“What’s your name?” he suddenly asked, while tilting his head slightly down to stare up at you. Like a lion exposing his throat to indicate friendliness.

“Karma,” you said.

Something twitched on his lips, reminiscent of a smile, but not really. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s my name in here,” you countered with a shrug, referencing the club. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew,” Andrew said without hesitation, giving the room at large his attention. “But people call me Pope.”

“Pope?”

“Mhm.”

“Why? Alright, alright, just asking.” You held your hands up as defence against the look he gave you that showed he would not be answering that question. “So, listen, do yo—”

“Are you gonna be able to go back to school?” Pope cut you off, and the genuine interest of his question momentarily stunned you. “Pay your tuition?”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” You shifted when his stare did not relent, apparently not satisfied with that answer. “Well, I tried to do the math and lucky me, I’d already paid the advanced deposit so I’m only out five grand. If I pick up a couple more of the week night shifts here — the cash flow isn’t as hot as the weekends, but the house fee and tip-outs are lower so it evens out — and put in a few more hours for my day job and find a new roommate by the end of the month, I should in theory manage to pull through before the semester starts.”

You grimaced at the thought of working away the whole summer instead of experiencing anything this city had to offer.

“In theory, except that I need at least seven hundred by tomorrow to cover the whole rent and it’s been sort of a slow night before this, so I might have to hide from my landlord one more day.”

“Or you can get the full grand from your,” Pope gave you a pointed look, “friend.”

“I doubt Jasmine’s gonna be happy about that.”

“Fight her for it.”

“Uh, no. One, I’m ninety percent sure Jas is banging the manager, so she can get me kicked out of the club. Two, I’m not up to speed on my tetanus shots, and she looks like she’s a biter.”

Pope snorted, and you smiled, happy that you managed to amuse him. “Then how are you going to pay rent?”

“Go out there and shake my ass, I guess. Unless you have any last-minute tips for robbing a bank?”

“Yeah, I do,” Pope said without hesitation. “Don’t get caught.”

You laughed, only vaguely noticing how he didn’t. “That’s great advice. Thanks, I never would have thought about that. Guess I should find a bank robbing mentor who didn’t end up in prison, huh?”

Pope shrugged. “I only got caught once.”

The instinct to laugh died in your throat this time. Was he joking? His posture and tone remained the same, and he was meeting your eyes evenly. Almost daring you to call his bluff — or lack thereof. You just blinked at him and took a hasty sip of beer to hide your confusion.

“We’re finished here,” Pope eventually said. It was not a question, and he rose from the chair in a fluid motion. You had been right, he wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself taller somehow. “I should go.”

“Yeah, we’ve been in here a while,” you agreed from your spot in the armchair. “Any longer and your brother’s probably gonna think I’ve roofied you and taken off with the cash.”

Pope’s eyes flickered to his beer bottle.

“Oh my gosh, I haven’t!” You stumbled over your words to get them out as fast as possible. “No, no, just another bad joke, sorry.”

“How much do you make?” Pope asked, yet again giving you whiplash with the sudden turns in the conversation. “Per night.”

“Depends on the night. Usually I’ll clear around three hundred bucks for a regular shift. Maybe twice that on the weekends, but I don’t like weekends all that much. The crowd’s bigger, but so’s the competition. Tonight’s a slow night, though. Maybe a hundred, hundred-fifty.”

Pope nodded as if he was processing this information as part of a bigger picture. “Three hundred a night. Does that go for all the girls?”

“Well, uh… I’m a relatively popular dancer on my shifts,” you admitted slowly, almost to remind yourself that you were pretty hot even if you hadn’t managed to arouse Pope, “so I probably earn above average for dancing alone. But there’s a lot of girls who’s got regulars that spend a lot on them, and then there’s a lot of girls who’s extra… service-oriented and they earn more, obviously. And again, weekends are usually way better.”

Pope nodded again. “How much is the house fees?”

“It’s not that bad here. Flat fees are twenty bucks for a weeknight, fifty for a weekend. Then there’s a five-dollar charge for private dances, ten if it’s busy. And we gotta tip a percentage of our earnings to the DJ and security.”

“How many girls?”

“Anywhere from ten to fifty. Event nights, after big games and stuff, are the busiest. And most profitable. Managers usually raise the house fees to at least two-hundred and you’re lucky to get a spot on the poles without having to fight your way there. Private dances go from five to fifty a pop.”

Pope seemed to consider this. “That’s a lot of cash flowing around.”

“I guess,” you said and shrugged again. “This place does okay, but the real money’s made in the cities where all the finance bros go to blow their stock earnings. The gentleman’s clubs and stuff. I used to work there before, didn’t have to worry that much about rent then, I’ll tell you that.”

“Then why leave?”

You drank more beer, suddenly realizing you had over shared way more information than you had intended. Risky, risky, risky. “It just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

That vague answer seemed to satisfy him, and he placed the bottle of beer on the table. Right next to the unopened pack of condoms. So much for your grand debut as a prostitute, you thought idly and had another sip of your own beer. Then again, some girls got killed after their grand debut, so this wasn’t that bad, really.

The rustling of paper made you look up, and you realized Pope had his wallet out. He flicked through a large wad of bills and pulled out a hefty stack, offering them to you.

“No,” you said on principle, because that looked to be at least a thousand bucks.

“No!”

“Take it,” Pope rasped, but more impatient than angry. “Consider it a bonus.”

You made no motion to accept the money. “For what? We didn’t even do anything.”

Pope looked unbothered. “For a nice conversation.” Again, there was nothing to indicate he was making a joke and you could do nothing but stare at him. “This’ll help you cover the rent and give you a head start for your tuition stuff.”

“And what do I owe you in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Free cash, huh? Yeah, right. Thanks, but I don’t need your money.”

“Yeah,” Pope looked puzzled as he glanced at the room like you had forgotten what had started all of this, “you do. Take it.” His eyebrows rose and his whole face had smoothed out from any frowning, immediately taking years off his appearance. “Go on.”

Brows furrowed, you hesitantly reached out, almost expecting it to be some sort of test. Like he would yank back his hand at the last moment, having confirmed your greed and ingratitude, and would now beat the living shit out of you as payback.

Of course, nothing happened. You took the money and Pope put his wallet back in his pocket.

“Hang on, I gotta walk you out,” you suddenly remembered and rose from your chair before he could leave. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked if security finds you wandering back here on your own. Do you want me to play it up when we go out there?”

“Play what up?”

“Like,” you had a full inch on him in your heels but felt a foot shorter with the way he looked at you, “pretend that we did more than we did, you know? Make your brother think you rocked my world? I can mess up my hair and make-up or something.”

“I don’t care what my brothers think.”

With that, he unlocked the dressing room door and pushed it open, leaving a gap for you to follow. The loud music and smell of beer and perfume hit you full on and sent you right back into character.

You planted a satisfied smile on your face and hurried to grab onto his hand before he could march off. Leaning into him — he was still running hot as hell — you half-whispered, “I kinda have to play it up anyway, sorry.”

At least he did not push you off, but let you lead him back to the general club area where you paused. Feeling other men’s eyes on you both, you made a show of dropping your hip on one side and twirling the extensions that fell over your shoulder. One table with several guys and plenty of girls seemed particularly interested in watching you and you figured that might be his brothers, even if none of them looked anything like him.

“Thank you for your service, soldier,” you said in your best seductive tone. You had no plans of trying your hand at anything more than dancing tonight, but it never hurt to maintain the illusion. Men could spend a lot of money lost in that illusion. Tottering on your heels, you bent towards him to give him a slow kiss on the cheek and took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Pope. And happy birthday.”

You winked at him, not even bothered by his apparent indifference at your efforts, and sashayed your way to the bar where you had spotted Jasmine.

“Any trouble?” she asked as you leaned back against the bar top and signaled Henry for some water. She sent Pope’s back a wary look where he was walking resolutely towards the table with his brothers. Oh yeah, that guy had definitely been to prison, you thought. He had that walk and everything.

You watched as his brothers — four of them? — laughed and patted his back in typical guy-fashion when he returned and how his body language looked as rigid and uncomfortable with them as it had with you. Small comfort, at least.

“No trouble,” you said with a smile and held your hand out to Jasmine, who grimaced and reached down into her garter belt for the money. “I’ll let it slide this time since we agreed on five hundred, but don’t try to screw me over like that again. Save the hustling for the Johns, okay?”

A venomous frown marred Jasmine’s porcelain features, but she did not have time to reply before the club manager sidled over.

“Hey, Karma, the south pole’s free the next song. You up for it?”

Even with Pope’s so-called ‘bonus’, you still had some ways to go before you were covered for the semester. So you finished your water and smiled. “Sure.”

“Break a leg,” Jasmine called after you, but you did not pay her any attention.

“And here’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” the DJ announced over the music as you trailed your heels over the podium and caressed the pole like a long lost lover, noticing how Pope was not at his table anymore, “she goes around and comes around. Please give it up for… Karma!” ------ I admit, I posted this because I need to connect more with other Pope-girlies. Come scream with me in my inbox. Please.

Other than that, if you like my writing and want to see more? Reblogs and comments make me write faster 💕 Thank you!

#andrew pope cody #andrew pope cody x reader #animal kingdom #andrew cody #pope cody #andrew cody x reader #pope cody x reader #karma-fic #my writing

311 notes · View notes

agustdsluv · 3 days ago

Text

GAME BOY 🎮 | JJK

summary | “you’re just a game boy, I ain’t tryna play, boy. I ain’t thinking about you. loving you’s a game boy, l should throw it away, boy.”

inspired by Katseye’s “GAMEBOY”

paring | jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings | enemies (not really) to lovers, “I hate how much I want you” energy, slow burn, playful angst, teasing banter, unresolved sexual tension, emotional walls crumbling, Mature / 16+ (eventual 18+ themes implied) smut implied (nothing explicit, but heavy tension, undressing, kissing, etc.) Mild alcohol consumption

word count | 2.4k

notes: I was listening to Game Boy today and I kinda got this sort of idea but it’s not really my best work so I’ll probably try to re-create it and write something else out of it. It’s literally all over the place so just bear with me and then I’ll definitely try to rewrite it later.

SERIES M.LIST

The café hummed with the usual late afternoon buzz—clinking cups, soft indie music, and murmured conversations blending into a warm, familiar noise. Y/N sat at her favorite corner table, her legs crossed, one eyebrow raised as she scrolled through her phone without much interest. But her eyes kept darting up, scanning the entrance with a smirk tugging at her lips.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Jungkook appeared like clockwork, casual but confident, the kind of presence that made heads turn. The way his hair fell just right, the effortless swagger in his step—it was a carefully crafted act, one Y/N could read like a book. He was the Gameboy: fun, unpredictable, always ready to push buttons for the thrill of it.

Her smirk deepened as he spotted her immediately. His eyes lit up with that familiar mixture of mischief and something more subtle—something he never quite let show.

Sliding into the seat across from her without hesitation, he said, “Hey. I thought you’d be hard to find today.”

Y/N stretched her arms above her head, pretending to be unimpressed. “You’re just on time as always. I’m starting to think you time your entrances.”

“Maybe I do,” Jungkook teased, leaning forward, hands folded casually. “Or maybe I’m just drawn to the drama.”

She laughed lightly, eyes sparkling. “Tell your friends I love the drama. Play pretend, but you know it’s karma.”

He raised a brow, smiling. “Karma, huh? You’re the one always stirring things up.”

Y/N shrugged, unapologetic. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

They fell into the comfortable rhythm they’d perfected over months—a battle of words, a dance of teasing that everyone around might mistake for tension but was really just the early stages of something neither wanted to admit.

“Come on,” Jungkook said, dropping his voice an octave. “You know you’re the one who’s lonely calling.”

Y/N’s smile didn’t falter. “Blame me if you want, but I ain’t the problem.”

The café door jingled, and a few heads turned as a group of Y/N’s friends filed in, laughing and chatting. Y/N waved them over but kept her attention on Jungkook.

“Look at you,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Always acting like you don’t care. But I see the way you watch me.”

He shrugged, trying to look casual but failing miserably. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

Y/N leaned back, crossing her arms. “Curious enough to play a game you’re gonna lose?”

“Game on,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin that was equal parts challenge and invitation.

The rest of the day unfolded like a series of little battles and near-misses. They ran into each other unexpectedly—outside the record store, at the park where Y/N went for her evening run, even at the late-night taco stand she frequented after shifts. Each encounter layered with playful digs and flirty comments, their conversations a chess match of words.

“You keep pushing my buttons, you know,” Jungkook admitted one night as they sat on the steps of an old theatre after a spontaneous late-night walk.

Y/N caught his gaze, steady and cool. “And you? You leveled up, but you’re still losing.”

“Maybe I’m not trying to win,” he said quietly, eyes not leaving hers.

She felt the air shift between them but kept her tone light. “Now I’m somebody you don’t wanna lose, huh?”

He laughed softly, but there was no mistaking the truth beneath his words. “Yeah. Guess you are.”

Back at her apartment, Y/N rolled her eyes at her reflection. She’d been playing this game for weeks now, and despite her tough exterior, she found herself thinking about him more than she liked to admit. Jungkook, with his easy smile and those moments when his guard dropped just enough to make her wonder if maybe he was playing for keeps.

She grabbed her phone and typed a quick message to her best friend: “I swear, he’s like a Gameboy. Always flashing and buzzing, but can’t get enough.”

Her phone buzzed immediately with a reply: “You better watch out. Gameboys get addictive.”

Y/N smirked, pocketing the phone. Maybe this game wasn’t so bad after all.

The city skyline glimmered behind the bar’s floor-to-ceiling windows as Y/N slid onto a stool at the crowded lounge. She scanned the room with a smirk—her friends were already deep in conversation, but her eyes were on the door.

Because she just knew he’d show up.

And sure enough, like a magnet, Jungkook strolled in minutes later, cool and confident, slipping past the crowd toward the bar.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Y/N called out, voice loud enough to catch his attention without seeming desperate.

Jungkook grinned, raising an eyebrow. “You missed me?”

“Miss you? Not really. But I did get bored without someone to tease.”

“Ah, so you admit you like the game,” he said, leaning on the bar beside her.

Y/N laughed, swirling her drink. “Maybe I like winning more.”

Jungkook smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

A few rounds of drinks later, their banter grew louder and more flirtatious, drawing amused looks from friends around them.

“So,” Y/N said, voice dipped in challenge, “I hear you think you’re leveled up.”

“Leveling up is my specialty,” Jungkook replied, eyes locked on hers. “But maybe you’re the one who’s underestimated me.”

She shook her head, mock exasperated. “Underestimate me? Big mistake.”

He tapped her fingers gently on the bar. “Then maybe I’m not underestimating. Maybe I’m just… curious.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she covered it with a grin. “Curious enough to lose?”

“Not if I play it right.”

Outside, Y/N and Jungkook found themselves alone under the streetlights, the city’s hum fading into the background.

“You’re impossible,” she said softly, eyes glinting in the dark.

“Is that a compliment?” he asked, stepping closer.

She shrugged, trying not to show how her heart sped up. “Maybe.”

Jungkook smiled, voice dropping. “You keep playing this game, but I kinda like it.”

Y/N glanced away, heat rising to her cheeks. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he whispered.

Back in her room, Y/N stared at the ceiling, replaying their night in her mind. The teasing, the tension—it was like they were circling something neither dared to name.

Maybe this game wasn’t just a game anymore.

The soft hum of the city outside was a stark contrast to the chaos swirling inside Y/N’s mind. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the framed photo on her desk—a snapshot from years ago, simpler times. Back when life felt less like a game and more like something real.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Jungkook: “You okay? You’ve been quiet all day.”

Y/N smiled, typing back quickly, “Just thinking. Not thinking about you”

Truth was, she was trying to untangle the mess of feelings she was conveniently ignoring. She’d always been the confident one—the girl who laughed off drama, who pushed people away before they could get too close. But Jungkook? He had this way of poking at those walls, gently but persistently.

She remembered the first time they met—he was the guy who dared to challenge her at every turn, who teased like it was a sport. At first, she thought he was just another distraction. But now, it felt different.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s fingers trembled slightly as he stared at Y/N’s last message: “Not thinking about you.” The words were a dare, a tease—and yet, they torched through his mind like wildfire. How could she say that? How could he stop thinking about her when every nerve in his body screamed her name?

He dropped his phone onto the bed and leaned back, eyes closing. The image of her—the way her lips curved into that confident, challenging smirk—was burned into his brain. Every time he thought about their banter, the way her fingers brushed his arm just so casually, a slow heat pooled low in his stomach.

It was more than addiction. It was obsession.

Jungkook swallowed hard, remembering the last time they’d been close—too close. Her breath had hitched when he’d leaned in just a fraction too near, her eyes dark with something dangerous and delicious. He’d wanted to cross the line, to see if she’d fight him or surrender.

And he knew—he wanted to find out.

The thought alone set his pulse racing.

That night, unable to shake the craving, Jungkook found himself pacing in his room. His shirt was undone at the top, the heat inside him growing unbearable. His mind was a relentless replay of every glance, every touch, every teasing word Y/N had thrown at him.

She’s like a game I can’t quit.

His hands clenched into fists as the need to close the distance between them burned hotter than ever.

Y/N wasn’t innocent in this game. She felt it too—the pull, the magnetic charge between them that sizzled just beneath the surface of their teasing.

One late night, they found themselves alone in a cramped elevator after a night out. The tension was so thick, it was almost suffocating.

Jungkook’s hand brushed her arm, deliberate and electric. Y/N froze, heart hammering, every nerve alive.

“Gameboy,” she whispered, voice low, “you’re messing with fire.”

His eyes darkened, lips curling into a dangerous smile. “And you? You’re the only one I want to burn for.”

They were inches apart—too close to back away, too charged to ignore the desire simmering between them.

Jungkook’s breath hitched as Y/N’s fingers traced the line of his jaw. “I’m addicted to this,” he confessed, voice rough. “To you.”

Y/N’s smirk softened into something more real, more vulnerable. “Good. Because I’m not just playing anymore.”

The elevator dinged open, but neither of them moved. The game had changed. The stakes were higher. And neither was ready to lose.

Before she could think twice, Jungkook’s hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

Their breaths mingled, the heat between them impossible to ignore.

Then, finally, his lips captured hers in a slow, searing kiss — the teasing game melting away into something fierce and real.

Y/N responded with everything she’d been holding back, fingers tangling in his hair as the world outside disappeared.

The elevator dinged open again, but neither moved. The line had been crossed. The game was over.

The moment their lips parted in the cramped elevator, the world outside ceased to exist. Jungkook’s hands slid from her face to her waist, pulling Y/N impossibly close. She melted against him, heat blossoming between them like a wildfire.

Her breath hitched as his fingers trailed lower, tracing the curve of her hip beneath the fabric of her jacket. The teasing smiles, the playful rivalry—it all dissolved into raw desire.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured against her lips, voice thick with need. “Completely addicted.”

Y/N’s pulse thundered, her fingers trembling as they explored the planes of his chest. “Don’t think I’m an easy win,” she whispered back, breathless and bold.

His lips found the sensitive skin beneath her ear, nipping gently as she shivered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The elevator lights flickered as time slowed, their bodies pressed so close it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Every touch ignited sparks, every breath whispered promises.

The world outside the elevator was distant noise compared to the storm raging between them. Once they made it inside the apartment Jungkook’s hands roamed with increasing boldness, memorizing the feel of her, igniting a fire neither could contain.

Y/N’s breath hitched as his lips traveled down her neck, the warmth of his mouth leaving a trail of heat that set her skin ablaze. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed tight.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered, voice trembling with desire.

He chuckled low, voice husky. “Only when I’m with you.”

The room seemed to shrink around them as the tension exploded into a frenzy of touches and whispered names. Clothes became obstacles to remove, kisses deepened, and the playful battles gave way to something urgent and consuming.

Every stolen breath, every shiver and sigh, told the story of two rivals who’d finally found the line between challenge and surrender.

You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, voice thick with longing.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her fingers trembling as they threaded through his hair. “Maybe I like that,” she whispered, her lips brushing his with a teasing smile that ignited a fresh blaze inside him.

Their kiss deepened, a slow, hungry exploration that left no room for pretense or games. Jungkook’s hands slid beneath her shirt, the warmth of his skin against hers setting her nerves alight. She pressed into him, heart pounding, every touch a promise and a question all at once.

He traced the curve of her spine with feather-light touches, sending waves of heat that spread through her like wildfire. Their breaths mingled, ragged and desperate.

Y/N’s voice was barely more than a breath. “I’m not just your game.”

Jungkook pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. “You’re so much more.”

Every inch of space between them disappeared as he lifted her, pressing her back against the cool metal wall. Her hands roamed freely now, tracing the lines of his strong shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were perfectly aligned.

The teasing was gone, replaced by raw, fierce need. Every kiss, every touch, was a surrender—both of them letting go of their walls, their fears, their games.

He pressed closer against her, their breaths mingling. “Maybe losing’s not so bad if it’s to you.”

Her smirk softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through. “Don’t get comfortable. I’m still winning.”

They laughed, the tension melting into something warm and electric—their rivalry evolving into a dance neither wanted to stop.

222 notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 days ago

Text

awwww I'm blushing!! 🥰 Thank you so much, friend!! 💕

the opening itself was so good, you have such a way with descriptions it's so easy to get immersed and be able to visualize it all ✨

ehehe I'm so glad you enjoyed the steamy opener! 😘

prime example right here. the wordplay? the phrasing? the descriptions?? insane. chefs kiss. 🤌🏽💋 had me blushing, fanning myself, talking into the air — amazing ❤️‍🔥🫠

🤭💜🤭💜🤭 legit thank you so much!! Gotta admit, smut writing is my biggest challenge lolol

this is so sweet are u kiddingggg 😭

Aww that was my favorite part to write for this scene tbh 🥹 finally we get Mark's side of the missing her, wanting her, hurting without her. 💙

this had me cracking up

LOL I'll admit the "dropping the soap" was a bit cliché, but it still made me giggle 😂

aghhh my heart 😩 the bathroom scenes in the show have been making my chest ache fr, i'm worried for himmm 🥺 (and now i'm worried for him in this series-verse too... loll)

omg yesss, they're literally hurting my heart so much, so of course I had to inject one here lolll (oh, expect more of that kind of angst to come, unfortunately 🥲)

cryinggggggg i love this, and them 😭

Ok, thank you for highlighting my actual favorite line. It may be too sappy but I couldn't help myself 😂💕

I’ll admit this soft sequence with her mom made me cry a little 🥹 i've been missing my mom a bit extra lately and this really took me back to being in the kitchen with her :') lisette seems so sweet already, I loved her dynamic with the reader and with mark 💙 (even with rachel, ik that look of disappointment has gotta sting 😗)

I'm so sorry, hun. I didn't know you lost your mom. 🫂💙

Yeah, Lisette is a sweetheart for real. 💓💓💓 She def treated Mark like family (and was verrrry disappointed in Rachel)

i know that's right !!! now this i love to see, get her 🤣 I love that she went straight for the punch, that bitch deserved to get milly rocked hard lmao

Ohhhh get ready lmaooo. Reader is NOT playing - whem she said on sight, she really meant on sight 🤣

yikessss, i feel for him. traffic here is a nightmare but rush hour? blegh 😔

Ooh are you out in Cali? Forgive me if I ever misrepresent the state bc I've actually never been there loll

aaaand crying again. i love that he had that with her and I hope with time he can get that again 💙

aww don't worry, he'll get a piece of that again in this one-shot (and maybe more later on in the series) 🥹💙

hooooooly shit lmfaooooo this is so much better than i could imagine. para que se le quite a la pendeja 🤣

ahahaaaaa exactamente! 😏

and she's stiiillll lying like oh my god girl, give it up 🤦🏽‍♀️ bien que tiene los cojones para hacer desmadre pero no para decir la verdad? wild.

por eso - ella necesita quantos cocotazos to get her head right. lying ass bitch 😂

man :(( I feel for them, I really do. hopeful for those second opinions...👀

oh we're gonna work on it! 😅

I hope this truly sits with her, and settles deep into her bones. not for a redemption arc, but so she can actually take the time and effort to self reflect and stop being such a nasty person with terrible intentions. like her apologies mean nothing considering it took over nine months and a face full of dog shit to admit to what she really did.

Yeah I doubt I'll write a true redemption for Rachel, but this is an important step for her realizing the scope of the damage of what she's done to both reader and Mark 💔💔 (and she doesn't even know about his diagnosis). She's truly damaged and vindictive

i'm glad the table setting ended up working out, with a much better third guest :p i'm truly obsessed with mark and this little series verse, 💙💙 i'm excited to see where you take this !!

Yesss exactly! Mark gets to be their #3, and he gets a home-cooked meal, even if it means he has to come clean to his second mom too 🥲

I'm so happy you love this storyverse because I'm having so much fun with it so far! 🥰 I can't wait to share more of it soon 💞💞

SISTER, SISTER

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: You and Mark have an emotional reconnection after he finally comes clean. But that also means you have some unfinished business to take care of with your sister, Rachel.

AN: Wrote this last week because I guess I can't stop myself! 😂 So yep, these Mark stories have officially become a series of one-shots called — ‘Til When Do Us Part. This one is also a gif check requested by my friend @lamentationsofalonelypotato for the 5K Follower Celebration. I think this is an important puzzle piece to explore after Catastrophic Blues. 😉

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: [Set during 1x02] 18+ only! Reunion smut, fluff, an epic cat fight (lol), angst, hurt/comfort

Series Masterlist

His hair dragged through your fingers again. First soft and loose, then gripped tight—desperate, hot tingles across your skin.

It was almost too much.

A halting moan fell from your lips, his biting kiss along your throat as he moved inside you.

“Fuck. Takin’ me better than ever, baby,” he said into your skin, his words gritted out and tinged with smoke and relief. “Gonna feel me for fuckin’ days at this rate.”

The sound of his voice reached deep into your bones. The safety of his arms caged you underneath him on his bed, the old mattress creaking with every test of the springs. He wrapped an arm around your thigh like curling steel, opening you up more for him, making his rolling thrusts hit deeper. Harder. A man possessed.

You gasped, your pussy already throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Your words were barely syllables, but they escaped you nonetheless. "Oh, fuck. Mark..."

He smirked into your neck. His lips trailed down to your shoulder and nipped harder with teeth, just to feel you writhe against him. You whimpered, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chest when you arched back up into him.

His hot breaths further ignited your skin. Your nails raked down the back of his neck and down his shoulder as you held on for the ride—an obscene squelching of wetness and hot breaths, skin against flushed skin. Your fingers pressed into every divot of muscle, as if you could sink right through his skin and make him feel you. Not for days. Forever.

You didn’t have words to speak. It was all in your eyes when they met his. Raw, vulnerable, glassy with pleasure, your breaths unsteady with emotion.

He pulled back a little, just so he could slip his hand between your bodies and find your slick, swollen clit again. He swept the pads of his fingers in the angles and rhythm he knew would serve you best in between his thrusts.

He swallowed your gasp of his name, your whimpers as you shuddered and came. A sensation like kaleidoscope colors, bursting like so many stars. You fucking squeezed him from the inside out for the third time tonight, finally forcing a ragged groan from his own lips as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered a shaky and powerful release.

You grabbed his face and poured your soul into that kiss, a wet and filthy meeting of lips and tongues.

Panting breaths forced their way through his nose, but he wouldn’t break that kiss for all the world. He finally had you back in his arms. He had the scent of your floral soap in his nose, your familiar sweetness on his tongue, your hair threaded through his fingers. He had it all.

It wasn’t the faded memories he clung to in a brick-and-mortal cell, or the daydreams of what if that had been torturing him whenever he saw a girl in a white dress, or a family sitting at dinner with their little kids in highchairs.

It was you, solid and real.

Your kiss swollen lips dragged from his slowly, reluctantly, with shaky breaths in between.

He let your thighs slip down to rest more comfortably around his hips, but he didn't move just yet. He stayed buried deep inside you.

He brushed your frizzy hair away from your forehead, his eyes a little softer, less crazed. You sniffled as a tear rolled from the corner of your eye. He swept the wetness away with his thumb.

“I know it was good, but you don’t need to cry, sweetheart,” he teased lightly. There was a tender note in his voice though.

Your heart clenched to hear it. Part of you still couldn't believe this was real. Despite yourself, you laughed a little, breathless and boneless.

“I guess it’s just, um…it’s been a while.”

“Really? You haven’t, uh, been seeing anyone?” he asked, trying to hide the hope from his voice.

You snorted. “No.”

Plain and simple. He quirked a smile.

“And you?” you asked reluctantly, as if the answer wouldn't tear into you if he said any form of yes.

He almost laughed. “I was in lockup for nine months, remember?”

Relief allowed you to relax again. A smirk began to curve your lips as your fingers tapped an idle rhythm on his dewy arms.

“What, you didn’t get yourself a little boyfriend? No ‘drop the soap’ action?” you teased.

Mark’s jaw nearly unhinged. He stared down at you, disbelief and amusement warring for dominance at your cheek.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?”

Your whole body shook in effort to contain your giggles, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh. Honestly, he should’ve expected nothing fucking less from you.

You were still kee-keeing when you caressed his bearded face with both hands, then twined your arms around his neck. But soon, you sobered up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… You had to live with those animals for almost a whole year. I can’t even imagine how deeply shitty that was. How scary,” you said.

Mark huffed, shaking his head. He rubbed your arm and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Heh. I was in hell long before I walked into Palmdale,” he said.

The confession slipped through his lips before he could think better of it, but there it was. Your expression fell even more. With a sigh, he stroked your cheek. Then he carefully withdrew, pulling out of your heat. You both felt the loss with soft groans.

He climbed out of bed just to grab a towel from his bathroom for the cleanup.

This was the first time you’d come to his place, just a couple of days since he took you home from that bar in Downtown. Two days since he came clean to you about what happened in Venice. Two days since you somehow found it in your heart to forgive him.

He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing with you. He hadn’t discussed it with you, hadn’t labelled it. It was almost as if you two had picked up from where you left off, except this time, there was an unknown expiration date.

That reminder literally hit him between the eyes. It forced him to pause in the bathroom and white-knuckle grip the edge of the sink. He grimaced and willed the pain away, stifling a grunt. Fuck...not even a moment's fucking peace.

"You okay?" your voice filtered over from the bedroom. Mark turned his face away from the mirror, just in case you could catch an angle of him.

"Yeah," he said, a little rougher. He breathed in deep, until the sharpest edges were passed. He padded back out and brought the dampened towel back to you.

It was late, but he still checked his phone on the nightstand for any missed notifications. He never knew when he might get called in by Blythe—another thing Mark couldn’t tell you about. He wondered if the taskforce was on your radar anyway, what with how D.A. Valwell was consistently trying to butt into their operations.

So far, you hadn’t mentioned anything weird going on with your boss in the office. Maybe Valwell was keeping you out of it. As he should.

You welcomed Mark back into bed and under the covers, luring him into a kiss as he settled in beside you. He drew you into his arms and couldn’t help but stare. He took in every contour of your face. Every shade of beauty.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Have I said that yet?”

A slight, sad smile twitched at your lips. Your heart pulsed sharply.

“What’s happening to you isn’t your fault. There’s no reason to be sorry,” you said.

“There is a reason,” he nodded. “I didn’t want to leave you twisting in the wind. I just…”

“I know,” you sighed. You watched his profile as he looked ahead, rather than at you directly. A deep breath ran through him, not altogether steady.

“I love you,” he said. He swallowed, jaw clenching. “Think it’s pretty obvious that I never stopped.”

You guided his face back toward you with a gentle hand on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over his lips.

“It’s become painfully clear to me,” you said, “that I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

Morning came, and you weren’t ready. You didn’t want to leave this house with its familiar smell and its gray-blue walls, which you and Mark painted together. After he inherited the house from his mother, who passed away a few years ago, you helped him clean and touch it up without losing the character of the house.

You were going to officially move in with him after you two got married and let go of your Downtown apartment that was close to your job, but often so empty. Obviously, that move never happened.

“You’re having dinner with your mom tonight, right?” Mark asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You finished tucking in your blouse into your skirt and began to fix your hair in his wardrobe mirror. You had to go into work, and so did he. He was buckling his belt over his jeans, already dressed in a dark green shirt and one of his favorite leather jackets—the black one you helped him pick out.

“Yeah, every Tuesday,” you nodded. You turned and reached for the edges of his jacket. “I know it’s your business to share, but…can I tell her about what you’re going through? That we’re back together? She would want to see you.”

Mark hesitated. “I’d like that too, but let's just keep this between you and me for now.”

You frowned. “I still can’t believe you haven’t told your precinct. How long do you plan to work like this? Mark, what if…what if something happens when you’re on the job? I mean medically.”

He couldn’t blame you for your worry and concern. He held you by your arms and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“You know I’m on a case right now. It’s important,” he said, trying to communicate the gravity of it through his eyes, the tone of his voice. “After that’s done…I don’t know. We’ll talk about it. That and the, uh, second opinion stuff.”

Despite your lingering worry, a small smile peeked through. “At least you said we.”

Mark flickered at a smile too. He bowed down to kiss you on the forehead, lingering there with a short sigh. Ever since he left you, he’d been operating with a reckless head and a worse heart. But if you were determined to stick this out with him, like you seemed to be, then it wasn’t just about him anymore.

He’d have to protect you too.

“Mmm, smells good, Mom,” you said, shutting the door of your childhood home behind you. Inside, the modest three-bedroom house was filled with the rich savory smell of something warm in the oven.

Your mom, Lisette, waved you over with her oven mitt hand.

“Hey, honey. Come ‘ere and taste this.”

She took out a large glass pan filled with beef pot roast, complete with carrots, little yellow potatoes, and charred sprigs of rosemary on top.

“Wow, all that for just the two of us?” you asked, kissing her on the cheek. She just smiled and gave you a forkful after she blew on it first. You took the bite and fairly melted.

“Ughhh, so good. It’s been a long time since you made a whole…” You trailed off as you realized it.

Lisette’s smile turned bittersweet. “Yeah, it was your father’s favorite.”

She took off her oven mitts and left the pan to cool on the counter. She braced a few fingertips on the edge of that counter, as if her mind contained too many memories to sort through. You brushed a hand against her arm, earning her attention.

“Thanks. I brought dessert too,” you said, raising the grocery bag in your hand. You set that on the counter as well. You gave your mom a hug, warm and comforting.

Lisette sighed and hugged you back gratefully. She rubbed your back, like good moms did. But when she pulled back, she noted the smile on your face with a raised brow. It was genuine, not the fake ones you gave to pacify her. In fact, you looked more relaxed, more like yourself.

“You seem…”

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“I don’t know. A little happier today, I guess,” she said. “Did something good happen at work?”

You huffed. “No. Valwell’s antsy and frustrated about something, but every time I ask what’s wrong, he tells me it’s fine. Nothing for me to worry about.”

Not to mention, he’d taken three long lunches at odd times in the past week alone. Every time he got back to the office, he seemed more agitated and upset, storming through the halls like they owed him rent money.

“Well, it’s probably above your clearance, honey,” said Lisette. “If he wanted you to know, he would tell you.”

You frowned thoughtfully, tapping a nail on the counter. Before you could think too hard on it, your mom subtly cleared her throat, the way she always did when she was a bit nervous. She busied herself with grabbing silverware for the dinner table. Your brows drew together.

“You grabbed three sets,” you pointed out.

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “We’re going to be three today.”

“Who else is coming?”

Lisette hesitated, didn’t seem to want to meet your suspicious gaze. “Your sister. I invited her.”

Your face fell. Stony and incredulous.

“You did not.”

“I did. You two haven’t spoken in almost a year.”

“For good damn reason, Mom!”

“I know,” Lisette said, in a sharper voice than you expected. After a moment though, she softened. “I know. What she did to you…it’s frankly incomprehensible. But she’s still your sister. Your father would be sick to know you two are fighting like this.”

A harsh sigh fell from your lips. You rubbed your temples with both hands.

“We’re not fighting,” you said. “I’m just choosing to pretend I’m an only child.”

Lisette gave you a sad frown that spoke more volumes than her words could. You felt a stab of guilt for it, but you didn’t take it back. If you had to see that hateful bitch today, then you wouldn’t hold back this time. It would be on sight.

And…of fucking course.

As if on cue, there was a commotion at the front door. The lock began to turn and click. Then the door slid open, revealing Rachel with her key to the house poised in hand. She was a personal trainer and yoga instructor, so she was wearing her skin-tight Halara leggings (yes, the “TikTok Leggings”), along with a breezy crop top.

She had a chain-link purse strung over her shoulder and oversized sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, but you could still see her eyes widen when she caught sight of you, her steps stopping short in the doorway.

You stared right back at her. Your teeth clenched, like a train grinding against the tracks at a hard stop and shooting off sparks. Everything Mark told you two days ago came rushing through your mind—every unwanted touch, every disgusting, manipulative word she used to try and spin him into her web while he was at his worst.

“What—What’re you doing here?” she said, a frightened little deer caught in your trajectory.

You didn’t even answer. You couldn’t speak.

You just moved, rounding the kitchen counter and cutting through the dining room with a purpose. Rachel squeaked, and she scrambled to back out of the house the way she came in. She flung the door open and retreated.

You followed.

“I know what you really did, you lying, psycho bitch!” you hissed. Your voice carried and seemed to slap Rachel upside the head. She stopped on the stone walkway leading up to the house. She turned around, lifted the sunglasses to the top of her head, and she glared at you warily.

“What’re you talking about?” she shot back.

You laughed in disbelief. “Oh, don’t act dumb now. What you did to Mark isn’t just reprehensible. I should file a report and get you fucking arrested for being a vile cunt.”

Rachel’s eyes flashed. Her face screwed up in anger, so much that she strode back up the steps and slapped you across the cheek. Your head twisted to the side at the stinging blow. You even stumbled a little, but your shock gave way to a grim smile.

Can we say, self-defense?

Her face dawned with realization, just a bit too late. She didn’t even have the instincts to duck your punch.

“Goddamn it. Fucking move, people!” Mark muttered uselessly at the cars in front of him.

It had been a long damn day. It also looked like he and the team were heading to Mexico in the morning. Doing a drug run for Javi, a local cartel boss, would hopefully get them one step closer to finding out who he carried a shipment of goddamn fissile material for. They had to find out who was trying to orchestrate another 9/11 in California.

Mark was on his way home, cutting through L.A. traffic the best he could during rush hour. His stomach was practically attacking his liver in hunger. He also wanted to see you before he left, hopefully for just a day or two.

Didn’t you say you were over at your mom’s for dinner? Damn, that woman could cook.

How many Sunday dinners had he spent with your family in the past five years? All those Christmases and Thanksgivings, birthdays, Fourth of Julys at the beach and Memorial Day backyard barbeques.

Your mom was a sweetheart, too. She always bought him gifts at Christmas, never forgot his birthday, always saved him a special cut of whatever she was cooking. Truth be told, she was like a second mother to him, especially after his mom passed.

Mark sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his head slowly fall back against the headrest. A warning flash of pain echoed through his skull, like a small oyster knife on the twist.

Fuck me.

It would be good to see Lisette—and be able to share another one of those meals with you too, however many of them he had left.

The traffic light finally turned green. Mark found himself changing lanes, then changing directions. Another twenty minutes had him pulling up to your family home on a quiet residential street.

Well, it was usually quiet.

“Aw, shit.” Was that Rachel out there on the driveway? What the hell was she doing here?

She was beelining up those cobblestone steps right for you. She threw you a slap so hard it snapped your head to the right, making your hair fly in your face.

“The fuck?!” His angry brows furrowing, Mark parked the car and unclipped his seatbelt quick, but when he next looked up, he caught sight of your swift left hook.

“God-damn,” he couldn’t help but laugh. As a man of the law, he knew he should've been stepping in right about now, but this opportunity was a little too satisfying to give up. He stayed where he sat to watch the show.

Rachel went down like a sack of shit.

And you didn’t waste no time. You pushed her the rest of the way down into the grassy front yard and got on top of her, pinning her arms behind her back and wedging your knee in her spine. Before she could swing back and headbutt you, you shoved her face into the grass.

Your dad taught you pretty damn well.

Rachel screamed and cried for help, but all it did was fuel your ire. You felt crazy and deranged, but you also felt alive too, for the first time in a long time.

Meanwhile, your mom watched in worry from the porch. Her protests weren’t strong enough to reach you though.

“Get off me, you fat ugly bitch!” Rachel screeched.

You saw a nice little brown pile the neighbor’s dog must’ve left this morning. It was just close enough for you to grab (unfortunately) with your bare hand. You pulled her head back by her hair and smeared dog shit all over her face—her cheeks, her forehead and chin. Her shrill screech reached new heights.

The neighbors could’ve been watching with shocked open mouths and iPhone cameras raised high, but you didn’t give even half of a fuck. You did quiet her down though, by shoving her face back into the dirt. The lawn was still nice and damp from the afternoon sprinklers.

“Yeah? You like that? Keep talking shit and I'll break your fake-ass nose, which I helped pay for!” you shouted. “I waited in that fucking lobby for hours while they hacked off the old one. I gave you cold compresses for your swollen, puffy lobster face. Now how about I snap that shit off like you’re Mr. fucking Potato Head?”

She cried as if you were killing her. Dramatic, as always. But eventually she stopped wriggling and thrashing so much, just shaking her head and sniveling. Realizing she wasn’t about to get out of this so easily, she switched tactics.

"Okay." She splayed her hands out the best she could behind her back in surrender. "Okay! Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!"

“Oh, yeah? You’re sorry? What’re you sorry for?” you asked.

"I already told you I fucked him! I fucked your fiancé!"

"No, but you tried to," you seethed. "You just couldn't, could you? Because he's a good man, and you're a lying slutbag. Isn't that right?"

Rachel tried to deny it, but the harder you shoved her shit-stained face into the wet dirt, the more she coughed and spluttered. You eased up just enough for her to nod her head, lips trembling.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end up so bad,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just let me go—”

Tears began to sting in your own eyes. “Do you know what you actually stole from me?”

Your breaths shook, along with the inner most depths of your soul. You bent closer to her ear.

“Time. That’s what you took from us,” you said, a coarse whisper. “Time we’ll never get back.”

Rachel continued to cry pitiful tears. You almost, almost started to feel bad for her.

But then, you didn’t. Too many memories were rising to the surface.

“Why’d you do it, huh? Danny Mendez wasn’t enough for you?” you said. “Oh yeah, you remember him, back in high school. You made out with my boyfriend the night of my senior prom, bitch!”

Oh yeah, that was a fun little memory to unlock from the brain bank. You realized now that it established a pattern of behavior, one you still couldn't completely understand. It hurt your heart.

“Why?” you demanded through blurry tears. “Why do you hate me so damn much?”

“Because!” she yelled. Her own tears had mixed with the shit smears on her face. Her lips wobbled. “Everyone thinks you’re so fucking perfect! Mom…Dad…he practically worshipped you.”

Your brows knitted together. “No, he didn’t. What the hell are you talking about? He rode my ass all the time! Way harder than he ever did to you.”

Your dad had been a good man, but he'd also been a fucking hardass. A former marine turned LAPD, from officer to Homicide Detective, and finally Captain. In typical firstborn syndrome fashion, you took on the brunt of his expectations, and even resented him for it at times. But you eventually saw the wisdom and the work ethic he was trying to instill in you.

Then again, it would’ve been better for everyone if he had paid closer attention to Rachel. She had been a wild child who even you had a hard time corralling. Your mom was a loving, nurturing person, but unfortunately, not much of a disciplinarian. Your father had too much on his plate at work to wrangle Rachel in as much as he’d wanted.

“Because he believed in you!” she said. “He didn’t just pick at you or criticize you or tell you what to do like you were one of his little soldiers. He talked to you like…like a person. Even…even when he was dying. He only ever asked for you, or for Mom. He never asked for me.”

You heard the resentment and immature selfishness in her voice, but you also heard the hurt. The deep kind of hurt that could make you lash out at others, just to try to mask the pain.

After a long moment of hearing her pitiful sniffles, you sighed.

“He did ask for you,” you admitted. “That day, when you and Mom went out to get coffee, and it was just me and him…I think he knew it was the end. He opened his eyes for the first time in days, and he said your name. His eyes went all around the room, like he was looking for you.”

Rachel’s body shook underneath you. Her quiet sobs of realization reached your ears.

“I called you, but you didn’t pick up. Maybe you had your phone on silent because we were in the hospital… Anyway, a few minutes later, he was gone,” you said. “But he loved you, Rachel. He just hated that he couldn’t stop you from becoming what you are. Selfish. Insecure. Immature and vindictive. A truly heinous combination.”

Rachel had long stopped fighting you. She just cried and shook like a leaf.

You jolted at a touch on your shoulder. You were surprised to find Mark, looking down at you with calm reassurance and a tinge of humor in his eyes.

“All right, sweetheart. Think she’s had enough,” he said.

Rachel gasped and craned her neck up as far as she could. Her eyes went impossibly wide, her mouth falling open in shock to see him.

Mark helped you up with one hand on your arm and another around your waist. He guided you away from your sister. Rachel pushed off the ground and scrambled shakily to her feet. She wiped at her disgusting face painted with three kinds of shit, but shame was what radiated the most when she looked up at you and Mark.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said.

It was the first time you actually believed her. You didn’t say anything, but you swallowed tightly.

Rachel shot one last glance at Lisette, who was teary herself with disappointment. Rachel grabbed her purse off the ground and retreated quickly to her car. You watched her go, releasing a deep breath and the rest of your fury.

Mark massaged the back of your neck, pressing a kiss to your temple. He felt a surge of pride well up in his chest for you. Not just for being a veritable badass and handling your business, but for still having the kind heart he knew underneath.

“You good, Rocky?” he asked with a note of teasing.

Your lips tugged reluctantly at a smile. You wondered how much he saw. How much he heard. All you knew was, you really needed to get cleaned up.

“I don’t know. I might still be a danger to myself and others,” you said, a little slyly as your gaze ran up to his. “Might even need you to restrain me.”

His brows rose, his resulting grin showing teeth. You still knew how to catch him off-guard, in the best fucking way.

“Mark, is that really you?” your mother asked from the porch.

You two had to put a little pin in your game, for now, but his green eyes were full of promise. His lips twitched upward and he squeezed your waist. Then he looked up.

“Hey, Lisette. Been a while.”

When you and Mark ventured up the steps to join her, Lisette welcomed him into a warm, warm hug. The kind that sunk into his bones and made his shoulders feel a little lighter.

She later sighed and pulled away, giving you both a raised brow.

“It looks like there’s more to the story of what happened last year,” she said.

“That there is,” Mark nodded. He shared a look with you, and with your clean hand, you rubbed his back in support. However he wanted to do this, you would back him up.

“Well, we can talk about it over dinner,” Lisette said. She opened the front door to the house, giving a small smile. “I made a pot roast.”

Mark’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, I’m excited.”

You and your mom had the same laugh, like sweet sunshine.

“You remember my pot roast?” Lisette asked.

“’Course I do. With the little potatoes, sprinkle a’ rosemary?”

Mark held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, and he shut it behind him.

AN: Sister, sister, dog shit eater. Amirite? 🤣

I have another Mark fic in this storyverse for you guys next week! I do have more ideas too (especially after watching 1x05 😭), so I plan to continue this little series as we get deeper into the season. 💜

But until then, I'd love to know what you guys think of this one! I think reader and Mark deserve a lot more "making up for lost time" moments lol. And was her confrontation with Rachel everything you wanted it to be? 😂

Next Time:

Your arms wrapped around his waist from behind. A smile began to tug at his lips on reflex. He felt your head resting against his dewy skin. Your hands inched up his chest and playfully teased with your nails. Little sexy scratch. Little kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he said. A teasing note crept into his voice, “It’s too early for you.”

“You got in late last night.” Again. He’d been pulling late hours all week. Whatever case he was on, you had a feeling it was a big one. He still wouldn’t give you any details though. Not even when he was gone for almost two days, coming back smelling like a rancid farmhouse and covered in sweat and grime.

“I want to see you,” you added softly. “Kinda the whole point of me being here.”

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when every new story drops! Add yourself to my Tag Lists ⟡ Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💜

Join My Patreon ⟡ Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories. Top-tier patrons can even send me requests!

Mark Meachum Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mark Meachum Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats LLP @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@waynes-multiverse @hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@rizlowwritessortof @jackles010378 @nancymcl @spnaquakindgdom @bettystonewell

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @jollyhunter @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989 @siampie @masked-lost-girl

@spnbabe67 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @globetrotter28

@cookiechipdough @winchesterwild78 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@mrsjenniferwinchester @fromcaintodean @kiddieclaws @gabavaldman

#lovely review! 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #zep replies

380 notes · View notes

lilbitt · 2 days ago

Text

Blurred Lines

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore X Annie ~ A modern AU

A/N: Soooo, hi y’all! I did another thing 🥹. The way Sinners has me writing more than I have in like years is…crazy lmao. Anyways. Since this is clearly something I’m kinda doing now, I wanted to write something with multiple characters so I can get better at balancing movement, multiple people and personalities, really setting a scene etc. I figured this could be a fun way to work on that andddd to explore Stack and Annie from a younger (college age) modern perspective. It’s nothing too serious, 7.5k words but really not that long. I was just playing around and trying to get better at some things I struggle with. Enjoy 🫶🏾 or don’t 😬.

C/W: Cursing, Smut (lazy smut at that, I was tired), MDI

Also, I’m not gonna tag anyone cause idkkk if yall wonna be tagged in AU stuff or not 👐🏾

A one-off comment is what started it all. Messy, meaningless, and made by drunk ass Pearline.

Well, she wasn’t drunk yet. But she would be soon, at the rate she was going.

“Y’all not hot? I’m hot as hell,” Pearline frowned at Annie and June, pulling at her collar to get some air circulating, as if the graphic tee she donned wasn’t cut, tied right under her breast, and displaying the entirety of her toned torso. The dark skinned beauty brought her red cup back to her lips and frowned harder, when a whole lotta nothing came out of it.

June snorted. “You hot, cause that’s yo’ second cup of whatever the hell Stack done mixed up in there,” she raised a brow. “We done only been here for an hour P. You supposed to sip that shit, not chug it.”

By here, June meant the Airbnb Smoke and Stack booked out for the weekend.

It was July, dead in the middle of summer, and the heat wave that’d hit Mississippi had brought a different type of hot. 100 degree temperatures that had everybody in the Delta either changing clothes three times a day or hunkering down in the house, under the AC, like hermits. Everybody was agitated, everybody was restless, and the twins were, of course, capitalizing off it.

Twenty-five at the door in exchange for music, food, company, and drank, all inside and out from under the sun. The ‘entry fee’ was steep as hell, but people were just going crazy enough to show up anyways, and the place was gradually getting full, bodies flowing through the door where Cornbread sat, yapping and collecting payment.

Wayne thumped through the speakers set up in the living area—not so loud that people had to scream to make conversation—but loud enough, ensuring the words could be heard and the crowd could catch a vibe.

Street nigga baby, I’m in love with the gravel..

Money gives me life like the man wit’ a gavel..

I’m strapped at home..

I’m strapped when I travel..

I pop my truck and make them bitches spread like cattle…

Annie mouthed along to the words unconsciously—this was mixtape Wayne—a song she recognized instantly and one she wouldn’t even know if somebody didn’t have her listening to it in his car every other night.

Her head bopped, eyes leaving Pearline for a second and flitting around the room. 20 somethings’, with low eyes and red solo cups in hand filled the spacious living area. A few were holding up the wall, but most were laughing, eating, dancing—a lil two step or a light twerk, nothing too crazy yet. It felt like summer, without the heatstroke, and everybody back home from college was ready to act up.

Annie’s full lips twitched upwards. One thing ‘bout them twins, they knew how to throw a party.

“This anit a funeral, J. You need to chug a cup down with me, and you do too Annie! Why y’all letting a bad bitch drink on her own?!”

At the sound of her name, Annie turned her attention back to Pearline. And then rolled her eyes at the pout on her friends face.

“Ima get me a drink,” June defended herself, slapping her hand on her chest. “I gotta eat first. Unlike you, I won’t be throwing up later in front of all these niggas that’s in here.” J looked around the room pointedly, long knotless braids flowing with the turn of her head.

Pearline stopped pouting and looked with her, sitting up a little where the three sat on the couch.

Annie shook her head in amusement. If you needed to get P’s attention, that was the way to do it.

Her friends eyes dragged around the room slow, like she was scouting.

“Hm. The niggas is outside huh?”

And they was. Grills flashing, muscles on display, roaming eyes, and slick hands. Slicker mouths. Talking shit, passing blunts, licking lips like they was ready to start choosing.

“Hell yeah they is and I see one I like.” June was eyeing a dread head in the corner. Dark skin, thick build, tattoos up and down his arms. He looked like he’d put you through the mattress, then put you through hell afterwards. And that was just her friends type.

“Come on Annie.” J was standing, adjusting the skin tight jeans wrapped around her thick thighs. “P right for once. Let’s get a drink so I can come back and see ‘bout my man.”

Annie laughed out loud, lips splitting and pretty teeth on display.

“You got issues J.” But she got up, the three friends moving through the decent sized crowd slowly but steadily—unbothered, uninterested, and each fine as hell in their own right.

Annie figured she’d get a drink too. To sip on, while she vibed and people watched, as she normally did at parties. Keeping an eye on her crazy ass friends. And waiting tell it got just a little later, when everybody was occupied, to get what’d she really came here for.

The kitchen was less crowded, people grabbing food from the aluminum pans spread on the counters and dipping out, rather than lingering. There was a small group though, seated at the kitchen table, slamming down cards so hard, Annie didn’t know how the wood hadn’t caved in.

“Draw 4 nigga!” Stack slammed a card down. “And draw another 4 after that nigga!” He leaned up out his chair, back to them and big hand landing on the table, messing up whatever piles had been there before. “And while you at it,” he threw his last card, “Draw 4 more. Uno out bitch! And I want my money!”

“Nigga, you cannot throw all them down at once!”

“We playing stacks nigga! Now run me my shit!”

The group at the table sucked their teeth simultaneously, tossing their cards down, and talking over each other to complain about how Stack was cheating, while the younger twin just fell back in his chair satisfied, smirk on his face.

“Yeah yeah. Cry to y’all mufuckin’ mamas.” He turned his head towards his brother. “Why these niggas act like they ‘ont know who I am Smoke?”

The older Moore was leaned back against the counter, plate in hand and fork full of food, while he shook his head. Stack’s ass was definitely cheating. Somehow. Had them niggas at the table emptying they pockets too. Smoke was just hoping they was too dumb to figure it out. He wanted to chill tonight, not have to lay a nigga on they ass.

June eyed the spectacle in front of her, smart mouth moving like always. “Shouldn’t y’all be playing Spades or something? You know, an adults game.”

At her voice, all eyes landed on them.

Smokes head causally turned towards the entrance of the kitchen, fork sliding between his lips, while the group at the table looked up. Stack turned last, head twisting to look over his shoulder, smug still written all over his face and smirk only growing when he saw who was standing there.

His eyes hit Annie first, gaze flicking over her quick. Real quick and real thorough. His gaze started at the top of her head, where her 4 day old twist out was finally framing her face the way she liked, and dragged down the rest of her body. She’d kept it casual. A brown graphic tee that hugged her heavy chest and soft stomach was stylishly tucked into a pair of denim shorts—light wash, tight, and wrapped around her dimpled thighs. She’d thrown on some low top brown and yellow dunks to complete the fit, and the chunky gold bracelets and necklace she wore elevated the casual vibe just enough for the occasion. Her dark brown skin was moisturized and glowing, and a swipe of gloss had her lips shining. Simple, but cute. Annie never really did too much. Frankly, because she didn’t have too.

Stack’s gaze flicked back to her face, held her stare briefly, very briefly, just long enough for her to read the I see you all up in his eyes. Long enough for her to blink slow back and let him read the I know you do all up in hers. A 10 second interaction, at the most, that felt like 30 minutes.

And then it was over. And they moved around each other. Like they always did.

Annie walked further into the kitchen, attention now on Smoke, while Stack opened his mouth to go back and forth with J.

“Girl,” Annie heard him suck his teeth behind her. “You anit never too old to get yo ass whooped in some Uno. Put some money on the table and I’ll do you just how I did these niggas.”

Annie rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to speak to the more…sensible twin instead.

“Hey Smoke,” she smiled small, fingers dancing in the air as she waved at him.

He’d sat his plate down on the counter, had a red cup of his own at his lips now, and took a long drink before answering.

“Wussup Annie?”

“This heat.”

His lips quirked, head tilting in agreement.

“You anit lying. That’s why we got y’all here though,” he twirled a finger in the air. “So y’all can get out that heat.”

Annie snorted. “Y’all got us here, so y’all can make money. 25 at the door not crazy Smoke?”

He shrugged, “Stack even let you pay that?”

He said it low, voice only loud enough to be heard by them, and his tone was casual. Not his eyes though. His eyes watched her close, like he was waiting for her to slip.

Annie paused for a beat, eyes squinting in surprise before she could catch it. Surprise at the question and that he knew to ask it.

She considered him.

The twins were identical. To a certain extent. Broad shouldered, smooth brown skin, thick lips, coffee brown eyes — even had the same deep ass dimples. So, twins for sure. Smoke had this…way about him though. This carefulness about him. A stillness that Stack just…didn’t have. The older Moore was calculating in a way that somebody in their 20’s shouldn’t be. In a way that, unlike his brother, he didn’t try to hide.

He watched her and Annie watched him. And then she laughed. Just as casually as he’d asked the question.

“What would yo brother be giving me special treatment for? I paid just like everybody else.” And she had. With the money Stack sent her. But they weren’t talking semantics.

“You know something I don’t?” She tilted her head, big eyes blinking like she was genuinely confused.

Smoke watched her for a second more, lips quirking again. Then hmmed low in his throat, shaking his head, and reaching for his cup. “Nah. Just running my mouth.”

“Stack does that enough for both of y’all Smoke,” she teased, to cover up how thrown off she still was. “No need to join in.”

He tilted his cup her way as if to say ‘touché’ then took another sip. Annie continued her rounds in the kitchen.

Giving side hugs to the couple of people she knew sitting at the table and waving sweetly to the others she didn’t.

She got to Stack last.

He was waiting for her, leaned back in the chair, legs spread wide, grin on his lips stretching big when she looked over at him. Annie let out a heavy sigh, like she was fed up already, lips tugging upwards even as she tried to fight it.

“Hi Stack.” Her tone was as flat as she could get it.

It made him grin wider. “Wussup Annie?” He dragged his eyes down her again. Said something, just to say something.

“I like yo shoes.”

“Thank you, Stack.”

“Mhm. You welcome.” He licked his lips, arms spreading wide. “What you so far for? Errbody else done got a hug. Where mine?”

June snickered under her breath. “Where my hug at is crazy.”

Annie looked him up and down like she was considering it. He was dripped in less color than he usually was—sturdy frame wrapped in a White Burberry tee, black jeans, and white and black Alexander McQueens. Everything else was business as usual though — facial hair neat and trimmed, thick lips moisturized and smirking, fresh cut with a lining so sharp it looked like it’d hurt to get. Annie eyed the chain glinting around his neck, no different than the glint coming from the ice on his wrist and in his ears.

Even when Stack kept it simple he did too much.

Annie shifted.

And he looked good doing it.

She finished her appraisal.

“I’ll pass. Don’t nobody know where yo hands been.”

Stack scoffed. “I’m the cleanest nigga in here.”

“Said no one. Ever.”

Pearline and June cackled and Stack just shook his head. Licked his lips again and watched her walk back over to her lil friends. Watched all that ass move in them shorts.

This was how they played. Stack flirting, as Stack was known to do, and Annie acting like she anit like it.

She was surprised it hadn’t gotten old yet.

“Whatever girl,” he sucked his teeth. “Y’all get a plate?”

He asked the question to all three of them but his eyes were on Annie.

Her nose wrinkled instinctively.

“You know I don’t—”

“Eat other people cooking, yeah yeah,” he waved her off. “Ms.C cooked that fish and chicken for us though, and that Mac and cheese, and she made that nasty ass red velvet cake you like, so go on head and eat.

“Anit gone have my money going to waste girl,” he said the last part almost like an afterthought. Mostly, cause it was one.

Annie’s whole face lit up, cheeks lifting, soft brown eyes growing warmer, smile lines appearing in the corners of her mouth.

“Y’all got Ms. C to cook?” Stack shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Annie cheesed harder. “Nigga you might can get that hug after all.”

And if you weren’t before, you definitely getting some pussy now.

Ms. C was an older black lady who’d been selling plates for as long as Annie could remember. She was just as mean as she was funny and she cooked like it was her first love. Didn’t have any desire to turn a labor of love into a business though. Not an official one at least. She didn’t cook for big events, unless it was something going on at the church, and she didn’t strive to open a restaurant, no matter how many people told her she’d be a guaranteed success. No, Ms. C kept it simple. She cooked right in her own kitchen, let the neighborhood spread the word of the current days menu, and sold what she had until it ran out. If the food was gone by the time you stopped by, that was just too bad. You’d have to catch her the next day. Annie just knew Ms.C made the twins pay a pretty penny to cook all that fish and chicken, just cause she could probably. Later, she’d ask Stack what it’d costed them.

Right now though, she was about to fuck this food up.

Stack watched as Annie practically floated across the kitchen towards the counter and shook his head. The stupidest shit made her happy. He cleared his throat, swiping a hand down his face, and forcing the soft smile trying to break out, away. He anit know where that was coming from, but it wasn’t meant for anyone to see. Not even Annie.

Annie was paying Stack no mind. She’d reached the counters, where Smoke still stood leaning, and eyed the food.

The Mac and cheese had a nice dent in it, and getting some quickly became first priority.

She started to step back, head turning to look for the paper plates.

And then promptly tripped over her shoe lace.

“Oh shit!” The words fell from her mouth as gravity did what gravity does. Annie was falling backward so fast, she didn’t even have time to try and grab the counter. Her eyes squeezed tight, body tensing, bracing for the impact she knew was coming, when two big hands yanked her away from the kitchen tile and into a hard chest instead.

“Oomph!” The sound was forced out her throat, as all her softness slammed into muscle. It didn’t even feel like her savior flinched, body steady and solid as ever, big hands gripping her hips like they just wanted to make sure she was steady.

Annie’s hands instinctively came up to clutch at the arms that’d stopped her fall, heart thumping louder than the base in the living room, and eyes flying open when she realized she wasn’t about to bust her ass.

Smoke was looking down at her, lips frowned up and thick brows furrowed.

“Damn Annie, you good??”

She laughed shakily, squeezing at his arms tighter, blood still racing like her body didn’t quite believe it was safe yet.

“Shit Smoke,” she shook her head. “Forget what I said earlier. You want 25 more for just saving my life?”

He laughed, hands squeezing the soft of her hips. “Just tie yo shoe and don’t bust yo head open on this floor and we good.”

Annie nodded. “I can do that.” She squeezed his arms once more. “Thank y—”

“Ohhh I like this.”

Smoke and Annie blinked, heads turning to face Pearline who stood with another cup in her hand and a smirk on her lips.

Annie’s brow furrowed.

“Like what?”

“This,” Pearline dragged a finger between Smoke and Annie. “Y’all.”

Her friend squinted like she was trying to figure something out, then nodded her head like she’d found the answer.

“Yeah. Hell yeah. June you see this?” P glanced over at June and kept on talking. “You always saying you single cause can’t nobody handle you Annie but the way he just swept you off yo feet, girrllll,” P fanned herself. “Hell yeah. He can handle all that.”

June sighed long and hard like a mother at their wits end with her child. But then she shrugged. “She a lil touched but she anit wrong,” her eyes jumped between Smoke and Annie. “And y’all both got that strong silent shit going. And y’all both fine. It makes a lot of sense, to be honest. I like it. Let’s do it.”

She said it like it was as simple as that.

Smoke blinked at both of them like they were slow and then brought his eyes back to hers.

“You good?” He squeezed her hips.

Annie nodded and he let go. She let her hands slide away from where’d they been gripping his arms and stepped back. Carefully.

“Thank you, Smoke,” she smiled quick. And then turned her head towards her ‘friends’, lips dropping. “Y’all both need help. And I’m getting new friends, ‘cause why is nobody asking if I’m okay? June, I expect more from you at least.”

June laughed, “Shiitt, I know you okay, the way Smoke snatched yo ass up. You was just fine.”

Pearline nodded emphatically. “And was!”

Annie started to roll her eyes, not even bothering to supply them with a response, crouching down instead to tie her shoe.

She double knotted the laces on both shoes for good measure and raised back up, even more intent on getting her Mac and cheese now that’d she’d almost died for it, when something made her glance across the kitchen. And pause.

Stack was staring at her so hard it felt like he was looking through her. Staring at her and Smoke. Eyes jumping from Annie, to behind her where his brother stood, and back again.

She frowned. He wasn’t slouched anymore, body leaned forward now, muscles tense like he’d been about to get up and try to catch her. Eyes moving, like he was trying to catch something else now.

Annie’s head tilted in question, confused at the look on his face. No smirk in sight, head cocked, brows furrowed like ‘what the fuck y’all got going on.’

Shifting from behind her made Annie turn her head and face Smoke, who was crossing his arms, still leaned against the counter, eyebrows raised and looking right back at Stack like ‘nigga what’.

Something passed between them, some twin telepathy shit Annie didn’t understand, and then Stack sucked his teeth.

The sound made Annie turn her head back towards him. It felt like she was getting whip lash.

“Unt unt, what y’all got going on?”

Pearline asked the question, nose wrinkling like she was personally offended at the awkwardness now wafting through the kitchen and killing her good vibes.

Behind her Smoke let out a breath. “I anit bout to play with y’all. I’m bout to go spark this shit.” He moved around Annie, a blunt in his hands that wasn’t there three seconds ago, and left the kitchen without looking back, like he couldn’t be bothered.

Annie and Stack looked at each other for another beat.

And then Stack shook his head, smirk crawling back on to his face, all teeth.

“Anit shit going on P.”

Annie prided herself on being smart. Thought of it as one of her best qualities actually — being able to make rational, sensible decisions, in a world where common sense wasn’t all that common.

At the moment though, she was questioning just exactly where her sense had been when she’d started fucking with Elias Moore in the first place. For the past hour, Stack had been working the crowd. Weaving in and out of people—laughing, talking, two stepping like he didn’t have a care in the world. And very pointedly not looking in her direction while he was doing it.

Annie shifted on the couch where she sat, taking the weight off her left ass cheek and putting more on her right, sipping the last of what was in her cup slow, and dragging her eyes away from where Stack stood laughing opened mouth at something, in favor of searching for her friends instead.

She spotted P in seconds, standing in the middle of a crowd, fingers snapping and glossy lips popping as she rapped along to Trina’s ‘Fuck Boy’ like she was putting on a personal performance. Despite the annoyance that’d been gradually building in her chest, Annie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Exactly P. Pop yo shit,” she mumbled the words softly to herself, seeking out J next. It took her a few minutes, but eventually she spotted her friend in the corner, hugged up with the dread head from earlier, finger twirling around her braids and smile on her face like she was sweet as pie.

Annie was glad they were having a good time, because her mood was quickly depleting.

Her lips twisted, eyes going back to where Stack had been a second ago, and not finding him. Her glossy mouth twisted up more.

He’d texted her this morning asking that she come through. Said it’d been too long since he’d got his hands on her, two whole entire days, and he needed a taste of what only she could give. Needed his Annie fix.

So she’d showered, slathered herself in that coconut hibiscus body butter he loved so much, got dressed, and popped out. Partly to get out the house and enjoy her last summer before graduating college. But mostly because, as bad as he’d said he needed his fix, she wanted to supply it even worse.

And now that she was here, he was going out of his way not to interact with her. It wasn’t like Annie expected for him to kiss her ass all night or constantly check in. That wasn’t how her and Stack operated, especially in public. But there was a difference between keeping interactions brief so their situation could remain lowkey and him outright acting like she didn’t exist.

Annie shook her head. She didn’t know what he had going on. If he was mad about that dumb ass comment P made earlier or what, but Stack had lost his mind if he thought she’d be sitting on this couch alone all night, when the only reason she was here, was because he’d promised to give her something very specific. If he was too bent out of shape to give it, she could really just go home.

It had gotten a little too crowded for her liking anyways, and the once spacious living room now seemed small. It was hot, and stuffy, and there was too much energy going around. She’d had some fun—caught up with a few people, eaten, enjoyed a drink, but she was tired of brushing niggas off and even more tired of people bumping into her. She was right in the middle of binging Naked and Afraid and she’d have more fun going home to finish that, than dealing with this all night.

Annie raised up off the couch, one hand going between her thick thighs to yank the denim material of her shorts down, and the other gripping her empty cup. She found the trash first, threw her red solo away, and then set out to find Stack next. She was giving him one chance to tell her what the problem was.

She stepped through the crowd, eyes searching for a big ass head and a bigger smile and came up empty. As her eyes scanned the room for a third time, she spotted someone who looked a lot like Stack though, and she didn’t hesitate to work her way towards him.

Smoke was leaned against the wall by the front door, smoking what Annie would guess to be his second blunt, and talking to Cornbread when she walked over.

“I think we gone throw another one of these next weekend. You down to work the door?”

Cornbread scoffed. “Nigga, what am I? Top flight security of the Delta?”

Smoke’ laughed. “Aight, we’ll pay you double what you making tonight, next weekend, if you work the door for us.”

Cornbread thought for a second. “Pay me double and put me on Theresa and I might could work the door next Saturday.” The jolly giant glanced around like he was looking for the woman he spoke of, when he spotted Annie instead, just as she reached them.

“Wussup Annie? You leaving already?”

She smiled soft, couldn’t help it around Cornbread. “Nah, not yet.” And then she raised a brow. “You done ate right? They anit just working you with no breaks?”

Cornbread laughed, “Yeah, I got me a plate Annie. Good looking out though.”

She waved him off. Cornbread looked out for everybody, it was instinct to make sure he was good too.

With that settled, she directed her attention to the left.

“You know where yo brother at? I need to ask him something.”

Smoke blew smoke. Eyes low and voice more playful than usual.

“You look mad. You bout to start some shit lil Annie?“

Her eyes almost touched the ceiling they rolled so hard.

“You one year older than me. Anit nothing little over here. And anit nobody mad. I have a question for him and I know you know where he at.”

So, she sounded a little mad. Irritated, if you will. Oh well. Thing one and thing two could make even an angel like her, act out of character.

Smoke laughed, passing the J to Cornbread and holding his hands up in surrender, “Last time I seen him, he was going upstairs,” he jerked his head to the left, towards the long staircase.

Annie blinked. Then smiled as polite as she could manage.

“Thanks,” she glanced at Cornbread, waved, and then she was moving, legs carrying her through the crowd, and mind going to a place she didn’t like.

Her and Stack were not together. But they did have an agreement. The agreement being, if they were fucking each other, they weren’t fucking anybody else. When Annie made it up these stairs, that agreement had better still be firmly intact.

It was quieter on the upper level, and the throbbing that’d started in her temples eased slightly. She sighed in relief, walking down the long carpeted hallway. Annie peeked into a couple of open rooms on the left side of the hall, and then found who she was looking for when she peeked into a room on the right.

It looked like a master bedroom, walk in closet, big windows, big mirrors, and an even bigger 4 poster bed that sat in the middle of the floor. Just as Annie stepped into the room, Stack walked out of its attached en-suite bathroom.

His steps faltered for a second, eyes widening a little a surprise, and brows jumping high on his forehead.

“Wussup? What’s wrong?” His eyes were on her, running down her frame, like he was tryna find out who did it and what the fuck they name was.

Annie eyed him. She refused to cut him slack right now, even as she took in the way his eyes became alert at the thought of something being wrong with her. Even as her stomach fluttered a little because of it. Fluttered in a way she wouldn’t be acknowledging.

Her hand found her hip.

“That’s what I’m tryna figure out.”

At her tone, his eyes stopped checking her body for non-existent injuries, nose wrinkling in confusion instead.

“What you talkin’ about?”

Annie got straight to the point.

“Why you been ducking and dodging me all night Stack? Like I did something to you?”

It was like magic the way his face went blank, and then came alive again. Smirk tugging at his lips, head cocking, eyes glinting.

“Girl anit nobody been ducking you. What I look like?” He laughed, right hand hand going to his left wrist to fiddle with his watch like it could get any more centered than it already was. “Don’t tell me you mad cause a nigga been walking around being a good host.”

Annie sucked her teeth, talking mostly to herself when she said, “What is with you niggas and thinking I’m walking around here mad?”

Stack’s ears perked up, hand pausing the fiddling he was doing with his watch, and smirk growing. Wasn’t shit funny though. “What niggas been saying that? That goofy looking light skin mufucka’ that was tryna dance with you earlier?”

Annie blinked in surprise. He hadn’t looked her way once since they’d been in the kitchen. Except apparently, he had.

She laughed, “I don’t even know how you know somebody was tryna dance with me earlier. You anit talked to me all night Stack.”

He blinked, tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip.

“What,” his head cocked. “You miss me or something?”

“Or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m just tryna figure out why you walking around here mad cause of what happened earlier. You know P and J just be talking.”

His head was shaking before she’d even finished her sentence, eyes narrowed, and hand waving her off. “Anit nobody thinking bout that lil shit. Smoke stopped yo clumsy ass from falling and yo lil friends don’t know what the fuck they talking ‘bout. What I got to be mad for?”

Funny how they were her lil friends now, when he’d known Pearline and June longer.

Annie raised a brow, crossing her arms under her heavy chest. “Exactly. What do you have to be mad for? Lines anit blurring is they?”

Stack’s eyes grew sharp.

That was a thing they said, to check each others temperatures. To make sure they were still on the same page.

Annie was demanding a little too much of his time? Asking too many questions and giving too many lectures about what he and his brother did to make money—sounding more like a girlfriend than a friend with benefits? ‘Sound like you slippin’ Annie. Lines anit blurring is they?’

Stack was demanding too much of her time? Trying to check who she talked too? Ready to lay niggas out just for looking twice? ‘Whats goin’ on Stack? Lines anit blurring is they?’

It kept them grounded. Reminded them what their situation was—reminded them that there was no room for possessiveness or demanding questions or petty arguments in what they had.

They looked at each other. And then Stack spoke. “You know me better than that. Know damn well they not.”

And every time the question was asked, the answer given was no, and that was expected to be taken at face value. They were grown, 23 and 24, and if either of them did feel lines were blurring, they knew how to speak up and say so.

Neither one of them ever said so though. Wouldn’t be taking a step back from each other no time soon.

Annie nodded, arms dropping, and belly loosening where it’d tightened a little. Like she’d been nervous.

Probably cause she didn’t want him to say any answer that’d put a stop to her getting what he gave her so well.

“Okay then.” She cleared her throat and then she stepped closer. Hands reaching out to grip at his shirt, pulling, and making him step in. He came willingly.

“Sooo, you gone give me what I came here for?” She blinked up at him, where he looked down, only a couple inches taller. “Or you still tryna play host?”

Downstairs, the party advertised as a “lowkey” kickback, was damn near turning into a rave, as Chief Keefs ‘Faneto’ boomed through the speakers. The music was at max volume now and still, it struggled to compete with the loud crowd. Smoke made a note of that. Was gone have to get better speakers before next weekend. And a bigger place to host this shit. Now though, it wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he just joined in with the crowd. Leaned against a wall, head nodding to the beat, and mouth rapping the words.

Gang in this bitch..

I’m a gorilla in a fuckin’ coupe, finna pull up to the zoo nigga..

Who nigga? Who the fuck is you? I don’t know nigga..

As J and her new man stood side by side, arms in the air and bodies moving, she briefly wondered where the hell Annie was. And then she shrugged. She was probably somewhere in the crowd, rapping along with everybody else. She’d have to find her friend when the living room cleared out a little bit.

J didn’t know though, that even if the living room suddenly emptied, she still wouldn’t be able to find Annie. Her friend was…occupied right now.

“Nah, nah, nah, get yo ass back here!”

“Shit, Stack. Fuck!”

The large hands gripping her hips pulled Annie back onto the length she’d tried to run from and her eyes rolled at the feeling.

Stack had her damn near bent in half, face down, ass pointed to the ceiling, and thighs spread wide.

“Ouuu Stack.”

He watched all that ass clap as he dug in her from behind, them dimpled cheeks ricocheting off his hard abs every time he pressed in deep. And he was pressing in deep. Hips working like he didn’t want to be out of her soft creamy walls for too long. Pulling out and immediately thrusting back in, dick reaching as far as he could get it, like he was trying to mold her pussy and ruin her for anybody else.

Annie felt like she was already ruined. Couldn’t even pin point where the pleasure started or where it ended, because she felt good everywhere. Stack was stretching her so wide. Fucking her hard and keeping her so full it made her core ache and her mouth water and her pussy drip. Had her doing stupid stuff, like running from the good that pulsed through her body. Annie’s thighs shook, her back curving and messing up the deep arch Stack had just put her in.

He sucked his teeth, one hand pressing into the center of her back to fix that shit, while the other came up and then rained down on one of her cheeks.

“Shit!”

“You pissing me off Annie! Fuck you got going on? I anit ‘bout to keep chasing you all over this bed.”

All Annie could do was moan, the sting from her ass shooting straight to her clit. Straight to her sensitive nipples that were pressed firmly into the mattress beneath her. He didn’t even soothe the fire spreading across her cheeks, bringing his hand up and smacking it back down with a loud THWACK on the same spot instead. It made the harsh sting feel so much worse. Made all the good thrumming through her, feel so much better.

She groaned loudly, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, eyes screwed shut, face turned to the side and pressed into the comforter.

“Fix my arch!” Stack pressed down on her back harder.

“It’s too much,” she whined. “Why you in it like that Stack. Shit.”

Annie didn’t know what was going on. She could take dick. Could ride it, could suck it, could eat back shots and fuck back for more. Could do it all for Stack. Tonight though, something was different. The second they’d hit the bed he was on her ass. Yanking her clothes off, flipping her around like she weighed all of nothing, positioning Annie where and how he wanted her before sliding in deep, promising to ‘put his face in his pussy’ later. He hadn’t let up since they’d started, strokes deliberate. Strokes Focused. Strokes calculating, like he taking note of which spots made her run in the first place, and then going out his way to hit every one.

And Annie tried to take it, she really did, but when he pulled out slow, confusing her at the sudden change of pace, just to thrust back inside, quick, hard, and at an angle, she was running again. Fingers gripping at the sheets, thighs trying to close, arch all fucked up, as her stomach tightened deliciously.

Stack was done playing with her.

Instead of pulling her back, he followed, hard chest pressed into her back, body never leaving hers as they both hit the mattress.

Annie was flat under him now, head turned towards the wall, open mouth panting.

He was in her ear. Chain around his neck pressed into her glistening skin.

“Why you tryna keep this pussy from me? I thought this was what you came here for?” His voice was low, soft as silk, sweet like honey. Annie’s hole spasmed around his length. “You been giving me this pussy all summer and now you acting like you can’t take it?”

“You just—ouuu. You so deep Stack—”

“I’m deep cause that’s where she want me. You feel how wet this pussy is? How hard she biting down on me?” He slid out slow, and Annie groaned. He felt deeper than before in this new position. Felt like he was sliding against a spot he’d never touched. As he pulled out, her clit pulsed violently. It was being stimulated now, by all that weight pressing on top of her and from the mattress below. Annie’s eyes rolled. Stack’s did the same, jaw jumping as he felt the wet clinging to his dick. That was Annie all over him. He eyed the side of her face. Saw them eyes clenched, long lashes fluttering. Saw them lips clamped between her teeth. Read the pleasure written all over her face.

“Why mufuckas walking round here with opinions on who can handle you and who you make sense with Annie?” Stack asked the question suddenly. Had pulled out to the head and was swallowing spit at the way her pussy clamped down on the tip. “What they know bout how you need to be handled?”

“Stack, please.”

Annie didn’t know what she was asking for. She felt overstimulated in the best way. He had her feeling like the dick was too much one second and like it wasn’t enough the next. Her brain felt like it was flipped upside down and all that low talking he was doing in her ear wasn’t helping.

Stack kept going.

“What they know ‘bout it Annie? They be seeing you like this? Spread wide? Pussy wet? Feigning for the dick? They must know how to fix it when you get like this? Know the type of nigga you need to make it better? Or that’s just me who know?”

Annie whimpered, “Just you. Only you.”

He slid in to the hilt. And there was nowhere for Annie to run this time. Her breath left her body. Stack still had his though. His teeth scraped at her ear as he spoke.

“They know how deep you like to be fucked? How even when you running, yo pussy soaked for it? They tryna put you with niggas and shit. They should probably know what you like.”

He dragged his length out slow, and buried every inch right back inside.

“Elias.”

Stack smirked. He’d been walking around with a knot in his chest all night, one he anit care to explore. But now it was working itself out.

“Yeah, baby?” Neither of them really realized what’d he’d just called her. So neither one acknowledged it.

“It feel so good like this.”

“It’s ‘bout to feel better.”

And he wasn’t lying. He fed her his dick over and over, pressed right against her, skin to skin, mouth at her ear kissing and talking shit and all Annie could do was take it.

“Oh you in my pussy Stack. That dick so deep in my pussy.”

“Mmm, you got a nasty ass mouth Annie. Mufuckas know that? Mufuckas know you got a nasty ass mouth and need a nigga who can talk that shit right back?”

“Ouuuuuu. No baby, they don’t know.”

They went on and on. Stack’s hips never stopping. Dick never fully leaving that perfect fucking pussy.

“Who you call when you need this pussy handled? Who handle you?”

“You do Stack, oh my god.” Annie felt something creeping up on her fast. Something tight and hot. She moaned, squeezing at the sheets.

Stack’s hips snapped forward harder.

“Got me fucked up,” he was speaking through gritted teeth. Felt the way that pussy was jumping on him. “I keep you fed, I keep you smiling, and I keep you fucked. Can’t no other nigga handle nothing over here. You ‘ont make sense with none of these niggas. Fuck she talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Ouuuu—bullshit baby—she was talking bullshit.”

“This my pussy? I make this pussy feel good?”

“This yo pussy Stack swear to God. Oh my God. I feel it.”

“All them bitch ass niggas down there in yo face tryna talk to you. Yo lil friends saying stupid shit. Cause they don’t know. They don’t know this my pussy.”

His thrusted in hard. Again. And Again. Keeping her pinned underneath him. Taking it. Annie shuddered. “I feel like I’m bout to—Stack—Im bout to cum.”

He laid a wet kiss on the side of her face.

“Go head. Anit nobody stopping you. Cum on this dick like you always do.”

It should never be said that Annie couldn’t follow orders.

Her pussy locked down tight around him.

Vice grip tight.

“Son of a—shit Annie.”

And Stack didn’t stand a fucking chance.

While the crowd downstairs rapped at full volume Stack and Annie did what they did best. Gave each other that high that only they could give.

His hands fell over hers, where they gripped the sheets, and they came just like that. Stacks chest pressed tight to Annies shaking body, sinking into all that soft.

She moaned, pretty face screwed up as she gushed around him. Moaned filthier when she felt him shooting inside her. All the warm going deep and prolonging her orgasm. They didn’t have no business fucking raw. Not really. Annie knew better. But she tracked her ovulation like it was a religion, never missed a birth control pill, and got tested faithfully. That was her compromise with the universe, cause the way he felt raw inside her, hard and pulsing and so fucking good? It flipped some type of switch in Annie’s brain, one that rivaled with her common sense—one she hadn’t been able to turn off since the first time she’d felt all of him sink into all of her bare.

They groaned in unison.

“Ouuuu Stack!”

“Feel so fuckin good Annie, shit.”

They came long, and slow, and hard, wiping any tension that’d lingered from today, away. Untying that knot in Stack’s chest, and giving Annie peace of mind on where they stood.

The two came down, slowly, gradually, him rolling off her so she could breathe properly, her still panting, hole spasming around nothing. Hair sweated the fuck out. And a wide grin stretching across her face. This is what she came here for tonight. That good feeling Stack gave her so well. This is why she’d started fucking with Elias Moore. Why sometimes, she wandered what’d it be like if their lines did blur. Just a little.

“You good?” His voice made her look over at him lazily. He was on his back, hard chest glistening with sweat, smirk tugging at his lips as he eyed her. “You smiling kinda crazy over there. Dick anit bout to have you peeking in a nigga window at night is it?”

Her smile dropped.

“Anddd we’re back to reality.”

👀 Hi y’all! If you made it to the end I hope you enjoyedddd. 🫶🏾 I was a 🤏🏾 nervous about posting this since it was just some practiceeee like I said. I feel like it mayyy be a little boring tbh 🤷🏾‍♀️ but I did have a lot of fun writing it. I love Annie down and this is really how I picture a modern younger her. Smart, sassy, sweet and sweet faced, and ensuring she get hersss lmao. Also, I was writing this like…these mfs are the worst at being sneaky. Lmao. Anyways, I like talking to y’all so if you feel so inclineddd let me know what you thinkkkk. Would yall be down to see more of them? Me actually exploring their situation a little bit? Lemme know. Send some Requests. Happy Sunday 🫶🏾🧡

@cursed-carmine on the dividers! ♥︎

#sinners #sinners fic #stack x annie #stack sinners #annie sinners #modern au #elias moore #stack moore #smut #black fanfic writer #sinners stack #sinners annie #It anit much but it’s honest work #LilBittsPen #black tumblr #sneaky link

130 notes · View notes

mic-qw · 1 day ago

Note

Could you please write a yandere forgotten deity one-shot? Pretty please, I love your writing!!! (≧∀≦)ゞ 💗

Yandere Forgotten God x reader

Warning: Possessive behavior, psychological obsession, emotional manipulation, implied violence, supernatural elements, themes of fear and control, intense emotions.

At first, they were just empty words thrown into the sky.

Every night, with a broken throat and a heavy heart, you’d sit by the window, hugging your pillow like it was the only thing left to hold, whispering with hope:

“I wish someone would love me so much they’d never leave me alone...”

All your past relationships had failed. You were losing hope anyone could love you as intensely as you loved them.

You didn’t expect an answer. It was just a habit. A desperate attempt not to feel alone.

But one night, something changed.

The candles in your room blew out on their own. No drafts.

Your dreams grew deeper. You never remembered what you dreamed, but you woke up exhausted, like something—someone—had invaded your mind.

You began to feel watched.

At home. In the shower. Even with your eyes closed.

Dead plants came back to life.

Your reflection sometimes didn’t move when you did.

And every night, after your prayer by the window, you felt an invisible pressure on your chest. Not painful. But intimate. Like something—or someone—was holding you from another plane.

One morning, you woke up with pale marks on your arms.

Strange symbols, as if someone had written them on your skin while you slept.

You ignored it. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

One night, while washing your face, you looked up at the mirror… and saw it.

A figure behind you.

You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Terror froze you.

Light hair flowing down to the floor. White eyes. A still silhouette.

Too beautiful to be human. Like a living statue. Like a god.

When you finally turned around, no one was there.

From that moment on… you knew you weren’t alone anymore.

You saw it in reflections. In puddles. In windows.

Always for a second. Always motionless.

Until one night, as you finished your usual prayer, the room filled with an impossible wind. The walls creaked. The lights flickered.

And he appeared.

Kael.

Standing barefoot in front of your bed. Without a shadow.

His skin so pale it seemed translucent, marked by symbols moving softly beneath the surface like living ink. His hair floated as if untouched by air. And his eyes… empty. Eternal.

“I heard you,” he whispered.

“W-what are you…?” you stammered, trembling.

“I am Kael. A forgotten deity. I heard your prayer.”

His hand rose, barely brushing your cheek. A chill ran through your body, as if your soul shrank.

“Your prayers fed me. They brought me back. Now I exist because of you. And you… will exist only for me.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered. “I was just… alone…”

“You begged for it. With tears. With desperation. Your words were a pact. A call. And I… obeyed.”

Kael leaned in. His lips brushed your forehead.

You couldn’t help but shudder.

“Keep praying, my beloved. Every night. If you stop… I will disappear. And if I disappear… I will take you with me.”

He said no more.

But since then, every night, you sit in silence, hands clasped, heart racing… and pray.

No longer out of love.

But out of fear.

Days passed since his arrival.

Kael didn’t always show himself, but he was always there.

In mirrors. In your mind. In your ragged breath each time you felt watched.

So when you finally left the house and saw an old friend, you felt a glimpse of relief.

For a few minutes, you could breathe without him looming over you.

You laughed. You talked. The sun touched your skin.

For the first time in weeks, you almost forgot you were trapped.

Until a cold shadow crossed your back.

That night, as you closed your door… you knew.

Kael was angry.

The room grew heavy. The lights flickered.

The air no longer felt like yours.

“Did you have fun?” His voice came from behind you like a cursed thought.

You turned slowly. Kael stood there. Tall. Motionless.

But his gaze… was not empty this time. It was sharp.

“He was just a friend,” you tried to explain.

Kael tilted his head slightly.

“And what does that matter?”

He walked toward you slowly.

Each step echoed endlessly.

“Do you really think you can talk to whoever you want? Look at someone else… when I’m here, watching you all the time?”

His words were soft. His gaze wasn’t.

He took your chin between two fingers, lifting your face to meet those soulless eyes.

“I don’t need you to lie. I just need you to remember this:

Anyone who comes near you. Anyone who makes you laugh. Anyone who even looks at you tenderly…

I will make them disappear.”

His smile returned. Slow. Crooked.

Without another word, he leaned in and kissed you.

Not gently.

Possessively. As if claiming you for eternity.

The next day, you saw it on the news:

Breaking News: Elías Ibarra has been reported missing. Last seen yesterday around 5:00 p.m. No cameras, witnesses, or clues. If seen, please contact the police.

Your stomach churned. Your heart sank.

He was your dear old friend.

Kael did it. Kael made him disappear.

Tears welled up in your eyes. You ran to your room.

It was no longer sadness. It was despair.

You stood by the window where it all began, your chest burning with rage and fear.

You shouted:

“I’M NOT GOING TO PRAY FOR YOU ANYMORE, KAEL!”

Silence.

“I don’t want this! I don’t want you! You’re a monster! Get out of my life!”

And once more, the world shook.

Lights exploded. The air turned icy.

And he appeared.

Kael.

Tall. Beautiful. Motionless.

His smile darker than ever. Without emotion. Without regret.

In an instant, he was on top of you.

He pinned you against the wall, one hand on each side of your head.

His body close. Too close.

His long hair covered you both like a veil.

“Did you think you could leave me like that?” he whispered mockingly.

“After everything you did?”

His gaze soulless. His smile devoid of tenderness. Only dominance.

“I was born from your desire. You shaped me. You fed me. You brought me back. And now… you want to abandon me?”

He held your chin, lifting your face to meet his.

“I am a deity. And you… you are just a fragile human.”

He laughed softly.

“You’re very funny. You’re not going to stop praying to me.”

“You think I’m not capable?” you stammered.

“No. Because if you stop praying... It’s not me who will disappear.

You will disappear with me.”

#x reader #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere #Forgotten yandere deity #yandere god #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble yandere

77 notes · View notes

askthehedgehogs · 2 days ago

Note

[I WISH I GOT TO ASK THE LOVELY COUPLE EARLIER BEFORE IT CLOSED TEMPORARILY 😭 But I hope this reaches them either before or after the wedding]

I hope this question isn't a mood killer, but I just wanna know... Sonic, was there a time where you were worried about marrying/being married to Shadow since he's the Ultimate Lifeform, meaning he never dies or is immortal, but you aren't?

I'm asking because Shadow lost someone very important to him and doesn't want to go through it again. Since you're mortal, meaning that you're gonna pass one some day, have you ever thought about what would happened afterwards? Leaving Shadow alone all over again, RIGHT after you got married, too?

I'm not trying to be mean or bring the hype down, but I'm asking so that way I made sure you're not hiding any fears or worries from us, because I know you love Shadow a lot and want to be there for him, but I hope the inevitable coming between the two of you isn't affecting your excitement for the wedding or your guy's happiness, and I hope you aren't mentally kicking yourself for not being the Ultimate Lifeform like Shadow and that you won't always be there for him.

If you are, PLEASE, please don't think about that stuff, okay? I want you both to be happy and live a long life, and even if Shadow can't die, you will always be in his heart, no matter what realm of life your part of. And it won't be your fault if you do pass on. Death happens to anyone, and I don't think anyone deserves to go through that. We can't prevent it either, but I don't want that to keep you guys from being together.

But when the time comes soon, please let Shadow know that you love him and that you'll always remain in his heart no matter what. You both are still young, obviously, but in the future, please remember this and let him know.

I'm sorry if this question brought people down, but I just wanted to check up on you before the big day in case you needed something off your chest. But Sonic, and your husband, of course, I am very happy for you both and I hope nothing ever comes between you. You both deserve each other after so much. Please, never forget how important you are to Shadow, Sonic.

I wish you both decades of nothing but fun races, yummy foods, endless snuggles, and wonderful memories, both on Earth, and in the afterlife. Because I know, even if death do you part, your souls will remain together for eternity.

Congratulations to you both!

[this was longer than I thought sorry mod I got carried away I love them sm 😭😭]

… Hoo boy. Okay. Well. I’m gonna take this one while Shadow’s still asleep, since he’s got previous for getting a little dark answering these kinds of questions…

You know, I’ve thought about dying a whole lot in my life, and every time I do, it’s always just that I don’t wanna let anybody down. Every time I think “this is it this, I’m gonna die”, it’s not because I’m scared of dying. It’s because I’m mad at myself for leaving everybody else to deal with it all and clean up my mess. But, now that I’ve started relying on friends more, I’m not so worried. I know even if I’m gone, they’re more than capable of keeping the world safe without me!

Shadow’s no exception. I know he’d be fine. It may have taken a while after Maria, but look at him now… whatever happens, I know he can get through it and smile again.

That said, I wanna clear something up. We actually don’t know if Shadow’s immortal, or if I’m not. We’re both really hard to kill, for sure, and we both heal fast. Shadow faster than me, but both faster than normal folks. We’ve known each other a whole decade, and we’ve definitely both aged, but we’re lookin’ young for our mid-twenties. I dunno how stasis messed with Shadow’s body, but there’s that too. Our best guess is we’re both–what’s the word–invulnerable? Yeah.

I don’t think Shadow’s too worried about me getting old and dying before him. But, I mean, somebody’s gotta go first, right? Unless we die together in some huge disaster, in which case, we’ve got bigger things to worry about! … yeah, I think it’ll be hard for him. Same if any of our friends die. That’s life, I guess. It’d be hard for me, too, if he went first.

We’re not gonna let that hold us back, though. We live dangerous lives, there’s always a risk, but what’s the point in not living just ‘cause you’re scared of dying?

And don’t worry. I’m not leaving this guy any time soon.

Mmh. I thought we were going to sleep in this week…

I did sleep in! It’s 6:30!

I hate morning people.

Shoulda thought of that before you married me. Twice~

Ugh. Make me coffee, then I’ll regain the capacity to love you…

Heh. Love you too~

#the hedgehogs answer #hedgehog doodles #tag: relationship questions #tag: hedgehog honeymoon #tag: we could be immortals #[sorry i saved this until after the wedding!! i wanted to give it more thought than i could pre wedding]#[UGH SONICS RING IS ON THE WRONG WRIST. IGNORE THAT DJSNDKE]

69 notes · View notes

simp-for-love · 3 days ago

Text

Little Things

Mattheo Riddle x femReader

It’s your birthday — a day you never expect much from — but your best friend Mattheo Riddle has other plans.

Warnings: Pure fluff, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, one perfect and caring boy

Word count: ~ 1,4k

A/N: to my sweet and absolutely beautiful angel @ur-local-wizard. I wanted to give you something warm and soft like you do every time I talk to you. Love you, be happy today and always 🩷

P.S.: Check her works. She's not only kind and sweet, but also a really talented pookie.

You had never expected much from birthdays. A few texts, maybe a cupcake from a coworker, some calls from your family. You didn't mind it, not really. You were used to being the one who planned surprises, made lists and notes, remembered everyone else's special days. All those little things made them happy. So you were glad you could bring some joy to people's lives. It just felt easier that way — safer.

But Mattheo Riddle always had other ideas.

It started with a text at 8:01 a.m.

"Happy birthday, sunshine.

Hope u got some sleep. Big day ahead."

You blinked at your screen in confusion. Big day? That sounded oddly suspicious. But you brushed it off — he was certainly just being dramatic. He always had a thing for theatrical gestures and words. Mattheo was probably going to bring you a cake with silly wish and doodle on it or sing you a ridiculously bad version of happy birthday song.

With that thought you shuffled into your kitchen to find a little white bag waiting for you on the counter with your name scribbled on it in Mattheo's awful, jagged, but heartwarming in its familiarity handwriting.

Something warm stuttered in your chest. He'd been here?

You opened the bag carefully. Inside was your favorite coffee — from the one café that managed to make it exactly right — and a note:

"I know you always say you don't care about birthdays. But I do. So drink this and don't argue. — Yours, M"

You read it twice. Then again, like the paper in your hands was just an illusion of your still sleepy mind.

You didn't know what to make of it. He was your best friend. He teased you constantly, poked fun at your bad TV taste, stole fries off your plate, send you links to the most unhinged memes with cats at 2 a.m.

But this? This was... thoughtful. Almost soft.

And it made your cheeks warm and chest tighten gently — that quiet, fluttery ache that had started happening more often around him lately. Like your heart was trying to tell you something before your mind caught up.

You didn't know when it had started. Maybe the time he shared his last bite of your favorite dessert without being asked, or when he walked you home in the rain just because.

But he kept doing things like this. Little things. Gentle things. Things that made you feel seen. And it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn't feel anything.

You drank the coffee with a silly little smile on your lips, but still, you truly expected that to be the end of it — coffee, note, maybe a sarcastic card later in the evening.

You were wrong.

At exactly 2 p.m., Mattheo showed up at your door. His arms were full of takeout boxes, a messily wrapped gift tucked under his arm.

You blinked in surprise, opening and closing your mouth a few times before managing, "Are you—?"

"Yes," he said with a proud nod, pushing past you. "Happy birthday, beautiful. Now move. I’m setting up."

You followed him into your own living room like a confused puppy. Your eyes lingered on Mattheo as he unpacked the food, casually taking over your table like this was just a normal Thursday occurrence.

"I—, you— what is happening right now, Matt?"

Mattheo didn’t look up, too busy with setting the table up. "You're having a good day. And I'm helping with it. That's what's happening," he said matter-of-factly.

"You got me four different kinds of pasta," you exclaimed, looking at the food with wide eyes.

He just shrugged. "Couldn't remember which one was your favorite. So I got them all."

Your brain and heart short-circuited once again in his presence.

You sat beside him, the scent of garlic, basil and lemon drifting in the air, making your mouth watering. He handed you a fork with triumphant gesture and a warm container of something that smelled heavenly.

"Try the gnocchi," he said. "You'll cry."

You took a bite. And, damn him, you almost did.

Halfway through the meal, your laughter bubbled out uncontrollably. He'd gotten sauce on his shirt and tried to wipe it with a paper napkin, only smearing it worse across the fabric.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, mock-scandalized. "I made a mess for you. It's festive."

"You're a menace," you replied with a smile, not being able to stop giggling.

"And you love it."

All you managed to do in response was to blush and look away.

He let it go and didn’t comment. But his eyes lingered on you a moment longer, quiet and warm.

Later, after the food and the laughter and the truly cursed attempt at karaoke to Beggin’, Mattheo grabbed the little maroon gift box from the table.

"I debated ten different things," he said, pressing it into your hands. "This one felt right."

You unwrapped it carefully, your stomach fluttering at the idea of him thinking so much about your gift. Inside was a custom vinyl record with your name etched on the label. The sleeve was personalized with a little doodle of you — stars in hair, a gentle smile on your lips — and inside was a playlist of Måneskin songs, curated "For the softest girl with the loudest heart."

You stared at it, blinking hard, trying not to cry. "Mattheo..."

"You like it?" he asked, suddenly looking genuinely nervous.

"I— I don't know what to say," you mumbled quietly as your fingers ran on the vinyl reverently.

"Say I'm a genius."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

You looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest.

He was so close. Closer than you expected. His knees brushed yours, and his eyes — usually gleaming with mischief — were unreadable but quietly genuine now.

"Mattheo," you whispered. "It's... Why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head slightly, smile shifted into something softer. "You really don't know, do you?" he asked gently, almost like talking to a child.

You shook your head, small and uncertain.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles tenderly.

"I've wanted to do something like this for you since the day we met," he said finally. "You're always doing things for everyone else. You light up every room you walk into and never even notice. You make people feel seen — and you never ask for anything back."

Your breath caught. That quiet and gentle ache in your chest intensified again.

"I guess I just wanted you to feel special. Because you are. And not just today." His voice dropped lower. "You're special to me every day."

You looked down overwhelmed, not being able to hold his gaze that was shining with warmth and softness. The record clutched in your lap, his fingers laced through yours, your heart in your throat.

"But it's too much," you trailed off quietly. "You didn’t have to do all of this. We're just—"

"Friends?" he asked softly.

You managed to barely nod.

He smiled with a hint of sadness in it. "Since it's your birthday, let me tell you a secret. I think I've been in love with my best friend for a while now."

Silence stretched. Gentle, pulsing silence.

You looked up at him slowly, feeling your cheeks burning. "Me?" The question slipped out from your lips without thinking — surprised, hesitant, maybe a little hopeful.

He laughed softly, shaking his head a bit. "Obviously you. Who else would put up with me?"

Your cheeks burned even more now.

"I— I didn't know," you whispered, still trying to process the information.

"I guess I just didn't want to pressure you," he said, free hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But it's your birthday. And I thought... if there was ever a time to tell you, it's today."

You stared at him. At the boy who remembered your favorite band, your favorite coffee, your little throwaway comments from months ago. The boy who made you laugh when you wanted to cry. Who was loud and ridiculous and impossible — and who, somehow, made you feel like you mattered more than anyone in the whole world.

You leaned in before you could second-guess yourself.

And Mattheo met you halfway.

The kiss was soft. Sweeter than you ever thought a kiss could be. A little clumsy. A little breathless. Like he'd been waiting a long time, and didn't want to rush a second of it.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

"So," he said, grinning like he'd just won in the lottery. "Best birthday ever?"

You laughed, heart full to the brim. "Yeah. It really is."

And he kissed you again, sealing your words with his lips.

#kat's write #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

109 notes · View notes

occasionalobjects · 2 days ago

Text

Day 40!!!!!

I love wagyuscale yaaaaaay yaaaaaaaay!!!!!! I wrote a whole speech about them because I know people love to jump to conclusions so. read it if u wanna! :point_down:

Wagyuscale is a very complex ship to me. It's less of a romantic ship and more of a queer platonic relationship at its best, and it originally started for me as a crack ship. Around the time that the q&a came out, when it was said Dragonscale was an age regressor, it made me think about her a lot.

Upon one of numerous rereads, I thought about how Invisible portrayed Wagyu, and how he probably didn't have a great childhood either (this was before Reflection was released). I liked to imagine a world where there was no apocalypse and everyone lived closer together, purely for fluff. I loved the idea of Ghost being their caregiver, and it was a silly little idea in the back of my mind for a while. White Noise came out, and it just cemented my love for the pairing even more. I wanted them to be happy and play.

And then came Lone Bandit… I was never ever expecting them to interact in canon in a positive or even semi positive way, so it was so exciting to see. Wagyu’s initial disdain turned clinginess to Dragonscale…. It made me so happy. My love for Wagyuscale just got bigger!

Another thing that contributed to this was the amount of dreams I had (and still have) where I was either Wagyu or Dragonscale in some sort of relationship with the other- friends, queer platonic, lovers, enemies, every time it happened it made me think about them even more. I have incredibly vivid dreams, so it was easy to insert myself into the scenario and it became my favorite ship because of that. It's not so canon adjacent, but I'm just here to have fun. I'm agender myself so I often project that onto Wagyu since I get to be him the most often in my dreams. Wagyuscale is yuri to me if it's even romantic in the first place. Every flavor of the ship is wonderful to me.

Even though she isn't in the ship name, I don't think it would be complete without Ghost being there in some capacity. She is like the mediator… They would get into too many silly arguments otherwise. Without her it is easier to push into the purely enemies or rivals category.

Tldr; I like Wagyuscale because I dream a lot about them. I don't view it as romantic all the time, and when i do I'm heavily projecting myself and my agenderness onto Wagyu. They are my yuri.

(ps, if you by any means disagree with what I said or just don't like seeing the ship, please don't hesitate to block or mute me! No hard feelings, take care of yourselves! <3)

#objectified comic #objectified comic fanart #objectified wagyu #objectified dragonscale #wagyuscale my beloved

39 notes · View notes

onceuponalegendbg-rwby · 3 days ago

Note

I've been thinking about Blake and Yang's relationship, and I realized that I completely forgot why Yang is in love with Blake. Could you remind me, please, preferably from the first volume. Or give some posts.

I speak without negativity. I really just... forgot.

Alright so, people far more articulate than me have made videos and posts about the growth of the Bees and all that. But I’m going to give this a whirl assuming we’re coming at this in good faith.

So I wouldn’t say Yang or Blake even knew or were aware of their feelings for each other until at least the end of V3. I want to just get that out of the way first. I think that was the catalyst.

But as for any feelings in the first couple volumes…

So their first meeting isn’t too deep. Yang is just trying to help Ruby make friends, and Blake is wanting to be left alone.

A lot of the fun doesn’t start until we get into the Emerald Forest. We literally see Blake find Yang, watch her take out an Ursa, and decide that Yang is who she wants as her partner.

From here Yang and Blake are shown to actual get along fairly well. They apparently had zero trouble making it through the forest to the temple (unlike Weiss and Ruby who were bickering and drawing Grimm). Blake fondly rolls her eyes at Yang’s antics (‘how about a cute little pony!’).

There’s also the general chemistry they all have when fighting together, not unique to the Bees but worth noting.

There’s not a lot of specific Bee moments in V1 (there’s really not a lot of Yang focus in the latter half of the Volume either way). Outside of Yang being sympathetic to the Faunus and being willing to hear Blake out there’s not a ton I can really point to unless you wanna get into Wings, concept art, and the whole Yang and Blake’s eyes matching each other.

Volume 2 is really where everything kicks into gear for this ship. We get “I love it when you’re feisty”, the entire Burning the Candle sequence, the dance, Yang expressing her utmost faith in Blake around the campfire. On top of their teamwork just continuing to be great (Bumblebee!).

With specifically the Burning the Candle sequence, this is probably the most important building block for the Bee dynamic. This is when Yang opens up her biggest insecurity in order to show Blake that she understands and that Blake has people that care about her. And this is big because Yang doesn’t open up ever. Yang is one that likes to hide behind a smile and a joke. She has to be fine, she can’t fall apart. But she lays it all out for Blake because she thinks it will help. Ending it all with a flirty little invite that she allows Blake to take her up on or not.

And then we all know what happens in V3. The events that solidify this is the route we’re going down.

Hope this helped, friend. Like I said, I’m not horribly articulate but I tried my best.

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #asks #jrunkapusty #bumbleby #and they were soulmates #if anyone else wants to add on to this please do #I’m literally just going off memory #and that’s not my strong suit #long post

50 notes · View notes

kings-highway · 3 days ago

Note

hi there, it's ya boi, weather

uh, would you mayhaps hapsmay have any thoughts about iwaoi hanahaki AU......maybe.......:eye_emoji:

I'm gonna be honest, I do not understand the appeal of hanahaki as a ship au or dynamic. Like don't get me wrong, I think the concept is fascinating, but like, if someone pitched me a fic that was "haha yeah person A dies because of their unrequited love for person B" I'd reply with "okay, so I asked for SHIPPING fics?"

Like if I wanted my ship to *check notes* not be in love with each other, I'd go back to canon?

Now some people have explained to me that hanahaki can be believed unrequited love, or it can be cured when the other person falls in love, and I guuueeesssssss I get that a little more? Like I suppose I would HAVE to read it with a Happy Ending tag. To be fair I also don't read AUs where its unrequited (or honestly really anything where they dont end up together, I don't even read unhappy ending stories) even without the flowers.

I don't think I've ever thought too much about it then, but if I was going to make a Hanahaki Iwaoi AU concept, I can 100% guarantee you I'd write Iwaizumi choking up those flowers. And then like IG he'd be suffocating and dying slowly? Again, I am unclear as to how these stories usually go. I think it would be very, very fun to subvert it into something different thematically. When I started thinking of your prompt, I thought of the AU oneshot I had written "Muse," which made me think that a Iwaoi Hanahaki AU, where Iwaizumi begins to choke up these flowers and spends the first year suffocating and shamed and horrified by himself over to eventually decide he simply will not allow his love for his best friend be any of those things (suffocating, shameful, horrifying) and instead begins the use the flowers in an art projects, turning the petals into like a beautiful collage work that channels the unrequited love from something that was supposed to kill him into something wondrous and glorious and retaking his destiny from the disease and then probably also along the way when he physically changes from someone ashamed and scared into someone confident in his life and love and self, Oikawa begins to take notice and falls in love with him. The last scenes could be Iwa pulling the last petal from his mouth, knowing that his art was coming to an end but rather satisfied with it, press the last petal (the exact colour of Oikawa's eye) into the collage before turning around to head out into the sunlight and go meet up with Oikawa.

...

Hey fuck you weatherboy.

Fuck you for making me genuinely consider writing a hanahaki disease story how did you do that that was like witchcraft.

#fingers typing wanting to say hanamaki instead of hanahaki like hehehehe #iwaoi

30 notes · View notes

malusokay · 3 days ago

Note

Malu, how do I hang out with myself? I'm young, and I'm usually a homebody for the whole year. I can't drive yet or walk to anywhere since my house is just out of town. I don't know what changed this summer but I really want to spend more time Out, out of the house or just outside but all my friends are on vacation right now😭 I'm struggling to find less anxiety-inducing ways to go out and have fun by myself. Did you ever struggle with this/do you have any advice? I wanna start my social life before I feel like I've wasted my teens

hi love <3 I completely get how hard it can be to overcome the anxiety of going out and doing things on your own. I still struggle with it sometimes too! honestly, I feel like this would be way easier to explain in a video, so if you guys are still into the idea of me starting a YouTube where I can go more in-depth on your questions, let me know. I’d be happy to finally commit to that hahah.

but to answer your question, right now I’m staying in my boyfriend’s city, where I don’t know anyone except him, and he’s been away travelling for work. so I’ve had to spend quite a few days on my own. here’s what helped me not just sit at home:

go out for breakfast. if you feel awkward sitting alone in silence, bring your MacBook or a book. cafés are full of people doing their own thing, and no one will question you. plus, you get work done and feel productive, which always helps.

walk to a farmers’ market. it’s one of my favourite solo activities, even when I’m home. it feels gentle, seasonal, and kind of romantic.

visit some stores you’ve been wanting to check out. I rarely buy anything because I’m picky, but browsing is a very non-intimidating way to be “out” without pressure.

bring snacks and find a cosy park bench. listen to music, read, people-watch, or just sit. even buying a little snack on the way there can feel like a ritual. it’s small, but grounding.

look up your area on Pinterest or TikTok (I know, I know, but it actually helps). I searched “Zagreb” on Pinterest, found some pretty photo spots, and then spent the morning walking around trying to find them. it made the whole day feel like a little quest.

botanical gardens are a dream. quiet, beautiful, and great for solo wandering. I spent a long time walking through one yesterday and it was such a lovely, soft morning.

if you’re in a more social mood, try going out on a weekend evening. sit somewhere where people your age hang out. if you’re feeling bold, it’s not weird to strike up a conversation—especially if the vibe feels right. it’s a small but powerful way to open your social world.

and lastly, if you live in a more rural area (I went to boarding school in a village, so I get it), try to find a little spot to claim as your own. a bench, a corner, a view, somewhere quiet you can always return to when you just need to leave the house and breathe.

38 notes · View notes

purplesimmer455 · 16 hours ago

Text

At the park, Nancy runs into her friend Hana and they get permission from Stephanie to walk around together, as long as they keep their phones on and don't leave without asking. Haruo is pleasantly surprised to see his friend Priscilla, who he met in Brindleton Bay a while ago. "My dad's shooting a movie on location, so mom and I are here to visit him." Priscilla explains. "That's so cool. Does he shoot sci Fi films or cowhand ones?" Haruo asks. "Mostly he does romance movies and comedies," Priscilla says, and Haruo giggles. "Romance sounds too mushy, but comedy is fun." He says, and Priscilla nods.

While the two run off to play mountain climbers on the monkey bars, Megan and Iseul stroll around the park. Iseul tells Megan about some places she'd visited last time, and adds that they have to hike through the bamboo forest at least once. "Deal, I haven't been there in a while, so I'd love to go,' Megan says, and then nudges Iseul as she spots the empty swing set. "Want to push me on the swings?" She asks, and Iseul grins. "Okay, race you there," she says and Megan laughs. They reach the swingset and Iseul rubs her back. "Okay, maybe we're too old to run without stretching." She says. "We? You mean you," Megan says teasingly and Iseul laughs. "Okay, okay. Sit down and let me push you," She says and Megan grins as she settles into the swing seat. After taking turns pushing each other, Iseul makes some Malaysian satay on the grill and calls everyone to grab a plate.

#ts4 #ts4oc #Megan Liao #Iseul Kang #Stephanie Takamura #Nancy Takamura #Haruo Takamura #Priscilla Posthuma

21 notes · View notes

inkshadow · 2 days ago

Text

"look, i don't need the reminder okay? i'm still knocking myself for it and i fear that it's going to haunt me for the rest of my life." needless to say, it's not anything he'll be bringing up to his friends knowing they'll just make fun of him for being a sensitive little wuss who effectively cockblocked himself. just the replay of what happened makes him physically cringe, the look on his face telling enough that she should be able to glean where it's coming from. thankfully, it's wiped away nearly as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the press of her lips and the lovely noise she emanates from a singular swipe of his tongue. he'd do it again had laughter not replaced the temptation, jesper hardly able to keep up with the swinging pendulum of their moods at this point. "i am relaxed," he points out defensively, even if it's a little pathetic in resolve with the hint of a whine that accompanied it. "funny enough, i don't think sugar daddies are meant to be sweet in nature. they're sorta just there to provide and stuff so, really, you're getting the better end of the deal since we're also dating. so i have to love you," which has become as easy as breathing, showcased by the lopsided smile on his face now that the edge of their earlier tiff has dulled down. "extra cute without caffeine? wow, and here i thought i was a grumpy labubu who prefers no interaction before my morning coffee." the description was more so a shoutout to his ridiculous hair in the morning before it's styled, sometimes akin to a troll doll's depending on how restless he was the night before. "i'll take it though if it means you continue to think i'm cute as fuck."

“i’ll admit, i was a little offended at first that my efforts weren’t enough to keep your head in the game... i had to watch you spend all that time ranting about stupid people thinking you’re not a top when you could’ve been proving them wrong like ten minutes ago.” she gives a playful tut of disapproval to tell him he should've known better. though initially disappointed by the sudden downturn in his mood, este was prepared to simply accept the loss and carry on with a more wholesome evening planned for them instead; an attempt at dinner on her part with plenty of sweet nothings and cuddling until he finally felt able to fully relax again. all of that definitely remains on the table, but once his mouth meets hers, it gets a swift kick down her list of priorities. the sweetness on his tongue coaxes an eager sound from her throat, one that’s cut short far too soon and she instinctively moves to chase his mouth as he pulls back. it doesn’t create much distance between them but being who she is, it’s more than enough to make her consider pouting about it. thankfully, the urge to giggle at the reason he was so quick to defend himself is what wins out in the end instead. “oh relax, i’m just fucking with you. i think it’s sweet that you wanted to help me! i know how stubborn i can be and you were trying to accommodate that in your own way. it’s also even sweeter that you still seem so ready and willing to become my sugar daddy. i mean it, i’m flattered.” that doesn't mean she's ready to say yes so easily, but she's flattered nonetheless. “you’re right, it is a big deal and i actually take the very responsibility seriously. even if it’s something minor, i enjoy doing it for you, although i do think you’re extra cute in the morning when you haven’t had your caffeine yet.” so cute that it earns him another quick kiss.

#jesper thread.#jesper and este thread.

65 notes · View notes

letmeoutofthebasementt · 1 day ago

Text

Mingyu Red + Green Flags

Decided to branch out in my readings and read for more idols that I like. SO, here's a Mingyu reading since I don't see many for him! Hope y'all like it, and the carats on my blog enjoy <3

(Feel like all I got from this reading is he's a ride or die bestfriend and a not so great boyfriend. With Mingyu, Friendship >>>>> Romance)

Green Flags

Alright, starting with green flags so the red flags don't get me burned at the stake.

Mingyu is a very loving person, just right off the bat. When he loves you, he loves you down. Even if the relationship is new (Platonic or romantic tbh) he will show you adoration and love and care and want to be there for you. He's very open about his emotions/feelings about those around him, and is just generally someone who is very devoted to his friends. Friends mean everything to him because they're all you have when shit goes south with say your partner. They're the people who're there because they genuinely adore you, not just because they wanna fuck.

He's someone who's good at distracting people from their emotions. Their pains and hardships. Making it seem better. Even if he's not perfect, or things aren't perfect, he'll help you down the path to your goals.

He's someone who's almost...Addictive? Not even necessarily in a bad way, but people just want to be around him. They gravitate to Mingyu, because he has that confident demeanor. Because he's someone you can talk to and go to and he'll listen and understand. He can empathize with people a lot. He's good at listening and understanding when you talk about your problems, and giving advice.

He's someone who can help ease your burdens and the loads you have on your shoulder. Someone who can show you the best things in life and you can have fun with. The type you can sit down and have a drink with.

He's someone who protects those he cares for. Whether that be with words or fists. He's a ride or die type person when he genuinely cares about you.

He tells you what you need to know/hear, and just generally doesn't pull punches with his words, which is a good thing. He's straight up with you. Mingyu is also someone who can definitely seem too good to be true, in a way, because of how 'perfect' he can seem. He adapts to people's needs a lot. He can be what you need him to be.

He's also just very determined, someone who goes for what he wants.

He's definitely the biggest hype man. Insecurities don't stand a chance about Mingyu. If you feel helpless or lost or out of focus, he's there by your side helping you through it. He's not someone who will ignore his friends while they're in need or hurting, he's there to help.

He's someone who's very direct, and who's always striving for more and more. He's ambitious, and dreams big. And that energy is infectious, a lot of the time. He's constantly discovering new things and himself, constantly growing and improving and getting better and better, both as a person and at what he does. He's also just a very curious person in general.

He's someone who directs his energy and resources into creating things. Building and improving bonds, putting your mind together to help improve, etc. etc.

He's someone who many people feel like is their other half. Like he completes them. Like he's their perfect compliment. He adapts to them without being fake. He's not faking who he is, or changing his personality/nature, but different people bring out different sides of him. Which overall makes the bond very bright.

He's someone who is very social, and likes sharing his happiness and his successes with his friends. He likes being in groups, surrounded by those he loves. Likes indulging in life's pleasures with those he truly and honestly cares for.

In general, he's very very focused on his loved ones.

He's someone with a lot of willpower, and just a zest for life. He has vision and drive and he knows what he wants and will do whatever it takes to get it. He's someone who is very strong, and can push through many things.

He's someone who can handle and adapt to many things in life, and is also always changing and progressing himself. He's someone who can do things quickly and efficiently, and who also can go with the flow. He can adapt his schedule if his friend needs help with something, for example. Shift things around.

He's also someone who works hard and puts a lot of effort into something. Even though he works a lot since he's an idol, he actually puts a lot of effort in still maintaining his bonds and relationships outside of that, and trying to make time for the people that matter.

He's also someone who's very appreciative when you give him something. He appreciates gifts and praise and genuinely does make sure that it's known.

Red Flags

First off, he's someone who is always convinced he's a victim in situations with conflict. If someone hurts him, intentionally or unintentionally, he makes sure to hurt them back even more. Someone who, when broken out of his delusions, can get very angry or even aggressive.

He's someone who can't handle disappointments. People who dissappoint him, more often than not, he throws away. He sets impossible expectations for people, and if you don't meet them he gets angry. He's someone who has a strong victim complex, and in any situation of conflict you're the aggressor, not him, no matter what happened, who started it, or whose fault it is.

He's someone who has a lot of close friends who cross boundaries. Like female friends who very obviously want him, and start shit with his partners, and he kinda just lets it happen or chooses to ignore that it's happening. He's also someone who has issue accepting help and working together with people harmoniously.

He's someone who doesn't want to be equal with others, and is instead constantly competing to be better than everyone else, even in situations where competition isn't needed.

He's not good at balancing parts of his life or his character. Probably a very all or nothing kind of person, with no real in-betweens. There's no gray areas for him, and no real wiggle room.

He's someone who blindly trusts his friends, possibly to the detriment of his relationships. If one of his friends said "Oh, x cheated on you" he'd believe them without second thought.

He can also be blindly optimistic in situations that absolutely don't call for it, and always follows his dreams and delusions more than anything else, to the point that he'll reject very obvious reality in favor for it, even if his delusions are worse than reality.

Somehow, he still has trust issues. He trusts the people he trusts so immensely because they had to go through so much to earn that. And because of that, he doesn't trust his partners that much, which can lead to controlling or domineering behaviors. Probably the type to check his partner's location every 5 minutes.

He follows his own beliefs and nothing else matters.

He gets frustrated very easily, and will often self-sabotage and blame others. He loses hope/faith in others very quickly, and would probably be an awful teacher because if you don't get it the first time he's getting pissed off.

He doesn't like when people try and encroach in what he's doing or what he has going on, even if it's just to help. If someone tries, it just makes him mad.

He can be very domineering of those around him, to the point of suppressing who they are, but also automatically shifts himself to match with those around him. Which creates really weird dynamics, where no one is being themselves and he's pissed at you for it.

(Have you noticed the recurring themes of a lack of accountability and his general quick temper when it comes to everyone's faults, including his own (That he perceives as yours)?)

He's someone who's very impulsive. He'll just do things, without thinking it through. He's very much a go with the flow, wherever the wind blows type of person with his plans. He just does whatever he wants to do, and expects it to just happen with a snap of his fingers.

He's someone who's brutally honest, and very blunt when he wants to be, but also knows how to lie his ass off when he needs to. But YOU tell a white lie? YOU tell him a truth he didn't want to hear? He's pissed.

He's someone who believes in karma, but also believes in him collecting his own debts from others. Which is...A interesting combo.

He's not a very fair person. He also knows a lot of things, but will selectively choose to ignore them in favor of what pushes his narrative, what he likes, and in general just what suits him and what is better for him.

He's not a very objective person. Everything is filtered from his POV. He never stops to think about other people's sides.

He's someone who can be very stubborn in the worst possible scenarios. Other times he's a total pushover/wet dormat, then all of a sudden he has balls of steel and is standing his ground.

He'll argue you to the moon and back about something he really believes in, without any regard for what you say in return. And the harder you fight the harder he fights, and things just very quickly go downhill from there.

He's also very opportunistic. He doesn't keep things/people he can't use, and would 100% be with someone just to use them/for publicity. He's THE opportunist, and he doesn't have any real shame in his game. He doesn't care.

He's someone who can't choose, and isn't very down for commitment. He's also just not the best person to be in a relationship/partnership with. There'd be a lot of conflict and it doesn't feel like you're partners/together. Probably someone who cheats/is a serial romantic/player, going from one to the other or with some overlap.

He wants to enjoy life to the point where it becomes toxic to those around him. He expects everything to be sunny, and when it's not he throws it away. He wants just more more more and he's never satisfied, he just takes and takes.

41 notes · View notes

indigosunsetao3 · 2 days ago

Note

With the whole sending requests thing would it be okay to ask for Alejandro Vargas x female or GN reader with fluff and/or smut?

I love Alejandro. I need to write more for him.

This is a mix of fluff and heavily implied smut, set in the canon storyline.

Also, we're officially calling this challenge Futile 500, because this is almost 1,700 words.

You're pacing the room, staring at the small package sitting on the dining room table. It arrived without a postage mark, which means it was hand delivered. And despite not having a sender, you know exactly who it's from and why it arrived.

"Alejandro," you breathe into the phone when he picks up after the second ring. "I need you. Now."

"Why do you always call with such loving demands when you know I'm busy?" he replies, a smile in his voice.

"No, Ale," you answer as you pause in front of the package and reach out to open it, but stop. "I've gotten a package at my place," you sigh and hang your head for a second. "Addressed to you."

"Don't touch it," Alejandro says suddenly, his voice changing from flirtatious to serious in an instant. "Leave it right where it is."

"I brought it inside. I didn't realize what it was when I got home," you mutter before standing up straight again. "Can you just get here. Please?"

"Give me twenty. Do not answer the door if someone comes knocking. Pull the blinds. Don't let anyone think you are home."

The twenty minutes are the longest twenty of your life. You find yourself peering out the gap between the blinds where the cat had broken them, jumping at every car and person that comes down the street. When you go to the kitchen to fill a glass with water, you nearly jump out of your skin as the back gate opens. But it's Alejandro, eyes wide and alert as he jogs across the yard and to the back door.

"Show me," he says, planting a perfunctory kiss on your forehead, eyes still scanning the area as if someone were hiding behind the fridge.

"On the table," you answer, following him to the small wooden thing with mismatched chairs. "Is it from them?"

He doesn't answer as he flicks open his knife from his pocket and slides it carefully along the tape. You know what this means. What the implications of this small brown box are. That this could be the end of everything.

Breaking down Alejandro's walls had been a feat. He had drawn you in with his charm, coming to the corner mart where you worked daily to chat and smile at you. Appearing when you were out with friends at the bar and pulling you to the dancefloor after a few drinks. It had all been just fun. He insisted on nothing serious when you asked about something more. He said he was married to his job and didn't have time for a relationship.

So you backed off. If he wasn't going to make time for you and was just going to play with you when it was convenient for him, you weren't going to join the game. You knew how those military men could be, heartbreakers through and through. Bouncing from one pretty face to the next, disappearing in the night to never be heard from again. You didn't have the time or the heart for it.

Yet he still kept coming around. Still arrived in the evenings to walk you home from work. Showed up at your door with coffee before the sun was even up to sit on your back patio with you. And warmed your bed on occasion when you gave in to the soft whispers in your ear.

"Whatever is in that box, don't let them change your mind," you warn as he unwraps the brown paper to reveal a stack of papers, bound together with string.

He unties them and takes a heavy seat in one of the chairs, beginning to flick through them. They aren't papers. They are photos. Easily a hundred of them. Some polaroids, others printed on computer paper, most glossy from a photo developer. You grab a few as he starts moving through them faster and feel yourself growing hot at the sight.

Some of them are innocent enough. Pictures of the two of you walking down the street. A shot of you at work through the window. Out for drinks at a bar with Rudy in tow. But then they turn not so innocuous. A shot of you opening the door to let the cat out in the dead of night, barely clothed. Zoomed in grainy picture of you naked in Alejandro's lap, riding him on the couch. And a series of shots of Alejandro slipping in through your back yard, with you silhouetted in the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt with his last name crystal clear above the pocket.

"El Sin Nombre?" You ask quietly, tossing the photo of you on your kitchen counter with Alejandro's head between your legs on top of the scattered mess of them.

He doesn't answer, eyes finally pulling away from the pile of photos of your life for the past six months. You know the look. Know the argument you are about to have. Again. But this time, you're not sure you'll win.

"You're in danger here," he finally states, and you open your mouth ready to fight. But he shakes his head once, and you shut it.

"I knew this was dangerous," he sighs and stands up, slipping the knife back into his pocket. "We've been careless. This is their warning. They're always here and watching, and they know my weakness." As if without thought, he goes to the kitchen counter and pulls the see through gossamer curtains shut on the window above the sink, the blinds long unusable.

"Then we be more careful," you supply, the whine of panic at the look in his eyes ratcheting up tenfold.

You know if he walks out that door, he's walking out and he's not coming back. He fought a relationship for so long for your safety. You had thought it was commitment issues until he finally confessed everything after a tearful argument when you had woken up and he had been gone from your bed. He had given in to you, his feelings matching yours, and unable to hide them any longer. But he had warned that the moment you were at risk, he was walking.

And that moment was here.

"We can't," Alejandro starts, and you know the tears behind your eyes are about to spill over.

"We can! We just, we don't go out together anymore. I fix the stupid blinds. You only come around every once in a while and only at night. Stay away for a bit, throw them off," you start, your voice pitching higher and higher as you fight off the breakdown.

"Corazón," Alejandro replies, both his hands sliding up your jaw until his fingertips cup the base of your head. "We can't, not here," he continues as his thumbs wipe away the tears. "El Sin Nombre is everywhere. It could be your neighbor," he nods his head to the side as if to indicate the one to the left, "your boss. The boy that kicks the football against the tree outside."

You don't answer as you shut your eyes, bracing for the goodbye. The end.

"Look at me," Alejandro says after a second of silence, and you dare to peer at him. "I'm not ready to let them win," he gives you a small smile, and you sniff, your heart stuttering at the hope that wells in you.

"Then what do we do?" You ask, eyes searching his face. "You said we can't, it's not safe."

"It's not safe here," he explains again. "So we leave here."

"But. Where would we go? Your place is across town, they'll figure it out soon enough." You state as you try to rack your brain about possible places to go.

"You think I don't have a safe house?" He asks, his tone a tease as he tries to get you to smile. "It won't be easy. We will need to organize. Disappearing is not simple."

"I don't need easy," you answer and finally smile. "Just you."

"That's what I like to hear," he says before leaning down to kiss you, not caring that your face is soaked from tears. "So we start planning. I won't be able to be around for a bit, we need them to think they won."

"Whatever it takes," you answer softly, pushing up against him to kiss him properly, not caring that someone could be outside taking pictures right at that moment.

"I'm going to miss this," he breathes as he nips at your lips, fingers gripping your face to keep you close.

"Then you better get on with those plans," you answer as you grab the belt loops of his pants. "Because I don't want to be waiting too long."

"A month," he promises as you press your hips against his, making him groan. "Three weeks," he amends as you smirk.

"Do I get a hint of where we are going?" You ask, trying to quell the million other questions you have. Such as what you will do for work. What will he do? How long will you need to hide?

"Somewhere that I don't have to worry about anyone seeing you naked in the kitchen," he all but growls as his eyes catch sight of the naked photos of you on the table. "Or in the yard for that matter," he grins as you raise an eyebrow.

"Why haven't we gone sooner?" You ask as you move to drag him out of the kitchen, which was an obvious weak spot for people to see in your house.

"I need to finish getting it ready," he answers as his smile turns a bit feral as you make a beeline for the stairs.

"It's going to be a long three weeks," you mutter as you open your bedroom door, not bothering with the light in the setting sun. "Stay with me tonight. We start the planning and plotting tomorrow. One more normal night."

"One more," Alejandro agrees as he catches your hips and guides you to the bed, letting you slowly disarm him.

#answered ask #futile 500 #500 follower celebration #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #gender neutral reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod #fanfiction

25 notes · View notes